I spent most of this afternoon sitting alone on the couch crying into about half a box of kleenex. I am full up and had to empty somehow.

(I got away with this because S was gone to work and the kids were playing some online game - probably Neopets - and were so engrossed that the only thing that they might have noticed was possibly an earthquake or some other catastrophe)

Have I ever mentioned my friend V?

Probably not. The reason being - I miss her so very much. There is a huge vacancy in my life that is left especially for her, and no matter what I do, nothing and nobody else can fill it. We were friends in college, and of all my "college friends" she is the only one that has stuck. What I mean is, I don't write about her much because there is so much to say. But I think of her all the time. She moved to England quite a few years ago. We get together maybe every 2 years if we are lucky. If she or I could afford it the visits would be much more frequent.

Today I got a package in the mail from her. She gave me "eat pray love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, and a CD of her making. It was so strange because I have seen this book on shelves in stores all over lately, and have felt drawn to it, but always held back from getting it. Now I know why. She wrote all over the inside cover of the book and I cried. And I read the tracks on her CD and I laughed and then I listened and then I cried.

All I really wanted to say here is, I miss her.

I thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
it seems farther than ever before
oh no.

I need you so much closer

(death cab for cutie - transatlanticism)

É ingratidao falar mal do vinho
E a provar o que digo
Vamos, meu amigo, a mais um copinho
- Mariza, "Ouça Lá, Ó Senhor Vinho"

Dear whoever this concerns:

I haven't written much lately. I feel like I have poured too much sad and not enough happy, and things are feeling flat. I don't mean for most of my tales to be sad. Truly, I don't. It's just that I'm always told, "Write what you know". It is as simple and as difficult as that. Most of what I write is true, and most of what I write is real, and most of what I write is probably a bad idea.

I still have many stories to share and I don't know where to begin. It is like all these moments are surfacing for me and I want to express them but I already feel so damn exposed here. At the same time I wonder why not? Over time I have peeled myself down, layer by layer. It is all out there if you want it. This is something that has been both painful and cathartic. The knife ever so gracefully poised over my cadaver, waiting to sink into flesh and reveal all the viscera underneath. But I am no longer looking to see who is wielding the scalpel, instead I am itemizing these things, labeling them neatly, presenting my case and stepping back to allow for the words to speak for themselves.

What you don't see is what is happening between the lines. I am really good at playing the bumbling fool. However, the curious (but wholly expected) side effect of playing the fool is that I am never taken very seriously. This is my protective shell - do not allow myself to be seriously considered and then I won't get hurt. When I am cornered into telling it like it is, no fancy analogies or anything, I shuffle my feet abashed and wishing that the focus was on anything but me. People would not believe that I am terribly shy; that I rarely tell the people I love how I really feel about them; that I rarely smile; that I cry and cry until I am dry and then I won't cry for months; that these days I think that I am almost always afraid. I have spent literally decades of my life fooling people into thinking I am unapproachable, like some freaking special unicorn faerie or something. That if you touch me you will find that I disappear into the mists. I am fun but I will hold you at arms length.

I am really tired of pretending that I am ok. I pretend and I pretend and everyone else goes along with it. That is so much better for me than to see their worried glances and sometimes even see their questioning eyes. And I want to be honest here, life has been one long struggle and this past month or so has been more than I can bear at times. So now I am trying to just sort of live day by day, watch the seconds on the clock march in cadence and bring me closer to an answer.

I keep opening and closing my hands. I keep blinking my eyes. I keep feeling my pulse under the surface of my skin and I am grateful for every little beat that pumps through my heart.

Memory from last year:

K is seven years old. We are driving to a beach and he and his sister C are each looking out a window at the passing traffic and roadside. He is meticulously counting the number of cows and horses we pass. K loves animals.

We get to the beach and start the trek from parking area to sand. The sand slips in between our toes through the sandals and the kids shriek with glee. The sun bearing down and the sand swishing, whispering at our feet. My husband S slips his hand into mine and chuckles as we watch the kids race ahead of us. K is the one to find the spot where we will set our things.

We pull the blanket out and it flaps in the air. I briskly snap it out so that it will settle on the ground nicely. The kids know the drill: sandals on the corners, so it doesn't get whisked away. They run gingerly to the shoreline, gasping and jumping with each step as the sand perfectly reflects the heat of the sun.

We are at a lake but to K it is like the ocean. Any body of water will do, so long as it is vast and can hold some secrets. K is a little bit nervous about submerging, he rarely will swim under water. He does love to look into it though, and share his observations and discoveries with me. One day soon I will show him what the ocean is really like. I will hold his hand and watch his rapture as he feels the salt spray on his face and smells the fresh, damp air. I will glance at him sidelong and drink in his wonder at the life brimming just below the surface of the water. A perfect reflection of the life beneath the surface of his skin.

C loves the water for other reasons. When she was very little, she used to pretend she was a mermaid. She loved the way her hair would float around her in the water. She used to take extra-long baths because she wanted to see what it was like living as a fish. Sometimes I think if she was given the choice, she would take water over land. She gets this from me. It is in her blood and it courses so fully through her, that I cannot fault her for it. She leaps into the water as though into the arms of a long-lost love, and it fills me with a strange sort of mixture of joy and calm to see the rapture on her face as she emerges from the water. Her laughter is infectious, and S will toss her from his shoulders in to the lake again and again until they are both gasping for air from laughter and mischief.

K loves to collect artifacts from the places we go. A leaf, a feather, a rock, a stick. A shell. He brings them to me, eyes full and the words describing his discovery will tumble out in such a rush, I have to remind him to slow down. "Look, mom, this stick looks like a spider. Look mom, what kind of feather is this? Do you think the birdie will mind if I take it home? Look mom, this rock has a fossil in it! How old do you think it is?"

On this day at the beach, he finds a little shell. He immediately puts it up to his ear. Then I note he puts his mouth to the opening of it and starts murmuring. I am intrigued but I do not want to intrude. I keep watching him to see what he will do. I expect him to come to me in excitement and show me his latest treasure. He does not. Instead, he puts it up to his ear once more, and then once more murmurs something into it. Then he does something unexpected. He tosses the shell into the water, as far as he can throw.

I don't press him for information; instead, the day goes on as lazy days at the beach do. We picnic, get an ice cream, swim some more now and again. K and I dig for treasure, while C laps up the last of the waves and S snoozes on a towel. Half an eye on C, half an eye on K, I use a stick to draw things into the wet sand you usually find a couple of inches under the surface, if you dig enough. K thinks this is great fun and then he decides to dig some moats, fill them with water, and float his toy cars into them. He makes buzzing car noises and "oh noooo, he fell into the ocean!" and he and I are giggling. C comes up and splatters water all over us, laughter and the sun.

It is time to go, and we collect our things. Wash the beach off and change into clean clothes. K makes one last trip up to the shoreline to rinse off his sandy feet one last time and looks down. He finds the same shell he had thrown a few hours before. He picks it up and dusts it off and looks at it thoughtfully. He puts it in a pocket and brings it with him to the car. On the way home, he barely sees the cows, barely sees the horses. His eyes wink and blink and then fall slowly to a close. Sweet mouth breathes in and out; K is asleep. C, beside him, recounts her adventures of the day, one by one. She herself is fighting off the sleep; she is nine, she says. She doesn't need a nap anymore. But she is no match to a day full of clean air and sunshine and exercise in the water. Soon her eyes fall heavy and she too is sleeping.

We get home and S carries them one by one into the house. Pretty soon he won't be able to do this. The kids are growing in leaps and bounds. I follow him up and tuck them each in. C first. She mumbles a thank you for the fun day. I straighten up some mussed hair out of her face and oh, child, please don't grow up too quickly. Then I move on to K. He is in that half-sleep state, eyes fluttery and he's clinging to something in his hand. I gently pry the fingers open and see his little shell. His eyes open and he says in a sticky sleepy voice, "Listen to the shell, mum. I told it a secret." I put the shell to my ear and hear whistling air. I tell him I couldn't hear it quite right. He says "Oh, the ocean must have kept it." I gently rub his back, a ritual we sometimes share when he is feeling extra sleepy. He says "I know it isn't really an ocean, mommy." I say it's okay to pretend that it is. Pretending is the best part of being a kid.

"I know," he says, and lets out a big yawn. I kiss his forehead, and while I am close he says "Mommy, the ocean will always keep your secrets. That's why it's so salty you know - it's full of your tears." I am taken aback and I don't quite know what to say to this, so I say "Is that what the little shell told you?"

I wait for an answer, but none will be given. The ocean is still. K is fast asleep.

So my great-uncle Arturo passed away today. He had been struggling with lung cancer for a few months now, but interestingly enough it wasn't the cancer that killed him; it was a bout of pneumonia.

My dad is pretty upset but doing what he always does when he's upset over something - squashes it down to the bottom of his toes and walks it off. There is a lot of stuff behind this and I would like to elaborate but I shouldn't and especially not on a public journal. Suffice it to say - there is a lot of misguided guilt there with regards to great-uncle Arturo's brother Danny and I don't want to elaborate too much but my Dad has some very hard feelings against the man (Danny not Arturo) and is going to have to squash those down as well as great-uncle Danny will most likely be at the funeral. Which is interesting because I thought he was in jail or something (again, LONG LONG story).

This is my grandfather's brother we are talking about here, just to make it a bit clearer. I don't really know how to process it. I knew the man and loved him because he was family, but didn't feel incredibly attached because he is all the way in Fall River MA and I'm all the way here. We used to visit twice a year though, and he was nice and had the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were in on some delicious joke.

I don't know what else to say, except that I feel a little numb, and it isn't just the cold doing it this time.

My mom needs to have a bunch of external cysts removed. they just up and started growing out of nowhere. They are huge and very noticeable and she says they are also very painful. She measures the pain as a vouchsafe against the dreaded "C" word.

My heart aches and I am tired and I am worried about too many people, none of them being myself.

I need a vacation from life.

Currently making a couple dozen butter tarts. I hope 2 dozen is ok - I figure there will be lots at the bake sale and I'm too tired to put myself out any further - it's been a very long, very stressful few weeks and I can't really put forth any more effort than I already have. Last week was report card week and the parent-teacher meetings left me drained and crying. It's too long to get into here and frankly not something I feel the need to publicly air (shocking, I know). If you are curious then you'll know how to get a hold of me to find out what is going on.

Tomorrow night is a council meeting because yet again they had to reschedule. If it keeps going on Monday nights I'm going to have to quit because it conflicts with my schedule BIG TIME. Sigh.

Ok I need to go do more things. Because I have a zillion on my plate and hopefully want to pare it down to a million by the end of the night.

I don't know what to do with K anymore. Third note home since November 5th with regards to his being rough and picking on, of all people, his best friend. All three incidents involved his friend, all three incidents he "said he was sorry" and had to go to the principal. I have no fucking idea what to do with him as our typical punishments don't seem to be getting through.

What really makes me irate is that just this morning, he and I had a long talk about his behavior and he PROMISED he would behave. Promised me like there was no tomorrow. So imagine my surprise when I find at the bottom of his school bag (which was soaking wet for the third time in a row because yet again, he didn't put his water bottle in his lunch bag and also left the damn bottle open) another note from his teacher explaining that, yet again, he has done something not very nice to his friend. This time around he threw snow down his friend's coat and hat. Last time he had pushed his friend into a block of ice. The time before, oh god I can't even remember.

I was so mad I was crying. I'm at my wit's end and have no idea how to get it through to him, that if he continues to behave this way, a few not so nice things will happen. First he will lose every last one of his friends. Nobody likes a bully. Second, he'll probably get suspended or expelled. Thirdly... I don't even want to think about it. The path he is walking is not a good one. And it just kills me because he is such a good boy, deep down, and has such a good heart, and I don't know where all of this aggression is coming from. He says he just can't control himself sometimes and this is what he does to let out whatever is in him. I say he needs to learn and real damn quick son because: my wit's end? Yeah. I'm there.

So I'm at a point where, do I do the thing I really don't want to do, and not give him the main thing he really wants for Christmas, to teach him something? Or do I try and figure out something else? My dad would say just tan his hide until he can't sit for a week, and while in a way I'm tempted, it would just be sending the kid the worst kind of mixed message.

I don't know. And I'm so upset, and I'm embarrassed because I really like the family of his friend, and there are only so many phone calls I can make to apologise before even I don't want to hear it anymore. What do I do? I don't know. I don't know. The only thing I can do right now is cry. I'm so frustrated.

I stumbled upon this site, and went through the photos themselves, then waded through them this time hitting the "caption" button at the bottom of the screen so I could read about these incredibly heart-breaking photos of a mother's journey helping her son battle cancer.

Ok, so there is a LOT to update on.

K's birthday was spent in Niagara Falls. We went and visited various places on Clifton St and had lunch at Ruby Tuesday's. My Dad has a friend who gave us a bunch of passes and gift certificates to go there, who was I to say no to free stuff??? Downside? K was sick in the car on the way up there, and when we got there a couple of times. No fever or anything, so he was probably just car sick, but still. Ew.

After that it was Marineland which K has been wanting to go to since he could speak. It's an expensive trip but what the heck - we always try to do cool stuff for K on his birthday since he's a July baby and it's tough to try and manage a birthday party, you know?

So a good time was had by all, and it topped our week off nicely.

The week we had off, we had an overnight kid swap with K & C's friends - Z came to our house and K went over to theirs. It was K's first time sleeping over at a friend's house, and he was in good form for it so hurrah. The girls had a good time but they always do - that's how girls operate.

Um, what else?

My birthday - well... It sucked in that I woke up with a headache, worked overtime spending most of the day being carped at by angry bankers, came home to my kids fighting the minute I walked in the door. My parents took us to the Portuguese restaurant in London and that was good - birthdays are always bittersweet since my grandfather died though - it's hard not to remember that when you bury them on your birthday. Dad and I had a drink in his name and then we came home because I was just exhausted. Saturday night I went out with my sisterinlaw and brotherinlaw and their friend and... yeah. I had a few too many sicilian kisses and beer. I think I would have been ok but then they brought out the tequila... needless to say I was a trainwreck.

This past weekend we went camping with the kids and some mutual friends. It was good in the way camping is always good, but tiring in the way that camping is always tiring. It really isn't a vacation for me - with the preparing and cooking and cleaning that happens even in the great outdoors - but the kids had fun. We ended up coming home early on Sunday because I was feeling under the weather and so was C. We stopped at a video store and rented a bunch of movies - hurrah for no late fees. Yesterday was spent with me feeling wretched and sickness coming out all ends, if you catch my meaning. So of course the house is still upside-down, kids feel fine though. S has today off, hoping he gets some things done but I won't hold my breath.

I woke up this morning groggy and still feeling unwell, but off to work I will go to spread my germs because that's what everyone else does to me, the bastards.

I'm exhausted but had a great time. I was officially up for 24 hours when 4:30 hit. There was no sense in getting to sleep until I got myself home. My legs are also very angry with me right now, I walked way more than the alloted times given to me by my team captain. I was just so restless and since there wasn't much else to do, a-walking I went. There were luminary bags lit as night fell, and they had arranged some to spell out the word "hope".

Relay for Life was pretty good. The luminary ceremony was moving, as was the Survivors walk. Reading the bags, there were so many people I knew, but this one hurt the most:

This weekend is the Relay for Life, thus the subject header for this post. I'm really looking forward to it. I missed last year's go around because of a wedding or something. It's a great night and pretty inspiring - I love watching the Survivor's walk and the Luminary ceremony later on. You are hella tired by the end of it but it's great otherwise. Plus, I live what - maybe 2 blocks away? So I can crawl home the next day with no issue hehe. Or get S to come get me as I'll have the tend and whatnot to deal with - I'm not about to cart all that stuff on my back.

Our team is called the Sassy Support Sisters and we are all wearing tiaras and boas and slinging plastic martini glasses (full of water or whatever, unfortunately haha).

K had his first soccer game this week. He has... some work to do. He tends to skip after the ball rather than run, and if he kicks it he doesn't go after it... and um... he gets distracted pretty easily but then again it's only his first game.

Went to visit Senor & Senora D last night to get pictures of their son for a collage for his buck and doe - the photos are TERRIFIC and hilarious. It was a nice visit, then again they are nice people and are the type that will always welcome you into their home with open arms. The minute we got in though of course Senora was feeding the kids - we Portuguese women have this thing about feeding people.

Time to get the kids packed, and then go to the paper to have the buck and doe advert ordered, and uh... lots of stuff. Then work!

If I only could
Be running up that hill
With no problems

This is my lifeblood. Mariza is a wonderful Fadista and she demonstrates what a good one can do with a traditional Fado. She is singing Povo Que Lavas No Rio. This is my history. This is my life. This is for my grandfather.

No idea where the title came from. My Noggin, I guess.

Spent the weekend at my cousin Lola's house, and we brought the Wii. I'm pretty sure her hubby is now enamored with the system. S and I are comtemplating just how long he'll go without one - I'm figuring one more visit with the system may push him over the edge.

There has been a lot of introspection going on with me of late. Perhaps its the season shifting that is causing the tectonic shift in my thought processes. I don't know.

This weekend is Easter weekend of course, and with it brings a whole new set of problems: how do you make egg trails when you own a cat that loves to bat things around?

C actually made hazardous mention of the idea that maybe Mr. Bunny and his mate S. Claus don't exist. Nobody at school has been saying anything - she just drew up the conclusion on her own. I asked her why. Then she mulled it over and recanted. She said there is probably for sure a Santa, because she was sure there wasn't but then he brought her exactly what she asked for at Christmas and there was no possible way that S & I would have got these obscure requests. So if Mr. Claus exists, maybe E. Bunny does too. We had a talk about faith - believing in what you can't see. We also had talks about Jesus - I think the religious aspect of these holidays is what is causing the counter-point of "why do these figments exist?"

This whole scandalous conversation thankfully went down without K in our presence. But it got me thinking - I mean, I can't really pinpoint the time that I stopped believing. I think it just happened slowly, in increments, until that last bastion of magic in my life crawled away when I wasn't looking. Sad really when you think on it. I figure if I'm lucky, if I'm very lucky, C will believe for one more year, and then she'll be done. That's just the way C is, but is it silly that I find that just a wee bit heartbreaking?

So in comparison to my last post about trips to Toronto and train madness, the week was pretty boring by comparison. The kids got a couple of play dates in for their holiday and that's about it.

On Wednesday night everyone and their brother called me, which was pretty funny actually because usually I never get phone calls. One call was with regards to one of my friends getting married to that Portuguese lad- they asked me to be the MC. It only makes sense in the grand scheme of things - I'm the only one of their mutual friends that actually knows them both from external sources as opposed to meeting one through the other. I'm actually looking forward to this though I'm going to have to track down the Groom's brother for dirt, and his brother lives in Geneva I think? Somewhere over the pond. I'm sure he has email or something.

Went out with folks from work to Molly Bloom's on Thursday, Friday I did nothing things with S which was kind of nice. We ordered in chicken wings and watched mostly either the Discovery channel or Food network - S thinks Ace of Cakes is just the cat's ass and I stalwartly maintain allegiance to Iron Chef: America even if it is inferior to its Eastern counterpart - I wish they'd show re-runs of that.

Friday I got a text from S telling me that M's water broke (she's only 33 weeks so that's pretty damn early) and got shipped to Victoria hospital. They managed to keep her from going into labor but now she's pretty much stuck in that damn hospital for the next two weeks - the waters only dribbled, they managed to keep that at bay, but if she goes into labor within that timeframe they'd rather have her right there than have to ship her again. If she makes it the two weeks, they'll send her back here, where apparently it'll be ok to have the baby here. She'll still be stuck in hospital until that time comes, which totally sucks for her.

J is beside himself not knowing what to do. It's his first child and then add to that the fact that he's now had the care and feeding of 4 strapping young lads thrust upon him - well, we're hoping their Dad will pitch in somehow, especially since he's not even working at the moment. This just adds stress to M but what can you do right?

The baby is doing well though, which is a relief.

Saturday S and C worked on the electrical wiring downstairs, while I shopped for SH's baby shower. Came home to be attacked - the boys wanting my feedback on how things were to be laid out. S initially didn't want it but C convinced him it was a good idea, since chances are I'll be cranky at the way something was done otherwise. C was right, and as a result S got some more ideas for the basement - our basement. We're taking our time with this project because we want it done right. S initially wanted it done quickly but now he's seeing this as a long-run type thing. Do it right the first time so there's no repeats of labor-intensive work/change.

Yesterday was baby shower day. It was ok and there was tons of people, half of whom were pregnant or trying, and I got to hold more than a few babies too, and take in their warmth and new baby smell; then I came home and cried. S was pretty good about it and did all the nice things that make me feel better.

And now I'm off to get the kids ready for their first day back from March Break. Hallelujah.

I drink much more than I ought to drink
Because it brings me back you...

I've had a strong craving to get very, very drunk, if only so that I can shut everything off for a while. Went back to yoga yesterday after taking a break last time around - my body was still in too much pain then. Yesterday was no different and I found myself having to take breaks between positions as my hips and lower belly region are still tender. Sisterinlaw was there as well and we went out for a light meal afterward, and then I hung out at her house a while. Talked a little, cried a little. She's also going through some rough things right now - March is a very hard time of year for her as she is still putting to paid her grief over her ex's death. I'm trying to think of something to do for her, take her to some distraction. We'll see.

A friend of mine is getting married in August - the 25th, to be exact, which is my father's birthday. While I'm happy for her, at the same time I think she's crazy to be planning it so soon - especially since she's marrying a Portuguese lad. You need at LEAST a year to plan those types of weddings. Part of the reason they are planning so soon however is because she is wanting to have another child, but wants to be married first. Her son from her first marriage will probably be terribly put out about that - he was more or less King of the Mountain all this time, and has had some trouble adjusting to two new step-siblings. A new baby in the mix would be pretty disconcerting, although in my deep down parts I admit that it (and a good spanking) is something he has had coming for a while now. This kid is trouble with a capital T - mostly because my friend lets him do whatever he wants and lets him walk all over her because she doesn't want to discipline him. Her first husband was pretty abusive and in her mind discipline = abuse - I'm sorry, but for some kids the corner isn't enough. Especially if you don't enforce it. What's hilarious is, she's a babysitter full time. She has no issue whatsoever with the kids she babysits - enforces good behavior, puts them in corners or timeouts or whatever - it's just her own kid.

I finished M's baby blanket, brought it to her and she loves it of course. She's getting antsy - only 6 weeks to go! I'm excited for her, but it's a little bittersweet. I choke that part of me down, because practical me knows things turned out the way they did for very good reason.

I am going stir crazy though. I need to get OUT - and can't really because S is on afternoon shift this week again, and while I could take the kids with me (and frequently do) I need ME time very badly.

C started taking violin lessons a couple weeks ago. She's actually pretty good at it, and about it. She practices every day without any prompting; partially I think it's because she wants to catch up to her friend's level. The teacher is super nice, and clearly knows what she's doing. Her methods make sense to a degree - Suzuki teaching is a much different structure to anything I've really been exposed to, but the theory is solid.

Hey you know what? I'm tired.

And yes, I'm aware that I complain too much.

Also, for an odd change, my email inbox yielded no new messages this weekend. Kind of creepy actually.

So I've been given the ok to go back to work. This makes me happy sort of, as I am one of those types that doesn't like not working, but sad sort of, because I'm still not over some things yet. I have a lot of thinking to do; the doctor is now discussing the possibility of a uterine ablation at some point. I don't really want to get into how and why we got to this point - suffice it to say, I have a lot of thinking to do.

I'm kind of nervous about going back into work tomorrow. It's not like returning from a holiday or a bit of the flu; I've been gone long enough for fellow employees to start speculating, and wondering, and talking amongst themselves. The one girl I get along with quite well, whom I shall call Rose from this point forward for my own devious reasons, actually went so far as to track down my phone number on Friday and call me in between calls at work. I explained briefly what was happening, knowing full well she would keep it to herself. In an office of 500 people, gossip can be (IS) rampant and finding someone who doesn't share information is pretty damn rare. She was pretty empathetic, wished me well and reminded me she'd be on holiday this week but if I needed anything to let her know.

Aside from Rose however there are some pretty bad gossips, one who sits right behind me and constantly pokes and prods me (literally), asks too many questions, and doesn't like that most of my answers are brief. I'm sorry but I know that whatever I tell you is going to be known by the general public in the matter of a day or two. I don't need it and don't want it and I'm prepared to tell her to go to hell politely but I'm hoping it doesn't get to that point.

I just finished baking chocolate chip banana muffins. K gets to bring one or two to the school for a snack swap they are doing on Valentine's day. Hopefully things go well for him - he has a particular person in mind, and is hoping he won't have to figure out someone else if they get chosen already. Both kids finished writing their Valentines over the weekend. They're pretty cute about it - very particular about who gets what Valentine.

Ok. I need to get them started settling down, maybe play a game with them before bedtime. Hug them to death and be thankful God gave them to me.

If the doctor gives me the ok today I'll be back in to work tomorrow. I'm pretty sure he'll be ok with it but a little part inside me worries.

I'm too tired right now to post more, but rest assured: I am alive, and while not completely whole, I'll be ok eventually.

I have had a very hard, very hurtful, very sad few days. I really, really want to get it all out but putting it down here just seems ridiculous. I already open up about just so much and this is still too raw and personal for me. Not to mention the details can be quite icky.

Without being too enigmatic hopefully, I can say that after so many doctor visits, and needle jabbings, and machine xray takings, and sufferings, I think I've had enough for the year. Any further medical interruptions would make me go over quota, to be sure.

The lady who takes lunch orders for the school came by today with a card and some flowers. She called earlier in the day, ended up on the tail end of a crying jag on my part, got what was going on out of me, and came over to see if I needed anything and if I was okay. It was so damn nice that I started to cry again - heh. She understood completely having gone through some similar things, and being a nurse to boot she knew what was going on without my having to explain myself.

The small surprising kindnesses that are bestowed upon a person when they least expect it and certainly need it most just reaffirms my belief in angels and higher powers sending you what you need, even if you don't know you need it yet.

On the bright side I can now see why I was going through such emotional rollercoaster over the past little while. If any of you were subjected to my wild mood swings or general crabbiness and complaints about things that normally would not bother me (I swear), please accept my heartfelt apologies - you know who you are.

Ok. Time to go lay down and watch something mind-numbing. Hopefully that decorating show with the two gay lads from the UK is on - they just crack me up.