If I had a cool factor, it'll be gone now....

Okay, I know this is dorky. But, I had to share these pictures of purses....? NO, these are cakes! Isn't that cool? I want one of these at my next baby shower, WAIT, I'm not having any more babies. Damn. Anyway, I just thought these were cute, cute, cute. And, truthfully, I wanted to see if I could figure out how to upload images. (hahahhaa) The one of the smoking angel seems wrong somehow, but I love it anyways. I really am a dork.

Okay, this isn't gonna be funny

Alright, for the faint of heart, please stop reading now. I am going to RANT and RAVE now. Because I am needing to vent. This isn't going to be funny, it's not gonna be cute, and it probably won't even be poignant.

I got a call from Far Northern Regional Services. And they have diagnosed Trent as having Aspberger's. Which is like the kiss of death as far as getting services goes. If you are wanting some background on this whole situation read my post about being so frustrated. ANYWAY. OHHHH, it pisses me off, that's right I swore, I said PISSES me off, because when we drove Trent to Redding to be tested, which is no small feat I may add, the school psychologist point blank told me she wouldn't give him an Aspberger's diagnose. She told me that she would diagnose him as being on the autism scale, although she did admit they put him so low on the scale he wouldn't get any services. EUGH. So, either she lied to me then or she waited so long to fill out the damn report that she forgot who he was. Or something.

So, just now my Far Northern "worker" called me and was all, "well, he's not eliglble for services, blah, blah, blah, because he's Aspberger's". I was like, "um, excuse me, when we were in Redding that Doctor told me she wouldn't diagnose him as Aspberger's". But, of course that did no good. I am not sure why I got so mad, I knew he wasn't getting any services, I was just mad that the doctor in Redding lied to me. I HATE being lied to. HATE IT. And then Sue, poor hourly wage earner for Far Northern that she is, tells me, "you know, you should call the SEA center, they have an Aspberger's support group in Redding {2 hours away} that would probably really help you". And then, I just lost it. I was a total bitch. Yes, for those of you keeping score, that's two swear words in this post already. I said, more or less, "you know what, I appreciate all your help, I really do. But, I am doing nothing. I am not going to call any more counselors like they told me to do at Trent's IEP,that really wasn't an IEP because he is getting no services from the special ed department, because I told the school what kind of insurance we had and when I called for an appointment with the counselors that the school recommended, said counselors don't take his insurance. The stupid, condescending, school psychologist told me he needs a OT but since he doesn't qualify for services at school I will need to find him one on my own. Well, I can't find one that takes our insurance. And the school told me that he's probably gonna have lots of problems when he gets into 4th grade. SO, you know what? I'm doing nothing. I am going to be Trent's Mom, I am going to let Trent be Trent. And when he gets into the 4th grade and he is having these amazing problems that everybody is predicting and he isn't learning, and he doesn't have friends, and he's totally miserable and STILL hasn't learned to tie his shoes, then maybe, just maybe I will be able to get help from one of these DAMN {that's 3} agencies that is suppose to help PEOPLE. And, I am so frustrated I can't see straight, I am sick sick sick to death of fighting this system, so I'm done. I'm not going to call ONE more person to ask for help. I am going to let Trent flap, rub his ear, suck his thumb, do whatever, and I'm gonna be his Mom and that's it. I am DONE!" I think that poor worker was a little taken aback. I feel bad because I was such a bitch and it isn't her fault, but oh my word, I am soooooooooooo very fed up. Fed up I tell you. If Far Northern would have evaluated Trent way back in preschool, like I asked them too, maybe then he would have scored higher on their stupid, stupid little test.

The worst part is going to be telling my sister. She works with kids with autism and thinks I am screwing everything up already with Trent. When she finds out I am doing NOTHING special for Trent and his issues she is going to blow a gasket. She can be so judgmental and rude. And I really don't want to hear it. I really really don't. She has no kids of her own yet, so OF COURSE she is a parenting expert, because aren't all people without kids? Especially people who work with kids. She seems to think she has a Doctorate in Autism. Which she does not, thankyouverymuch, she doesn't even have an AA degree. *SIGH*

Grumble, Grumble, Grumble. GAWD. Now, I really want a cookie or something. Because I want to eat when I am feeling any kind of feeling that is unpleasant. BUT, I am going to refrain from doing that because I am really,really working on ONLY eating when I am hungry, and I'm not hungry, dammit. SON of a motherless goat. Crumb cakes! Mother of Pearl!!

Alright, please discuss, if you dare. I want someone to commiserate with.

Dreaded Cruise, Part Deux

Day 2-- of Dreaded Cruise, long ass story...See March 9th posting for part ONE of this riveting tale

Okay, welcome to a relaxing day at sea. No more lines, no more waiting--just FUN FUN FUN! We are awakened at 6AM by anxious children ready to swim and have some much awaited cruising fun. We make our customary morning visits to the latrine only to discover our lethargic flushing commade is now a non flushing commade. We call maintance, we call housekeeping, all to no avail. Then as if by sheer will alone, the commode flushed on its own with no help from a trained professional. Oh thank you, cruise goddess, thank you!

By now the children are so anxious for their day to begin they are hitting each other and threatening a sibling organized pint sized mutiny if we don't get moving. The husband, Daddy extrodionar, takes our offspring poolside while I wonder who's asine reasoning led to us bringing our ungrateful, loud, and spoiled children on vacation anyway?!

No word from Grandma. I hear she is in a scrapbook class drinking petite glasses of champagne enjoying her child free vacation. When the boys ask for her cabin number at dinner last night she told them 1347, when we returned to our cabin, I realized we had been duped! There is no thirteenth floor on this ship; she fake numbered us! Can you imagine?! I don't give my Mom enough credit, she is one smart lady...If I could figure out how to fake number those kids I would do it too. :)

I hear the loud sounds from my happy family long before I see them. My youngest is yelling at his brother that he should be thrown overboard to the sharks for cheating at shuffle board. There is is crying and general unrest in stateroom 2073.

With that my sea weary groom and I decide it may be a good time to visit the Sea Adventure Camp for the youngest of vacationers. With some cajoling and threats of grounding until 18th b-days, our children decide it would be in their best interests to check out the day camp. Still no word from Grandma. She is making good on her promise to have fun on her vacation and to worry about no one!

After a semi successful afternoon in daycare and a rousing but non profitable game of Bingo for us, we retire to our room to ready for dinner. Mass chaos breaks out when my sons suddenly remember Grandma's empty promises of swimming together. Angrily, the oldest calls her room demanding explanations and proof of her excuse. We had tracked down their correct cabin number through a series of bribes and promises of favors to the appropriate authorities, (e.g. my sister). "But honey-darling, she placates, I tried to call your room and you weren't there! Maybe tomorrow, darling?" After more threats we carrel our disobedient and unwilling sons to the first formal dinner of our seven day Mexican Riviera cruise. See pictudre posted earlier in this blog. Can you see my forced smile and my husband's look of peer terror? That picture was taken on this evening.

It is a beautiful and delicious dinner, of course. After dinner we decide to take the chidren on a stroll around the deck in hopes the sea air will lull them to sleep. Grandma & Pa are off for a night of romantic dancing and more bubbly. I surpress the urge to throw THEM overboard.

Day 3- Cabo San Lucas

We awaken rested, but late, at 9 AM. The boys are anxious to call Grandma for their swimming date. "Oh honey-Grandma and Pa are not up yet--we had a very late night--maybe tomorrow we will go swimming! I promise", she coos into the phone. After a temper tantrum and the boys disappointment over their Grandma's lack of follow through, my husband reprimands me for my unruly behavior. Is he the only adult on vacation?!?! Maybe, I say, after picking myself up from the floor of our cell and unleashing my fists from the fibers of carpet I had grabbed while in the midst of my fit.

"Okay-my loving and ever patient husband says in a soothing tone normally reserved for those on the brink of a nervous breakdown-why don't I take the boys to port and you stay here and "relax". {read drink heavily so I don't have to hear your bitching anymore} I had the boys dressed, passports and sunscreen in hand so fast my husband hadn't even found his flip flops yet. My sister and BIL were accompanying my long suffering husband on to solid ground. I am going to try and regain my composure and remind myself that I am supposed to be on vacation here.

After settling into my deck chair poolside with a cocktail in hand I truly felt as if I was on vacation...AUGGH!

Day 4

I am happy to report my extended family has made it out alive from the Cruise Witness Proctection program. They have resurfaced! My sister and BIL went with hubby ashore yesterday and chaperoned he & the children while I regained my composure and sanity. My husband was happy to report that they were a HUGE help with our offspring and I am so grateful to them.

After that my Mom stopped romantic dancing long enough to decide to keep my youngest grouchy traveler on board with her today while we went to Mazatallian. It was an enoumous treat to see the countryside without having to hear any whining--except for my own. My family has all redeemed themselves and I am enjoying my time on this cruise, finally.

Day 5

Chad gets to go on a much deserved day trip deep sea fishing with with my Dad, my BIL, Chad's Dad, and a few friends. I am so excited for him. He so deserves to have a great day! I went ashore at Puerto Vertea and went to a tequila factory and seen the country. My Mom kept the boys and fully redeemed herself utterly for ignoring us earlier on this vacation.

Day 6 & 7

More of the same. Generally lots of frolicking, shuffle board, and more eating than I want to admit to. I discovered I LOVE Lemon Drop martinis and that seems to have dulled some of the anxiety and general bitichiness on my part. Everyone is grateful for that, most of all my poor long suffering husband. I also forgot to mention that Chad got really really sick on his deep sea fishing trip. I think he had food poisioning. Just in case you were wondering, being stuck in a room about the size of a walk in closet with a man who is violently ill is a lot of things; fun isn't one of them! :) I really felt so bad for him. He finally got a day away and then got sick. Poor baby.

180 days prior to sailing!

Guess what? I had such a GREAT time on the cruise, we are going again. NO, I am serious. However, this time with no hubby and no kids. Just friends and some family. Chad has wisely decided to plan a vacation solo, he is going hunting with his brother in the wilds of Montana or Idaho or something. I can't say as I blame him. I don't think I would want to go on vacation with us either. :)

And so, that is the story of our dreadful cruise vacation. Only in must not have been so very dreadful or I wouldn't be going back in 9 months!

If you have read my very long narrative all the way through you deserve a prize of some sort. I don't know what, maybe a free memembership to the Blogger's 12 step program. (hahahhaha)

I am NOT a blogging slut

So, I made a startling discovery. I think I am addicted to blogging. I am more of a lurker than anything, I just love to read other people's thoughts & then be ridiculously envious of said bloggers blogging abilities. {I still have not figured out the avatar or how to get her into my profile. Damn, damn, damn} *sigh* Everybody else in the free blogging world seems to have figured out to do this simple blogging task, and alas, I am not only addicted to blogging, I am technically incompetent as well. This, I believe, is not a very good combination. It will probably lead to my early demise, or at least the loss of my sanity, which is somewhat instable on a good day anyway. In a few years you will see me wandering the streets aimlessly in northern California mumbling something incoherent about avatars, html tags, and profiles gone awry. It will be a sad, sad, day and not one I didn't see coming. . .
I am NOT a blogging slut though. I am discriminate. I will not visit just any ole' Blog more than once. I will only bookmark certain blogs, I think I am a stalker on 5 blogs to date, and then visit those select blogs obsessively throughout my day.
I am wondering if I should join a 12 step program for Blogging addicts? Do you have a problem only if you are a blogging slut and repeatedly visit Blogs that you don't really enjoy and find them tiresome and trite, but keep visiting them anyway, just because you need a fix?
How about if you keep visiting a blog just because they blogrolled YOUR blog and so now you feel obligated? What if said blog is lame and boring? However, if the blog owner figures out you are not coming to their blog and then in a immature and rash lapse of judgment takes you off their blog roll, the HORROR! I wonder if such pathetic behavior qualifies a person as a blogging addict who must seek immediate and intense treatment?
I don't know. Maybe somebody should blog about it or something. . .

Okay, so I turned 36!

Yeah, that's right, I turned 36. And my Driver's License expired so I had to go to DMV and renew it. And get a new picture, YUCK. And then I realized that when my DL expires again I will be 40! GAWD. 40. EUGH. That just seems so OLD. And grown up. And mature. And I don't feel any of those things. 40. WOW.

And on to other big news in my life, I have to babysit today for my SIL. I am dreading it. I can't stand other people's kids, hell, I can hardly stand my own. (except for yours of course, your kids I adore and would babysit anytime, it would be my pleasure in fact} My SIL's kids are WHINY too. The youngest is 5, 2 weeks younger than Connor, and he is soooooo whiny. Drives me nutty. And her older son is 14. He drives me crazy. Crazy I tell you. (it sounds wierd that a 14 year old needs a babysitter, huh? Well, they live about 2 hours from here and so I guess they don't want to leave him alone or something...}Why can't I say NO to her when she calls to ask me to babysit? WELL, probably because last month she took my kids to Chucky Cheese and anybody that will do that deserves to be rewarded. And I am perhaps hoping she will take my kids again, so that's probably why I said YES. But I am still dreading it.

Our painting project is almost done! I love our new paint. And I got new window treatments too. As soon as I figure out how to post pictures on this damn blog, which will probably be about the time I turn the big 40, I will post so you all can see our new digs. I know, I know, you can barely stand the excitement, but just drink some sleepy time tea and relax! :)

Pregnant girls and other people's kids

I seen a pregnant girl smoking yesterday. A VERY pregnant girl. I wanted to shout something rude at her, but since I am a wimp I just drove by her VERY slowly and gave her the evil eye while shaking my head. That'll teach HER! I bet she put that cigarette out as soon as I drove away. My evil eye is THAT powerful, aren't you impressed?

While on my same trip out and about, they usually let me out of my cage once a week, I visited my somewhat local Target. There were screaming kids all over that store. My screaming kids were at home with their Dad, where they belong! Usually other people's misbehaving kids don't annoy me, if they're not my brats, I can usually just tune it out and be happy it isn't MY kid throwing a God awful fit in a public place. Yesterday, however, I wanted all the kids out of Target. Even the cute ones. Which by the way, I seen a lot of UGLY kids yesterday, or maybe it was just my mood? Anyway, I was very peeved at the mother's who stood in the middle of the SlimFast isle and chatted while their wee ones screamed and carried on in the cart right next to their side. Could the chatting mummy's not hear their darlings ear piercing screams and see their squished red faces in need of something, some kind of attention of some kind?? SOOOOOO rude.

And that's all I have to say about THAT.

Son of a motherless goat, MOTHER OF PEARL

Oh yes, my friends, I used the above expressions plus a few choice others not fit for young ears yesterday. Why, you may ask? You seem so even headed and calm, cool, and collected, author of jodi's world.
Why yes, dear reader, I normally am. However, yesterday I attempted, quite unsuccessfully I may add, to make my sweet little avatar girl, now seen all over my blog EXCEPT where I want her, to appear on my profile so that when I choose to add well thought out and witty comments to YOUR blog she will be looking all cute next to said comments.
Let's just say she wasn't cooperating with me. The little &*@!$*! I went about the whole process quite rationally. I read all the little helpful tutorials on blogger, I edited my profile close to a hundred times. The box that says, "add your photo here by editing your profile", mocked me all damn day. I asked Julie on her blog how to do it, she said edit your profile, the avatar will go under your profile picture. I edited my profile yesterday until I had bloggers elbow and a surly attitude.
I had jpeg.,html, export, dowloaded avatars all over the damn place EXCEPT where she is supposed to be, in my profile picture spot.
I downloaded Hello, that stupid stupid photo program, which is how our cruise picture showed up as a post. {I didn't want any of you to actually know what I looked like, I wanted to be elusive, mysterious, and remain in the shadows; which is why I like the avatar girl so much. Think Deep Throat--no not THAT Deep Throat you sicko, Deep Throat from that whole Nixon scandal, silly} I thought, okay maybe I need an actual picture in my *bleeping* profile so that I can add my avatar girl. NOOOOOO, didn't work.
I edited my template until it got quite ridiculous. It wouldn't surprise me if this post shows up in a thumbnail post right under my profile, exactly where my little avatar's picture should be. ARGH! Can you hear my silent screams through your speakers?
I tried to download said screams yesterday too, but seriously doubt THAT worked either!

I got ANOTHER email survey. . .

I got yet another email survey today and I was feeling a bit sarcastic, so here's how I replied to my "friend" who wanted to know everything about me. Luv ya, Candace :)


What time did you get up this morning? 8:30 (Chad is off work so he got Trent off to school....aughgh...it's good to be me)
2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? HOT HOT Naked Girls Part IV in a seedy theater in San Francisco.....just kidding actually it was Brokeback Mountain...which I still don't know if I liked or not, the man on man love was a bit tame, I would like to see MORE GRAPHIC sex between two men, I mean come on, we're all adults here, show me the real deal!
4. What is your favorite T.V. show? This old House OR anything about home improvement; in a pinch I will watch desperate housewives putting up thier own gutters while discussing thier gray's anatomy
5. What do you usually have for breakfast? Coffee & a twig from a evergreen tree, on a skinny day I will also eat one curd of cottage cheese
6. What is your middle name? Adele Shenequia Yakeema
7. Favorite foods? Anything tasteless, fat free, calorie free, and taste free
8. What foods do you dislike? Anything that tastes good, has fat, lots of flavor, or comes with cheese....do you know how many calories a gram of cheese has for God's sake????
9. What is your favorite chip flavor? Chips, who eats chips? I don't eat chips...if I did it would probably be Sour Cream & Onion
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Polka Party, the untold story and history
11. What kind of car do you drive? Mercury Mountaineer or my kids LIttle Tikes Car, which ever I can find the keys to in the morning
12. Favorite sandwich? Sandwich? Do you know how many calories are in a sandwich? Back when I ATE, I would say grilled cheese probably, my memory is foggy and I can't really remember back that far
13. Favorite item of clothing? My size 4 micro mini I picked up last time we were in Vegas
14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Ireland, I would like to drink green beer and dance with the leperchauns
15. What color is your bathroom? Right now? A very shocking WHITE. It is in the middle of being transformed into different hues of purple, pink, lime green, and lemon yellow...the Viking helmet lampshade is on backorder
16. Favorite brand of clothing? Anything designer, baby
17. Where would you like to retire to? Alturas, because really, isn't it heaven on earth???
18. What was your most memorable birthday? Birthday? Are you kidding me with this one???
19. Favorite sport to watch? Chess, it's quite riveting really
20. Furthest place you are sending this? Hell
21. Goal you have for yourself? To stop killing people, you know I am running out of places to bury the dead bodies....
22. Who do you expect to not send this back to you? My email buddies at the prison in Folsom, I think they will get right on it once they get thier computer privelages back
23. Person you expect to send it back first? See #22
25. When is your Anniversary? to which husband? to current husband, it's foggy, but I think October 12, 1909
26. Are you a morning person or a night person? night person, it's easier to conceal my dastderly deeds in the cover of night
27. What is your shoe size? 12.5
28. Pets? 1 dog, 2 children, and a husband that I like to call, "lover"
29. New and exciting news you'd like to share? I am feeling a bit sarcastic this morning
30. What did you want to be when you were little? a unwed mother with 13 kids, no teeth in the front of my mouth and no car, well one that runs anyway
31. How are you today? see number 29
32. What is your favorite candy? candy???? are you serious????? I never eat the stuff....pure sugar and it goes right to my earlobes
33. Favorite flowers? dandelions
34. Favorite shoes? my hot pink stilettos that glitter when I walk

So there you go. If you send me another one of these email surveys things and I am in a mood watch out! :)

Should I zig or zag?

I am so frustrated! Trent went for a long awaited appointment with Far Northern Regional Services on Friday. We are trying to figure out if Trent has autism or not. We left yet another appointment with professionals who are reluctant to say that Trent is autistic. One would assume news like this would fill me with gratitude and relief. Instead all I feel is utter frustration. I KNOW there is something wrong with him. I know in my heart it is autism, at least I think that's what it is, but ask me tomorrow and I may not be so sure. I alternate between trusting the professionals and being skeptical about everything that comes out of thier mouths. But, nobody who has the power to make a difference will put any diagnosis into writing because they don't want to "stereotype him by putting a diagnosis on paper". YES, they can see why we are concerned, he does have some behavioral issues they can see that, but they just don't what to actually put something on PAPER, God forbid. On their all knowing autism score sheet he scored a 6 and he needs a 7, that's right a 7, to be able to get services. If he had just ONE more flipping freaking point and we would have services coming out our unmentionable orifices.

Yeah, well, I think his hand flapping, which he didn't do while we were there, because he's a kid and doesn't do things when you expect him to or want him to. If they would have popped in a movie or had him play the computer he would have been flapping like a mad man. He didn't suck his thumb or pull his ear either because he didn't have to think about anything really hard, that's when he usually has those behavoirs. His strange obsession with anything mechanical to the point of ridiculous, will probably stereotype him, don't you think? Or what about the fact he likes to smell everything before he puts it in his mouth or will continually smell his hands if he gets an odd odor on them? He didn't do that for them either, because we didn't give him anything to eat and the testing room was rather sterile so there wasn't many odors in there. How about the fact he's almost 8 and still can't tie his shoes no matter how hard we try to teach him and he struggles to learn how? Huh, what about that you all powerful know-it-alls?? Do you think that will inhibit his societability factors???

And a diagnosis would do so much for us. We could finally get him into some kind of behavior modification therapy, get him an OT, and maybe some piece of mind, in a strange kind of way. We do have insurance but I can't seem to figure out how to access the services that he really needs.

Am I a bad parent? I sure feel like one. My sister sure doesn't mind telling me I am a bad parent because I don't drive Trent to Roseville once a week for a group that his neurologist recommended he go to. Granted she is not a parent nor a student so she can't possibly understand how impossible going to Roseville once a week would be. She doesn't offer to take him either, because she is just too busy. But, that, my friends, is the subject of a whole other post.
My Mom tells me Trent must be getting "better" or else he wouldn't be able to control his flapping in public. She takes this a sign I need to just back off and leave him alone. She thinks he's a genius and I'm just too picky about his behavior. Then again she also thinks we eat out too much, the kids have too many toys, we let them watch too much TV~ even though when she babysits them she lets them watch the Cartoon Network the whole time they are with her and we don't even have cable~, and that we don't have a structured enough routine.
I LOVE Trent's teacher this year, but she doesn't think there is anything wrong with Trent either. I suspect she thinks I am a hypochondriac or I just don't realize what a good kid Trent is. Granted she DOES sit him in the back of the classroom so that the other kids won't see his tics, Trent does flap and suck his thumb at school when he's deep in thought, but since it doesn't inhibit his learning she doesn't think it should be such a big issue.

You know, I think what frustrates me the MOST is the fact if anybody, from the school or Far Northern, would have evaluated Trent when he was preschool and when I first started requesting he be evaluated, they would have seen all the signs of autism they were looking for on Friday. *sigh*

The IEP and the Far Northern people, admit they expect Trent will have a prolifery of problems in the 4th grade because the structure and nature of what 4th graders are learning will be so different from what he has experienced thus far, the concepts will involve more abstract thinking and the classroom time won't be as structured . Both psycologists expect Trent won't adjust well. But, they told me not to worry because I can always request that he be reevaluated then. YEAH, that's gonna work. It only took me 2 years to get them to evaluate him this time, I am sure they will jump right on it when the time comes. Call me a skeptic, but I don't exactly have faith in the educational system at the minute.

Oh, how I wish I had a time machine or a magical crystal ball where I could look into 5 years from now and see how Trent is doing. What will happen if we just proceed status quo? Will he be so weird and odd that he has no friends, has an extensive collection of used gum wrappers, and has made up his own language? Or will he be in the advanced classes at school, been finally diagnosed as a true genius {at his IEP last week that condescending, flippant, bitch of a school psychologist told me that most geniuses are indeed kind of eccentric and other people find them odd} and has just received a Noble Peace Prize for finding the cure to the common cold? If that was the case I would be able to rest easy and not keep beating my head against the proverbial brick wall. But, I don't have a magic ball or a time machine, do you? So, I have to do what all parents do and try and figure out if I should zig or zag.

The dreaded cruise, Part 1

180 days prior to sailing

We are going on a cruise to Mexico! We are going on a cruise!!!!! It's going to be great. My WHOLE family is coming along. We are going to be able to spend some time relaxing together without the hassles of everyday life getting in the way of our family togetherness. This vacation is going to be AWESOME, no doubt about it. Yes, we are taking the boys, I could NEVER be away from them for seven whole days. Plus, since my whole family is going to be there, Chad & I will have plenty of help.

I went to the travel agen today and put money down on our vacation of a lifetime. The travel agent seemed a little disgusted I waited "so long" to put down a deposit. She warned me in a disapproving tone accompanied with a most unattractive frown that I had committed a faux paus in cruising; one must put down a deposit approximately 10 years before saililng in order to have choices about anything, cabins, dining times, excursions, you name it. Since I had only dragged my big lazy butt in a measly 180 days in advace our choice of cabins was going to be quite scarce and she didn't know if we would be allowed to dine in the superb dining room at all. OH WELL, I think everything is going to be okay. Next time I will know to get my deposit in earlier.

1 Day prior to sailing

We got our cabin, we got our 9:30PM dining room assignment for dinner, we are on our way. Tomorrow is it. We are sitting in our hotel in LA awaiting ever so patiently for it to be tomorrow. I am a little annoyed because my hotel rate went up $75 despite my having booked this room 180 days in advance. It's okay, we are going on a cruise tomorrow and it's going to be great! My WHOLE family is going to be there to help with these wild boys. Said offspring are driving me crazy so far. So far I have not seen neither hide nor hair of my family despite the fact we are all staying in the same hotel, it's okay, I just know they'll be so excited to help with the boys once we are on board!

D Day- I mean Day to sail!

Why do I feel like I am getting ready for major surgery? No, I know what it is, I am just nervous. I hate new experiences and my anxiety always takes over. I know this is just going to be great. We have our set sail passes and checked in online weeks ago. We have our passports in hand and are totally ready to go. I have memorized the "before you set sail" guidelines on the cruise lines website and am indeed ready to set sail. As soon as the shuttle takes us to the ship it will be smooth sailing. My sister just called from the dock and said that she will meet us to help with the kids. My devil children are very grouchy and a little overtired, but I know they are going to have a grand and fabulous time. On board there is a kids center and I know these boys are going to love it and I will have to drag my little darlings away from the loving staff kicking and screaming.

HOLY COW! Is that the line?! There is a line of passengers that snakes around the ship yard for as far as the eye can see. Okay, well, it looks to be moving pretty quick--this should be alright. After an hour of very patiently waiting in line for customs and minimal whining from the boys we are at the head of the customs line and are good to go! We are given group numbers and instructions to wait patiently for our group number to be called from a very pleasant older lady with two sets of eyebrows, one her natural, and another set drawn in dramatically with a wavy brown pencil. I think we will be on board any minute now, I have heard rumors that they will be serving lunch, that's good, I am a little hungry. My stale sweet roll from the price gouging hotel is starting to wear off. Alright, we just need to pass the body cavity search from a not so friendly looking custom agent with only one set of eyebrows. Body cavity, check. Okay, now who's this? Yet another very friendly little lady in a cruise ship uniform directs us to an even longer line than was outside. But, I inquire ever so sweetie. We already have our boarding passes, pre boarding passes, and post boarding passes, why do we need to stand in THAT line? Can't we just take our yellow boarding pass to that short line that's getting ready to board the cruise ship? No, she says with a smile and a beautiful undistinguished accent, you need to check in first. She waves us with a well manicured hand to a line that is approximately 89 miles long. After standing in line for two plus hours one of my sons has collasped from hunger on the floor, he has resorted to dragging his backpack on the floor with is foot because he is too tired to stand. My other son is on my husbands shoulders declaring his legs have gone numb and he can no longer feel his feet. I am so tired and hungry I am considering eating our set sail pass and preboarding papers as it appears as though the damn papers were good for nothing at all and only an attempt to keep me busy on the days preceding the cruise. And where or where is my sister and all her help with the boys??

Oh, thank GOD, we are finally at the front of line! There is actually real people up there. Okay, we need to check in I guess, something I thought I already did online, thank you very much. Now we get to board, right? I have heard promises of food onboard, deck 9. We finally are on the ship after having our picture taken approximately 23 times and asked to smile, pose, stand a little closer, blah blah blah. My sons pictures were both taken while they were unconscious as they have both now passed out from hunger.

We approach the buffet line with is approximately as long as the line to check in onto this damn cruise. I give up. I collapse into a chair with my hundred carry on bags laying at my feet. I decide this is the worst possible vacaction ever. I feel as though I have been standing in line at Ellis Island. My husband lovingly says he'll go stand in line for us and fix a plate of food. The boys and I are sitting poolside. There is a band playing music at the approximate volume as a jetliner taking flight. My youngest son is screaming at me to tell that band to kill the music already. There are waiters scurrying by with drinks in hand that avoid my pleas for alcohol, any alcohol will be fine, just give me the whole damn bottle and charge me $100, I really don't care. Here comes Chad with a plate of food and the look of a man who has seen death & is still shell shocked. It's a mad house in there he tells me in a quivery voice-- "I won't go back, I can't go back, please don't make me". That's alright Daddy, the children declare, we'll just eat this. They proceed to dive into the plate of food with looks of hungry wolves who would eat their young if need be. I am so hungry I start to gnaw on one of the boys discarded chicken bones. Chad sucks hungrily on a piece of macaroni from a wayward piece of discarded macaroni salad that has slid of the boys plate. We see a little man cheerily put out a sign that the buffet is now closed, with hopes everybody enjoyed said buffet, and dinner is in two hours.

We arrive into our stateroom, a glorified closet with twin size bunk beds. We are so grateful to be in our cabin that we were not sure existed that we fail to notice that the toilet has rather lethargic flushing action. Dinner is very very soon I tell my still starving offspring, but first we need to attend a compulsory mustard meeting. After donning our ill fitting but ever so attractive orange life preserves we attend the meeting on Deck 5. The children should be issued appropriate life vests by our room steward we are told by a surly cruise staff member at the mustard meeting.

Alright, it has finally became the time for dinner at last. The dinner is perfect and elegant; expect for the fact that my low blood sugar induced children barely eat and are exhausted. They behave like all exhausted and hungry children do, like perfect little Devil spawn. The good news is that I have finally been served a drink and located my family. I accomplished the later because we are all seated at the same dinner table, despite the extended family's protests and pretending not to know me. I accomplished the former by waving my brand new room key to and fro until I caught our dear bar maids attention.

After being served a delicious dinner fit for a king and retiring to our barracks for sleep we are confident tomorrow will be a better day. Grandma has promised the children a swimming date and I have bingo on my mind. My husband has romance on his mind, but I am afraid with the single twin beds, which we asked to be made into a double and were repeatedly ignored, that romance just isn't in the cards for tonight!

Day 2-At Sea...Stay tuned for Part Duex!

I wonder. . .

I wonder if she can even feel that our hands are around her in a feeble attempt to comfort her? I wonder if she realizes that she is not alone in her grief? She keeps saying in a quiet tone under her breath barely audible, "he was such a good man". Is this the mantra she repeated over and over to herself when she knew her husband crawled under baby girls blankets in the dead of the night? Is it the chant she told herself when she knew her husband put his hands where they naught belonged on her granddaughters thigh? Is it what helped her live with the knowledge that her dear man preferred her sister's bed to her own? How about when he beat her senseless with his fists or a belt, whichever was handy, on her face until she was bleeding, bruised and cowering in the corner? In order to have the strength to face another day did she repeat over and over to herself, and to whomever would listen, that he was a good man? A decent man? A handsome man without a doubt. Did the fact that he was handsome make up for the fact that he was instead an ugly monster on the inside? A pedophile, a wife beater, an adulterer? Or did she just need to say to herself that he was a good man enough times until she herself believed it?

I wonder. . .