Ok, my boy? It’s like he’s on an double-expresso, Vivarin, and methamphetamine cocktail. With a Red Bull chaser.

Ok, duct tape? Getting more tempting by the minute.

For example… at this very minute, and for the last half hour, instead of walking wherever he needs to go, he’s somersaulting backwards. All over the house. And talking. Nonstop. The Jack Russell Terrier of the house has told him ok, enough already, back off. Emphatically. People… he’s worn out a Jack Russell Terrier. And I’m trying to just let him be and run damage control.

But it does get better.

The School Nurse contacted me today, and the relay service didn’t start the call with Have you used relay before? to offer potential explanation to newbies. He just dumped her in the deep end. I actually had to explain to her quickly what the operator was there for. So the poor woman was so confused. And for that, i711 is going to be getting a bomb threat… strongly worded email. I gave her my address so she could end the call and take a quick time out to put a hit on operator… email me. She asked permission to contact Hawk-i and put the smackdown… light a fire under their asses… courteously request the process be expedited so Rocky can get the exorcism… his meds quicker and back to “normal”, and I use that term as loose as a two-dollar whore… a Mexican tourist’s bowel movement… Clinton’s definition of sex.

I said, “Sic ‘em, girl”… “Yes, please. Thank you.”

But it gets better.

I went in around lunchtime to give him another little threat of no driver license until he’s 18… pep talk. I told him that he really needed to try hard to get a grip and that I believed in him and I knew that he could do it. And put my hand on his head and said a very quick fervent prayer. I opened my eyes, and I watched my boy take a deep breath, and I saw him visibly calm for a moment.

My mission partially accomplished, I went down to Dino’s room while the kids were at recess to give his teacher a little heads-up on the spring program fiasco earlier this year. Long story short… Teacher and Sp Ed Teacher thought it would go fine, Dino seemed completely psyched for it, he froze at the door, wouldn’t go in, *big inhale* meltdown complete with terrified sobbing, school counselor comforted me as I sobbed, “I’m so tired; why can’t I just have a normal kiiiid?” *big exhale* Oy. Wasn’t pretty. Anyway. Ok, pep talk for Rocky, check; warning the other teacher of potential meltdown, check; my work here was done.

But it gets better.

Received a little later from Wfgt today…

———-
RE: Rocky
From: Wfgt
Sent: Thu 12/06/07 1:51 PM
To: Dory

I really hope that you didn’t feel bombarded by all the emails/calls. Hopefully things are getting worked out and will smooth out soon enough.

The following is meant only as a tool we can use to gauge Rocky’s days…on a 1-5 scale (1 being productive/5 being duct tape). Yesterday Rocky shouted “fart” a few times during a lesson, I spoke with him about it so instead of saying it…he wrote fart many, many times [did I mention this woman is a genius? I never would've thought of that] to cover a piece of paper. (Much less distracting, if we are looking for positives). The good news is that Rocky did have a better day today with no “fart” outbursts. I attribute that to your pep talk, so THANKS! Yesterday was a 4 fart day, today was about a 2.5.

I just wanted your input b/c I really could go both ways on this. I CAN send Rocky’s work home with him but I truly don’t want to “punish” him for something that he can not control. [my love for this woman, albeit a non-lesbian sort, could potentially consume me] He did complete a few assignments today (better than yesterday) and the ones he did not, are not vital. He catches on so quickly to things that it wouldn’t be a major set back for him to have a few unproductive days. However, if you think that it would be best to keep him accountable, I can see that side too. I will do whatever you think is best. Me, I am crossing my fingers for a snow day….

Let me know what you think! Thanks again for the support and talk with Rocky!

Wfgt
———-

I.
Love.
Her.

But wait, it gets better.

Ok, what I’m about to tell you next, they don’t make a big enough thesaurus for all the words needed to adequately express my thanks. When I got home, I had an incredibly unexpected surprise. One of you amazing Intarwebb-Compadres was an answer to prayer today. One of you lovely Internets PayPal’d me $150 to get Rocky’s meds. And you don’t even know… I can’t even… I wish I could… yeah. Ok, imagine today is opposite day, and the most sparse, simple statement is actually the most elaborate, lavish, exquisitely perfect profession of gratefulness. Ok? Ready?

Thank you.

It. Gets. Better.

When we went to pick up the boys today, we went into the school so we could profess my undying adoration thanks to Wfgt and the amazing news that he would be coming to school medicated in the morning courtesy of the Angelic Tubes of the Internets. We thanked Wfgt for being straight-up and not pussyfooting or beating around the bush about the troubles. And for her incredible sense of humor. And her seemingly unending supply of kind patience with our boy. And just being awesomely cool in general. Wfgt thanked us for all our cooperation. (Um, we’re the parents, isn’t that our job?) And for our sense of humor. And for not going berzerk on her, psycho-parent style. It was a nauseatingly disgusting bloodbath of mutual syrupy admiration. I’m so thankful for a teacher that understands that you can either cry about it or laugh about it; it’s your choice.

HunkyDory’s official partyline is that yes, the meds help, but Rocky has to work hard to overcome the ADHD/Asperger’s Syndrome; pills aren’t magic or even a valid excuse to completely blow off responsibility. I have ADD and take meds too so I have that to share with him; I can tell him that Mom works hard to overcome and he can too. Some people have to work a little harder at life, and sure, that’s not fair, but life’s not fair so you might as well get used to it. He can probably recite that little lecture of mine along with me by now. So he’s going to do all the assignments he missed, but I will wait until he’s medicated to have him do it.

And now, Mitsy… The Weather.

And we’re having quite the snowstorm here. The City of Cedar Rapids has declared snow emergency, which sounds kind of scary but it just means that no one can park in the street so the plows can get through. Everybody in Cedar Rapids is closed down or canceled including both colleges. But let’s not postpone the Holiday Program! I do have to give them kudos on the whole Holiday/Christmas issue; like many other schools, they had a program about learning about many other kinds of celebrations. I’m sure you’re familiar with this, but let me just tell you something that made me raise my eyebrows. The gist of it is the children are painting all the windows of the shops downtown. Guess what shop wants the kids to paint their windows with a pretty “Closed for Ramadan” motif?

The Snack Shack.

Yikes.

But I’m oh so pleased to report that The Dinosaur did not freak out. He participated (for the most part; I’ll take what I can get) by doing the same moves that the other kids did to the music. He sang with the other kids (a little bit; again with the taking, getting). And as if that wasn’t enough, he marched (literally) up the microphone, delivered a line of the program perfectly, and marched smartly (again, literally) back to his place.

You guys, this is big. It was a good day.

Just when I think I can’t hack it anymore; when I think that just can’t take another step; when the black hole seems altogether too enticing; when I lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel… God steps in and uses astonishingly empathetic Internets (you are my peeeepuuuull) and a super-cool teacher; He unbinds my mind so my words they flow like cleansing, cool spring water; and He softly puts his hands on each of my boys’ heads… and my eyes are stinging? And the tears aren’t sad? What is this?

Is this what happy feels like? I kind of forgot. I like it.

God bless you, my friends; He’s sure blessed me.

I tried to post, really, honestly, I did. But they turned out something like this:
*clears throat*
I got up. I was tired. I slept for shit. I ate a hot pocket. It was good. But hot. And a pocket. At the same time. Wow. My head still hurts. Ow.
*bows*
Someone told me that no one cares what you had for lunch (which is actually on its way from the Amazon Fairy!) so you see, I didn’t abandon you. Really, if you think about it (and not even real hard), I did you a ginormous favor. It was best to just put those posts out of their misery and move on.

And now, Jim… The Sports.

My body is trying to break the world record for Most Snot Ever Out of One Small Person. I’ve gone through more kleenex than a junior varsity cheerleader with no boobies. The Hunk, God bless ‘im, went out into the snow and sleet to get me a box of Puffs with Vicks and Lotion with Aloe to prevent what could have been a very serious partial amputation of the nose. Pretty soon, all the goop production is going to dehydrate me and I’ll have to get some IV fluids. Damn winter and its damn head colds.

And now, Mitsy… The Weather.

We’re still battling with DHS and Hawk-i, and The Rockstar is unmedicated. And? Kind of like The Tazmanian Devil. The Wonderful Fifth Grade Teacher That I Am In Love With In A Totally Non-Lesbian Way (hereafter aka WFGTTIAILWIATNLW… aw hell, how about just Wfgt) had to send me an email today re: my Rocky/Taz completely losing his brain, and, I gotta admit, I did not have a heart attack and die from this surprise.

Now before you read this email… aw, crap, wait… what if she sues me?! Wait again! I have NOTHING! Save for the lint in my pockets and some furniture that Goodwill won’t even take, a few dented vehicles, and some refrigerator items that may or may not have lethal bacteria.

And. Don’t you go dissin’ on Wfgt. Because I will totally Kick. Your. Ass. I’ve got the boots; don’t make me use them.

——————–
Subject: Rocky
Date: Wed, 5 Dec 2007 15:49:17 -0600
From: Wfgt
To: Dory

I know that it will come to no surprise to you that Rocky has been having a lot of difficulties now that he has been off his meds, and it is increasingly getting worse.

I have been cutting his assignments down since I know that focusing is so difficult. [this is clearly a woman who knows how to choose her battles] But, it has gotten to the point that he is not completing ANY of his assignments, he was unable to do his math test (even with me sitting next to him prompting), and he is very disruptive to the class.

We are trying to make adaptations and looking for solutions (any ideas!) but I was wondering how long you think it might be before Rocky is back on his meds. Also, if there is anything that we can do to help facilitate filling Rocky’s prescription let me know. I know in the past, our school nurse has taken a role in this for others.

The problem with email is I hope this isn’t misconstrued as desperate… like I will do ANYTHING… please…. help….. duct tape, etc. It really isn’t like that!

Let me know if you have any suggestions!

Thanks, Wfgt
——————–

And here is my response:

——————–
Wfgt,

Hang in there with me, please please please! We’re having such a time with DHS and Hawk-i, I can’t even begin to tell you how frustrated it makes me. I got a letter 10/28 from DHS that since Hunky got a part time job, now we have to have Hawk-i. It said we wouldn’t have to do anything, we would be cards in the mail. Well, mid-November I called (oh, and anytime I say called, it’s really a relay call which moves approximately at the speed of erosion) Hawk-i because I hadn’t gotten cards yet. The gal said, “Yeah, we called your DHS worker and told them we needed more info on 11/2 and they didn’t do it.” So I called my DHS worker and she said, “If I had gotten a message, I surely would’ve acted on it.” And both… what are they, they’re not companies… slimy squid-like monsters said that it was not their fault and there was nothing they would do. Then last Friday Hawk-i said that we would be getting the cards in the mail in 3-10 days. At one point, we bought Rocky 5 pills just to get us through until we thought the cards would be there, and that cost $43 and came out of grocery money. And stupid DHS says that we make too much money to get food assistance! Me, on unemployment, and Hunky, on a part-time job, make too much money for assistance. It boggles my mind. And we get to do it all over again (oh the joys!) because I’m about to get my last unemployment check, which changes our income level, and I guaran-friggin-tee that Hawk-i will bounce us back to DHS and sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, so help me, they’re going. to screw. it. up.

*blink*
*blink blink*

Anywaaay, I didn’t mean to get off on that tangent. I talked to Rocky tonight and told him that he was going to have to put some more effort forth even though he doesn’t have his pills, I know he can do better than what he’s doing, even med-less. He agreed with me. So he’s going to really try much harder. Tomorrow I’ll check with CVS and see if they can just talk to Hawk-i and get the pills without the card yet. I know he’s really very challenging and difficult, believe me; it’s literally driven me to tears at times. Do me a big, huge, fat favor. Any teacher you’ve EVER heard utter the words, “Drugs aren’t what’s best for ADHD kids; they’re for parents who need their kids sedated because they don’t want to handle them” or any variation thereof, and I want you to go get them, and bring them to your room, and watch Rocky for one hour. There will be much groaning and sobbing and gnashing of teeth, but don’t let that scare you. Because one week after he’s back on his meds, you herd them all up again, and you bring them to your room (heck, use a cattle prod, I don’t care) and you have them, again, watch Rocky for one hour. You’ll make converts of them all. It’ll be like a big ol’ revival right there in school. Make sure you take up a love offering, because it’s best to hit them up when they’re all emotional.

Damn it. Tangent again. *shakes head vigorously*

Oh, and don’t think for one second that I have never considered duct tape and a large oak tree.

Highest Regards,
Preachin’ to the choir in Cedar Rapids
——————–

There’s not many perks to being a parent. So sometimes, God gives you a teacher that gets your kid. He’s cool like that.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

MelodyAnn said I hafta read Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel. I obliged and went to the library to pick it up. I started reading it last night, and it makes me feel a little bit dumb. I’m used to opening a book and either reading it with no problem, or realizing quickly that I am way out of my league. In some parts, I recognize the words but can’t comprehend the meaning. Kinda like “The marauding sloth erectile perpetuity vicariously qualmish.” So I back the truck up and try again; I attempt to focus on the words and search for synonyms to make the sentence make sense; all the while my brain fights me, screaming “Let’s go, let’sgo, letsgoletsgoletsgoletsgo!” Thank God it’s only like that in spots.

MelodyAnn also tagged me for the 4 meme, but I just can’t come up with any new answers. So I saw another meme that was called 100 things about me. I’ll attempt that one. 100 is a really really big number when it comes to little ol’ me, so I reserve the right to get help from Hunky and/or make shit up. If I resort to that, I’ll be real obvious. Maybe. *evil grin*

Without further ado, 100 things about me…

1. God rawks.
2. I treat others the way I would like to be treated.
3. I am a great wife.
4. I am a good mother.
5. I am a good girlfriend.
6. I love my Jack Russell Terrier more than any other dog I’ve ever had in my life.
7. I am a graphic artist.
8. I am on number 8, and I am already stalled out.
9. I like woodworking.
10. I like machine quilting.
11. I like reading a lot of different kinds of literature. Love most Chick Lit, Dry Comedies (David Sedaris rawks), Drama/Relationship, Mystery, How-To books, Self-help, Spiritual growth… No Romance, Clive Cussler-esque, Sci-fi, or Dungeons and Dragons and Majic. *wrinkles nose* Icky.
12. Hunky says I have to put, “I like sex with Hunky.”
13. Well, I do like sex with Hunky. 12 years later and it’s even better. Married sex rawks.
14. I am a cheesehead.
15. I am frustrated because I want to learn ASL faster.
16. I am really good in Photoshop.
17. I am pretty ok with Illustrator.
18. I am best in InDesign.
19. I want to be a great photographer.
20. I like iced tea in the summer and coffee in the winter.
21. I like iced tea straight. Or just a little raspberry added.
22. I like coffee all doctored up with cream and sugar, hot cocoa powder, and/or a shot of Starbucks Raspberry.
23. My favorite dinner is steak, medium rare, and a loaded baked potato.
24. It makes me indescribably happy when I see all my DVDs in perfect alphabetical order.
25. The best part of buying a DVD is putting it in the right spot on the shelf in perfect alphabetical order.
26. I have literally thousands of pictures that I would like to get sorted and scan the negatives.
27. I like Dr. James Dobson. Iamnot does not. And that’s ok.
28. I really like Joyce Meyer. I wish that I could have dinner with her. And coffee and dessert. And I bet she would get tired of talking to me before I got tired of talking to her. I bet she would have to say, “Oh, for the love… it’s 3am, and woman, you just need to shut up already.”
29. My birthday is December 19. Having a birthday that close to Christmas sucks ass.
30. I do not like Tom Brady. Tombrady=bedwetter.
31. I am a PartyLite consultant but I haven’t had a party in months because I hate begging people to have parties.
32. I am beyond frustrated and charging full steam ahead towards starting to doubt my talent and skills in graphic design because I can’t get a damn job.
33. I just indulged in a two minute pity party after that last one. I think I’m over it.
34. I can write upside down.
35. I got my first pony when I was 18 months old. Her name was Snowball. I don’t remember her.
36. My next pony I got when I just turned 7. His name was Alcapony. My mom named him that because he could escape from anywhere.
37. I grew up on a farm. We had 22 acres off a small lake. One winter night after the lake froze over, Alcapony took one of our mares and three of the neighbor’s horses on little jaunt across the lake and my dad had to go out at 2am and bring them all home and deliver the neighbor’s horses back to him. That was the first time I heard my dad drop the F-bomb.
38. My cousin, who was so much older than me that I had to call her aunt, inherited her mother’s (my mom’s sister) thoroughbred horse farm. I spent quite a bit of time over there, including several different Kentucky Derby parties. My family was a staunch proponent of the whole “children should be seen and not heard” idea.
39. I could have split up that last one, but the first sentence and the third sentence both really weren’t about me. And the rules are 100 things about me, not 100 things about me and the also the history so you understand the thing about me better. I like rules. Rules bring structure. Rules make choices less overwhelming. Rules are the yellow lines in the road.
40. I am not above bending the rules. I drive 10 over everywhere I go.
41. I first learned to drive when I was about 13 years old. We had an old 1980ish white Ford Ranger, and it had stick shift. It took my Dad hours and hours to teach me how to shift properly. I haven’t owned a stick shift since then. I can still drive one if you’re going to insist, but I’m going to resent every minute of it.
42. I showed horses and home ec projects in 4H from age 8-17. I also showed sheep and chickens, but just one year each to try it out and that was about enough for me. Sheep are exceptionally stupid, and exceedingly dirty.
43. I can imitate the clucking of a hen well enough to fool a chicken.
44. I also had ducks and geese. The ducks weren’t really good for much except pooping everywhere and giving us ginormous eggs to color on Easter. The geese hated the little green truck and would peck its tires from the moment it hit the driveway until about five minutes after it was parked.
45. To teach me about money, for several years I sold eggs. My folks bought the chicks and the feed up until we separated the roosters from the hens. Then the roosters were butchered, destined for the freezer, and it was then my responsibility to buy the feed. I fed and watered them, and collected and washed eggs morning and night. I would carton them up, then I’d harness my pony to the cart and take the eggs to all the neighbors and sell them for 75 cents a dozen.
46. We had goats too, which I loved. Goats are cute and friendly but they poop raisins everywhere. The Seester was allergic to milk so Mom milked the nanny goat morning and night and we all drank the goat’s milk. Goat’s milk makes Vitamin D milk taste like water. It’s really rich.
47. I had a few ponies and a couple horses over the years.
48. My favorite pony was Alcapony. He was white with a few black spots on his rear and the back of his legs. By the time he died, all his spots fell off.
49. My favorite horse was Missy. She was a buckskin. She liked Pepsi and gummi bears. She also knew when our names were called in a class and she’d walk up to get our ribbon without even a cue from me. Later, we bred her to my mom’s paint stud, and we got Andy, who turned out tobiano with gold spots. I think that was The Seester’s favorite horse, but I’m not sure.
50. I’m halfway done! Yay me!
51. I rode my horse whenever I could. We would take off after lunch and might not come home until sundown. If we cantered on the blacktop, my mom could hear it from the house and would ground us from our horses for a week, which was worse than torture.
52. When my parents divorced after 19 years of marriage, I chose to go live in town with Dad, and The Seester stayed out on the farm with Mom.
53. The first time I came back out to the farm for visitation with Mom, I discovered that she sold my horse without telling me first, and I was heartbroken. She told me since I wasn’t there to help with chores or take care of the barn, then I didn’t deserve to have her. She was probably right. But I was crushed.
54. I didn’t even have video games until I was around 14. It was an Odyssey.
55. We didn’t have a computer until a little while after the Commodore 64 came out. I remember storing programs on cassette tapes, and writing programs in Basic.
56. I’m going to go fold a couple loads of laundry and come back later, because I feel reeeeally guilty for sitting here in front of the computer all day.
57. I just got a lot done! Made dinner, made my Shameless Comment Whore Button, went downtown and visited Hunky at the sleep out (I’ll get a pic up shortly), folded a couple loads of clothes, and here I am again!
58. I have sat here for about 20 minutes, trying to think of something to write.
59. I have to stop any caffeine intake around 4pm or I’ll find myself staring at the ceiling all night long, terribly, terribly awake.
60. I’m trying to cut down on Mt. Dew. I used to drink about 36 ounces a day, and now I only drink 12.
61. I met Hunky in a French college class. I got an A that semester.
62. The next semester we were dating. I got a D.
63. I don’t remember hardly any French.
64. I took Spanish all through High School.
65. I don’t remember much Spanish either.
66. I was not popular all through school. I don’t think I was a loser. Just quiet.
67. I was in band from 6th to 12th grade.
68. Almost all of my friends were in band.
69. I played the flute.
70. One semester in college, I played the piccolo.
71. I wish I had a piccolo.
72. I can still remember a three octave chromatic scale. It’s like my fingers remember because if I think about it too hard, I can’t do it.
73. I was in Job’s Daughters from age 11-20.
74. That experience gave me some of the best moments I have of growing up.
75. I still have four “sisters” not including The Seester on my IM contact list.
76. I like Barbershop quartet music. My dad was a Barbershopper.
77. My dad took me to a lot of plays growing up. Our local theatre was Tibbits Opera House. It had a ghost, but I never saw it.
78. I like almost any musical.
79. My favorite musical is Cats. I saw it at Hancher Auditorium in 1994.
80. Next favorite is Phantom, then Fiddler, then Les Miz.
81. I like popcorn done the old-fashioned way best.
82. I like staying home and renting a movie with a few friends better than going to the bar with a group.
83. I love playing cards. Euchre and Spades are my favorite.
84. I played Spades at lunch every work day for two years with my dad and his friends.
85. I won twice.
86. I’m claustrophobic.
87. I’m not afraid of heights.
88. I used to go fishing with my dad and catch blue gill. We’d clean ‘em and eat ‘em when they hadn’t even been dead a half hour. That’s fresh. It was the best eatin’ I ever had.
89. Being in a big group of people makes me freak out a little.
90. We’ve had to leave gatherings because I felt panic attack coming.
91. I hate meeting new people.
92. It takes a while to be able to speechread a person. Some are just impossible to speechread.
93. As frustrated as I am with my progress in learning sign, I can tell that it is a very natural way to communicate. It’s not anything like learning a foreign language. Although many colleges do give you foreign language credit for taking sign.
94. I went to college and ended up with a 1.6. After I was diagnosed with ADD and learned coping strategies and got medication balanced, I went back to college and got my AA with a 3.492. And that was even though I started with that lousy 1.6 from the first time ten years before that. I was extremely disappointed that I missed getting honors cords by .008.
95. I just had to do that on a calculator to make sure it was right. Math is most assuredly not my forte.
96. However, English is. I’m a great proofreader. I spell well, and I am good with grammar and punctuation.
97. I really enjoy making people laugh.
98. I miss my box-sleepin’ husband already, and I haven’t even gone to bed yet.
99. I can’t believe it took me so long to come up with 100 things about me.
100. I attempt to be like Jesus every single day.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

It must be something in the water. Mrs. Mustard tagged me for the 7 Random Things meme. Thank God. I opened The Blog Fodder Folder and sneezed at the dust.

Duh, duh-dah daaaaah!
7 Random Things About Me

1. There are more times than I really care to admit that I went without eating because ten minutes of food preparation was just too much work. Sometimes I just can’t be bothered to do anything beyond 1-open freezer and 2-put in microwave. I can cook. I just don’t want to. But oh wait! I cooked tonight! *audience cheers* And I screwed it up. *audience awwwwws*
2. My sweet tooth, isn’t. Besides about two days out of 28, the chocolate? I can take it or leave it. Please don’t take away my Chick Card. Birthday cake? Eh. Cotton candy? *winces* Cookies? *furrows brow* What kind? Chocolate Chip? Maybe one. Oatmeal? Maybe two. Cheesecake? I’ll just have one bite of yours. But. All You Can Cram Down Your Pie Hole Shrimp Night? Where’s my old Maternity/Thanksgiving pants? Lemme just show you how this is done.
3. I have a debilitating disease… Hi, my name is Dory, and I’m addicted to DVDs. *audience chants “Hi, Dory”* I think it’s safe to say that we have over 400 titles. I have a particular weakness for TV on DVD. Friends, Scrubs, Will & Grace, ER, MASH, Sex in the City, dharma & greg, Mad about You, CSI, Grey’s Anatomy… well, that’s just a few.
4. I cannot for the very precious life of me figure out how to pick the right aperture, shutter speed, and ISO all by myself. The closest I’ve gotten was last weekend when I used Aperture- and Shutter-Priority mode instead of Auto or Scene. Manual mode is that snooty, totally put together, botoxed, country club goin’, mimosa drinkin’ before 10:30am, desperate housewife that I am totally intimidated by and will never be able to figure out. I am Manual mode’s ‘bitch’. Seriously, last week I forgot non-fat milk in her latte, and she pursed her lips and bodyslammed me.
5. I love almost any kind of raw dough. Raw eggs? *shrugs* I walk on the wild side, amigos. Mm mm mmmm, pizza crust dough is the best. Oh wait no, pie crust dough. Ohhh, but Hunky’s Mom’s Baking Powder Biscuit dough. Wait, I can’t. It’s akin to choosing a favorite child.
6. The trouble with ADD is… hey, is that a chicken?! I call the green cup. Let’s go ride bikes! Oooo, something shiny. Wait, what?
7. Directions. Bad. Which way’s north? Up? Don’t give me any of this “Turn south, go a half mile, and it’s on the northeast side of the road” stanky fresh cow pie. Give me landmarks, people. “Turn right by the CVS and then left by the Tobacco Outlet. If you see HyVee on your right, you went too far.” Noooowwww you’re a-speakin’ mah language.

I’m sorry, MelodyAnn, I’ll get yours done too. I’m just havin’ some trouble comin’ up with some different answers. And, well, I’m a lazyass. There is that.

Oh, and thanks for all the great suggestions for the Shameless Comment Whore Button! I’m gonna work on that sometime tomorrow.

Rip it. Rip it all up real good then burn it, because Big Brother is always watching. And listening. Shhhhhhhhh. Be vewy, vewy qwiet. I’m hunting wabbits, you know.

I love happy endings.

Yesterday had a happy ending.

The Teacher e-mailed me back and said that was just fine if I wanted to pick him up, but they also had an extra costume if I was ok with letting Dino stay. I e-mailed back that was fine with me, but I was still coming in just in case Dino might have a meltdown. I got to the school a little bit early and came into his classroom. Of course the kids were completely wired for sound; actually ricocheting of the walls like super-bounce balls.

The Teacher came up and said to me, “I offered the costume to D and he said ‘no, thank you’ but he does still want to be in the parade. I asked him what he was going to dress up as, and he said he was going to be himself.”

I said, “Great! Sounds good to me.”

The Teacher announced, “Ok, boys and girls, it’s time for us to get dressed for the parade! I’ll help the boys and The Para will help the girls.”

He gave D some coloring stuff to do while everyone got changed, and chaos ensued. At one point, D buried his head in his crossed hands on his desk, and I was worried we might have an impending meltdown. Loud freaks him out. But he looked like he was handling it for himself pretty well, so I left him alone to take care of his own distress. The other kids were getting changed into their costumes, yelling excitedly and running in tight circles not unlike a highly caffeinated herd of Jack Russell Terriers.

Oh, and one interesting note… one little boy dressed up as a girl. What better costume for the budding closet transsexual? Um, yikes. Of course, he got the most attention from all the other kiddies; but much to my surprise, it was fascination rather than derision. He must’ve pulled it off because he was one of the cool kids.

The Teacher had everyone line up for the parade and at the last second, D got up and joined the line, next to last place. The procession, well, proceeded. The Para showed us other moms the short cut out to the playground where the kids would end up. We walked through the gymnasium and down the fire exit to the playground.

Ok, side note? All elementary school gyms smell the same. I walked through the double doors and instantly was flooded of memories of the humiliation of getting chosen last for teams, staggering in last in races, and forged notes excusing myself from the requisite involuntary indignities that is Physical Education. I found myself wishing that I had been able to raise my kids where I grew up so I would see a full circle, bringing my sons back to where I was humiliated educated. Partially the nostalgia of returning, but also partially so I could go to parent/teacher conferences and say, “See, I turned out OK in spite of your insistence that I would never amount to anything since I was brilliant yet completely incapable of applying myself.” I had a hearing impairment and ADD to boot; and instead of an IEP, I got shamed because I could not be what they insisted I should be.

Oops. That’s a tangent I didn’t intend to go off on. Moving on.

Anyway, we got downstairs just in time to see the 2nd & 3rd graders parading and the 4th & 5th graders supervising. I heart R’s teacher. She’s so perfect for him. She came up and chatted a little and told me how well he’s been doing.