w00t w00t booyah

From the first post of this journal:

"No posting about anything that party of the first part will not know about party of the second part. And so on and so forth."

In whole, NO SECRETS. Nothing that anyone walking across my path would not already know - no secret tryst, trusts or scheming.

And this has been where I can talk freely about what bugs me. You didn't know, you weren't paying attention. Or - you told me to shut up, I didn't know what I was talking about, my opinion wasn't valued...the list can grow, at this point it matters very little.

This is my space. It has been for ten years. I've done good things with it - indifferent and truly SILLY things with it - but I can go back and look at this thing and see where life events have taken me, written before the ways came and took us where they did.

And...all things willing, will continue to do so.

So. Let me, for the record, collect posts on a specific subject. Heck, take the first year.

Let me introduce you to my family, and in particular...my older sister.

Who we are, and what I thought of us.

If there was a seminal event to lead to where Sis is today, here it is. Damn. Follow on....and some more....Sis, you were a lucky girl.

Secrets. And how they grew.

Don't try to fool Mom.

When Sis lost the sight in one eye.

Sharing is caring...unless you're my sister and then it's wrong.

This one is locked...for good reason.

They still have the cat and the fact this was all happening when the kids were this small? Sad makings.

Velvet paws that hide the sharpened claws....

Beware bringing me your drama.

I'm a good sister, really I am.

People reconcile. My tale of the most unlikely I've ever known.

Another locked one, but noted. BIL starts commuting to work in STL from LAX.

No Mom, I didn't know.

The 80's. It's worth noting in passing.

Sis...and the holidays. They never did mix well, did they. This part is unlocked.

Stuff that worked with me, foundered with my sister.

Getting ready to move to Torrance from Ontario, I clean my garage.

We find our current home, our little house of dreams.

Easter at Sis' house always was a risk.

A Mother's Day.

Twenty-somethings may rule popular culture and fashion, but seventy-somethings rule the world -

There were times...sadly, few of them.

This was more typical.

Don't get used to it.

A man of infinite jest - I worked with Bob Hope once.

Hidden treasures.

Talk to me. I talk back. Simple.

In the pool with you!

Your schedule. Not ours.

Used as a scratching post.

Therapy for depression.

Something typical, but updates on Sis.

Jim's parents divorced...

*SIGH* This is 2003. My Sis' kids adore Jim; they tolerate me. Follow on...oh shit, she was 15 too. What IS it about that age in girls?

I tend to give 'difficult' people room for medical causes...here's why.

Doing the dance of deception....

First Thanksgiving at my house.

BIL's second youngest brother passes.

And I have to tell the Master's in Social Work this?!

And that was essentially the first year of journalling here. There's nine more to go.

No, I was not always fair or kind - not even accurate, if I go back and recheck the facts but that was what I knew at the time I put it down.

If you keep going, you read more and time passes - that's what reading back over journal entries is all about.

Today, I don't get that many words down on a daily basis - I'm faster on Twitter and Facebook and more prolific there. I've started a Tumblr, but it really just reposts things from other Tumblrs...without commenting on them. Passive aggressive internets for the win. 9_9

It might do me more good to write more, methinks. It was also interesting to note the issues with old gig went further back than the summer of 2008 - *shakes head.* I so didn't want to leave that one - I really did stick out as long as I could, didn't I?

And the beat goes on.

"Dealing with folks over the weekend, finding myself out of step with the CW - wondering why plain speaking, openness and no secrecy was being taken so hard - then I remembered. I was married to Cliff Stapfer for nearly 15 years. You couldn't just say 'I love you' to that guy - he didn't believe you. You had to *prove* it - you couldn't break trust with that guy - it had been broken so often, so many ways you had to *build* it from scratch. My reward? His primary drive in life was to be fair. He trusted me - to him, that was love, and proof of love. When you love someone - you have to allow them to make choices you don't think are wise, do things you don't think are safe, because you have to trust them to make themselves happy. But you have to be able to trust them, and believe you will know the truth behind the why of those decisions (with Cliff, I always did). Cliff made me an honest, honest woman. He would accept nothing less than trust - complete, utter and total. Otherwise, you were just like every other person, family or otherwise, who had come in and said 'I love you' and hadn't meant it. To me, today? I tell the truth - and I tell everything, to everyone. I make no promises - they're like pie crust, made to be broken. I make commitments, and negotiate what is possible. If I say I will - that why I do it, regardless of any other motivation people ascribe to me. I won't tell you I will - if there's any chance I won't (or can't). And I miss Cliff so - but take him with me, everyday, everywhere I go. Believe it. Worth it. Every single day worth it."

Spent the whole day Saturday delivering goodies to people who weren't home to receive them - and then spent hours defending my parenting style, and why I was so "mean" to my sister at my mother's house.

Sis fired one across the bow over the 4th of July weekend, demanding that nobody speak to Brad or the kids about the divorce. One, you don't cut off all communication and then make demands. Two, you do NOT tell who I can talk to or what I can talk about when they are adults in their majority like I am.

So I had to take time away from what I was doing during AX to craft a rather good email back to her.

So I'm mean. I guess.

Largely for documentation sake. When I'm not blinded with rage, I am deathly worried for her. And that, is how they say, is that.

 Sis calls me - remember, I can't call her, but she can certainly call me in the middle of the day and make me drop everything - and advises me that she is off Mom's POA as primary for health care.  She'd be off the financials too, except legal counsel has advised her it's too hard, unwise if she wants to resume her post in six months and so on.

A crisis that lasts until the beginning of the next school year?  Total radio silence?  People are also posting some weird stuff to FaceBook over there too.  Have been for some time  - daydreams about running off to Europe for fifteen months, lalala (and that was Sis doing that one). BIL, kids...even stranger, more out of character.

This is the part where I start wondering what IS going on over there.  But I am a Good Sibling, I respect boundaries (particularly when they've been so clearly spelled out) and until this becomes an itch I can't help but scratch...I'm staying out of it.

But the whole thing makes me itch.   Wish I lived next door.  I'd borrow a buttload of sugar, mind you - one cup at a time.

Called Lil' Bro and Mom - largely to reassure them that they can call me in the middle of the night if they need me, yes I will  take on the doctor appointments, no problem...and apologized for not being the licensed social worker.  I am experienced, I'm not bad - but.

Mom cut me off.  "Don't hit yourself in the face."  And then she started crying.

That's one.

Jim's taken on being an observer/alternate for collective bargaining for the union this year - it's been quite the experience, he's just glowing with the strokes, the perks and the attention.  Problem is, it's also eating up a lot of time beyond the normal workweek.  This week alone, there are three days I've had to cut my day short to cover getting kid home before aftercare closes (he normally covers that one, I take him in) and then not getting home until late, late, late.

This little boy does NOT do well with lack of Dad.  Yesterday, we got a incident report - kid playing around in the bathroom, slipped and clocked himself in the head...and then threw sand at someone and The Parents Got Called.

Well, they did.  I'm taking off work again tomorrow to take in the parent-teacher conference - it's being done early, we need to talk about some behavioral issues.

My kid is teasing the other kids - and he's been extremely mean.  *sigh*  Well, he's angry enough to displace some of it on other people, not knowing he's doing it.  He's very angry right now.  There hasn't been a lot of downtime due to everyone working late, dealing with crap and so on - we haven't been home every night, there's been a lot of dinner out of the house, so less television time...not a lot of fun going on for anyone.

It's also adoption anniversary time.  While he might not externalize it, he certainly appears to feel it.  We've seen unattached anger every year, same time every year.

So, I've got a kid being extraordinarily mean to other kids right now.  Well, he learned from the best at the old school.  Crapcakes.

That's two.

I finally blew my cork at religious social club last night - Sunday School is a joke, it's me pulling my kid out of church to give a lesson every single Sunday and I'm ready to close the whole thing down as CE Coordinator because?

I'm not that good at it, I'm getting nothing to assist - and frankly?  I wouldn't invite anyone with kids right now.  That's one step short of resigning, and throwing the whole thing out.

This *was* a great experience.  I got more to do, hopefully something that will help - but.  I got more work to do.  (It's perfectly okay for me to completely restock the classrooms and get them ready to use again, after the emergency rehab when the plumbing flooded the place - but get any assistance to actually teach classes?  *grumble*)

That's three.

I'm having my memory banks *yanked* hard - and trying to be useful instead of whiny.  There are more posts to do about the years between 1992 and 1998 - but popfiend  needs what I got, so I'm being as good as I can.

He's not the only one.

I'm having a hard time playing Angel of Death again, so please.  This is not your experience, I don't want it to be your experience (on top of your own?  Please.) and there's plenty of horrendous on the periphery as it is.

Shit happens now, there's nobody left.

That's four.

My idea of 'busy' and yours?  Not your fault.

According to my mother, I'm too old. Name it, and I'm now too old for it.

Honestly. When I hit 30, it was with a cry of joy that I wasn't too young for ANYTHING anymore.

Because - yeah, that. Want to do something? Too young.

If you wonder how I developed such selective hearing and why 'don't listen to that shit' rolls off my lips so easily?

There you go.

See icon. That's me, trying to deal with six year old with separation anxiety.

He hates school. Can't say I'm surprised, they aren't impressed at all with him either. He won't sit still, won't pay attention to directions, distracts himself by playing with his shoes, pestering the kid next to him, talking talking talking talking....

But give him a task, and he's all over it. Let him do worksheets - he loves it. But no, this is a summer session and that would be WORK. Their idea of a summer break is going to be the end of us.

He's been benched from ever leaving the school on a field trip again. That's nearly $200 down the drain because - ta da! - it's his fault. (Yes, you have to pay for field trips. Why yes, yes we did. In advance. Why wouldn't we?)

I take him to Kaiser - they look at age, gender, starting kindergarden and disregard the parents telling the LCSW about the international adoption at age 3.5? Yanno, the one that scared him shitless? THAT ONE?

Oh no. ADHD. Go sign up for parenting classes, you dumbass. And get ready to start drugging your kid, some of them actually do well as adults. Hope you were expecting to institutionalize him at some point. Get out. Your turn is over, there's somebody waiting outside. Scram.

Welcome to becoming a statistic.

And he's still scared.

The next thing you hear is 'make sure you're taking care of yourself - you need to get respite!' Suuuuure. My kid is so uncertain about where his parents are, he's checking to see when my next church meeting is. Which is once a month or so. When's the next one, Mom? Now? Now?

I'm about glued to him as it is, and I don't dare go far. And I'm the one he hates.

He about comes unglued every time Jim leaves the room. Since he leaves first in the morning, and I take kid to school four days a week? I have a kid ready to run after the car every day, even though I'm sitting right there. 9 times out of 10, I'm also the only one insisting that shush means shush (not talk louder to be heard), so I am also not the Nice One. He wants Daddy. Well, shit kid so do I.

The motor mouth when tired. The yackity yack in bed once he's been put there. The lack of napping, so I have a bucket of bolts at the end of the day. No cope. None. No television, nothing. No fun at all.

This morning, he woke up tantruming. Fired us all. Said everyone was mean to him. I replied that when he didn't behave, he was the meanest one in the room. Meant it. The tantrum? Get up, put your toys back on your bed and get dressed. I put the toys back. Oh, the humanity.

He remembers everything. The clarity of process in this kid really dissuades me from jumping back to the hyperactivity bandwagon. It also makes me wonder how much he remembers prior to adoption, and what exactly happened.

The being cute to get out of it makes me wonder most of all. Did they try to place him prior to us, and it failed because he wouldn't behave? All he had to do was what he's doing now - and voila, back with foster parents. You remember, the ones he cried nine months for and begged us to return him to? Those parents.

The amount of work right now, just trying to get services in - and making sure he stays in a school setting right now? All hands, the cook and any politician I can drag into the fray. Really.

He's still scared. And I'm so angry I can barely think straight.

See icon. That's me, trying to deal with six year old with separation anxiety.

He hates school. Can't say I'm surprised, they aren't impressed at all with him either. He won't sit still, won't pay attention to directions, distracts himself by playing with his shoes, pestering the kid next to him, talking talking talking talking....

But give him a task, and he's all over it. Let him do worksheets - he loves it. But no, this is a summer session and that would be WORK. Their idea of a summer break is going to be the end of us.

He's been benched from ever leaving the school on a field trip again. That's nearly $200 down the drain because - ta da! - it's his fault. (Yes, you have to pay for field trips. Why yes, yes we did. In advance. Why wouldn't we?)

I take him to Kaiser - they look at age, gender, starting kindergarden and disregard the parents telling the LCSW about the international adoption at age 3.5? Yanno, the one that scared him shitless? THAT ONE?

Oh no. ADHD. Go sign up for parenting classes, you dumbass. And get ready to start drugging your kid, some of them actually do well as adults. Hope you were expecting to institutionalize him at some point. Get out. Your turn is over, there's somebody waiting outside. Scram.

Welcome to becoming a statistic.

And he's still scared.

The next thing you hear is 'make sure you're taking care of yourself - you need to get respite!' Suuuuure. My kid is so uncertain about where his parents are, he's checking to see when my next church meeting is. Which is once a month or so. When's the next one, Mom? Now? Now?

I'm about glued to him as it is, and I don't dare go far. And I'm the one he hates.

He about comes unglued every time Jim leaves the room. Since he leaves first in the morning, and I take kid to school four days a week? I have a kid ready to run after the car every day, even though I'm sitting right there. 9 times out of 10, I'm also the only one insisting that shush means shush (not talk louder to be heard), so I am also not the Nice One. He wants Daddy. Well, shit kid so do I.

The motor mouth when tired. The yackity yack in bed once he's been put there. The lack of napping, so I have a bucket of bolts at the end of the day. No cope. None. No television, nothing. No fun at all.

This morning, he woke up tantruming. Fired us all. Said everyone was mean to him. I replied that when he didn't behave, he was the meanest one in the room. Meant it. The tantrum? Get up, put your toys back on your bed and get dressed. I put the toys back. Oh, the humanity.

He remembers everything. The clarity of process in this kid really dissuades me from jumping back to the hyperactivity bandwagon. It also makes me wonder how much he remembers prior to adoption, and what exactly happened.

The being cute to get out of it makes me wonder most of all. Did they try to place him prior to us, and it failed because he wouldn't behave? All he had to do was what he's doing now - and voila, back with foster parents. You remember, the ones he cried nine months for and begged us to return him to? Those parents.

The amount of work right now, just trying to get services in - and making sure he stays in a school setting right now? All hands, the cook and any politician I can drag into the fray. Really.

He's still scared. And I'm so angry I can barely think straight.

First off, if you are not getting the livescience feed here on LJ, do. If I post any links at all today, that would have been the source of them. Lovely stuff today, but you don't have to take my word for it.

I kinda of knew I was going to take it in the shorts this weekend.

( Cut because we care. Ranty Pants=ON )

There's nothing like dealing with family to make one want to walk into traffic. And you wonder why I'm expecting to be dropped like a hot rock most of the time.

Feel free to tell me your whack. The last went down better with a shot of Jaeger, just saying.

Note to self - do not park under the lightposts at the Green Line Station when leaving the car there over the weekend.

Car covered in birdie poo. Serious, serious, we're-stopping-at-the-car-wash-on-the-way-home birdie poo.

Red car with beeg white polka dots, that was her. Poor car.

--

I've said you can't snow me. Boy, spending the weekend with Jim's mother and younger brother didn't feel all that great by the time it was over.

You want to put your best foot forward, of course. Everyone does.

But I know. And while I can give you space, consider the source and nod sagely - the dynamics were there, present and in play.

We're talking about a family unit that took a blow by divorce that the players are still coming to terms with.

If you had a been a better 'whatever' - I would have had a better life. I would have what other people take for granted. I don't have what other people have because of you.

And as long as it looks good and sounds familiar and reassuring - everything is fine.

I have one brother of my own who doesn't talk to me. I know how this works, after all. You won't tell me what I want to hear - or play along - or heaven forbid, you have an opinion that isn't exactly savory about someone who makes Everything Work for me - and instead of nodding, filing it away for future reference and considering the source, I accuse you of *something* (I really don't know WHAT I did to this day) and I don't want anything to do with you.

Well, all right then.

That's one person in my family. Door is left open, but I don't pursue him. I'm pretty dangerous, after all.

You screw up, I call you on it. There's no looking for shit to throw on me - go ahead, I know what I said or did - and really, I simply don't care enough about what other people think for it to matter.

I can be anything. I know I'm not junk, and you're saying so doesn't make it true.

I may apologize if I stepped on your toes, if I was wrong (JEEZ, that's the ONLY thing I can sure of) - but that's as far as it goes. If I really blew it, I'll do what I can to prevent it from happening again - acknowledge I DID IT and mean it, I blow it 12% of the time on my best day after all -

And then we go on.

That's not the culture Jim grew up in, it's not the one his family still lives in - and poor guy, the younger brother just took it broadside over the weekend.

I swear, the last day was the biggest game of "Topper" I've played since I was a teenager.

The whole China adoption thing was a continual bone of contention. Obviously, we were Doing It Wrong and someone - anyone - had a better in than we did. Because, well, nothing was working Our Way!

I'll admit, I blew it too. I forgot - and started trying to defend myself. Which you can't do with someone who 1) doesn't know what you know and 2) is just trying to be helpful, implying you're an idiot and a sucker you're being had. And perhaps I could have just taken it in - but when it sounds like "you dummy, why aren't you - " - well.

In their culture, everyone is out to get you if they can. Base assumption.

And what an idiot you are if you don't realize this yourself. Why not do it too? Take advantage! You'd be an idiot not to!

In all honesty? You get what you expect out of this world. Expect the worst - and more likely than not, you will be your worst too.

What I saw was a lot of fractured, selective behavior. The tip-offs were "people think you're - and fill in the blank - if - fill in the other blank", usually reserved for some mode of public behavior.

Huge, unwieldy game faces. All weekend long. And this is taking us OUT of our home environs. Intentionally.

Trust only to a point, and plenty of reassurances nearly unspoken - but present - that I Don't Trust You, Her or Anyone. Really.

And nobody - if they really knew the Real Me - would have a thing to do with me.

So - let me show you what you can handle. And won't hate. And remind you're too trusting, nobody tells you the truth - ever - and everyone has an agenda of their own that doesn't include you in it. And you can only stay on their agenda if you Behave. Be what they want. Say what they want. Suck it up and keep your stories straight with the rest of the family. Don't tell them about this. Don't say that to the others.

I know.

Jim? Always expects the best out of people - and when thwarted, is angry. Just like clockwork. I think he was getting his buttons pressed most of the weekend, and it was just subliminal enough for him not to notice it. He knew he wasn't getting everything - while getting in trouble and unable to do anything about it. Because, well, he never was in trouble...just someone you didn't tell anything important to.

I didn't do anything. Crap. Yes you did. We all did.

Note to self: if you want to help, it doesn't work well when you must work from the place you have to be Right about everything. You have to make your argument, after all - not Be Right-er than thou.

(OH. You have to be at the airport two to three hours ahead of your flight?

Don't be there more than four hours ahead. You can't check your bags or go through security to your gate to wait in peace with the rest of your family heading out two hours ahead of you. Just saying.)

Just one more annoying bit of business to be wrong about.

You don't know what you're talking about. You're stupid and annoying and I have to put up with you. Be grateful that I do.

I don't think anyone really knew they were doing it. They'd NEVER be that cruel. I guess that made the apologies for being 'difficult' just that harder to accept.

We get home, and all of a sudden - we're ten times more intelligent, know what we need to do and have everything at our fingertips to get it done. And nobody quibbles. Or questions our judgment or motivations.

Ghads. Dealing with your family. It really is work, isn't it?

And these are people I LIKE. I guess that makes it harder in a way, doesn't it?

Nobody did anything, after all. We had a great time - seriously!

That post is tomorrow - right now, I'm still a little bemused and wondering WTF that was all about.

Note to self - do not park under the lightposts at the Green Line Station when leaving the car there over the weekend.

Car covered in birdie poo. Serious, serious, we're-stopping-at-the-car-wash-on-the-way-home birdie poo.

Red car with beeg white polka dots, that was her. Poor car.

--

I've said you can't snow me. Boy, spending the weekend with Jim's mother and younger brother didn't feel all that great by the time it was over.

You want to put your best foot forward, of course. Everyone does.

But I know. And while I can give you space, consider the source and nod sagely - the dynamics were there, present and in play.

We're talking about a family unit that took a blow by divorce that the players are still coming to terms with.

If you had a been a better 'whatever' - I would have had a better life. I would have what other people take for granted. I don't have what other people have because of you.

And as long as it looks good and sounds familiar and reassuring - everything is fine.

I have one brother of my own who doesn't talk to me. I know how this works, after all. You won't tell me what I want to hear - or play along - or heaven forbid, you have an opinion that isn't exactly savory about someone who makes Everything Work for me - and instead of nodding, filing it away for future reference and considering the source, I accuse you of *something* (I really don't know WHAT I did to this day) and I don't want anything to do with you.

Well, all right then.

That's one person in my family. Door is left open, but I don't pursue him. I'm pretty dangerous, after all.

You screw up, I call you on it. There's no looking for shit to throw on me - go ahead, I know what I said or did - and really, I simply don't care enough about what other people think for it to matter.

I can be anything. I know I'm not junk, and you're saying so doesn't make it true.

I may apologize if I stepped on your toes, if I was wrong (JEEZ, that's the ONLY thing I can sure of) - but that's as far as it goes. If I really blew it, I'll do what I can to prevent it from happening again - acknowledge I DID IT and mean it, I blow it 12% of the time on my best day after all -

And then we go on.

That's not the culture Jim grew up in, it's not the one his family still lives in - and poor guy, the younger brother just took it broadside over the weekend.

I swear, the last day was the biggest game of "Topper" I've played since I was a teenager.

The whole China adoption thing was a continual bone of contention. Obviously, we were Doing It Wrong and someone - anyone - had a better in than we did. Because, well, nothing was working Our Way!

I'll admit, I blew it too. I forgot - and started trying to defend myself. Which you can't do with someone who 1) doesn't know what you know and 2) is just trying to be helpful, implying you're an idiot and a sucker you're being had. And perhaps I could have just taken it in - but when it sounds like "you dummy, why aren't you - " - well.

In their culture, everyone is out to get you if they can. Base assumption.

And what an idiot you are if you don't realize this yourself. Why not do it too? Take advantage! You'd be an idiot not to!

In all honesty? You get what you expect out of this world. Expect the worst - and more likely than not, you will be your worst too.

What I saw was a lot of fractured, selective behavior. The tip-offs were "people think you're - and fill in the blank - if - fill in the other blank", usually reserved for some mode of public behavior.

Huge, unwieldy game faces. All weekend long. And this is taking us OUT of our home environs. Intentionally.

Trust only to a point, and plenty of reassurances nearly unspoken - but present - that I Don't Trust You, Her or Anyone. Really.

And nobody - if they really knew the Real Me - would have a thing to do with me.

So - let me show you what you can handle. And won't hate. And remind you're too trusting, nobody tells you the truth - ever - and everyone has an agenda of their own that doesn't include you in it. And you can only stay on their agenda if you Behave. Be what they want. Say what they want. Suck it up and keep your stories straight with the rest of the family. Don't tell them about this. Don't say that to the others.

I know.

Jim? Always expects the best out of people - and when thwarted, is angry. Just like clockwork. I think he was getting his buttons pressed most of the weekend, and it was just subliminal enough for him not to notice it. He knew he wasn't getting everything - while getting in trouble and unable to do anything about it. Because, well, he never was in trouble...just someone you didn't tell anything important to.

I didn't do anything. Crap. Yes you did. We all did.

Note to self: if you want to help, it doesn't work well when you must work from the place you have to be Right about everything. You have to make your argument, after all - not Be Right-er than thou.

(OH. You have to be at the airport two to three hours ahead of your flight?

Don't be there more than four hours ahead. You can't check your bags or go through security to your gate to wait in peace with the rest of your family heading out two hours ahead of you. Just saying.)

Just one more annoying bit of business to be wrong about.

You don't know what you're talking about. You're stupid and annoying and I have to put up with you. Be grateful that I do.

I don't think anyone really knew they were doing it. They'd NEVER be that cruel. I guess that made the apologies for being 'difficult' just that harder to accept.

We get home, and all of a sudden - we're ten times more intelligent, know what we need to do and have everything at our fingertips to get it done. And nobody quibbles. Or questions our judgment or motivations.

Ghads. Dealing with your family. It really is work, isn't it?

And these are people I LIKE. I guess that makes it harder in a way, doesn't it?

Nobody did anything, after all. We had a great time - seriously!

That post is tomorrow - right now, I'm still a little bemused and wondering WTF that was all about.