One mom.

Going back to Jaysen's birthday party, I am amazed at how many parents just drop their kids off and run like Forrest Gump. I know I may be a tad overprotective, but even if Jaysen didn't have the issues he has, I don't know how comfortable I'd feel just dropping him off at someone's house whom I've never met. And I'm usually the only mom at other birthday parties.

Aside from my friends, one mom stayed.
One mom.

Kids were having a blast, the mom and I strike up a little chat.
Then the magic words came.
"My son has expressive receptive language disorder."

Ah.
That's why you stayed.

Needless to say, we bonded.
We watched how each other interacted with our children, and frequently gave each other that knowing look. We talked about school, the pace of the classroom, the supports in place, and our children's strengths and weaknesses. We talked about getting the boys together for friendship and pragmatics.

I explained Jaysen's affinity for VHS tapes and DVD's.
She told me about her son's love for the color red.

We understood each other.

As they were leaving, I noticed her son becoming a little anxious.
He was frantically looking through the leftover treat bags.
She was telling him there weren't anymore with suckers in them.
Still, he searched, and I could see on her face, that she was making that decision.


The one where you have to plan your escape because you know your child is going to flippin freak out. The one where you run through every scenario in your head, desperately trying to figure out which one will preserve even a shred of dignity. The one where you wonder if you'll ever be invited back to another birthday party ever again.

I beeline to my candy stash, and present the boy with a sucker.
A red sucker.
He smiles at me.
And with a look of utter relief, so does his mom.

Bad mom

Oh crappity crappiness...
I effed up.
Big time.

Just last week, I was the best mom in America. This week, I suck.
How did that happen?!?

Today was picture day, and I flippin' totally forgot.
Craaaaap.

Sent Jaysen to school in a T-shirt, and even thought "wow- his hair is so messed up, I'm going to see if I can talk him into wearing this hat".

And obviously, forgot to send any money.

Don't even talk to me about re-takes. It says in huge red lettering: Important! Payment options must be completed on or before Picture Day.

They even capitalized Picture Day.
'Cuz it's that important, yo.

My kid will be forever remembered as the kid in third grade with messy hair and a wrinkly-arse T-shirt. Who didn't pass out any pics because his mom is a freakin' lew-hew-zer.

So. What's your Bad Mom story?

Best party ever.

I? Am the best mom ever.
At least I feel that way after pulling this party off...

Jaysen's birthday party was an absolute smash!

Let's see...
There were 15 kids, (12 girls, 3 boys. I know...pimp.) and everyone had such a blast.
Nelson, "The Safari Guy" was amazing. Not to mention is caa-uuuute!

He started out hiding crystals and shiny rocks in the backyard, and had the "adventurers" try to find 'em. That was really cool to see the kids working together to find these itty-bitty treasures hidden in the grass and foliage. Then we went inside for a totally interactive animal adventure.

There was a ginormous tortoise that the kids got feed an apple.


An owl, which was so cool- it danced to music.
Danced way better than me.

Jaysen got to open up an armadillo...

Yipes!!!

And what's up in the backpack, yo?

It's a wallaby!

Yes. I had a flippin 'roo in my haus. I am that cool.

Seriously- you gotta love parties that run themselves...
Most importantly though, everyone had such a good time.
Kids were yammering to their parents at pick up time, and parents were grabbing brochures like they were bon-bons.

Kay. I'm tired now.

Eight is great!

Happy 8th Birthday Jaysen!

You are so awesome, you rockstar!

I hope you have a superfantabulous day, sweetheart.

I love you bigger than the universe.

Love, Mom.

You've got to be effing kidding me.

Disclaimer: Please do not read if you are easily offended by profanity.

Come back tomorrow for a regularly scheduled post.

What the fuck.

I am so pissed off right now. I need to vent, and what better place to do that, than my very own blog. Check this shit out.

I received notice from my fuckard Ex, that he and his waif-ho girlfriend scheduled their motherfucking C-section for tomorrow. Why does that have my panties in a bunch, you ask?

It's Jaysen's birthday.

Why would he do that?
The fucker hardly ever comes around as it is, so what- you need a fucking excuse not to see your son on his birthday? Fucking asshole shitfucker.
Oh right... "It's awesome! I have four kids, and only have to remember two birthdays!" (He also has twins)

Gee, you fucking fuckerton, maybe if you hadn't fried your goddamn brain on so many fucking drugs, you'd fucking "get it". Fucking addict. Oh snap, I forgot. Recovering addict. Whatever, shithead. 'Cuz being an alcoholic is totally different.

Fucker.

I'm thinking somebody should probably punch me in the face or something, because I'm really starting to think that I actually died in the fire, and I am in Hell. Except I can't find my cat, which come to think of it, would be fitting if I were in Hell.

Can anything else happen this year?
I don't know how much more one person can fucking handle. And I am about to blow.
I cannot believe he is such a fucking dickface.
I mean, he's a dickface, but this? Way beyond his realm of crapshittiness.
This is a whole new level of shitty. It's the uber-shit.

I want to rip the motherfucker's eyeballs out and jumprope with his optic nerves.

I am so pissed.

Seriously? You had to do this on his birthday?
You are the world's biggest asshole.

Whaaaaaaat?

My once-hyperlexic child is now functionally illiterate.
I'm totally serious.
How does this happen? Does this happen?

Jaysen has been slowly declining in his reading and writing skills.
He brought home his latest spelling test... 47%
My eyeballs popped out of my head and then I was shocked back to life by the bolt of lightning that shot out from the sky.

What the bloody hell, people? 47%
For those of you that know me IRL, you know that this is totally unacceptable.
Totally.
I love languages.
I am the freakin' word Guru.
My boss comes to me for spelling and grammar checks. I have a friggin dictionary with my name embossed with gold leaf on it from winning a spelling bee. I have trophies, biatches!

I make up words, because I like to play with words. They're like a big bowl of play-doh for me.
My son cannot spell.
And it's driving me nuts, because he used to be an amazing speller, reader, and writer.
When he was 2.

Oh? It's a kid-thing you say? A phase perhaps?
Okay. Lemme give you an example.

I-Y-E
It took me a couple times of reading it (and multiple deep breaths into a paper bag) to realize it apparently, is the progressive spelling for "eye".
I know. WTF? Iye? Seriously?
That is not phonetic spelling, so don't even go there with me.
He made some typical kid-errors like "wich" for "which", and so forth. But the doozies he came up with are flooring me.
Not to mention the 47%.

Oh. And he can't spell the word "nice", but can spell "fuck" perfectly.
Which is all kinds of excellent because that "ck" is tricky, dontcha know?

I am shriveling up from the inside out.
Meh.

When life gives you lemons... stick 'em in your eyes.

The adventure continues.

I stopped the Metformin (glucophage), and Jaysen's behavior improved for 3 days. He's now back to the evilness. I called the psych and reported that the Metformin just isn't working for him, and she prescribed Topamax.

So I started researching.

And I didn't like what I was finding.

Realizing that the internet can be a scary place when you're looking up medical conditions and medications- I only have a headache, do you really think it's a brain aneurysm??? I decided to confer with my friendly neighborhood pharmacist.

She basically confirmed everything I had read.

Topamax is often called "Stupidmax" or "Dopamax", due to its tendency to impair cognitive function. It not only makes you reeeeally sleepy, but many people report lessened cognitive awareness, and even jamais vu, which let me tell you peeps, is some scary shiz.

WTF? Seriously? I'm supposed to give my kid a med that would not only zombify him, but make him not remember family members or everyday tasks? I don't think so.

But-

The pharmacist did say there is a not-very-well known liquid form of Metformin, and I should totally ask his psych about it, because that's what he really should be on. So I did. And she agreed. I pick it up today, so I don't yet know if we will be experiencing the butt-splosions again or not.

Wish us luck.

In other news, I received an awesome award from Shea's Mom, whose blog is not only full of teh awesome, but her son is just adorable and I want to squeeze him- which he'd probably hate. And I wouldn't care because he's that cute. Seriously.

So here it is... The Lemonade Stand award!

Apparently, Shea's Mom thinks I make the best out of craptastic situations- Which is cool because it's proof that my "game face" rawks.

Thank you Shea's Mom!

Now...I am supposed to send this award to 10 people, but in true fashion of The Quirk Factor here, I am going to have to decline on this one.
The truth is, I just can't handle it right now.
There is far too much crapola going on right now, that I can barely think straight.
I guess that makes me unworthy of the award, but too late, it's already miiiine!

So I'm going to pass the award along as a free for all- I do think all of you are deserving, so here it is if you would like it!

I have lemons.
This time I'm not making lemonade, I'm just gonna stick 'em in my eyes.