By now you, dear reader, know that I have a slew of children.  Last count was 5.  This number may dwindle, rest assured. But with this bevy of progeny, comes the usual ups & downs of child-rearing.  At least that’s what I’m told.

I’m not sure either the 21 year old or her 13 year old counterpart will live to see another birthday, let alone another sunrise.

I’m dead-ass serious.

As far as the 21 year old goes…there isn’t much Momma can do any longer for her, as she’s of legal drinking & gambling age (the proof is in the pics at her 21st birthday bash where her birth mom took her to Vegas.  Screams CLASSY, huh?)  Anywho…I digress.  This child of mine I have begged & plead with for the past FOUR FUCKING YEARS to get her ass into college or some trade school, so that she can make something of her life other than just another ELA (that’s East Los Angeles…for those not in the know) loser.

Yes, I called my kid a loser.  Get over it & continue reading.

Anyway…the male parental unit of all 5 spawn comes-a-callin tonight looking for last years & this years tax returns because (drum roll please…..) THE PRINCESS NOW WANTS TO GO TO SCHOOL.  And I’ve got to get off my sick ass to locate last years 1040 (I have it on my laptop, but don’t have the 2007 TaxCut program to open it with) and make sure to include this years 1040 so Her Royal Fucking Highness can go to school…NOW.

Not when it was more convenient for everyone else, but now that it fits in HER GD schedule, we all need to step lively & move our collective asses and get her the proper paperwork…OR ELSE.

I’d LOVE to know what her idea of an “OR ELSE” would be.  Really.  Cause my version of an “OR ELSE” involves some buckshot & a long ass trip out into The Everglades.

You know, there is a Federally protected animal preserve inside The Everglades named after my grandad.  There are PLENTY of great “dumping” spots. 

So here I am, trying to locate TaxCut 2007 so the Princess can FINALLY get her ass in school.  It only took me 4 fucking years of trying.

Color me oh so fucking happy.  (I think that color is black.)

Lest we forget the OTHER idiot child that sprung from the loins of the idiot ex, I absolutely loathe my 13 year old.  And I fully blame the 21 year old for it.

Since about the age of 13, the 21 year old started acting like her shit don’t stink and the world SHOULD revolve around her.  (She’s had a terrible time coming to grips with that one STILL).  At 15 she got worse.  At 17 worse still and so on & so forth.

I think I’ve paid my dues when it comes to hellacious teenagers.  Really.  Ask anyone.  I’ve put in the time & the effort.  I even put my life on the line about 3 years ago, when my beloved child gave me my very first stroke.

Good times…good times.

Anyway, back to what I was saying…I’ve paid my dues.  I lived through my mother’s curse.  You know the one.  “One day you will have a child & it will be JUST LIKE YOU!!”

OK, so I didn’t give birth to her, but I went through all the shit like I HAD given birth to her.  So I’m thinking I don’t have to put up with this curse shit anymore.

Seriously.

I’m about 4 nanoseconds from splitting the 13 year old’s head in two.  To use teen speak, “Fo reals”.

If I tell you that you’re grounded from watching TV…would you blindly ignore my punishment & watch it just for the sake of pissing me off?

What if I then grounded you to your room so you can’t POSSIBLY watch TV, but then you watch it on the computer in the room instead?

What about asking you to do the simplest of chores in the house, load & unload the dishwasher.  And yet, every time I want to drink out of my favorite tiki glass, its either in the cesspool of crap soaking in the sink, or unwashed in the dishwasher?

How about making your bed & keeping your room relatively clean.  I’m not asking for the white glove clean, but somewhere between quasi-livable and semi-clean.  How about just plain non-nasty?  I have 2 boys who have a vivarium (both water & land tank) in their room & most days…its just a smidge dirty.  The girls room?

Jesus AND Jimmy Hoffa could be in there & no one would know due to the filth.  Yep…I’m that serious.

I’d love nothing more than to have someone kidnap the elder 2 and take them to a nunnery in…oh, say…Switzerland.  I think I can still salvage the younger 3.

Possibly.

But with all that has transpired today, I can seriously see justifying the devouring of a cub.

I was brought up with the “spare the rod, spoil the child” and the “children should be seen & not heard” philosophies.  Isn’t there one that says “teenagers should be shot full of thorazine until they reach adulthood & then swiftly placed on the outside doorstep, house locks changed (of course)“.

You know what I would love?  Andre Linoge.  You know…the evil guy from Stephen King’s Storm of the Century mini-series.  He comes to Little Tall Island and asks them for something & they have to give it or he’ll kill them all off just like he did the Colonists from Roanoke (I personally love that part of the story…gives the Lost Colony a superbly sinister ending).

Yeah, I’d love Andre Linoge to come here & make my evil children jump off a cliff, hell…pitch them into a volcano for all I care.  (Shameless plug for Volcanic Sacrifices…yeah, I know).

In reality, I’m at my wits end with both elder girls.  I’ve got a little more patience for the boys & for Lea, that kid knows how to take a punishment & deal with it.  Which is evidently something I wasn’t & haven’t been able to instill in her elder sisters.

Oh well…tomorrow is another day…and I’m sure another opportunity for either one of the monstrous duo to screw up my life even further.  Oh happy day.

Who ever coined the phrase that “Children are a blessing & a joy” should be shot.

-Crazy lady out.

Today, I pay tribute to my grand-dads & Pops.  Many of them, as well as cousins & great Uncles have fought in the many wars that have worked their way into America.  From the Revolutionary War to Operation Enduring Freedom.  The many men in my family have put themselves in the line of fire to ensure that I have the liberties I do today & ensure that their grandchildren (great-grands, great-cousins, etc) have even more freedom & liberties.

Its truly been an honor being a part of such a prestigious family.  If I could, I would kiss each one and give them a grateful hug.  And for my Pops, since he is here, alive & kickin….thanks.

The other stuff.

Today I sit on the cusp of knowledge.  Knowing if I’ll just be another over-reactive baby or if my worries will be confirmed.

I hope that the news will be negative in a positive way.  But no matter which way the pendulum of tragedy swings, I’ll take it.  I’ll do it.  I’ll work it out.

Cause that’s just the way Moms made me.

See you all on the flip side.

Yes I meant to jar you, dear reader, with the photo you see to the left.

This is what I get to have done on Tuesday.  Well, kinda.  They have to squish my boob in some kind of medieval contraption to prevent any of my tissue from doing any form of jello dancing while they’re trying to take a piece of my tumor.

Its really been a surreal few months for The Zoo Crew on 2417 BWR.  With all of mom’s hospitalizations, procedures, new discoveries (some days I feel like the doctors are working on the NCC1701, discovering strange new worlds, seeking out new civilizations, boldly going where no man has gone before…).

Don’t let my humor fool you.  I’ve been UBER bitchy, jumpy, and in just the foulest mood since…oh…last November (that’s when we knew my gallbladder took a crap…literally).

I’m not looking forward to Tuesday, that’s for sure.  I don’t like the idea of my boob being used as a pin cushion.  Especially with the GARGANTUAN needle they use for these procedures.  Talk about BLECH!!

I am looking forward to getting the results on Thursday.  I’ll know if I get to keep my hair or not.  And if I do, then we’ll proceed with talks of a reduction…bringing the Mount Vesuvius of cleavage into something that more or less resembles my days in high school (which were pretty fabulous in their own right, mind you!).

But if it does turn out to be the “M” word…I’ll face it like I’ve faced the millions of other challanges my life has graciously dropped upon my doorstep.

Head on.

Anywho…just thought I’d let everyone know what’s going on & when.  I’m off to take my chicken off the grill & get the heathens ready for school tomorrow.  Yeah, I know its a National Holiday….but when you’ve got kids in year-round schools, they don’t get the conventional days off.

I’ll keep everyone posted.

Until then….tootles.

To the (I’m sure) craziest 6th grade counselor Miami Springs Middle School has ever seen…

Yeah…her…again.

Happy (how old are you again, mom?) Birthday!
Here’s to another year filled with more laughter, love & light.

Always your devoted (albeit mentally unstable) daughter,
Jenny Lynn

Well it just keeps going from bad to worse.  Was I born under a bad sign or something?  I have to think either I’ve really pissed off someone upstairs or the Devil needs someone to plan parties and my reputation has preceded me.

Lets see….last week I had 2 cardiologist appointments & 1 mammogram & ultrasound.  Neither one went well.

According to the Cardiologist, I’ve got something wrong with the ticker.  Or there was something wrong with the tech who took my pictures.  Either way…its disheartening.  He wants me to have an angiogram done just to be on the safe side.  But I decided that since (according to him) I’m not having ANY of the typical problems you would have with the defect he described…I’m going to fore-go the angiogram…for now.  After talking it over with my own personal Doc, she agreed.

Heart junk is now officially on the back burner.

The mammogram on Friday…..what a kick in the teeth.  Yes, it is a tumor (as I say that…I can hear Gov. Arnie’s voice in my head…lol!) and has since grown from when I had the CT done of my lungs 2 weeks ago and they detected the little sucker.  What was once an 8mm anomaly is now roughly 10-11mm and its solid.  So its off to the Oncologist I go.

Incidentally, my doctors office just called to let me know that my appointment is this Wednesday.  I swear, I’ve never been to the MD’s more in my LIFE!  But this is a place that specializes in breast cancer & junk.  They will go over in minute detail about how they will perform the biopsy, when I can expect to hear back from the Pathologist, etc.  Supposedly this is one of the best places to go here in Raleigh if you’re faced with the posibility of having breast cancer.  So I guess that’s a good thing.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told that, “because God loves you, He’s testing you.  And you know He only gives you what He knows you can handle”.

At this point, I’d be happy to have him love me a little less because I’m getting tired of the crap continually being flung in my general direction.

It hasn’t been all bad though.  I went to see Dr. Jag (the sleep doc) who informed me that my REM sleep sucks and I do not have sleep apnea.  Although he did tell me in a really non-direct manner, to get off my lazy ass & lose a good 50 lbs.  To let you know how it went, “The heavier you are, the more prone to apnea you will become.  And right now you’re borderline, so this would mean….” and yes, he did trail off while looking at me and without saying the words, I knew he was thinking, “PUT DOWN THE COOKIES, YOU FAT COW OR YOU’RE GOING TO DIE IN YOUR SLEEP!”

Anywho…I’m depressed as hell.  Dale can’t help.  No one can.  My mom tries to tell me not to worry and then proceeds to tell me more about natural supplements I should be taking.

Its just…..sad.

I keep wondering…how do people who are diagnosed with cancer, deal with it?  Deal with knowing that they might not get to see their children graduate from high school or college, get married, have kids, play grandma.  How do they do it?

I don’t know.

I don’t know if I’ve got the gumption to make it if I get the BLAMMO! news.  But I do know I’ll try, as hard as I can, to muster up any of that old piss & vinegar I used to have…and hope to hell it helps me jump these next few hurdles.

First off, I’d like to thank my Mom.

Yeah…I trash talk her.  But she’s my mom…I’m allowed.  Yeah…she pretty much fucked up a lot of my childhood, but she did the best she could, given the situations we were in.  And all in all…she didn’t have to have me, but she did.  And man, is the world a worse place for it.

But I’m here.  And its because of her.  So, for all my bitchin’, moanin’, groanin’ & complainin’……Thanks Mom.

You DO rock…even if I don’t tell you so.

As for my Mother’s Day…we took a trip…to the OBX.  And for those of you NOT in the “know”…that’s the North Carolina Outer Banks.  Home to the most pirate ship wrecks in the world.  Pretty fricken cool.  Its also home to the first manned airflight thanks to the Wright Brothers.

Thanks to my kids, for allowing me the opportunity to celebrate today.  My sister is jealous.  LOL!!  Not much to be jealous about….lack of sleep, lack of funds, the patrolling, the disciplining, the constant worry….its no glamour job, but its mine.  And that’s OK.

Thanks to my DC for making this weekend…not as cool as the infamous “Neverending Frisco Trip”, but it was still fun as all hell.

…and I’ve really got nothing to show for it.  Well…the house is quasi-clean and will be more-so this week.  But that’s just me being OCD and being cooped up in this house, still sick.

I’m being a good girl.  Taking my meds AS TOLD.  I swear, I feel like a pill popping junkie.  But if it’ll help me keep my promise to Lea, then shit…I’ll do it for the next 72 years.

I’m trying this whole “power of positive thinking” crap.  I don’t know if its working.  But whatever.

I guess some time this week I’ll get back the “official” results from the sleep doctor.  And then find out when my appointment with the cardiologist is.  And then there is the trip to Wake Rad for the mammo, which my Doc isn’t even concerned about.  And honestly I’m not either.

At least in light of the fun new shit wrong with me.  Oh, did I tell you what’s wrong with me?  I didn’t…did I?  I am in the beginning stages of acute congestive heart failure.  All thanks to those 4-5 beloved bouts with pneumonia.  So yeah…heart attack shit because my lungs keep taking a crap.  Ah….genetics and my inability to rid myself of any freaking illness until it takes me to the brink.  Wheeeee!!

So back to the positive thinking thing…yeah, I’m trying that.  Its funny how I’ll tell other people the same thing (”do what your doctor tells you and be positive, that’s the KEY!”) and I don’t live it.  So I guess I’ll have to try changing…which is a hard thing considering I’m the girl always dressed in black/glass is half-empty/doomsday is coming.  But I’m trying.

Who am I trying to kid….no I’m not.  But I will be damned if this shit beats me.  It’ll take something a lot stronger than this to take me out…cause I’m not leaving without one hell of a fight.

You can count on that.  I guess something good can come from me being a pain in the ass, huh? 

Hey…that was POSITIVE!!  Maybe this crap really will work?