Trying to get back in the swing…but trippin’ on the slide…

So I have been wanting to get back into the swing of…well everything especially blogging for a while now but time seems to sneak right past me lately. There have been so many changes for us…positive ones at that and I really want to share them with you all…if you are still here?

We have since relocated to sunny…er…freezy Ohio and the kids are doing so well.

We have a new and wonderful life and almost sad to say that leaving their dad was the best thing I have ever done for them.

LeBella brought me her recent report card and I almost fell out of my seat when I saw…wait for it….straight A’s!!!!

I know this is just a teaser but I just want to let those who still read me here to know we are alive and well and mosing across the playground to get back in the swing (of things).

Once we get through the holiday madness and return to our general madness I plan to get RAtWM back up and running! I love you all and miss you bunches but at the moment?

Life is good.

BOO

*Brushes cobwebs from corners*

*Wipes away layers of dust*

Hi Ragers! Remember me??

I know, I know!

That thing…what’s it called? Oh right! Life! Damn near swallowed me whole these past couple of months. I have these lovely ladies helping to keep things flowing but I think we are all going to take a break. I am going to be moving resources from My Kid’s Bipolar, Now What over to this site as the group will be closing. I am sorry to see it go, but without sponsorship…

I am trying to get back to all my tweeps too. This semester at school was a super busy one for me! But after next week I have a couple of weeks off. I have decided to use that time to prep material for our return and to focus on my creative writing a bit.

If anyone has any questions or you are in need of resources you can always email me at mommylebron@yahoo.com. I will also be looking for guests posts and topic suggestions.

We’ll be back up and running August 15. Until then? Stay sane Ragers!

 

There Goes the Neighborhood

Friends. Big, little, older, younger. We all have them. Most of us have the ability to keep them.

For some of our children, it’s a struggle.

We are blessed to finally live in a neighborhood full of kids of all ages.

Except?

Jellybean’s 2 BFFs are 8 and 9, 2 years behind her in school. There’s the extra needy 39 year old neighbor with the 6 year old, too.

8 and 9 are okay. I’m a little sketchy about the 6 year old. She’s only just started elementary school whereas Jellybean is just beginning middle school. She still talks in a baby high voice and mimics typical 6 year old (babyish) behavior. Jellybean is sprouting boobs and talking about boys.

My new motto: Make friends that will be going to middle school with you too. I have a feeling that a friendly face in the hallway is going to make a huge difference.

I went to a private Christian academy growing up. I have no idea about this world she is about to enter. She asks me all these questions I can’t answer.

Just this past weekend, we had a friend’s 13 year old daughter over. I quietly watched as Jellybean bloomed into the young lady she is and will be (a lot faster than I am prepared for!) at the hands of this light years above friend. She carried herself taller. She dressed a little better.

Yet, I could still see how far apart even these two are. Some because of different parenting approaches, some because of age. One is allowed to watch MA rated shows, while the other is still stuck on PG. One dresses in teenage clothes that actually fit her because she has all the right stuff. One still shops in the girls section because she is not quite ready to make the plunge into the teen world.

The differences between Jellybean and the teenager are wide, reminding me that my daughter is not as grown up as she wants to be. She is still very much my little girl, and the bridge between that six year old and her may not be as far off as the one between her and the 13 year old.

XOXO

Why the Train?

I’ve always thought saying you ‘lost’ your train of thought was a particularly odd phrase.

How would you even know where your train of thought was going to be able to know it was lost? Do we all have engrained tracks in our brains? Is there an itty bitty conductor in my head asking for tickets? Who is he asking for tickets from?

Thoughts like this are why I get particularly distracted at times. While amusing, they sure drain time from my day!

I chose ADD Train as my contributing post name because it resonates so strongly with how my ADD brain works.

My thought process starts at one station and then twists and turns and flips rail switches constantly. Keeping up with my train of thought is tiring and frustrating. Even more frustrating is when my train of thought has led me so far off task (and schedule!) that I become an inconvenience for others. If I want reliability in others I need to be reliable myself.

All of the lessons I’ve learned since Turtle and I were diagnosed, this is the one I am struggling with the most. I seem to have settled myself in the rut of shrugging off my unreliability as a symptom of my ADD. Unfortunately, this time it’s cost me a wonderful babysitter that the girls adore.

It’s time to manage mine (and Turtle’s) train of thought so we can be reliable and a joy to be around.

Full steam ahead, reliable station next stop.

Summer Lovin’, Havin’ Some Fun….or not.

Morning rising, usually by my 3 yr old (Scooby) climbing into bed with me, and insisting on watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Mickey Mouse and the Neverland Pirates later, Jellybean is awake. Even without my hearing aid in, I can tell when she is up because she doesn’t know how to walk anywhere. It’s always a stomp, clunk, stomp, thunk, clack-clack-clack down the stairs, and a wham, my bedroom door is reopened. She will dive down beside me, bouncing both me and Scooby almost completely off the bed, and say “I’m hungry.”

Not “Good Morning.” Not “I love you.” Just “I’m hungry.”

She’s 11. I send her up to fix herself a bowl of cereal and get a few more minutes of peace and snuggles with Scooby before climbing out of bed. I can hear her stomping overhead, cabinets flying open and slamming closed, and I wonder how much milk actually makes it into the bowl with all the noise she makes. (She’s never spilled the milk. Knock on wood. It just sounds that way.) I hear her stomp to the table, the chair sliding across the floor. Two minutes later, I hear her stomping to the sink, a stop at the fridge, and more clack-clack-clack as she races down the stairs to the family room to watch tv.

I shuffle into the family room, her meds in hand, and she swallows them. First round, done. The morning has been easy so far. I shuffle back to my bedroom, turn on the computer, and run upstairs to make coffee. Screams break my still asleep reverie, and I race down the steps (and almost break my neck) only to find Jellybean on my bed, blocking the tv from Scooby’s view and wailing that he did a karate kick on her back. Scooby is gleefully engaged in challenging Tigger to a bounce-a-thon on my unsuspecting bed, so I know he probably did give her a karate kick and a good “hi-Yah! hi-Yah” behind a fist full of 3 yr old power too.

Jellybean is sent back to the family room, Scooby escorts me back to the kitchen. I’m treated to the soothing smell of fresh brewed coffee as I ascend the staircase. A half smile decorates my face, and I dance Scooby all the way into his booster seat and strap him in. Ahhh. Bliss once mo…no! no!!

Stomp, stomp, clack-clack-clack, thunk, stomp, stomp, slide, silence.

“Mom!” “Mommy!!” “Mom!” “Mooooooooooommmmy!!!!” and that’s when the fire alarm goes off. Shrill, ear shattering, and amplified in my aided ear 1000 times. My hand stings from the force of the counter that smacked it. My nostrils flare with fire, quickly quenched as my teeth draw blood from my lip. My chest swells, my eyelashes meet, and I slowly shrink and turn, my coffee cup barely filled with cream, let alone coffee.

“Stop teasing your brother! Stop screaming, Scooby!” Giggles from one side of the table, screeches from the other. “You will both go to your rooms and stay if you don’t stop.”

Silence. My feet spin on the floor and my hand grasps the packets of Splenda that had been carefully counted and laid to the side. Shwip! The packet is opened and more whiteness joins the powder at the bottom of the cup. Repeat. The cup is raised, pressed against the button of the coffeemaker. The dark amber liquid streams down.

“Mom!!” 1. 2. 3. “Mom!!!” “MOm!!!” “MOM!!!!!”

The cup is full. A little tremble causes a teeny bit of the amber liquid to sail over the side, but the cup is full.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

I glance wistfully at that full cup, sweetened just right, just there, right in front of me, but oh, so far out of my reach.