Off for the weekend. What a great feeling, except I have so much to do. I got the Residency Schedule for grad school and now I have to figure out which classes I’m taking in addition to the ones I have to take. My eyes were bugging out of my head. There’s so much I’m interested in!! Plus, looking forward to carving out some free time to explore Fort Worden/Port Townsend. They’re also showing some movies, Pan’s Labyrinth and Into the Wild are two that I’m interested in.
Plus, they’re going to feed me three times a day. Anyone who knows me, who has met me, understands the importance of me eating regularly. This is a very good thing. I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. I need to go to the bank. I need to hook up my printer. And blackberries are in season. My friend Dave called and asked if Nate and I want to go blackberry picking. That sounds soooo goooood. Better than cleaning house…
Although we could go tomorrow morning before I go to my parents for the 4th. This is how I squeeze so much into one day. Careful planning.
Here is also something, and parents will understand. Sometimes you don’t tell your friends what your kids have done because you’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t kill them for it.
Case in point: Nate wound one of my elastic hair bands around the nozzle of the sprayer on my sink so that when I turned on the water it sprayed me instead of running from the faucet. Hahahaha. Yeah, that was great. Luckily, I was off that day and I already had on my bathing suit.
Unfortunately… I wasn’t able to get the hair band off of the nozzle… and one of the cats jumped up on the counter and knocked a dish into the hot water valve while I was at work, and Nate was asleep. I came home to a FLOOD of HOT WATER in my kitchen and living room. It felt like a freakin’ sauna in here, not to mention the potential water damage, gas bill, water bill, potential shorting of electrical wires and fire… oh yeah, one of those times I’m ashamed to say I didn’t kill my kid.
This makes shooting out the lightbulbs with cold water from a water gun relatively minor. But guess who got to clean it up? Well, we cleaned it up. The water had run behind the TV into my A/C return and had pooled in the insulated pipe. I had to stab it with a knife and drain the water. So, now I have water in my crawl space, on TOP of the vapor lock. That’s going to be one nasty clean up. I almost feel sorry for Nate. Almost. Nah, not really.
Mr. President, Mr. Vice-President, former President Clinton and a host of others were on hand yesterday for the memorial service for Senator Robert Byrd. Bill cracked me up. Wish I could have gone but was stuck watching on TV.
As you can see, things are moving right along here. Time for coffee. Happy 4th. Celebrate your independence and remember all of those who have fought for it, including my brother, who is serving near Khowst, Afghanistan. Keep our servicemen and women in your prayers.
I’m really down today. Went to bed that way, woke up that way, trying not to be that way only makes it worse. I’m going to see Alice in Chains tonight, which should be a reason for celebration and I’m sure it will be, but, I’m not there yet. I’m still here, stewing in my recent unfufilled fantasies, which really translates to recent failures.
I should be fucking happy and grateful. I make a good living doing something I really enjoy, Nate still has the opportunity to pass 8th grade, I’m applying to grad school, I have food, clothing, shelter, cable, internet, a car that is paid off, money in a savings account, heat when I’m cold, and air conditioning when I’m hot and since it’s Spring, finally, I may have both on the same day. I sure have a lot to complain about.
Still, my therapist would tell me to just admit I’m heartbroken, to admit I have feelings and that my feelings are important, and that someone hurt them. And that someone is Adonis.
I think everyone has problems with being ignored and overlooked. I particulary have deep seeded problems with this given that my accomplishments in life have been mainly overlooked and ignored by my parents, my mother in particular, in favor of my brother. I take it so personal, so deep down in the gut when someone ignores me, to the point of acute evil anger which is really just hurt disguised because anger is more righteous than hurt.
Adonis and I had talked about going hiking together and had exchanged a couple of e-mails about it. Because of my work schedule and their unwillingness, despite my oft-mentioned reminders of what our agreement was (work the shitty Sunday shift and I get Saturday off, at least while Nate is in school), I requested May 1st off for the traditional German day of hiking and in celebration of Walpurgisnacht.
I sent Adonis an e-mail, now 9 days ago, asking him about his interest in going hiking on May 1st, figuring this would only be the nice thing to do given he has a full life and so do I and making plans ahead of time would probably be a good idea. He did the worst thing imagineable, he ignored me. Then when I saw him last night at work, he said hi and then wouldn’t look at me the rest of the evening.
This is all very bad news for mutiple things, one being my ego, two being hope, and three being dreams – at least as they relate to him. It’s rare around this town to find someone that is single, good looking, not gay, intelligent, and isn’t afraid to get a little dirty. I know he isn’t afraid of this because I’ve seen pictures of him and his four-wheeler plastered with mud. I like that in a man. I like the fact that he wears a suit and tie and has a great job that he works very hard at and is still a down-to-Earth humble person.
He also hurt my feelings which suddenly makes all of the other shit not worth a damn. Reject me if you’re not feeling it, but don’t fucking ignore me. I would rather be rejected than ignored. Ignoring someone is a rejection, but it isn’t an honest rejection. It’s a poor man’s rejection. It’s just fucking rude and man, it fucking hurts.
And what is with all of the other bullshit that has gone on with us in the past months? What? I mean, seriously! Stop the act, Adonis! Or just tell me you’ve changed your mind, don’t want to, sorry, you’re too old for me, sorry, I don’t want to be your friend, sorry, I don’t have time for you. Good Goddess, tell me something, BUT DON’T FUCKING IGNORE ME!
I’m not normally given to self-pity but today, I’m wallowing in it like a dog wallows in the first shitpile it finds after a bath. I’m sure my therapist would be happy to know I’m taking time out of my day to admit I have feelings, admit someone hurt them, and that I’m crying over it, which apparently are normal responses instead of my past response of attempting to squash it under my boot like an annoying crunchy bug and mash it into a crack in the sidewalk and forget to attempt it ever existed.
“It’s all right/there comes a time/got no patience to search/for peace of mind/Layin’ low/want to take it slow/no more hiding or/disguising truths I’ve sold” – Alice in Chains from Jar of Flies.
My cracks are full of mashed crunchy bugs and I’ve been working at digging their skeletal remains out. What a nasty job. I’d rather not add the insult of another crunchy bug to the injury the skeletons have left behind. Plus, I’d rather not go psycho mean on his ass. He may deserve it, but I’m not lowering myself to dish it. What is it they say, you can stand up for yourself without being an ass about it?
“Hope, a new beginning/Time, time to start living/Like just before we died/there’s no going back/to the place/we started from/Hurt, falling through fingers/Trust, trust in the feeling/There’s something left inside/There’s no going back/to the place/we were before/all secrets known/Calm, all wounds are healing/Strong, truth is worth saving/I want to feel alive…” All Secrets Known – Jerry Cantrell from Black Gives Way to Blue.
Another thing. This whole situation has not given me much courage and really, I need some courage. It’s no secret to anyone here, especially myself, that I’m a lemming when it comes to Jerry Cantrell’s music. I study his lyrics like I study Maya Angelou, Ernest Hemingway, Jim Harrison, and other writers. I plan on doing one of my grad papers on his lyrics, both from Alice and his solo work. What? He’s a poet too.
Anyway, I just have this idea for some of my writings and I want so bad just to have five minutes of his time to ask if in the future, if he would be interested in doing something like that with me. It takes a certain bit of ingenuity, but I am nothing if not ingenious, to steal five minutes of his time, hell, maybe three. But it also takes courage and a willingness to stiffen my spine and take the rejection, which frankly, my success rate at this endeavor, to work with him, is almost assured at 1% and maybe less, but my failure rate is assuredly 100% if I don’t have the courage to ask.
Courage is a quality or spirit that enables someone to face difficulty without fear. Brave is having courage. Fearlessness, pluck, mettle, nerve, spunk, spirit, audacity.
If I don’t ask the answer will always be no. If I don’t ask the answer will always be no. If I don’t ask the answer will always be no.
What do you call it if you still face difficulty but you still have fear? What if I do have the opportunity to ask but I’m still shaking like a leaf when I do? What’s that called? Stupid but brave? Brave but stupid? Courageously stupid? Courageously stupid but hopeful?
I still have time. It’s not like I have to ask today and maybe there would be a better time to ask. A different approach. Ingenuity. Sometimes it’s not what you ask but where and when and I’m pretty good at determining that. For now, I’ll leave that in limbo and that’s okay. I’m no where near where I want to be on that project anyway. Maybe I should actually finish writing it first!!!
I get excited and put the cart before the horse when I should be much more methodical in my approach, at least to some things. Potential energy is a good thing, but really, you have to make sure its going to go kinetic before involving other mortals. This is also what you call “inspiration.” Move your ass, or you’ll never get to ask him because it should be transitioning between potentional and kinetic before you make your move.
“I go to sleep behind the eight ball/I live to fight for one day/I’m trapped in the cold outside/there ain’t no shelter/they wanna force my hand/’Til I/Take what I wanted, and/break all the lies that they/feed, the fuckin’ liars/smash all the temples, and/crawl through the rubble, and/cry to the fallen/I’m the last my kind still standing…” – Last of my Kind – Jerry Cantrell and William DuVall from Black Gives Way to Blue.
Good to have figured that out now instead of stressing about it all damn day and ruining my 1% chance by putting my ass before my brain. By doing so, I may have just increased my odds to 5%.
Back to Adonis. I told T-Bird about what happened and her response isn’t really relevant. It was everything you would expect from a best friend. However, I told her that as Nate and Cam and I sat at dinner after hiking on Saturday that I thought about the empty chair beside of me at that four top table. For some reason, Nate and Cam, even at 13 and 15, still don’t act mortified that I’m around and even though I give them space, they’re very inclusive of this old lady.
However, it does nothing to fill that empty chair at the table with an adult, and forgive me my female friends, but I want it to be a guy, like a boyfriend or potential boyfriend guy that I could sit and chat with while the boys are talking about video games. And me, the one who values her solitude, has to admit loneliness in those moments.
It took that empty chair to make me realize I am lonely and how much I wished there was a special someone, a just for me someone, there to fill it. Oh wait, I mean, I’m admitting it out loud.
“Tears that soak a callous heart,” – I Stay Away – Alice of course – Jar of Flies.
It’s days like this I really miss Smokey. He never minded when I cried into his fur. He would just grab a hold of my face with his paws, lick my forehead with his rough-ass cat tongue, and chew my hair. Boy, am I making the rounds today. My therapist asked and I admitted to the fear that if I start crying I may never stop, that there may not be a way to “Dam That River.”
This may be the day I never stop.
Let’s see – Judge ordered (and we agreed so as not to yell and scream for 45 minutes) that Jeff and Nate will see the same counselor, separately, and that she will determine when they should have counseling together, and then advise the Court regarding overnight visits.
Nate is unhappy about having another counselor as he likes going to the Domestic Violence center. He’s still going to go to the Center, but just deal with different issues. We’ll know more after his first appointment with his new counselor.
When Nate and I came home last night with one of Nate’s buddies, I saw a man walking down the street toward my house. He moved over behind my neighbor’s van as though to get out of our way, but when I pulled in at my house, he turned around and started walking in the direction that he had just came from. And it was raining.
I wonder if he really thinks I’m that stupid that I don’t know its him. Moron. I guess he figured I had caught him driving around the neighborhood and now he would try a different approach.
Anyway, Nate is doing well so far with school. He’s putting a lot of effort into it, doing his homework, and he and I have the agreement that I won’t question every tiny paper in his backpack as long as his grades are good and he’s turning his work in. He’s still irritating me with getting to school on time… he likes walking in when the bell rings, which annoys me. However, he knows if he causes himself to be tardy then he loses his electronic privileges for the evening.
He seems so relaxed, happy, and so much more mature. He still has a lot of anger and hurt over his father, but I’m hopeful that counseling will continue to whittle that away and give him the tools he needs to deal with it appropriately.
We are fostering Nate’s sister’s cat, Moose. She and her mother are getting ready to move out of their current living arrangement into a place of their own. Her Mom’s boyfriend (soon to be ex), has nixed the cat living there until they can leave. So, Moose lives with me for now. He and Chico are about the same size and they play like demons. Its hilarious.
I told my mom about Moose and she said, “Well, if she doesn’t come back and get him then I’m coming down there and personally taking him to the animal shelter! You have too many pets as it is now!”
Ya’ll, my mother has serious issues. It may have gone unnoticed to her, but it isn’t lost on me that I’ll be 39 years old this year, I pay my own mortgage, and my own utilities, I pay for everything! I’ve lived on my own for 14 years and wow, I’m raising a child too. Amazing that I’ve made it this far without her controlling my every move. She’s messed up in the head.
Wilbur is a big ball of fuzz and he’s not going anywhere either. No, my mother doesn’t know about him. I’m afraid she’ll attempt a catnapping. Bizarre.
I saw AZ the other day. It was … okay. I saw him while Nate and I were out to eat. His wife, mother, and another mutual friend were with him. I’m still hurt but its fading. Seriously… I really know why he married her. She has no confidence whatsoever, and Clint and Stacy would have had a field day with her whole look that day. And he’s so self-absorbed and insecure… her letting him have the continous spotlight is perfect.
He made the comment that Nate’s hair was long… and he was so tall. Yep, that happens when they grow up. He stood there for a while until I remembered to stand up and give him a oh-yeah-guess-I should-hug-you hug. Used to be I would have jumped up and given him a real hug, but… just didn’t really feel the need. It was painful just exchanging pleasantries with him. Painful in that I didn’t really want to. I was being polite.
I described her to my counselor as a mouse, with sound effects and visuals. I cracked her up so bad she didn’t even have a chance to tell me, “No, no, not nice, examine your feelings, Grasshopper.” I said, “Well, being married to him hasn’t done her any favors.” And while I know that he and I were totally incompatible in so many ways, it still hurts, and I’m angry, and she makes me roll my eyes.
And, it pisses me off that he acts like things haven’t changed since he got married. And, naturally, he buries his head in the sand instead of addressing it. That’s his way of not dealing with it. I’m going to deal with it. He doesn’t have to participate in it, he doesn’t have to make any peace with me or it, but I do, and I will.
Ugh, that whole situation just irritates me. And, my mother irritates me. Really.
I have lost about three pounds and two inches from my waist since starting my new diet and exercise regime. I’m three inches from goal and I don’t really have a weight goal, just an inches goal for my waist and just to be healthier.
That’s about it. Have a great day.
Many of you have wondered about the adorable Wilbur. Does he really have horse teeth? Does he really resemble a pink pig with an arachnid girlfriend? Actually, he looks more like a baby Ewok.
Stunning, isn’t it?
I named him Wilbur because its just a ridiculous name and… well… he’s fat as a pig. Here he is with Chico.
It would appear that Wilbur is half Chico’s body size and you would be right. Something is just wrong with the fact that my 2 1/2 week old kitten is half the size of my 5 1/2 month old dog.
Wilbur is still smaller than me.
Went to see a local production of “Rent” this afternoon. Rosie has one of the lead roles (he’s Mark) and we’re all ganging up and going to see him in spurts. It was excellent. With the talent we have around here, you don’t need to go to New York, plus you get to go backstage and hang with the actors and their families.
That’s Rosie’s sister with us. She rocks.
Oh yes, and there’s my new bling-bling.
This is the new necklace I made. I bought a book by Laura McCabe and took some projects she had and used it to make myself something. The stone is a vintage copper Swarovski triangle. I did have it in a ring, but it was crude so I popped it out and decided to make something to match the outfit I had on today.
I’m supposed to write AZ a letter and let him know how I feel. Funny, after all of those years of writing to him, I can’t find a thing to say other than, “YOU’RE A MORON!” I think my counselor wants something a bit more than just, “You’re a moron!”
Listening to “Rent” really helped give me a better perspective on things and I really just need to get a better attitude and look at the bright side, while dealing with the dark side. And give AZ a piece of my mind.
Not talk about my feelings? That’s what my psychiatrist pointed out to me today. Although I am willing to discuss incidences that hurt me, I often focus on the “abuser” versus dealing with how I actually feel about it.
This is a coping mechanism, similar to the numb feeling I’ve experienced for a quite a while now. Its “autopilot.” She stated that we often start this in childhood to deal with trauma. Dealing with our feelings becomes too painful, so we focus on anything other than our feelings.
T-Bird and I had a “feeling” session one day, purely by accident. She has an AZ in her life and she’s been in a quandry as how to proceed or not to proceed in dealing with his on again, off again bullshit. She asked me how I dealt with not seeing AZ and not talking to him.
I pretty well broke down and admitted how much I really miss having him in my life. My feelings for him aside, he was really the one person I could talk to about my other feelings and not hide them. That is the main reason that I miss him so very much. Writing to him and talking to him was therapeutic. I miss him everyday. Every fucking day. At times like this, even more so.
The pain our relationship has caused me clashes with the intensity with which I miss him. I am disappointed in myself for allowing things to continue for so long without answers. I am hurt that he would also allow things to continue for so long, and either be oblivious to, or uncaring of my love for him.
But, I still miss him. I miss him everyday.
In happier news, Nate fished The One Kitten (now named Wilbur) out from inside the couch and when he handed him to me, SURPRISE! Wilbur looked at me, WITH HIS EYES OPEN! He’s so sweet!
Had to be at work at seven this morning. It was pretty busy today as well.
I got home and found an invitation in the mail to my niece’s birthday party this Sunday at a spa. I’m not going.
First, I’m really tired and I’ve got so much shit on my plate I’ve had to upgrade to a platter.
Second, I’m not in the mood to deal with my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law or her family.
Third, neither my brother nor my sister-in-law could be bothered to remember Nate’s birthday and it really chaps my ass to get an invitation to this SPA PARTY for a FIVE YEAR OLD when they couldn’t make a simple fucking phone call to my son when he became a teenager, so, fuck ’em.
My psych doc likes my use of the phrase: Chaps my ass. She had never heard it before. I’m happy to educate her on the various ways I’ve either devised or picked up to express my distain.
Radar says its storming here, but its not. Perhaps its storming on the other side of the house, because its not happening here.
I’m listening to one of my 32 Foreigner songs. Actually, I fibbed. At the time I wrote the last post, I was downloading “No End In Sight: The Very Best of Foreigner,” however, prior to that I had also downloaded “Girl on the Moon,” one of my very favorite Foreigner songs. So, I really have 33 Foreigner songs.
I’m not so happy at work. I love my job, I love my guests, its the rest I tire of. Its also getting to the point where I’m going to need a new car. During the summer my bills go up because of Nate’s daycamp, but I make less at work, and I can’t put any money back for a down payment much less a regular car payment and increased insurance.
Plus, by the time we’re in busy season, Nate will be in school and who knows what’s going to happen with Jeff and the Aspergers evaluation. More than anything, Nate needs me at home in the evenings and weekends. I figure I can survive five years working in an office again.
The time will be gone in the blink of any eye. So will my sanity, but hey, they give me drugs for that.
Nate has lost Wilbur (The One Kitten). My guess is his cranky Mama came in and stole him while Nate wasn’t watching. I’d better go and help him look. He won’t shut up until he finds them.
Can’t really say there’s nothing new going on. Just nothing earth-shattering which is good.
The second of Luna’s babies died, so that leaves The One. She and Nate are locked in battle as to where The One Baby is going to reside. Nate has set up what he calls, “The Lunar Pod,” which is an old round litter box that I bought after the fire. He lined it with old towels and puts the The One Baby in there. Luna will come in, nurse the baby, then leave.
Then, around midnight every night, Luna decides the Lunar Pod is not the place for them and attempts to move The One Baby back inside the couch. Normally, this ends with The One Baby being dumped beside of the couch, crying, then being rescued by either myself or Nate. Never a dull moment.
Lex came over last night. I’m happy to report, he reminded me how good sex can be. Nate, in all of his gigglyness, asked what Lex and I were going to “talk” about. Yes, he used quotation marks. Although, at the time, he didn’t know it was Lex that was coming over.
And then, this morning, Nate reported “wet spots” in his underwear that had nothing to do with nocturnal wetness but may have something more to do with noctural emissions. Given the fact I’m fairly certain he had every indication that I was going to get laid last night, right down to clean sheets and an earlier bedtime, perhaps his mind, whether conscious or subconsciously, was thinking about sex, and well, holy shit.
I mean, COME ON! Oh, that was just a bad choice of words.
Shit! Talk about uncharted waters. And that blasted ankle biter of mine, although sequestered under Nate’s blankets, heard unfamiliar footsteps in my house and started barking, which woke Nate up, but I’m fairly certain he was sound asleep again within a few minutes because he didn’t use quotation marks this morning and didn’t make any ribald comments.
Okay, he did use quotation marks, once to describe “friend” and once when he asked if we had a good “talk.” Had my son been 18 instead of 13 I would have embarrassed him by answering, “Why yes, son, we did have a wonderful talk and had you been awake I’m sure you would have known exactly how wonderful that talk was, since I was fairly certain that I was going to wake you, our yappy ankle biter, and the neighbors when one of the most powerful and fulfilling orgasms of my life ripped through my body like a bolt of lightning. It is very difficult to keep that quiet.”
My life is so normal. We’re facing the normal facets of growing up, yet, I feel like its so abnormal. Abnormal for us. Normal in the course of life, normal in the course of growing up, but uncharted waters. I’m not drowing yet but I’m definitely sinking.
I just downloaded 32 songs by Foreigner.
Nothing new to see here.
Yesterday Luna had a her kittens. Yes, I know, I hadn’t mentioned that Luna was pregnant because I really didn’t want it to be true. She had three, two of which lived and they are both black, like their uncle/father, Jirachi. Ugh.
She had them inside the couch. The cats have collectively shredded a hole in the arm of my couch and she went INSIDE to have the babies. They freakin’ cried all night.
Otherwise, the real crux of Wednesday was that upon arrival at counseling (a break from our usual Thursdays), Nate informed me he didn’t want to talk to them, he only wanted to talk to me.
Thereafter, his counselor and my counselor hustled me away to the upstairs counseling room and sat down to deliver, I guess what they thought might be a huge BOMBSHELL that they believe that Nate may have Aspergers Disorder.
Aspergers is one of the Pervasive Developmental Disorders associated with high functioning autism. As I read the informational sheet, I was struck by how much like my son it sounded and a bit like myself as well.
One thing in particular struck me the most (aside from poor social skills, a one track mind, creative, intelligent, and consistent underachiever), was taking things in the literal sense. I can’t tell you how annoyed and FRUSTRATED I would become with Nate over his homework, and then, the lack of turning that homework in.
First, Nate would bring home unfinished papers, but then say, “Its not homework because the teacher didn’t say it was homework and the teacher is the boss of the classroom, so if the teacher didn’t say it was homework, then its not homework.” Then, after being made to do the paper, over his complaints that it wasn’t homework, I would find the same paper in his bookbag, when questioned, he would say, “The teacher didn’t ask for it.”
Now, you and I would assume, if all the other children in the classroom stood up and turned the paper in without being told, then Nate would too. However, if he has Aspergers, that’s not how he thinks. He doesn’t assume things, or even respond to that social clue. He is ‘blind’ to regular social clues that you and I respond to. He would only respond to the teacher telling him that 1) if you don’t finish the paper, take it home for homework, and 2) if the teacher said, “Turn in blah blah paper.”
I can’t tell you how many times he would look at me and say, “The teacher didn’t say it was homework,” and “The teacher didn’t ask for it.” Over and over and over and fucking OVER, until you really start to believe he just doesn’t want to do it, which I doubt he does anyway, because he’s bored off his ass and sees absolutely no purpose in going to school at all, but will conform if he’s given the right instruction, whether he likes it or not.
So, you can see why this would cause the problems that it has, especially with Jeff. We take it that if I paper is not finished in class, then its homework, even if the teacher doesn’t say so. If Nate isn’t told that than he believes that it isn’t homework, then it appears to be a lie that he doesn’t have homework, even when he has unfinished papers in his bookbag.
This is something that I have been seeking for a long time. I knew he wasn’t really “bonding” with his counselor, that he chooses to talk to me about how he’s feeling, but as I told him, I don’t have the tools in my tool chest to help you. Luckily, if it is Aspergers, which they don’t diagnose so they are sending us to a comprehensive center at Marshall University, then, I’m going to understand so much more about how my son thinks! And if I know how he thinks, then I can be such a better parent to him.
Amazingly, which is something that I didn’t have any idea about, was that ADD/ADHD is part of the diagnostic criteria for Aspergers. And, the program at Marshall has a specific intervention center for Autism/Aspergers and my tool chest would be full of things I can do that will help Nate succeed.
How long, oh how long, have a kept telling, and kept telling, and kept telling his doctors/counselors, “socially awkward, doesn’t make friends easily, takes things literally, etc. etc. etc.”
I guess they thought I was going to be upset. I’M NOT UPSET, I’M ELATED! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???? I’ve been searching for the key to Nate for a long time and if this is it, then I can’t even begin to tell you how much hope I have and the tears I cry are tears of joy that finally, I might REALLY be able to help him instead of swimming around in a dark sea, searching for light.
And if its not Aspergers, I’ll just keep searching. But, I think we’re on to something. At least I feel as though I’ve solved one major mystery, and that is why Nate will do his homework but not turn it in. Because the teacher didn’t ask for it. Why didn’t I think of that???
Chico is a little eliminator. He’s eliminated the need for me to clean up cat barf. In that regard, I should have named him Hoover. He’s also eliminated the need for me to seek and destroy hairballs. He is a hairball lover and had I known my cats’ regurgitated food/hair snakes would supply him with hours of chewing enjoyment I may well have saved a shit-ton of money buying him real toys.
He also chews on my old toothbrush, thus saving me the need to brush his teeth for him. It also precipitated the need for me to buy a new toothbrush as the toothbrush wasn’t really old, it just happened that after I had finished brushing my teeth one morning, and before putting said toothbrush back in the cabinet, one of the cats jumped up on the counter, and knocked the toothbrush to the floor where the little big-eared crumbcatcher was waiting.
Nate likes for me to bring Chico to school to pick him up. He rushes up, throws his 30 lb. bookbag at me, grabs the dog and says, “Ohhhhh, come on my little chick magnet.” He learned this behavior from his father.
We have decided that Chico’s ears are an indicator of : How rotten he is being (both ears totally erect), sad (both ears down), stable (one ear up/one ear down), and the weather: hot (both ears up), cold (both ears down), comfortable (one up/one down). Right now he is laying on a pile of laundry, chewing on his toothbrush, with both ears up. It is very comfortable in the house right now so this proves the little shit knows that was my toothbrush and he shouldn’t be chewing on it.
Tango was just trying to be sociable and Macy layed her ears back and growled at him. He thought he would try playing with Chico, but Chico is chewing on his toothbrush, which precipitated another round of growls from the laundry pile. Tango wandered off into the living room, which I find hilarious considering he is twice the size of Chico.
Perhaps this is because I have witnessed Chico racing after Tango with tufts of black cat hair in his mouth. The only cat Chico has a healthy fear of is Macy, because Macy will kick his ass. Chico will race up to the other cats and grab a hold of the skin at their neck and start tugging. Not Macy. He only has the nerve to nip at her ass and then skirts away with his tail between his legs when she turns and glares at him with the, “Oh no you didn’t,” look. If she could swivel her head, she would.
Nate likes to irritate Chico while he’s trying to nap. Chico, being a puppy, will play full force and then suddenly, “Um, I need a nap, so I gotta find a lap. *Snore*” Like, right now. Literally, he was chewing on his toothbrush, then came over, barked, I picked him up, he layed down, and *snore*. Now, if I go to pick him up, he’ll growl at me. Not a menacing I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive growl, but a quit-fucking-with-me-can’t-you-see-I’m-trying-to-sleep growl.
Nate has learned he doesn’t even have to pick him up or try to pick him up, all he has to do is touch him. So, he does. *Touch* *growl* *giggle* *touch* *growl* *giggle* *touch* *growl* *giggle* *touchgrowlgiggle* *touchgrowlgiggle*
NATE! STOP MESSING WITH THE DOG!!
Awwww! Its fun!
You’ll make him mean! Leave him alone!
*touch* *growl* *giggle*
I’ve taken to calling Chico – Chico Mocoso. “Mocoso” supposedly being the Spanish word for “brat.” It probably means “twat” or “douchebag” so I don’t say it out loud in front of my Mexican neighbors.
One would think I’d have the sense to use German words, since I do speak fluent German and he is half German, it would make more sense to call him a Schlingle, which I know means “brat” in German. At least, that’s what my host father told me. Then again, its colloquial and could also mean “douchebag.” Although I don’t see my host mother putting up with my host father calling me a douchebag for 20 years.
And let’s face it, Chico looks Mexican. Although he has several personality traits of the dachsund, namely his digging, burrowing, and attacking anything resembling a badger (the cats), in his features he definitely takes after the chihuahua side of the family. I mean, if he had taken after the dachsund side of the family I would have named him Hans and I would feel comfortable speaking German to him. I do call him Momma’s Bubba’s Little Badger Dog, and that will have to suffice.
In other news, I saw Lex yesterday. He texted me when I got off from work and I visited with him on the patio at Booksamillion before picking Nate up from his field trip. He looks good, good enough to eat. I’ll get to that. I got some good hugs and stole a sweet kiss. He’s preparing for the LSAT, so I sat down and took part of the test, which I got 100% on. Maybe I’ll study for and take the LSAT, just to see how I do. Anyway, Lex is trying to finish up his Masters in History while studying for the LSAT, working, and chasing me around.
I think, its going to be a great summer.
Well, Nate decided he did NOT want a rat terrier like his dad. He’s been talking about getting a chihuahua. I didn’t find a chihuahua, but I did find a Chih-Weenie. That is a chihuahua/dachsund mix, who we named CHICO!
As you can see, he is rather small. His mother is a 3 lb. chihuahua and his father is a 9 lb. dachsund. He’s so small, he can walk under my cat’s bellies. I expected Macy and Luna to be the worst with him and they ended up being the best. It is rotten ass little man Jirachi who is the MOST jealous. Of course, he’s not the BABY of the family anymore.
He’s very sweet, hasn’t chewed anything up yet (of course, he has a VERY small mouth), and he was pretty well paper-trained when we got him, but he’s doing very, very well with that. Nate has taken over a lot of responsibility with him and they are fast friends.
Jeff did call and that’s another post in itself. It was ugly, but I expected it to be. But, now its over, at least that part of it. We’ll see what tomorrow holds. For now, we’re enjoying the newest addition to our family.