This evening was one of those rare instances where I was so disgusted and fed up that I didn’t say much of anything, except to tell her to get out of my driveway and go home, as her “services” weren’t needed. To avoid a TL;DR, I don’t know what she is doing financially, except that she is beyond broke, and so I have been helping her out just a tiny bit here and there. I told her flat out she is going to repay me in babysitting. Yesterday afternoon she and I made arrangements for her to come over today at 5:00pm promptly so that I could go over to Panera Bread to get some kid-free work done. It wasn’t like I was going shopping for a plus size swimsuit or gallivanting about. I had already finished up my regular work for the day, but I had a massive writing project I wanted to get started on, and Panera’s finicky wifi would be the perfect setting for me to sit and write in without getting distracted by other online things.

Well, 5:00pm came and went. At 5:35pm, about eight minutes before the kids’ VBS van was due to show up and pick them up, my mom shows up. No apology, no nothing. She barely got out of the car when I was like, “Just go”. She acts all bewildered and puzzled as to why I suddenly wouldn’t need her babysitting services anymore. Is she fucking kidding me? She delayed me over a half an hour, what’s another five minutes or so at that point?

Grr. Just grr. I get so tired of her BS, I seriously do. She is so annoyingly unreliable, and she is such a damn DRAIN. This sounds horrible to say, but there are times when I breathe such a sigh of relief to see her just GO.

So anyway, I’m in better spirits now, since I’ve completed half of the massive writing project, sent out a few important emails, and indulged in the super delicious Jamba All Natural Smoothies. I received them a few weeks ago for a product review, and man I wish I had dove into them sooner! Each smoothie pouch contains just 22g of sugar, and when combined with 8 oz. of low-sugar apple juice (Mott’s, in case you’re interested) and then split into thirds, that’s just 12.3g of sugar in a super delicious smoothie. It looks like I finally have a gastric bypass friendly smoothie to indulge in on hot days! ♥

Right now I’m listening to Adam Lambert (ssh) and am debating on how much more to write tonight. I’m tired and I’d like to go to bed a bit earlier than I did last night, but at the same time I like the idea of going above and beyond my original goal. Decisions, decisions…

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I left a voicemail with my mother’s parent mentor’s son’s (I mention the son because he is my neighbor, and it’s through him I found out about his brother) mechanic brother’s cell phone #, as he is the same guy that put in my car’s new alternator belt for very little moolah. Since Dan did all of the work of getting everything out of the way for the alternator swap, hopefully he’d charge even less than he normally would to do the swap. But obviously I’m hoping we can manage to wrest this old one out on our own.

All I know is that we have been relying on just one vehicle for about three weeks now, which theoretically isn’t bad, since Dan is the only one that works outside of the home. But in reality? It sucks. Suddenly taking the kids swimming, meeting up with my mom and brothers, going to doctor’s appointments or taking the kids to VBS has gotten significantly more difficult — and more inconvenient, for everyone involved. Grr.

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I wish I could say the same for my twelve year old brother. Unfortunately, he is residing with foster parents who are verbally and emotionally abusive, and somewhat neglectful. He has been with this particular foster family for a year and four months. The problems started occurring about six months ago, but due to the foster parents downplaying things (obviously) and my youngest brother not telling us what was going on until recently, and even then telling us reluctantly for fear of being reprimanded or punished. I’m not going to go into details, but let’s just say that NO foster parent should use food as a reward or punishment (most recently my brother was served a cheese and toilet paper sandwich for dinner after he made several mistakes in cooking dinner on his own; he was then punished with time-outs and writing when he refused to eat the sandwich, and was denied dinner), punish a child complaining about chores by expecting him to do every single chore in the house and cook every single meal, then punish him further when he understandably bungles chores and cooking that he has never done before, cover their asses by accusing the child of lying and then punishing him for it, making him a target of insults and ridicule by not only themselves but by other foster children and their own biological children, telling him he doesn’t deserve anything, that his mother doesn’t love him, that his sister is a bitch (I take that as a compliment in this case, because yes, I will be a fierce, ferocious, aggressive bitch where my brothers are involved, and I abhor any parent or family member that wouldn’t be the same way when a child related to them was involved in something similar), etc.

Have I mentioned that this is my youngest brother, who is twelve but due to developmental delays is more like nine or ten, who is AUTISTIC and a lot like Ryan (or should I say, Ryan is a lot like him)? My blood is fucking boiling. FYI, these incidents and allegations have been reported not only by my twelve year old brother, but by my fifteen year old brother, who spent a weekend with them, and another foster child who unfortunately is staying with that family.

Tomorrow I will be accompanying my mom to a meeting that will include the foster parents, my brothers (they’ll be in a separate room while us adults meet to “discuss” what is going on), my brothers’ therapists, my mother’s parent mentor (who has heard about all of the incidents and allegations and due to what she has heard and seen herself believes everything), and the agencies that are coordinating the foster care. So help me god, heads are going to roll at this meeting. It was called after my mother and I ripped one of the minions at CPS and the agency that coordinates the foster care in our county a new one, since we have been complaining for MONTHS about these issues without anything being addressed. It was only after the food issue (see: cheese and toilet paper sandwich) and my mother and I exploding over the phone and a threat about going to the media that we were promised a meeting and a “resolution”.

There better be a fucking resolution, or I WILL go to the media and use my presence on the internet to shed plenty of light on what is going on. I’m not saying my brother is perfect, I’m not saying that foster parents aren’t entitled to a few “mistakes”, but what they are doing with the food and punishments and ridicule and insults and Cinderella-forced role on my brother is tantamount to CHILD ABUSE. What they’re doing is what regular parents go to jail and lose their children over. Why is my brother not being protected? That’s a question I will be directing to everyone involved in this mess tomorrow, and so help me god I better have an answer that sits well with me. And most importantly, my brother better NOT be going home with those fucktards.

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Have I mentioned that my car is dead? Yes, again. We thought it was the alternator belt and nothing else. Then we thought we just needed a new battery and I’d be good to go. Then the new battery died after one and a half days of use. It sputtered and totally killed my lights, stereo, air conditioning and windows, and put me through a harrowing drive home (95° day, just me and the kids in the car, me praying to every deity imaginable that it would hold out until I hit my driveway, or at least my street), and then died completely. We’re 99% certain it’s the alternator, based on the belt and then the battery going, and then everything going, and on the symptoms our previous Kia showed before its alternator died. Fortunately, we know the problem and it’s easily remedied. Unfortunately, alternator and neighbor’s-brother-the-mechanic-for-hire money is nowhere to be found, at least not until this coming payday, or possibly not until the next. I have a few freelancing/linkage opportunities that I’m waiting on responses from, but it’s a holiday weekend, so yeah…

You never realize how much you take a working vehicle for granted until it suddenly quits working. I work from home, so it’s not like it’s a major crisis that I no longer have my own set of wheels, but it has been majorly inconvenient. Suddenly taking the kids to VBS, or running to the grocery store for a gallon of milk, or picking up OTC meds for this wicked cold/sinus infection that reared its ugly head on Tuesday evening, isn’t so damn simple. I’ve been relying on Dan’s work schedule, my mom and Jason to get from point A to point B when the need arises. And while I certainly appreciate their help, and do my best not to take advantage of their offers of transportation, I want my own car again. Dammit.

Anyway, besides a lack of car and a major overage of snot (I’m sure you’re loving the mental image), I’m doing good. Just work, work, and work. And on the weekends, swimming, going to the park, and lately, to parties at various family members’ houses. This weekend is no exception: I went swimming with Dan, the kids, my mom and my brothers today, had a small birthday party for my now-fifteen-year-old brother late this afternoon, and have been invited to a Fourth of July cookout at Dan’s aunt’s house tomorrow. Fun!

I need to blog more, and blog more about personal things. There has been a major lack of that lately, and for that I apologize. Believe me, I’m well aware of the difference between quantity of posts and the quality of them. I’m doing my best to improve on the latter! In quick bullet form, here’s the latest happenings in the life of Jenn:

• My car is dead (see: the majority of this blog entry)
• Alyssa lost her first tooth last week!
• I have too many toys and not enough batteries.
• Swimming never gets old.
• Dan scored two free tickets to a local amusement park and I can’t WAIT to go.
• Lowest weight yet: 205.6 lbs.
• Speaking of weight, I’m wearing a size 14… shorts? Capris? They’re too short to be called capris, but kind of long for shorts? Corts? Shapris?

I’m also quite aware of the need for a new layout here at jenn.nu. I have something in mind, and hope to make it happen on Monday. Thanks to the lovely paid holidays my job offers, I only have to put in a half day, so I’m going to hopefully devote the afternoon and evening to coming up with a fantabulous new design for jenn.nu.

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Oh, and I’m taking the kids to the pool today (Saturday) for the first time this season. We held off on going on Friday because it was cloudy and the temperature didn’t get above 70°. So here I am, dealing with major cramps and pain and bleeding like a stuck pig, and I’m going to be going to the pool. Fabulous. Bring on the supersized tampons! But that has me seriously cringing, as I’m sure you girls with significant period pain can certainly relate to… I don’t want to even sit down, let alone shove a wad of dry cotton into the super-sensitive girly bits…

Speaking of pain, I’m currently taking the edge off of it with crushed Midol Complete tablets. But because Midol contains NSAIDs, it’s essentially a no-no for me, so this is just a temporary solution that I really can’t continue with. I do have some liquid Vicodin left from my surgery, but there’s only a few doses left. It certainly gets the job done, but what happens when I run out? Tylenol just ain’t cutting it, and while heating pads are certainly nice, they don’t do much either. I’m thinking of contacting my doctor and asking if he would be willing to prescribe me a lower dose of Vicodin or something similar that I could use for period pain. The pain is bad enough that I just want to lay around and cry, and I’m not exaggeration. It’s really debilitating. He’s pretty cool about the whole surgery and trusting my judgment on things, so I’m hoping he’ll say yes, or come up with something else that will do the job without putting me at risk for stomach pouch irritation or bleeds.

I know I’m up late tonight, but after my long day yesterday (two hour drive each way + eight hours at the office + a quick stop for food and swim gear for the kidlets on the way home = me rolling in not long before midnight on Thursday night) and a pretty busy afternoon and evening today, I needed the quiet time to just sit and catch up with things. My personal inbox exploded over the last few days, and my work email inbox is filling up since I haven’t taken care of it since Thursday afternoon. I’m also waiting for my nails to dry — had to change from the orange I’ve been wearing for the last few days to a hot pink that’ll match whichever outfit I decide to wear to the wedding on Saturday night.

Speaking of which, the wedding rehearsal and dinner was held at 5:00pm on Friday evening. Dan is one of the groomsman, and silly me, who has never attended a wedding before (for real!), didn’t realize right away that the groomsmen pair up with the bridesmaids. Pfft. I know I’m just being a silly jealous twit, but I couldn’t help but to go rawr (in a bad way) at the sight of some pretty, slim girl on Dan’s arm during the rehearsal. Dagger eyes may or may not have been briefly made. And to think I get to witness it again on Saturday evening! And see them sit together at the wedding reception! I better self-medicate or something, haha. Just kidding. Dan’s youngest brother’s girlfriend is also attending the wedding, and since he’s also in the wedding party (as an usher), she and I will be hanging together (and may or may not make snippy comments and funny remarks like we did tonight, heh), so she’ll keep me in line.

Oh, and speaking of clothes, who would have thought that finding a damn outfit for a wedding would prove to be so damn difficult? But there are several issues at hand, first and foremost being I don’t like to dress up. Hand me jeans and a spiffy top with some chunky shoes or cute flip-flops and I’m good to go. Heels and a skirt? I’d rather wear a burlap sac and go barefoot. So for the past week I’ve been looking online and offline for something dressy-but-not-dressy. I settled on this dress, but had to travel to a Target that is nearly 50 miles away in order to get it in my size (my local Target only carried the dress in larger sizes — score for needing a smaller size!). But… eh… I just don’t like dresses. So I went back to Target tonight and came home with a black skirt that is two sizes too big (I had planned on wearing it with this tank and a cute little black shrug thingy I also found at Target), and a perfectly-fitting yellow dress that is way too sheer (I don’t do slips, and since all of my bras and panties are bright, funky colors or covered in patterns, the dress is definitely a no-go!). But not all hope is lost — I just may still be able to save myself from wearing an actual dress, as Target did have another black skirt, a cute ruffled/tiered one that IS in my size. So in the morning I’m going to get myself and the kidlets dressed in our suits (and a cover-up for me, thank you!) and leave by 10:30am so I can run over to Target, return the too-big skirt and too-sheer dress, and pick up the tiered skirt in two sizes (I don’t feel like dragging the kids into a fitting room and trying on clothes; I’ll just return whatever one is too big/too small later this coming week), and then run over to the pool in time for it to open.

Whew. Sorry for the marathon blog entry… but it does a good job at representing the marathon my life has been lately!

TL;DR summary: I am bleeding and in pain; I’m taking Alyssa and Ryan to the pool on Saturday; skinny girls touching my husband suck; clothes shopping when you’ve lost major amounts of weight and are more self conscious than ever is a frustrating exercise in futility; I hate dressing up but will hopefully make do with a cute, flirty tank top, a ruffly black skirt that hopefully isn’t too short, a black shrug, and platform flip-flops.

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And you would think this would all be very clear by the blog entries on my personal blog and the tweets on my personal Twitter account. But no, it’s not that clear, apparently, because at least once every 2-3 days I get a comment (moderated, of course, since it’s from someone who has never commented before) or a @reply on Twitter asking if I could check my email and answer their query on such and such. Um… excuse me? What part of PERSONAL BLOG AND PERSONAL TWITTER ACCOUNT do you not understand? ARGH.

I suppose you could say it’s my own fault for including my Twitter name in my email signature, but I’d like to think that people are considerate and realistic enough to realize that most people are not on-call 24/7, and that it is not considerate or polite to bug them via personal accounts and such for work-related tasks. I wouldn’t expect an off-duty garbage collector to come collect my trash simply because I spotted him in the grocery store, or a stylist who is out picking up some bridesmaids gifts to drop everything and come do my hair, so why would you expect me to take care of your request-that-relates-to-my-job-and-not-to-me-personally when I’m, oh I don’t know, having dinner or blogging or just relaxing with my husband?

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Fast forward to 1:30am. Still no Dan. I admit, I was pissed. Not because he went out, or even because he stayed out later than usual, but because he FAILED TO COMMUNICATE. It’s the same issue with his job all over again. I don’t resent the job, I resent his FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE. It’s the same when he goes out. I don’t resent him going out, I resent his FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE. So I gave up on waiting, finished up a quick article on personalized baby gifts, and went to bed.

I feel very disrespected and put aside, especially when he’s out socializing. It’s not as if he can’t pick up the phone to call or text me because he’s too busy working. In this case, he’s too busy drinking and hanging with his brother and Jason.

Am I overreacting here? I don’t think so. It’s not that I don’t want him to go out and enjoy himself; I simply want and expect him to at least let me know when he’ll be home, even if it’s an estimate, rather than leave me in the dark and not give me so much as a quick text. Especially on days like today, where he knew days in advance that we both have shit to do. I have a morning out planned with Alyssa, he has a morning out planned with Ryan. And when it was getting later and later last night, a simple “Hey Jenn, I know you’re up waiting for me despite working all day and having to be up early in the morning, and I know the kids expect me home tomorrow morning, but…” text or call would have been really fucking appreciated.

P.S. 214.4 today. That made my morning a bit better.

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