I live in the pine barrens of New Jersey, in an economically depressed little town with lots of homeless folk, no nearby shopping or otherwise fun activities, and apparently increasing gang activity. Why the heck a gang would want to come here is beyond me. My youngest says the gangs are a bunch of bored kids coming together to try and be cool. The newspaper says the recruiters are coming here from Trenton.

Well, anyway...there have been a couple of shootings since the holidays. One man was killed in November and a couple was shot up on New Year's Eve. The police say the incidents are "gang related".

At the same time, there's been an increasing number of "lockdowns" at the high school. A lockdown is the school district's response to a perceived threat, terroristic or otherwise. It's a scary thing to me. During a lockdown, you cannot come and get your kid out of school. Nine times out of ten, parents aren't notified until after the fact that there has been a lockdown.

Some bright bulb has been leaving threatening messages on the walls of the bathrooms. The administrators aren't specific about the threats. They could be bomb threats or gang threats or the "I'm going to bring a gun to school and kill you all" type of threats.

The school's response has been to go into lockdown. Heavily armed cops show up to search all the students, their lockers, their backpacks and their musical instruments (yes, the youngest has had her saxophone searched). It's time consuming and costs a lot of money so the brilliant administrators have come up to a solution: lock all the bathrooms except for 4. Two upstairs and two downstairs.

Kids are not allowed to go between classes. They have to go one at a time and they have to be signed in and out of the bathroom by monitors. There are hundreds of kids...is this really going to work? The policy started on February 1st.

It's not going to solve anything. It's going to inconvenience and punish the kids and drive the teachers crazy. I guess that's the point?

After that disastrous episode of not picking the little guy up on time, TB, the dad and I had it out with Mega Mooch. There was a lot of yelling, crying, and "from now on everything is different, I'm changing" but I am not going to hold my breath. The big confrontation occurred on Saturday. We'd arranged to have my two daughters watch the little guy away from us so that we could be open and honest with each other.

It all had to come to a head eventually. MM was lying to everyone about everything. She'd told us all kinds of horror stories about the little guy's dad, that he was neglectful and abusive, that his family was the same way and on and on. Meanwhile, she was tell him basically the same things about us! She lies about where she's going, whether she's paid her bills, whether she has any money, you name it, she lies about it. If the sky was blue and she told me so I'd still have to look.

Once before I offered a four-way talk so we could get all the stories out on the table. Why? To clear the air so that we could start clean, treat each other respectfully and communicate...for the little guy's sake. MM didn't want to do that at first but when the little guy's dad insisted, I guess she saw it was inevitable.

As usual, MM took the view that poor her, the whole world is against her and nothing is her fault. Even afterwardws, I think she still feels that way. She was saying whatever we wanted to hear to get us to shut up. It was clear all she wanted to do was run to Chuck E. Cheese and meet up with some low life friend of hers, although she denied it. So why did the low life friend keep texting her? Hmpf.

She wanted to know what she could do to show that she was really changing and we had several ways to measure.

First, she claimed the little guy as an exemption for the year even though she only had custody of him for half and even though she didn't contribute any support at all during the whole year. All the support either came from the dad or from TB & me. Not that TB and I want to claim the little guy or even get our money back. We just feel that the dad should get all or at least half the exemption. Now, since MM has already been flaunting her return money this would mean she'd have to go back to the IRS and re-file, returning the refund. I won't hold my breath for that.

Another thing she could do is show us her bills and show us that the amount is going down. We don't want her paycheck and we're not going to tell her how to pay these bills off but we do want to see evidence she's caught up on her car payment, the credit cards, the phone, and the banks (she owes two banks around $900 each for bouncing checks! Didn't they used to put you in jail for that????)

Another thing she could do is get counseling, although with the type of personality order I think she has it's just about an exercise in futility. I don't think she will ever admit or own responsibility for anything she does. Even being so late to pick up Tomas...it was no "big deal". There were "no broken bones". The boy was even sleeping. Yeah...cried himself to sleep!

Let's stop there with just those three although I wanted to add communication--stop the lying and keeping information from all of us. She already blew that one.

On Sunday night, the little guy began to get sick. Monday morning when I got up, MM and the little guy were gone. I looked around for a note...there was none. I wondered if she'd gone to the emergency room or to the doctor. It was still pretty early in the morning for a doctor's appointment (around 8) and so I called her cell phone. No answer...but she'll do that if she doesn't want to talk to you. So I waited, worried and wondered.

Meantime I talked with the dad. He hadn't heard from MM either. He'd asked how the little guy was doing and she'd texted back fine, sleeping. ???? The little guy was sick, how is that fine? Anyway, eventually we both managed to contact her. She told me she was at the doctor's office; she told him she was still enroute because the appointment was at 9:30. Meanwhile, neither of us could get through to the doctor.

The dad asked why did you leave so early with him if the appointment wasn't until 9:30? And she answered she wasn't paying attention to the time when she left.

All these conflicting statements did not inspire confidence in us.

She's backtracked on the getting counseling thing already. Instead of calling a counseling center for an appointment, she says she's going to talk to the family doctor and "see what he says". Meanwhile, it's been several days and she hasn't done that yet either. And this is after telling us she was considering suicide Saturday night. Yeah right. That's part of the personality disorder I think she has.

As for refiling her income tax, I think that won't happen unless she's audited.

But at least we got our say, and none of us held back. She knows exactly what we think even if she wants to justify and rationalize it all away.

This morning I dropped the little guy off at school. He didn't want me to leave but after having gone through this 3 times with my own kids, I knew it was best to give him a hug, a kiss, tell him I'd see him later and get myself out of there. Later, the little guy's dad, my older daughter and I went to pick him up. He was all smiles and eager to show us his cubby and the rest of the room. Teacher told us he'd settled down within minutes, joined the circle, played with his classmates and just had a great day!

It's late so I think I'll just indulge in one of my favorite Friday pass times: the meme.

This one is called Four For Friday:

Q1 - Shopping Carts: When you're done using a store's shopping cart (bricks-and-mortar, not online), do you return the cart to the store, leave it in the parking lot, or push it into one of those storage areas that takes up all the great parking spots?

Even before my darling older daughter (DOD) began working for a grocery store, I was pushing it into one of those storage areas ... mainly because I've arrived at the parking lot enough times to be inconvenienced by carts left in good parking spots.

Q2 - Global Warming: Do you think global warming is an environmental problem that is causing a serious impact now, or do you think global warming isn't having a serious impact?"

I believe it's having a serious impact on us now

Q3 - Prison: At the Southeast State Correctional Facility in Windsor, Vermont, inmates have been told that the facility's prison cats must go. According to SSC's new superintendent, the facility, which for years has allowed cats to come and go as they please, is not conducive to a pet program. If you were in charge of the facility, would you voluntarily parole Ziggy, Marmalade, Smokey and Shane, or would allow them to stay?

I'd let them stay. What's the big deal? Does cat food and kitty litter cause that much? Besides, the cats probably keep the rat population down--the 4 legged kind, not the 2 legged kind in the prison.

Q4 - Taxes: After federal taxes are collected from the public, do you think the U.S. Congress thinks of the money more as taxpayer money to spend carefully or as their money to spend as they wish? How much of the money you pay in taxes do you think is spent on government programs that you personally favor and support?

I think all the Senators and Congresspersons think the money is theirs to spend on their pet projects. I am pretty sure a fraction of the money I pay in taxes are spent on programs I support -- the environment, health care, children's issues ... I don't see my tax money going to these causes.

I can't believe it! First day of preschool for the little guy--who is also 3 today--and the major mooch (the 25 year old stepdaughter) takes off the day from work to take him and spend the day with him. Well...the teachers had her leave at around 10:30 which apparently is a shame because she neglected to return to pick him up at the end of the day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The teacher calls me at about 3:50 (school lets out at 3:25) and says, "Um, were you supposed to come and pick the little guy up?"

I'd been napping and was a little groggy but you better believe I was wide awake then! "No, the mom...she's not there?"

Panic. Putting myself in the place of the little one...where's mommy? where's nana? am I stuck here forever now?

OMG.

Teacher said she'd call Mega Mooch's cell number. Meanwhile I called the father just to make sure there was no misunderstanding ... and he was very upset too. "First day, first day," he kept saying...as if, she couldn't even get that right.

So I grab my coat and put on my shoes and am about to run out the door when I think to call the teacher back and see if she was able to reach MM. The teacher said, "She just walked in the door."

It was 4 freaking o'clock.

Life for me is never boring. I could use a little boredom now and then.

Consider:

My parents are deaf. When I was very young, I thought all adults were deaf. I thought inside the house everyone signed and outside the house everyone used their voices. I found out differently when we moved from one neighborhood to another and the new kids let me know my parents were "dumb".

I was born just about smack dab in the middle of the baby boom. When we moved to our new neighborhood, I went to the same elementary school as my cousins. That wasn't too bad...but then we were re-districted twice in 2 years and I developed a real fear of buses and bus drivers. I was positive they were going to get lost and I'd never get home again. Going to school right up through high school was always a big production, with me having daily melt downs for the first few months. I never did get to stay in just one school. When I was 10, we moved to Maryland. I spent 2 years in the neighborhood elementary school, 3 in the junior high, 2 in the high school annex in downtown Baltimore and another 2 in the high school complex. By the time I got to the last two years of high school I was an old pro at school jumping and didn't have such a hard time anymore...well, not until the lunatic ran through the school with a butcher knife anyway.

Growing up with deaf parents is definitely different, especially if you are the oldest. Although my parents managed just fine on their own until I was about 5 or 6, afterwards they'd look to me for help--what's going on, what should we do, and what have you. The older I got the more I got the "you're hearing, you know " line and that's why they needed me to tell them what was going on and what to do. Pretty big responsibility for a kid. I was the one who got to tell my parents about the deaths of my grandparents and uncle when I was 10. I hated Western Union (we didn't have a phone then) because every time we got a telegram, it would say "Call home" and that meant we'd have to go to the pay phone to find out who died.

At the same time I was being given this weird sort of respect as a hearing person and also being "buttered up" (We can depend on you, you understand deaf people) I also had to deal with the guilt of being able to hear. The other messages I got were that hearing people always take advantage of deaf people and don't let them advance. Hearing people always make fun of deaf people behind their backs. Hearing people always cheat deaf people. Many times my parents--particularly my mother--would accuse me of "taking advantage" because I could hear and they couldn't. That meant editing phone calls, keeping the truth from them, getting away with stuff I wouldn't have been able to if they could hear...and on and on. There's some truth to that of course.

I was very confused, not deaf and yet not all hearing. I was different from normal hearing kids with hearing parents. I thought differently and played differently. I was too loud, clomping around because there was no one to tell me to walk quietly. I talked to loud, lisped, and mispronounced words like Phoenix and saccharine. I'd say Foe-nix and sax-a-ryn, like my parents did. The other kids laughed their asses off. I was sort of a goodie-goodie who had a belief I was a baddie-baddie because I was hearing. That meant I was one of "them", one of those who took advantage of deaf people. Yet they trusted me because I "understood". No wonder I was confused.

On top of all that, my parents drank...and fought each other--physically. Once it was so bad my younger brother and I had to run next door to hide. Our neighbors took us in and we sort of looked at each other uncomfortably. We could hear the parents screaming and beating on each other through the walls. In those days, though, neighbors minded their own business and didn't call the police.

When I was old enough, I got out of there. My relationship with people was sort of warped, superficial. I was afraid to get close to anyone but once I did, I moved in too close and ended up ruining relationships and friendships. By the time I was 25, I was pretty sure I would never marry, never have children.

But then I met my first husband, Rich. I won't say we had a perfect relationship or marriage. We fought like cats and dogs, unfairly and said hurtful things to each other. But we were like two pieces of a broken whole and we called ourselves soul mates. By the time he died, we really were soul mates. Early into our marriage, he had congestive heart failure and we learned that he had Marfan syndrome. Now, who would have thought that? We'd just had a baby, were into a new home and had just bought a new car--who would have ever anticipate anything like that?

There was the emergency heart surgery and the surprise pregnancy and the "death sentence" from the doctor. He won't live past five years, the doctor said. Don't have any more children with this man. Well, ho ho, I'd just become pregnant with my older daughter! And, as it turns out, a "miracle" occurred that year and my husband made an amazing rebound that shocked the doctor.

But did all that stress have an affect on my second pregnancy or did my daughter just inherit an enhanced difficult temperament from me? My experience with all 3 of my kids is totally different and that's to be expected but ...

My son, the oldest, the one who was just 6 months old when Rich had heart failure, was a sweet, loving, easy to care for child.

My older daughter was always a challenge. She didn't ever take well to changes in plan, was sensitive to sounds and lights and certain textues and she'd have easy and complete total meltdowns. She became even more challenging once the youngest was born.

The youngest is like the best qualities of the older two.

Around the time the older two began elementary school, though, other issues began to come up. My son was always a dreamy very bright kid who used to have a big circle of friends. Once he got into first and second grade, though, they began to drop away. I noticed he spoke in a sort of monotone with little inflection and always used these big words kids didn't understand. Meanwhile, his sister (16 months younger) was busy exploding in her class.

After evaluations, we were told that son had ADHD--with some possible Asperberger's Syndrome thrown in--and that daughter had generalized anxiety and depression.

My God, I wondered, what have I done to bring all this stuff on? Boy, I was really beating myself up. I felt like I'd brought a curse down on my family--my husband with a life threatening condition and now the two kids with these behavior issues...yet at the same time professionals were telling me that I was a good mom and doing all the right things and had the right instincts and blah blah blah...

so why was all this stuff happening? I read a book called When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Rabbi Harold Kushner. It helped a little for a while. I felt less guilty. But now I've forgotten everything the book said...I'll have to read it again.

Then Rich's company decided to close the Maryland office. At least he kept his job...they asked us to move back to New York and so we did. Less than 2 years later, Rich died one night ... quite unexpectedly. Actually, I should have seen it coming but more about that later.

It wasn't enough that he'd suffered from a heart condition and had been in pain and it wasn't enough we'd struggled through almost insurmountable financial disasters. No, now he had to die too.

Angry? Bitter? Heartbroken? Oh yeah!

But after a year, I was starving for a male's perspective and touch. I have wonderful, dear friends who were all supportive but none of them had been widowed. You really don't know what it's like until you stand in a widow's shoes.

Anyway, I met TB online and to make a long story short, we got married and I uprooted my kids to bring them to NJ. I found out that TB had been living a variation of my life too. I guess this stuff happens to everyone, eh? Some get rained on a little longer or a little harder than others but no one has an easy ride.

TB has two adult daughters from his first marriage--his wife died from primary pulmonary hypertension the same year as Rich passed. One daughter left home at 16, had 2 children with a man almost 10 years her senior, married him, had two more kids and lives now in TN. They struggle and live pay check to pay check. She is facing a very similar situation as me--her husband developed adult muscular dystrophy.

The younger ... she was molested when she was just 5 by a church elder. She seems to be like a 12 year old in an adult's body with all the sense and sensibilities of a preteen. She is actually 25. She was in a long term relationship with a guy she labelled abusive and had a baby boy with him.

She and the little guy are living with us. The little guy is 3 years old today and does not speak. He's been evaluated by several doctors and has been labelled PDD-NOS. The little guy and I have a very close relationship and I just love him to pieces. He gets my complete attention especially with the other grandkids so far away. Today is his first day of school.

Melodrama...it just never ends.



More later...