19 Dec

Herding Cats – An idiom denoting a futile attempt to control or organize a class of entities which are uncontrollable or chaotic

…like my life.

Just scroll down to see the latest post ↓

Ask me how I am and I’ll probably lie to you

26 Apr

“I’m fine.”

We all say it. We all are usually fudging a bit when we say it. Me? My pants are on fire when I say it, and yet I’ll still say it.

“I’m fine.”


I’m not fine. I’m stressed. Okay, I’m beyond stressed. Stress begets stress. Anxiety begets anxiety. Depression comes along and says “Hey, can I join the fun?” Because who am I kidding? I probably am depressed. Considering that Seattle has just broken a 122 year record for most amount of rain and a severe lack of sunlight, my depression has a nice covering of moss.



actual picture of Seattle-ites just hanging out


It’s been so bad, my husband brought up moving to Austin, Texas and I actually considered it. And I loathe hot climates.

But here I am, curled up in a semi-fetal state, growing moss, and I’ll still say “I’m fine!” if you ask me how I am.

I lie.

I lie because admitting anything else is just not in my playbook. We were raised not to whine or fuss or carry on or whatever the phraseology was 35 years ago. We suck it up, tough it out, and most of all, don’t complain.

I lie because I have to keep functioning. Because I don’t want to be fetal, and, more honestly, Maura’s not going to take care of herself. I mean, she could. But that’s how she ends up eating chocolate cake while wearing her sister’s choir concert dress. Not that that’s happened….this week….

I lie because honestly, rehashing all the ways I’m tired and stressed and anxious isn’t my idea of a good time. I’d rather talk about anything else.

Don’t worry though, I have trained professionals I can rehash to. Because I may lie to everyone around me, and maybe to myself for a while, but I can admit when it’s time to get help.  Granted, that time was mid-panic attack which landed me in the doctor’s office three hours later, and when the nurse said “How are you doing?”, I said…

“I’m fine.”

And then I laughed and said “Wow, that was such a lie.”

So no, I’m not in a great place. But I’m in a place, and it will get better, and at some point, “I’m fine” won’t be a lie. Just like this horrible winter season, the sun will eventually break through. Even if it means I buy a time share in Hawaii to find that sunshine.





Sometimes, even I need a reminder

24 Apr

I am a tolerant woman. I can ignore a lot. A LOT.

But some teen in this house showed Maura YouTube on the Xbox. And now, Maura is going through YouTube, clip by bloody clip, trying to pick out songs from movies. Except she can’t read really, so she goes by movie titles or pictures, press play, decide it’s not what she’s looking for ten seconds in, and stops it to go trolling some more.

Click…click….click…music…click click…music….click…click…

She’s doing this right now.

I’m going a bit mad.

It’s actually way more fun when one of the siblings get on her case. “Maura! Just stick with one thing!” Which of course, she doesn’t.

Good times.

We lost the Blue Pad – aka, a Kindle Fire that she was using – so we can’t just plug her into her own device with headphones.

To add to this fun, she’s gotten into repeating things several times to you. “See? See? See?”

“Yes, I see…I see….YES I SEE!”

Geez Mom, why are you yelling?


I had this idea that I could just put a tv in her room. But then we’d never see her again, and she’d definitely never sleep. But that’s how desperate it’s all getting.

And then, just now, she turns to me. “See? A party! Woo! Let’s party!”

And I laugh.

Because the girl is just trying to enjoy her music and watch music videos. And she’s navigating YouTube the best she can – just like she navigates life.

There will always be obstacles for Maura. Always. The world isn’t designed for those with disabilities, so those with disabilities have to find a way to make things work. Meanwhile, there are those perfectly abled who get royally put out because OMG they had to park at the far end of the parking lot, and bitch about it. Or bitch about the shortage of unicorn Frappuccino’s. Or bitch about something that isn’t a big deal, and talk about how hard it was.

You know who doesn’t bitch about life being hard?

The girl currently navigating YouTube to find a video with her barely kindergarten level reading skills.

Sheesh, even I could learn from her.

This is one of her favs – thanks to one of the Jennifers who insisted Maura had to have the movie – we’re gonna need the soundtrack now, please and thank you.

Life with Maura, day 5077

12 Apr

It is spring break, so my brain is officially mush. The teens can smell the weakness I’m emitting.

But right now, three out of four of the offspring are passed out in their beds. The fourth – who is actually the fourth – has slothed her way to the sofa to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Eventually, though, she got hungry. Maybe it was the smell of my freshly brewed coffee that awoke a hunger in her. But either way, she schluffed from the sofa into the kitchen, pulled out bread and the jar of Nutella, and did her interpretive dance that says “Mom, make me a sammich.”

I didn’t want to make a sammich. I was sitting down, with my laptop and coffee.

“Why don’t you just eat some of the pizza in the fridge?” I suggested. Because cold pizza for breakfast is a family tradition.

Maura seemed to like this idea, and pulled out the pizza box. She tried to walk out of the kitchen with all the leftover pizza.

“Maura, no, just take one piece.”



“Fine.” She put the pizza box on the counter and went back into the fridge to pull out the 2 liter of rootbeer I got to go with said pizza last night.

“No Maura, it is too early for soda.”


I got up and took the 2 liter from her. She balked. “It’s too early.” I stated again, putting it in the fridge.


She lunged for the fridge. I found myself splayed across the fridge doors doing my own “Nooo!” right back. Because this is what my life has become – guarding the refrigerator like the Crown Jewels, begging teens to not eat every damn thing in there.

Maura then went over to the counter and banged the jar of Nutella.

“Want me to just make you a sandwich?” I said with a sigh of defeat.


Maura left the kitchen to return to her couch slothing to TMNT and I made the damn sammich that I should have just made in the first place.

And I’m still trying to drink my coffee.


art credit – Mike Mitchell

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