My head hurts, My feet stink, and I don't love Jesus.

 I just like the picture... and it captures the essence of my mood.

I was startled awake by Harley's screechy beckoning for mommy comfort in the middle of the night this morning.  I was annoyingly jerked out of a strange dream about an ex of mine.  He was a sultry vile clown who enters my dreams uninvited from time to time.  He was beautiful and damaged, and I loved him as I did the others. But there was something unforgiving about him, which set him apart.  He was not welcome at my wedding.

In my dream I was helping some chicks nail his ass to the wall about some anti-social move(s) he pulled on each of them respectfully, and probably repeatedly.  So, we were just getting to the good part, where in I maneuvered stealthily over a parking valet crossing arm and slid into the little key cabana unnoticed in order to obtain some info which was vital to our sadistic plot to bring him down when our boy (Harley) cried out for momma.  Can you hear the needle ripping across the vinyl in stereophonic amplification?

After my midnight summoning, which actually occurred around 3am, all I was left with were musings about why he (evil ex) was even at my class reunion (in the dream), who these chicks were, and how I came to know them and help them, and how fucking sexy he looked all liquored up and swaggering, long hair whipping and waving like a red flag across the dance floor.  This rude awakening left me unable to get back to the soft place beyond my eyelids.  I began thinking.  Thinking and thinking of my old workplace and haunt.  The place where I met him, and countless other fuckers and friends, The Grand Finale. I remembered way way more than I ever thought I could about the events that took place in that cave, and wrote about it in my mind just the way I wanted to, with that old devil may care humor that carried me through my 20s and 30s.  That humor and my stunningly meaty breasts opened a lot of doors for me. When I was young they were greatly admired by men and women alike, (the breasts I mean), although I never really understood it.  To me they were largely embarrassing (no pun intended, but let’s roll with it), and mostly in the way. For these and a whole laundry list of reasons, I’d have preferred a more sporty variety, but I digress. 

I began to remember.... I began to remember lots and lots of things.  Things I would not be proud to tell my family about, but wouldn't trade for the world…pieces and parts of stories, flashbacks from an incredibly special place and time.  A time which will live forever in infamy for those of us who were there. It was a time of youthful exuberance and antics, humiliations and lessons.  Of fun and frivolity.  Of darkness and sorrow, budding intelligence, expansion,  grief, redemption, experimentation, the muddy reaching of very deeply deeply disturbed individuals, all congregated around a great trough of the most delectable schmorgasbord of music, drugs, alcohol, lust, distorted love, fear, mysticism, attitude, poetry, cash and yep, food. Everyone was accepted and most (but not all) behavior tolerated.  Among our cast of characters were a long parade of bar and restaurant employees & owners (we were the after hours club), musicians, career academics, law students, bums, addicts of every variety, dealers (both small and big time), hookers, hippies, Krishnas, southern-style rednecks, artists, moochers, bikers, frat boys, philosophers, writers, dancers, pirates, geeks, freaks, dorks, lost souls, gypsies, tramps and thieves. We had it all, and every now and then we’d realize it, and raise a glass.

Walking into that dungeon was like dipping a ladle into a cauldron of primordial soup.  Once you dipped that ladle and the womb part disappeared, you never knew what on earth you were going to pull up.  It could be anything… anything at all.  And that was the magic of the Grand Finale. 

Forget Mr. Toad, just have a son!

My son, Harley is apparently going through something.  Something in which he finds it necessary, or is compelled by a force outside of his own reckoning to hurl himself into my or my husband's body going full speed, head butt us, poke us, hit, scratch, kick, squeeze, pinch or grab us... depending upon what demon is possessing him at the moment.  We have been working with this for a few weeks, delivering various consequeses, time outs, mirroring, diet, and etc... which all seem to have a temporary effect, but as yet, have not fully deterred this behavior.

Yesterday we were having quite a day, Harley and I.  He was in rare "aggressive" form, so I took him to the park to "let his jets run"  (That's what our favorite teacher, Ms. Carmie calls it).  He is still sort of acting a bit nuts, but ok, we're at the park and we are the only ones at the park at that, so scream and go nuts~!  Everything was going fine until either his blood sugar dropped or he got too excited or something... I'm still not sure what possessed him this time.  Anyway, he comes back from what ever he was doing to the platform which is the highest platform on this equipment.  It's at the top of the big slide.  Anyway, he comes up like he's going to hug me, and he does, and then he pinches my boob, (in a very very tender area), REALLY hard~!  This is as aggrevating and frustrating as it is painful.  Ok, so I yell, naturally.  First because I'm in pain, and next AT him! (Oh yea, and by now, there are other people at the park... lovely.)

 "Why did you pinch me?  You can't do that to people, it hurts!!  Are you CRAZY?" (or something to that effect)

"I didn't pinch you!  I didn't pinch you~"

By this time, I really am ready to strangle this child....

"Do NOT lie to me"  I say, turning his face so he is looking at me when I say this."DO NOT LIE!"

"I grabbed you, I didn't pinch"

Oh, MY GOD!!

So, now everyone in the park is likely thinking I'm abusing my kid....my first instinct is to leave, right then.  And I should have, but we had a talk and he promised not to do it again.  (Am I creating a wife beater here??  Jesus!) So, we stay.

Not more than 5 minutes later, (I'm still on the same platform ruminating about the fact that I bounce between snapping and feeling guilty to being a wussy disciplinarian altogether...and the effects that may have on Harley's future and his mental health....and his wife, and and and...thinking maybe I should resort to the old fashioned "Give him a dose of his own medicine" and end this bullshit once and for all!)  So, as I'm sitting there, lost in my own fog, suddenly his face appears around the corner... He is on the tall pole with the swirling banister type slidey thingie.  This particular thingt has always seemed MUCH higher than it should be to me.  Anyway, he normally never goes down it unless I'm right under it or spotting him... Today? He decides to climb UP it on his own, while I was zoned out, thinking my lameness as a disciplinarian.

"Ah, mom, can you help me step on the platform?"

"Oh yea, hang on a sec"  (It takes me at least that long to get up)

As I am getting up, I hear a THUMP!

Oh holy mother of Christ!  He's fallen the entire 10 feet!  He's dead or badly hurt, I know this.  I am staring at his motionless body lying face down on the woodchip covered ground where he's fallen and I freeze. except to hollar his name.

"Harley!! HARRRRLEEEEEEEEY!!!!!!!!!"

I don't remember how I got down to where he was because I've blacked it out. But I did get down there somehow, and he's already sprung up!  Thank the Great Spirit and everything sacred!  So, of course he's crying pretty good for a few minutes and babbling incoherently.  All the while, I'm holding him and checking for broken bones and internal injuries.  Intermittently asking questions:  "What happened?  What hurts?  Did you hit your head?"  etc..  Remember, I was getting up so I did not actually witness HOW he fell or the fall itself, even though I was only about a foot or two away. (Life is cruel and insanely ironic in this way)

So, after a while, I"m pretty sure nothing is seriously wrong, at least not visibly... but I won't sleep until we've been to see the doc and check it out the innerds.  (There could be internal bleeding right?  A cracked rib?  Punctured lung?)  So, we are told by the doc to go to Urgent Care because it is now close to 5, and they're packing to go home... Ok, so we are at the Urgent Care and once again, we get the BEST, funniest, most patient, understanding, mild mannered and did I mention BEAUTIFUL  doctor... and he's older than Doogie Howser, which is a real plus in my book.  He is Dr. Eastman and he understands that I feel guilty as hell, and it's ok.  He says, " It always happens to the  vigilent ones.... Usually it's the grandparents!"  "He's a boy", he says, "its what we do!"  (Did I mention he has kids of his own?) Ok, starting to feel a triffle less guilty and a just plain grateful.  He examines Harley and announces with a slow steady tone and blue eyes filled with compassion, and just a glint of whimsy, "He is one lucky boy"!  I know this is true, he has many divine allies. Dr. E continues... "Keep an eye on him just to be safe.  Check his pee for blood clots, watch to see if he winces when he caughs or complains of any pain or dizziness, just to be safe".  But he is confident that Harley is just fine.

So, away we go feeling luckier than people have any right to.  I slept with him lastnight, just because.

Then today at school,  I stayed for Good Morning Time (At his school, the whole school gets together every morning to sing songs together before they start their day... I LOVE that) When a parent stays, many times they will allow a student to come to the front of the room and lead in a song, and everyone sings along.  Today Harley got to do that...Only instead of singing a normal Good Morning Time song, he just launched into the Diego theme song.  (It's pretty long!)  None of the other kids nor the pianist knew the song, so he was doing it solo and Alco Pella...  (There was one teacher, Ms Melissa, who knew some of it.  She helped out a little, which was very cute and sweet!)  Mostly, we were all sort of stunned!

I'm not sure why I added that part at the end... but I guess it's because kids can make you feel such a myriad of emotions in such a short time, it really is as though you've turned into a pinball, and the bumpers are your emotions, which you keep bouncing around on.  Boing! Boing! Boing!  In a matter of 24 hours I felt all of these feelings so intensely I was literally engulfed by them: Anger, love, visceral pain, emotional pain, fear, shock, gratitude, frustration, pride, exhaustion, awe, exasperation and releif... just to name a few.   
Even Mr. Toad would not be expecting this kind of ride.  That's probably the only thing I'm sure of.

Marmot Carrion Anyone? Marmot tar tar perhaps?

This is not my beautiful house or my not so beautiful dead marmot. And that is not my beautiful husband, but I think I'm crushing just a bit on those eyes, and that right forearm...

Ms Moon has informed me that we do not have marmots in North FL, and as usual, she is correct; however, I'm going to use the word marmot anyway. Ever since I heard it in The Big Lebowski, I've been waiting patiently for a chance to use it. (I love The Dude... he abides.) So for the purposes of this blog, anything furry and dead will heretofore be referred to as a marmot.

It's been an interesting month around here. We have been battling asthma, the elements, our house, each other, and yes, even dead marmot. We are tired and trying hard to stay grateful. It's just hard to say thank you when you keep getting shit storm after shit storm! "Ah, thank you, can we have some more please?" That's just plain wrong.

Harley had been coughing sporadically since early August when school started. His GP's listened to his lungs numerous times and declared them "clear". We asked if he should see an allergist. "No, you don't want to go down that road." Hmmm.... I'm thinking. This has been going on for 2 years. As soon as he gets any sniffle, it turns into MONTHS of coughing. I think maybe I DO want him to see an allergist! Ok, so they send us home without so much as cough syrup but we seemed to manage to get the coughing under some sort of control despite that fact. Or so we thought. Then just as it seemed to be going away, he got the worst jag to date. Poor guy. This time, I was totally PISSED, and it's now late September. The doctor Harley sees is part of a GROUP of Docs who work in the same place. On this Sept. visit we got the NEW doctor of the group (All the old ones try to avoid us. He must have got the short straw) and he promptly diagnosed Harley with cough variant asthma. The meds he prescribed are helping immensely. Although, we did have 2 more visits to urgent care (ER) over the weekend following this visit due to an ear infection and a severe jag lasting more than 8hours. (Mr. new doc neglected to give us anything fast acting for jags. (And yes, I did ask.) BUT....... without EVEN asking, Dr. Mike at UC prescribed another round of Prednisone AND cough syrup with CODEINE! Thank you Doctor Mike, Jesus, Buddha and Ronald McDonald! FINALLY! For the first time in months we will get through a friggin night without steam, coughing, puking, frustration, and sadness. One of the saddest parts to all of this, is that our son is becoming cynical. When I tell him we are going to see the doctor, he says, "Why are we going there, they can't fix me". OUCH. We will be getting a brand new doctor and a brand new doctor's office. There is more to this story, but we'll end here. Harley is doing great in comparison to what he was, and his chest is getting a well deserved rest, as are we all.

Next we get to the mold problem in our house. We have been battling that since we moved in. It wasn't apparent before buying the house and it's something that the building inspector just didn't catch... again I say, hmmmmmm.... in any event, we have been making sweeps of the house every so often, but had not done one for a few months. I found mold in in all sorts of places. I cleaned fire places, unpacked boxes and got rid of a lot stuff. Now I have all manner of "stuff" from the boxes (that did not get tossed) in various piles around the dining room because I do cannot yet integrate it... This battle will be ongoing.

Then there is the water jug that leaked ever so slowly in the kitchen cabinet. This is our hurricane supply water. (We try to be responsible~ hmph!) Anyway, a damn 2 gallon jug of spring water sprung a leak and soaked up the particle board so badly in our cabinet, hub had to rip the whole bottom part of the cabinet out and replace it... in doing so, he found a dead marmot way back behind the cabinet in a sort of crawl space area in between the cabinet and a wall or something. He tried to poke at if for some reason, and realized that "Oh my, it's so far gone, it's falling apart!" YIKES! So now what? Well, I suggested calling someone to come get it. Hub insisted that there was no way to do it without tearing up that entire end of the kitchen... so he walled it up. (Have we learned nothing from Mr. Poe?) Walled up bodies always get the last laugh, and this one is no different. The day after the sealing off of said marmot, our whole kitchen smelled like decomposing marmot! So to top it all off, in addition to choking back waves of nausea, I now have that DAMN song in my head! You know the one, "OOOOh that smell, can't you smell that smell"?) Who needs this?

I won't go into ALL the wackiness caused by 2 ADHD adults doing the FALL back thing... but let's just say that appointments were missed and mayhem ensued. And today, the husband absconded with the wife's cell phone. The wife missed a phone consult with a client, because, well, she did NOT have her phone! Truth be told, I also sort of forgot, BUT.. said client did try to reach me via my cell, but hub did not answer... So I have some groveling to do....And those Coaching classes I'm taking. Yes, the time for Skyping got messed up there too.

Well, I think that about covers it. Here's to a mellow November.

Insomnia

It's enough to keep you up all night spinning your wheels.

What'll it be?

This is the perfect cocktail. I have had everything but the vodka today, and I did feel a little like something was missing.

Last night I got an email from a good friend that read: "Call this number NOW! My dad said so." The number is: 561-253-6507
I made the call. It made me chortle. And there wasn't even a quacking duck.

Disjointed and rambling

There are so many things I think of to post about when I am having a cigarette break. I can think so clearly when I smoke. I write whole letters to the editor, essays, posts and etc... while I am slowly puffing away. It's very very hard for me to write about anything unless I'm smoking or inspired. I'm neither right now. Just frustrated.

I'm in a bad mood because I have to find a job. I hate working. It means I'm going to have to be underpaid for something I don't like or want to be doing. Then I will go home exhausted and grumpy. Only now I have a child, a job I love. What kind of mom will I be exhausted and grumpy from putting my attentions someplace that I didn't even want it to be? I know I'm just going to have to suck this one up, but not before I bitch about it. I want to raise my son. That's what I want my job to be till he is school age. This was so not in the plan. I know many people have to do this. I know many have it worse. I know many people are suffering in the middle east. I'm sorry for all that, but this is my little corner of the world and I am not concerned with them right now.

This weekend I spent 4 hours in a Catholic church. I was in an FSU short. They were shooting a funeral scene. I was playing the mother of 2 kids in their mid 20s. They were lovely children, one boy and one girl. I would be proud to be their real mom. However, having a 3 year old, I don't think much about the fact that I am old enough to be the mother of an adult. ugh! Then there is the nagging reminder of college tuition for Harley... Jeez.

Another oddity about this experience was that besides wanting to raid the holy water supply. (They keep it in a water cooler... like the kind at work! I swear! Only it's not chilled.) Anyway, besides that, the picture on the coffin was Henny Youngman with a violin. From a distance without my glasses on, he looked an aweful lot like my father. A violinist from the same generation. Henny's hair was slicked back, he was wearing a suit and holding a fiddle. I saw my father like this every night before work, and every time he played in the Ft. Laud Symphony Orchestra. Even more serendipitous is that we were listening to a cut off of one of dad's recordings on the way over. Harley occasionally makes us listen to it on repeat. We have not even had the CD playing in months, but on this day, yes. So, needless to say through out the filming of this little project I'm sort of keeping my ears perked for messages from dad! Yes, I'm spooky that way. Then to top it off, I ran into someone I used to know, and it was sort of annoying, but ok. We have ex friends in common. Nuff said. She got burned too.

No time to process all this because I have to get a job I don't want. I already have the job I want. I'm a mom and I love it and I'm pretty good at it. (most of the time)

As long as I'm complaining, the cat puked on my bed.

That's all I got today.
Happy Monday.

Meandering

Greetings and salutations! I'd like take a moment to clear up a few things before I blog further.

Thing 1- I am not a writer.
I am, however a person with a whole lot to say. Up till recently, I have possessed very few specific personal goals other than evolving and spending time with my family. My hope is that this blogging will serve as an outlet for further evolution... a place to throw out ideas and see what comes back... a means to help develop concentration and discipline through some sort of imaginary accountability...
stretching my comfort zone, etc.

Thing 2- I can't promise my blog will always be interesting, well written or follow a theme. In fact, I can't promise much of anything except that I'll try to show up. You know what's weird? I don't even really know who I'm talking to, if anyone! But I thought I should clear these things up... just in case.

Thing 3- For reasons I can't get into, I cannot provide a personal profile. And yes, those are in fact, Easter eggs.

That said, the topic for the day is.... HORMONES.

I have been an observer of human behavior for many years. (Working in the food service industry for more years than I'd care to mention.) In that time I've developed many theories about human behavior and it's driving forces. After lo these many years of mulling, researching, and factoring in my own personal experiences, I have come to the conclusion that one of the biggest, (if not THE biggest), causes of human suffering is our pesky hormones. Our hormones are powerful little buggers who are not given their due. Sure, they may be getting more attention now than ever before, but what if they are the root source of many more illnesses, both mental and physical, than they are given credit for? And what if we are only seeing secondary symptoms of malfunctioning endocrine systems and calling them something else? And only treating the secondary symptoms and not the real cause of the illness(es)? I'm pretty sure they can and do effect most every aspect of human behavior and thought, without us ever realizing it much of the time. I do have just a tiny bit of research to share that I dug up off of the Hormone Foundation website. It's just the tip of a very large iceberg, but hopefully it will provide enough information to illicit further investigation. Here we go, an introduction to the endocrine system:

The endocrine system is one of the body’s main systems for communicating, controlling and coordinating the body’s work. It works with the nervous system, reproductive system, kidneys, gut, liver, pancreas and fat to help maintain and control the following:

* body energy levels
* reproduction
* growth and development
* internal balance of body systems, called homeostasis
* responses to surroundings, stress and injury

The endocrine system accomplishes these tasks via a network of glands and organs that produce, store, and secrete certain types of hormones. Hormones are special chemicals that move into body fluid after they are made by one cell or a group of cells. Different types of hormones cause different effects on other cells or tissues of the body.

Yepper, I'm sure the world would be a much safer, healthier and all around more pleasant place if we would give our hormones more credit for being the foundation for "other" diagnosed ailments. I think its time to face the facts and find a safe way to provide checks and balances for these power hungry little scoundrels!

Just to be clear, both genders have their own specific hormonal mysteries to solve ... And while many women may be a bit more predictable month to month about certain effects that we notice, but what about the ones we don't notice? And does knowing make it easier to deal with? hmmm... And what about men? Testosterone... Need I say more? Instead of blaming (ourselves or) each other or calling each other names when we are unreasonable, maybe we can take a moment to remember we are all just living under the influence... of hormones.
For more on hormones, here are a few links to get you started:
http://www.hormone.org/index.cfm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hormone