Garbage day!

The day that the garbage truck comes is, hands down, the highlight of Avalee's week. Luck has it that Avalee's bedroom window overlooks the parking lot where the garbage truck pulls in.
I was weeding the garden when I heard the garbage truck pull in and rushed inside to notify Avalee but she was way ahead of me. Up the stairs, standing on her pillow and buried behind her blinds is where I found Avalee.
"Mummy! Garbage truck!!" is all she had to say. How much fun is that!

What do you do with an over-sensitive 9 year old?

The past few months have been a bit hectic, I get that, but now that I think all of the chaos that I have been trying so hard to shelter my children from is actually affecting them more than I thought.
Adrianne and Asha have such different personalities. It amazes me because growing up so close together my guess would have been that they would grow to be more alike. Thinking about that now though I guess maybe one compensates for, or compliments the other.

Asha is almost 9. She is bubbly, energetic, self motivated and an excellent problem solver. Sometime too good! An example of this would be when she searched through our cupboards for the food colouring that I didn't even know that we had, to add to her milk when we were out of Nesquik. Green milk anyone? Asha makes friends easily, finds things to occupy her self easily and is what I would consider a leader. She is very loving and nurturing towards her baby sister and everyone in our family. Asha seems to be oblivious to my frazzled rollar coaster fits, or maybe not oblivious but handles my explanations with more ease and acceptance. Maybe that is because she is younger and the part of her brain that doubts my explanations hasn't matured yet. Either way Asha isn't the one who has been crying every morning when she has to go to school...

...That would be Adrianne, the almost 10 year old?! At first I attributed it to a small relapse reaction to having switched schools recently but thinking back I don't really remember her being overly upset those first few weeks. This brings me to wonder whether my fluctuating emotions are rubbing off with such a powerful reaction onto her. Poor girl : (
When I've asked Adrianne why she so easily and automatically breaks down every morning her first response was to tell me that the girls she sits beside in class was mean to her. That very morning I decided to drive the girls to school to nip this problem in the butt. I do not tolerate Bullying. The principal assured me that he would make sure the situation would be dealt with.
However the crying didn't stop. When asked the next morning, why, Adrianne told me that she misses me. That left me stumbling for words. I sort of laughed it off and reminded her that when she is at school all I do during the day is barn chores and laundry (I left out the blogging bit!).
After spending the rest of the day thinking about her words 'I miss you', than breaking down myself I think I understand exactly how my poor little 10 year old 'misses me'.
She misses me emotionally, of course she must, and what a terrible thing to have to feel. I have since had to keep careful check on my mood around these precious little girls as I have had a glimpse into their young, innocent minds. Instead of punishing myself for something that I didn't know I was doing I am giving myself a pat on the back for raising such brilliant, emotionally healthy and happy little girls. Thus far anyway. Talk about an ongoing learning experience this parenting job is!

Fun games toddlers play.

...at least the toddlers under my watch.

Bumper Baskets
Place laundry baskets over heads and continue to walk into each other.

Buttons
Push every button on the TV and VCR over and over again until finally the menu instructions are stuck in Spanish mode.

Kitty Feeding
Requires handful after handful of cat kibble to be rubbed into the living room carpet

Crayon Peeling
No further instruction required

Fruit Punch Sprinkler
Be sure to use "Spill Proof" toddler cups (keep in mind that there is actually no such thing). Shake cup vigorously until specks of red juice sprinkle the carpet. A variation of this game is to suck a mouth full of juice into mouth and then spit it on the carpet

Sticky Fingers
Rub hands all over a 42" Plasma. Make this game more interesting by playing it on those runny noses days

What's in Here?
When unsupervised for mere seconds, empty contents of someone's purse. The winner of this game is the toddler who first finds and empties the wallet also.

and last but not least...

The Crying Game
...cause apparently crying is contagious

What is it about Twilight?

I'm halfway through New Moon and while I muted the tv during a commercial break for the millionth time today to fit in a few more pages a thought popped into my head. It was very clearly Troy's voice asking me "why in the world would you spend so much time reading books about teenage girls and Vampires...Vampires? seriously?!" We have had that conversation as I'm sure many wives have had with their husbands late at night when she refuses to turn the light off til she's done one more chapter.

"No Troy, these are Werewolves, the Vampires left town" I very seriously corrected him.

So what is the damn compelling draw to read these books about things that I have always swore held zero interest to me? To the point that I was severely irritated when one of my Ex's used to read and write stories about Zombies and such mythical, fictional characters. I even refused to sit through equally ridiculous movies about like characters. It used to annoy the crap out of him (my apologies in retrospect Chad!).

Troy took the book from me and opened it randomly to page 293-294 of New Moon and read this paragraph aloud to me.

What kind of place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wondering around the borders of tiny insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this mean that every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was it all just magic and ghost stories?

...at which point he contorted his face to a blended expression of disgust and amusement. He asked me why I don't spend my time reading something credible. Something like history or war or the Bible or my psych. textbook. Something that isn't about angst-y teenagers chasing or being chased by Vampires and Werewolves. Then he tried to convince me that the Twilight books are actually written for his niece Hannah who happens to be 11 and loves the Jonas Brothers. I'm not convinced but I am baffled about my new found love for things that are so far from reality they're, well, Vampires.

That's enough thought wasted on that. It's one step up, or down depending on how you look at it, from my usual romance novels.
Whateva' Thats coming from the guy who loves reading about history...pffft, history...

Me and My Book Ends!

There is a good chance I may have tipped over if Corrah and Diesel (a.k.a. Ben) weren't lazy as...well...Dogs!

My Daughter the "WHO"

Somehow Asha figured out how to make her hair do that for her school Christmas concert.
...ummm, awesome!

My so called life.

So things have been a little less than ordinary. No, they have been down right F*cked up. Christmas is just around the corner but there is very little, if any, holiday cheer oozing from me which makes me sad. This is why I need to rant so please excuse my bitching and complaining just this one post.
Something terrible happened to me, to our family and to our lives. What is done is done and though I told myself early on that I could 'suck it up, sister' turns out that is not the case at all. In fact that is so not the case that forgetting to put the recycling bin out Tuesday morning resulted in a temper tantrum on my part. Here is why I'm having such a tough time with life right now. Though I know that this 'thing' that happened will never go away and that it is likely to get worse before it gets better, I never dreamed that I was so vulnerable to just completely falling apart. They call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I call it living hell. I have never felt so completely out of control of my body, my mind, my thoughts and fears, basically out of control of my life. What worsens this is spending so much time alone. To be alone is just as much my choice, or I guess my fault depending on how you look at it. If only we chose to live in the city then it wouldn't matter that we're down to one vehicle that Troy needs for work. If only we didn't live in a country with a climate that included 'snow season'. If only I felt in the loop and not so lost and alone in this whole ordeal then I would know what emotion to concentrate on feeling instead of flip flopping like a fish out of water, slowly losing the fight.
It's scary feeling like this. I'm scared. It's terrifying not controlling the thoughts that swirl in my head both when I'm awake and asleep. I see why people kill them selves. Now don't worry, that's not what I'm getting at but I think I'm seeing a glimpse of what it must feel like to lose control of your life. I though still have the vital 'Hope' and lots of it. Lucky for me there is help. Lucky for me I can start off by blogging to perhaps no one to vent and to get these thoughts out of my head, keep them from perpetually ricocheting off one another with no real solutions. Lucky for me a have a small handful of very good friends that will answer their phone at all hours and offer their kind and reassuring words.
"why you Amanda?!" she said to me this morning "out of all of the people in the word why did this all have to happen to you"
My thoughts exactly though my very next thought is 'it figures'.
Even when I think that I have had my fair share of Trauma and Drama what's done is done and now I get to run around my little life trying to pick up the pieces...again.
We also concluded that perhaps Troy's way of dealing with his inner demons is to slaughter goats and hens in the name of 'good intentions'. In the whole scheme of things he seems to be handling it ok.
Maybe my feelings are exaggerated because I am so very, very isolated on our farm. With few to none bouts of adult conversation I've not much else to do than to spend minute after minute after hour mingling with the dark corners of my mind.
At times I feel like I might not be able to take that next breath. I read things like that in books but never really believed that anyone could actually feel like that. I've also read about spontaneous crying and unwarranted spasms of severe anger which make parenting, at times, interesting but mostly very difficult. Having to continuously apologize to your children for such irrational behaviour is not how I pictured it.
"I'm sorry Mommy is being such a Bitch this morning. I'm not angry at you guys, maybe you should stay home from school to keep me company--nah, you should go...don't argue with me and no, I'm not sure why I'm crying...again"
The constant ups and downs that come with being judged, questioned, second guessed and even blamed are enough to make me physically ill, unable to enjoy anything, or if anything that I eat. Leisurely much needed afternoon naps are impossible and the involuntary shaking scares the hell out of me.
(...an hour and a half later...)
Speak of the Devil, or perhaps the opposite. The Jehova's Witness' popped in for a visit. First terrified from my paranoia to see an unfamiliar vehicle in my drive way, then relived to see a somewhat familiar face, I don't care if they want to preach to me about the laws of physics or the life cycle of a worm. There were people here to occupy my brain for a short while. Kind people, whatever their religious beliefs, smiling, validating, not judging. Thank God, no really. That was just what I needed.
I may not be religious myself but sometimes things are too hard to explain.
Ugh...I'll get through this...I'll get through this...