.::still blinking::.

That poor kid of mine always wakes up angry. Not that I blame him much. He has a solid bruise across his forehead because he is so top heavy. I am not talking like Dolly Parton, more like an alien child. He is my very own extra terrestrial spawn. I can think of four times in the past week that he has beat his head on something and everytime he does it he cries harder and longer.

Could you imagine continually beating your head against something because it is the only effective brake that you have? That is basically what is going on here. He has learned to run but not to stop. He will get running down the drive way and the only way to stop is to fall and use his head as the anchor to make him stop. Ouch. I heard that one from the top of the drive way. I think that was bonk numero uno.

Numero duos was a little girl that lives behind us ran into him on accident. He was caring around screwdrivers at the time. I don’t know where he gets them. We keep locking them up and he keeps finding more. It is like he has a secret stash of them in some hidden corner of the garage. Everytime he has a new one we take it and hid it. But it was a good thing that he did not fall on those and hurt himself.

Number three was from the paver the other day. He was helping us dig holes to plant moss on our makeshift patio and hit his head on the corner of the paver.

Number four was on the wall. I don’t think that one was as bad as number three. But four times has really got to hurt.

And on top of that he has another tooth coming in. I have been keeping him drugged, I think that he appreciates it. I surely do.

My happiness cannot come from them and their rejection or acceptance of me. My happiness has to come from me and no one else. And I do think that I have an incredible life.

I am blessed in so many innumerable ways. I am so lucky in what I have, who I am, and what I can become.

We finally set up a ROTH IRA for jj. I have had one for years, because I can easily get myself into the bank and do whatever I want. Well, within reason. I cannot run in with a gun and ask for money. I can just run in and ask for money, minus the gun, but they will probably just laugh at me when they see what I am asking for is like $14.38.

I am so bugged today. It is like my heart is being grated on a cheese grater, like I know that I am going to have to see my dad soon. That kind of feeling. The kind of feeling I wish that I did not have and the feelings that I am all to familiar with.

I wonder why it is that the people that reject us are the ones we want to love us the most.

The summer after my freshman year of college I came home to work. My mom and dad were still quasi together, but my dad was going through surgeries. We knew that he was having things done, but did not really know what. And we would not take care of him, so he had his trans-gender friends come and take care of him.

One time he picked me up from somewhere and was bringing me home. We were fighting, I cannot remember why. But his friend “Jeff” was in the car with us. I did not care what Jeff thought, I wanted to know some things.

I asked him what my favorite food was, at the time it was cheesecake. He did not know.

I asked him what my favorite color was, red. He did not know.

And then I thought that I would try something that he would probably know.

I asked him what my birthday was. No answer.

I asked him how old I was. No answer.

He, my father, did not even know I existed. It crushed me. I had lived and breathed in that home all of my life and he could not even bother to pay attention to me.

Somehow I have gotten over that rejection. But it seems that I am working on a new one here, and it hurts in all the same, familiar ways.

Holy Cow.

You know, there are so many things that I would like to say that Idon’t dare say because I don’t want to get in trouble. But I am so frustrated I could fill the Grand Canyon with hate and screams and probably walk across it on what appeared to be thin air.

Don’t worry, I am not mad at any of you.

As I write this I am sure that the child is in my bathroom systematically tearing everything out of my bathroom cabinets. It drives me crazy the way that he does this.

I recently went through all my receipts and put them in envelopes for every month of the past 2 years. It makes finding things so much easier. I got that box of reciepts out today to see how much I had paid for a few things and did not put them away. I just left the box, open on my office floor.

As I was cleaning up the bathroom in my room I started finding receipts from March 2005 in my bathroom. Strange, I thought. But I do have a little hunter and gatherer running around the house. So I just put it in jj’s pile of receipts and thought that I would file it later. Then it dawned on me. He had found the receipts. Luckily for me he had only pulled out March and some of May. But as I was putting those away. He started emptying the bookshelf of all books.

I can hear him right now in my bathroom. I am sure that he is emptying the tampon and pad drawer. And making sure that he pulls every q-tip and cotton ball out of the bathroom so that I can do my nightly gathering up of ALL bathroom textiles. He just breifly came in here and left. He had with him the cord that you plug into the pancake griddle and Darth Taters arm. I do not even know why that is upstairs being that the kitchen is downstairs and I never brought it up. I have not reason to bring it up. I make all my food downstairs. I never make pancakes in my bedroom. Both the pancake griddle plug and Darth Taters arm have small round portions, like unto pencils. He has found that they fit almost perfectly into outlets and the internet ports. He also looks for other small holes to stick them in. Zipper pull up things, screw holes, noses. Anything small and round.

I am aware that he is learning that that is what he is doing, but it is driving me batty.

This is the original idea.

This is what actually happened.

This is the view through a dirty window.

It is amazing the freedom that you feel when you finally start making decisions on your own and having to rely on yourself.

As I have mentioned, my sister-in-law is pregnant. When she started showing she started wandering around with her belly showing and telling my son that there is a baby in there.

I have taught him where my belly button is and he knows where his is also.

He now lovingly points to my stomach and says, “Beebee.”

Darling, I think to myself, there is a fat chance of that happening anytime soon.