150 = 30 ??? Not what we were expecting

So. The Beast and I got married at the local courthouse last year in January. We just up and decided that was the day. We got our little family dressed and ready for the day and I called my mom and told her I would race her to the courthouse. :) It was perfect. We even have pictures. And I love them.

But, our families and friends wanted to celebrate our marriage. My parents offered to pay for a formal reception. With the exception of the cost of a wedding dress and a suit. 2 of my closest friends got together and purchased a wedding dress for me. And we scraped enough money together to get an inexpensive suit for the Beast. It was looking like this was actually going to happen.

So we got busy planning and decided that April would be perfect. We invited his family, even those who had disowned him because of me. We invited my family. We invited friends.
250 invitations went out. 150 RSVP cards came back with a yes we will be there response.
So we planned accordingly. We found a gorgeous venue. And even though it was pricey my parents paid for it insisting that it was perfect, and that we really needed that location because it had more space than the other options and a lot of people had RSVP'd.
We rented tables and chairs and gorgeous table linens.
We purchased beautiful centerpieces and candles for all of the guests tables.
We purchased 2 cakes to ensure that there would be enough cake for everyone. 1 gorgeous tiered wedding cake and 1 sheet cake.
The day of the reception arrived. And things started going wrong.
The Best and I had decided that we each wanted one attendant and their spouse to stand with us as we said our vows. And to sit with us at our table.
My attendant called me an hour before the reception was supposed to start. She had a headache and couldn't make it. YEAH... So at the last second I had to find someone else to stand with me. And honestly I had no idea who to pick. The person I felt closest to had just bailed on me and its kind of hard to find a bridesmaid at the last minute. So, the Beast's sister graciously offered to stand with me. And I felt slightly less stressed. Until I realized that I was looking at a clock that was wrong. And I was going to be late to my own reception. So I get there a few minutes late and I'm getting dressed (hair and make up were already done, thank God) and I get a text from the girl who is in charge of the music... She is lost and is running late.... are you KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW??
She arrives just as I'm giving up and preparing to walk into the reception hall sans music. She rushes past me and hurriedly sets up the music on a tiny portable CD player instead of the expensive sound equipment with the big speakers... So the music starts but it's very very quiet which actually really wasn't that bad of a thing... And the doors open up and I walk into the room and. . . .

What the HELL???

The room is nearly empty. Seriously there are 25 gorgeously decorated tables in this room. And only 4 of them are occupied. 4. I falter for just a moment. And then I keep walking. And then I realize that the microphone that we are supposed to use to say or vows is not hooked up and its not where is supposed to be.
So the Beast meets me in the middle of the room as planned. And he informs me that he lost his vows. And that he doesn't think he can wing it. And that he is not sure he can n day anything at all in front of all these people... dude there are less than 50 people in this room (hasn't done a head count yet) we were planning on a lot more. And I'm sorry you lost your vows dude but here we are and you're gonna have to figure it out. 15 minutes and 2 pep talks from friends later he finally made it through his spur of the moment vows.
Thank God there was no microphone. Not sure that a friend telling him to grow some balls would have been the best thing to add volume to. Just saying.
We managed to get through the rest if the reception without any major catastrophes. I mean the music thing was a total bust because you couldn't really hear the music once people started talking, and half of the music didn't play anyway (burned CD's... not always the most reliable things).
But seriously it was perfect. Except for that moment when I walked in and saw how many people were there. When you are walking into a room in a wedding dress expecting to be surrounded by 150 friends and family members and there are only 30 people in the room, it is enough of a shock to almost make you cry.

So. My advice to you is this: do not RSVP for a wedding unless you're actually going to be there.

Thank God it wasn't a fancy catered dinner reception.

The best kind of the worst kind of news- Pookie behavior problems

Back story:
(Dr. Z was Pookie's original pediatrician. I loved him. He is fabulous with kids and is an excellent Dr. And a God-fading Christian man. He is a husband and father. And he goes to my church.
When Pookie was just 6 months old she was diagnosed with an inability to purposely process sensory input. The term used for this is Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). While this diagnosis is well-known, respected, and understood among therapists, many pediatricians do not yet have much knowledge or understanding of it. Unfortunately Dr Z wasn't convinced that Pookie had a problem. And so he didn't want to sign for her to receive therapy.
I made a difficult decision and found a new pediatrician. One who was familiar with SPD. Dr H was excellent. The only downside was that his office was over an hour away. But we made it work. He allay became Pixie's pediatrician when she was born. He would probably still be their pediatrician except that my douche bag ex husband refused to pay his part of the girls' medical bills and screwed up the medical insurance on them.
Long story short Dr.s don't like it when you rack up big bills without proper insurance and don't get them paid off really quickly. We were told that he would no longer see the girls.
So. When Pookie started showing signs that there was a real problem and I knew we needed help, I had to try to find the girls a new Dr in order to get help. That was when we met the frenemy Dr. *shudders*.
The second call I made to find a Dr was to Dr Z's office (the original ped). This might seem counterproductive but I was hoping that he would see my desperation and at least refer her for an evaluation.)

My insane (and possibly counterproductive) optimism paid off in a big way. We got the referral we so desperately needed for a psych/developmental evaluation.
The psychologist saw Pookie a week later. In these parts you see a psychologist first, then after several sessions you meet with a psychiatrist for the actual formal diagnosis, if need be. The psychologist however usually makes an informal diagnosis and requests the psychiatrist to sign off on treatment in the interim period while waiting to actually be seen by the psychiatrist.
After an hour with Pookie, she looked at me and said the best and worst things to me.
She agrees with the SPD diagnosis.
She thinks there is more to it than that.
PDD-NOS pervasive developmental delays not otherwise specified.
I've never felt such mixed emotions in my life.
Finally someone was listening. Finally someone didn't think that I was crazy, didn't think it was a parenting problem, didn't think it was a discipline problem. Finally someone was saying that there was an explanation, instead of just a problem.
I was elated. To finally feel like there were answers.
And I was devastated. Because no parent wants to hear confirmation of their fears.
But a diagnosis, even if it's hard to handle and scary and overwhelming is a good thing. A diagnosis means treatment. And treatment usually leads to improvement.
......

And then my ex husband lost his job (the same week my husband lost his- isn't life funny like that, because why only have 1 thing go wrong at a ?!?). While this seems totally unrelated, bear with me a minute. You see, my ex is court ordered to do a few things.
1. Keep health insurance on both girls, and pay half of their medical bills not covered by insurance.
2. Pay child support and pay for a portion of the education costs. 3. He is granted but not ordered visitation.

So. When he lost his job he lost the girls' health insurance. (He had had 2 jobs since then but hasn't kept either of them. He also hasn't reported them or paid child support.)

Well the psych office wouldn't see Pookie without insurance so all of that got put on hold. He still doesn't have insurance and its been nearly a year. I just got the girls in Medicaid and am working on getting an appointment for another referral to the psych office since the first one has expired. Hopefully we can start getting some more answers soon.

Nearly a year later...

So. I've been neglecting my blog. I haven't wanted to neglect it, but life has been happening and honestly most days it's happening so fast that I don't know if I'm coming or going.
So my last posting was in March of last year, so I guess I should start there, huh? In April, I found out that I was pregnant, just a couple of weeks before the Beast and I had our formal Wedding reception for our friends and family (but that's a whole 'nother post altogether... spoiler alert- when 150 people RSVP for a wedding reception, don't be surprised if only 30 show up).
And the day after our reception, the Beast lost his j.o.b. YEAH... see what I mean about life happening???
Since he lost his job, we got behind on our house payment... and lot rent... and the utilities... and his car payment. And we lost the house... and his car. The only reason we didn't lose my van is because it's completely paid off and the only reason it's completely paid off is because of a car accident (I'll write a post about that too, someday).
So we moved in with my mom and stepdad. Something I never wanted to do again. It's a long story and way too personal for this kind of thing... but the important thing to grasp is that this is not the best environment for me and my family. It's taken a toll on all of us.
We moved most of our necessities over in May and had everything else out of the trailer by the second week of June.
The end of July we found out that the baby we were expecting was a son, due to arrive the second week of December. I couldn't believe it. A boy. I was so scared. I had no idea how to be a mom to a little boy. I'll write more about this later too.
Somewhere in all THAT mess the Beast got and lost another job...
The girls started school again in August and the stress level got raised once again as we discovered that Pookie's teacher had no interest is actually teaching her. Pookie can be a challenge to work with at times but she is such an amazing kid. And this teacher just couldn't see that. All she saw was a kid who was going to need more than the absolute minimal effort that she was used to putting into teaching. Soon she stopped trying to teach her and just started sending all of her in class work home along with her homework. The Beast and I decided that she needed a better learning environment, so she is starting at a new school mid year. Fingers crossed that the new school and new teacher are better able to help her learn (and if you're wondering about what happened with her behavior problems, fear not there will be another post completely devoted to that topic).
And somewhere in THAT mess the Beast got yet another job, but has held onto this one.
In December we welcomed a beautiful new baby to our family. Little Man is for the most part a very mellow, happy baby who just loves to be held and cuddled.
And Pixie? Well she's alive and well. She's having trouble adjusting to not being the baby is the family anymore and has been acting out to get attention.
It's January. And we are still living with my parents. And honestly every day I feel like I'm dying a little more. Some days it feels like I can't breathe, can't think... some days I'm not sure I want to keep going. The Beast and our 3 amazing kids are my only anchor in this hurricane. Sometimes it feels like it's not enough. And I am amazed that somehow I haven't given up. You see this was supposed to be temporary. Very. Temporary. I know how damaging this environment is. I planned for 6 months or less. This is month # 8. And there is still no sign of freedom. We have plans for freedom. But they require the Beast getting a better job because you can't support a family of 5 on part time minimum wage.
But there is a house that just might be the answer to our prayers. It's almost affordable. And it's big enough. And the Beast just might be able to get hired back at the original job. The kick ass aircraft mechanic job.
Fingers crossed for some things to finally start going right.
And by the way... I will be blogging way more often now. Because my old phone (my only source of internet) finally kicked the bucket (which was kind of a blessing because it pretty much never worked. It didn't place calls or send texts reliably. And it's internet sucked. It was basically a paperweight) and so we had to replace phones even though we couldn't afford it. But we got lucky and got seriously awesome phones that actually work on a 50% off sale. So both phones together cost less than half of what I was expecting to pay to replace them at tax check time.(they've been working on dying for quite some time, but didn't last as long as I'd hoped).

Well this is probably long enough and messy enough for now.

I haven't had much sleep the last few weeks and had a lot to catch you up on.
Until the next time.   Ciao.

The frenemy doctor

So we went to see the new pediatrician today. 

She listened to everything  I had to say. And then she started talking. Her accent was very thick and she spoke very quiet and very fast. Needless to say, though she was speaking English, I could barely understand anything she said. (Have I mentioned yet that I am hard of hearing?)

Thank God I had asked my mom to come with me. She had to translate most of what the Dr was saying. Which was really irritating,

Additionally, when she asked how I reacted to being kicked in the face, I was honest with her and told her that I spanked Pookie. She chewed me out for “hitting” my kid. 

Number one, I didn’t hit her, I spanked her. There is a huge difference. Number 2, undermining a parent in front of their already defiant child only makes the parent’s job that much harder. 

Then she told me that I can’t hit or spank my kid. That  the only acceptable discipline is to say “no” in a quiet voice (yelling and lecturing are not allowed either) and then to calmly send the child to timeout. Pookie’s response to this was to do 2 things. First she looked at me and said “haha you can’t spank me”, then she kicked the Dr.

Needless to say we are still looking for answers. And we are still looking for a great pediatrician. 

I spoke too soon

I spoke too soon. I should know better by now. But, no, yesterday/s blog post was written too soon.

At school, Pookie stole from her teacher. Then she came home and lied about it. What did she steal? Lip balm. Again.

Then, she took things out of a shopping bag that did not belong to her. She took the package to her room, opened it, hid the trash under her bed and pocketed the item. When I confronted her about whether she had taken the item, she lied. What did she steal? A package of 2 chapsticks. Ellie had the other one. Notice a pattern?

As I was labeling the chapstick with a marker so that we could keep Pookie’s andPixie’s straight, I hear rustling around in the bathroom.

I look and Pookie is in my makeup bag, grabbing and pocketing lip gloss. And she lied about it, despite knowing that I had seen her do it.

A few minutes later, she is over by the computer desk, messing around and stuffs something down her pants (we had changed to pj’s by now) she told me that she didn’t have anything… just as a big eraser falls out of the bottom of her pant leg.

By this point I am practically in tears. I glance at the clock and it’s mercifully reading 7:15 pm, which means that it’s not too early for bedtime.

Pookie walked over to me, acting very apologetic and said she was sorry for being bad and asked for a hug. Of course, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her thinking that this is the silver lining to a very rough day… until I notice her using the opportunity to reach behind my back and grab something else to pocket…

Admitting there is a problem bigger than I am

So. Today has been rough. And that is an understatement.

My oldest daughter, has been stealing like crazy. She is only 5. Today I caught her stealing out of my purse and when I asked her about it she tried to run to her room (further confirmation that she had in fact stolen, if you don't have anything to hide, then you have no reason to hide). So I went after her and asked her what she took, and she told me she didn't take anything.

We have done this song and dance before and I have the choreography memorized. So, without further hesitation, I started to check her pockets.

She slapped and bit me which, I am sad to say, is pretty normal for her and I kept checking. Then, she kicked me. Twice. With shoes on. On purpose. She looked right at me and kicked me in the head.  

I have known for a long time that she had behavioral problems. But I always tried to fix it. To be a good enough mom and disciplinarian to correct the issues. I mean, what kind of mom am I if I can’t help my kid through some behavioral problems?

I have been told countless times that it is a reflection of my "bad parenting" that I am a "bad mom" or that I "don’t know how to discipline her right". So for a few years now I have had everyone blaming me and I have been too ashamed to ask for help.

Today, I called the pediatrician's office crying. I told the receptionist everything. I told her I felt like a failure, like I was a horrible mom. ... In short, I had a breakdown on the phone. I cried and apologized for crying and then cried some more. The receptionist could have tried to rush me off the phone and told me that it wasn’t worth crying about. She didn’t. Instead, she told me that I’m not a bad mom, because a bad mom would not ask for help. She told me that I’m not a bad mom because a bad mom wouldn't be in tears, loving her child so much and so desperate for help. She told me that I’m not a failure because a failure would not still be trying. She told me that I am not alone. that there are other mom's out there dealing with some of these same issues and that it's ok to cry but that it's not my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself.

She made an appointment for tomorrow morning at 8 am. I am terrified to go. I’m still so scared that someone will think I am a bad mom and try to take my kids. I am more scared to not go, to just keep fighting this battle alone. I am scared of my daughter hurting herself or a family member or a classmate. I am scared of eventually resenting my daughter, of us not having a healthy relationship as she grows older. I’m scared of so many things. 

I feel like a bomb went off this morning and I’m standing here looking at the devastation, frozen, terrified, in shock, trying to figure out what to do. And I have called out for help in a foreign land of medical professionals. I can only hope and pray that the person who is answering my call in the morning is a comrade, and not an enemy.

Pimping out other blogs

Occasionally, I will post links for other blogs that I enjoy ready, or even just a specific blog post that I read and wanted to share with you. This is what i am calling "pimping" the blog or post. Whenever possible, I will ask the original author's  permission to share (exception being an abandoned blog). I will always let them know that I am sharing their post or a general link for their blog, in the comments section of their blog/ post.

If you want to pimp out my blog or a specific post, please let me know. 

If you want me to pimp out your blog or a specific post (presumably because it relates in some manner to one of my posts) please just ask me. I will most likely do so, though if the material is questionable, it will be marked as such on my blog. If I tell you "no" it will be because I have a very good reason and I will share that reason with you. Please do not respond to that rejection by putting links in 26 different comments in response to everything I post. That is both rude and immature and I will delete your comments.