<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507</id><updated>2009-11-18T00:00:54.039-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up Crazy</title><subtitle type='html'>Along with ramblings.......
I will share the journeys of my road to recovery. As well as revisit things from my childhood that have contributed to my addictive personality and poor decisions.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-7482650353526490137</id><published>2008-09-16T08:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T08:16:50.068-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Step two in my AA program</title><content type='html'>2: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.&lt;br /&gt;How am I to tackle this one? A few people had told me that it would be easier for me to find my higher power because I didn't have any spiritual upbringing. I didn't understand them then, but I get it now. I didn't have any preconceived notions that I would have to change.&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to dissect this step and do some research.&lt;br /&gt;I already knew what "Came to believe" meant. 'That a power greater than ourselves..." whoa, gotta stop there. Sure, there has to be something there. After all, it's clear that the human race has always needed to believe there was something larger than life. Without this belief, than what was the point to life?&lt;br /&gt;Then, everyone couldn't believe in the same "GOD" or even agree on the same values. Thus, we have a myriad of religions that are so different, its hard to believe that they could all possibly stem from one single Higher Power.  But who or what then? I set to looking into different religions. Native Americans believe in the Great Spirit. Which is something like what I have always believed it. Comparable to Buddhism. At least what I get outta it.  There is no way I could possibly swallow Catholic. I didn't even try. I use the excuse, "I'm catholic", when I'm trying to get outta something. lol&lt;br /&gt;On to Baptist and so on... I tried swallowing that to no avail. (I even chewed good) But I still choked and every so often threw up. LMAO I crack myself up!!&lt;br /&gt;I didn't even try Pagan and the like.&lt;br /&gt;So that left me with a better understanding of what I am not.&lt;br /&gt;I decided that it must be a God of my understanding. Just as I was told in the beginning. But of course I had to complicate it. Though I needed to because I didn't even have an understanding to begin with. I'm not sure that my G.O.D. fits into any category. But at last it is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuing. .....&lt;br /&gt;"could restore us to sanity." I continued to dissect this.&lt;br /&gt;Was I insane? I thought of insane as crazy. Unfixable, needing meds. Like silence of the lambs nuts. But.... I got some definitions that helped me better understand this.&lt;br /&gt;Insane- mentally disordered, absurd&lt;br /&gt;Insanity- deranged state of mind, unsoundness of mind, lack of understanding&lt;br /&gt;Sane- rational, having understanding, mentally sound&lt;br /&gt;Restore- give back, put again in possession of something. (G.O.D?)&lt;br /&gt;Looking at these terms in a new light. I know I have that insanity. My thinking is absurd. Knowing what alcohol does to me. And still looking to the bottle for answers. Thats insane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that there is something out there that gives us this beautiful world. My G.O.D can do better at managing my life and affairs than I can. After all, it was my best thinking and intentions that got me here. My G.O.D can restore order, understanding, purpose, and peace of mind.&lt;br /&gt;I use an acronym, so as not to confuse you. Well it won't confuse AA's. The rest of you perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;I use the term G O D loosely. A common acronym for Good Orderly Direction. Which is a Higher Power of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; understanding. Not to be confused with the God that is commonly worshiped in religion. Anything that is higher than me and that restores sanity to my life is my Good Orderly Direction, or G.O.D for short, for lack of a label.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-7482650353526490137?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/7482650353526490137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=7482650353526490137' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/7482650353526490137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/7482650353526490137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/09/step-two-in-my-aa-program.html' title='Step two in my AA program'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8947687729746539656</id><published>2008-09-11T10:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T10:21:27.843-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Damons 10th Birthday</title><content type='html'>Damons b-day was tuesday. I have been pretty strapped on cash here lately. Usually decorate the house and buy a cake and try to get some special gifts for the kids on their birthdays. But, I just couldn't do that this year. I've been totally sweating it for the last month or so.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I told him that I wouldn't be able to get him anything for his birthday, at least not like normal. So I told him to pick something he really wanted. He ran through the usual list; four wheeler, horse, dirt bike, a new guitar hero, rockband.... and on and on. He finally decided he wanted his ears pierced. Well by golly! I can do that!&lt;br /&gt;We went to get his ears done and he decided it was too much for him to go through. Plan 2....&lt;br /&gt;I let him pick out what kinda cake mix and frosting he wanted. We stopped at Blockbuster and there was a table of discounted Movie based toys. He picked out a Batman glove that he wanted. I told him I'd get it for his b-day. And thats what he got.&lt;br /&gt;On tuesday, he got home from school and played outside. I knew he was sad and trying to avoid coming in the house. The house wasn't decorated when he got off the bus. I made his cake while he was out playing. I let him decorate it. Then I took his blanket and wrapped a little hand held fan I found for him in it. I hoped he would like it. You could program words into it that you could see when fan was running (some kinda laser light trick). He loved it and thought it was all he got. He played with it intently trying to enjoy his only gift on his big double digit day.&lt;br /&gt;I wrapped the batman gloves in the same blanket and sat it beside him. He didn't realize that I had and when he grabbed his blanket to cover up, the gloves fell on the floor. He tripped!!! I could see the pure joy on his face, that he had got what he wanted. So we sat until bedtime and played with his new things.&lt;br /&gt;All these years spending money and having parties...............&lt;br /&gt;I think this may have been the best b-day for him. He might tell you different, but I could feel the simple appreciation and gratitude in those two simple items that cost me ten bucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8947687729746539656?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8947687729746539656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8947687729746539656' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8947687729746539656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8947687729746539656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/09/damons-10th-birthday.html' title='Damons 10th Birthday'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-4503784581946850087</id><published>2008-09-11T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T10:20:39.675-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My first step.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Step one. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;How I know I am powerless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;he thought of drinking creeps into my head while doing other things that require me to be sober.&lt;br /&gt;I have caught myself planning when I would be able to drink.&lt;br /&gt;I have chosen beer over family, friends.......well, everything really.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot stop with one or two.&lt;br /&gt;Drinking has caused almost all of my current problems.&lt;br /&gt;I do things that are very unbecoming of me when I am drunk, things I would never do sober.&lt;br /&gt;I have blackouts.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the beer isn't even enough anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How my life has become unmanageable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of doing&lt;br /&gt;-housework&lt;br /&gt;-childrens activities&lt;br /&gt;-home repairs&lt;br /&gt;-anything.....I drink.&lt;br /&gt;i have forgotten anything that ever made me happy.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I am interested in.&lt;br /&gt;Beer had become my friend, my hobby, my focal point.&lt;br /&gt;I shut out my friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do when I'm not drinking, BUT I dont do anything when I do drink.&lt;br /&gt;I have become a wreck, my mind, my body, my house, my life, my family&lt;br /&gt;I stay away from places where I have to be sober.&lt;br /&gt;I do not like who I've become inside or outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how my life is unmanageable and how I am powerless over alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;On to step 2...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-4503784581946850087?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/4503784581946850087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=4503784581946850087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4503784581946850087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4503784581946850087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-first-step.html' title='My first step.......'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-4302794239666838529</id><published>2008-09-04T08:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T08:44:20.019-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An alcoholic in the making</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I want to take some time to run through my life. If it bores you, sorry. If it amazes you....well I doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever remember seeing my dad without a beer in his hand. He was always drunk and surrounded himself with drunks. I was daddy's girl so I was always with him. When we were home, he was always making something. He was very talented. Beer in hand. In my mind, beer obviously didn't limit your abilities.&lt;br /&gt;When we were out and about, we were mostly at bars. Sometimes his friends house. I fondly remember The Red Horse, Huppy's West Lodi (used to be Pops) the Old Oaken Bucket, and various clubs. Seemed like all his drinking buddies and even the bartenders were happy to see him and me too. It was always "there's Frankies girl" or "Shultzies girl". I had all the pop, chips or whatever goodies I wanted. I played pinball and pool, and darts while dad drank. The ride home was often scary though. From one side in the ditch to the other down those narrow country roads. I just hoped we would get home safe. That never stopped me from going though. I loved the bar atmosphere. The smells, sounds, lighting, mood. It felt better than home to me, and still does.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember my first drink. Or my first drunk. I honestly don't.&lt;br /&gt;Dad eventually died. I was 11. He was 57. I still don't remember, but I'm pretty sure I finished his case of beer one by one.&lt;br /&gt;When I was a teen, or maybe 12, who knows? I remember sneaking liquor into the shopping cart when out with mom. I did that often. My friends and I would sit outside or in my room and mix drinks. I still don't remember even getting tipsy from that. I already had a high tolerance for alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;I was setting myself up for a lousy life. Most of those friends have moved on to a "wonderful" life that didn't involve addiction. I just thought it was the cool thing to do. The grown up thing. I often went out driving and doing illegal shit after these drinking episodes.&lt;br /&gt;Dad also had lots of homemade wine in the cellar. And I finished all that too. All but the dandelion wine. That shit was nasty. He could make wine outta anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I must have been 14 or 15 when I started going to a neighboring town and staying with people. Getting drunk. One person in particular was 30 or maybe a little older. I think he just enjoyed my company, and I liked that he would let me crash there at night. I stayed pretty much every weekend. Get up in the morning, go find something or someone to do all day and go back there to get drunk and sleep.d He never tried anything with me. Looking back now, he was more than a little wierd though. And he's in prison for some sex crime involving young girls, so I lucked out on that i guess.&lt;br /&gt;I think I got high the first time when I was 17 or so. That was my new drug of choice. I did a lot of smoking. Only at night though. One day I thought, man wouldn't it be cool to go somewhere high? So we went to the beach. It was cool! Soon I was smoking when I got up and all day long.&lt;br /&gt;When I moved into the place I live now, about ten years ago, I was working at a place where drugs and drinking were a way of life. My boyfriend at the time lived with me and we liked to go to the bar on the weekend. I never could drink too much before I was done. Twenty bucks would last both he and I the whole night.&lt;br /&gt;In 2000, a friend of mine died from a life of drinking and drugs. It was a rather painful experience for me. She was wanted by the law and hiding out. At my house of course. So when she went to the hospital and I spent hours there every day for two weeks. She slipped into a coma and soon the doctor was telling me it was time to pull the plug, so I did. I promised her that day, while she lay in my embrace dying, I would drink a beer for her everyday. Stupid? Yes, but....&lt;br /&gt;So I did. One was enough for me then. Soon I was getting two on way home. Then I realized that the twenty four ouncers were a better buy, so I got those instead. It occured to me sometime at around this time that a six or twelve was an even better deal and I could keep it in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;I also remember thinking, I needed to build up my tolerance to keep up with my friends. They could all drink more than me and I didn't like being called a light weight. Stupid again, huh?&lt;br /&gt;Well, it worked. I've become a seasoned drinker.&lt;br /&gt;It has become a daily event. Leading to dysfunction and chaos in my life. Eventually leading to trouble with the law and children services.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm on the path to recovery. It's definately hard. And being sober is definatley a new experience. I'm looking over my life and I realize that I don't remember most of it. My childhood is blocked because it was painful. My twenties are drowned in an ocean of beer and drugs. I'm hoping I can make something outta my thirties.&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling it will be hard. Afterall, I sobered up and realized I'm still stuck mentally in the past and physically, my body is tore up from the floor up. I'm a hot damn mess! No hobbies, no anything really....&lt;br /&gt;Drinking had become my hobby and my life.&lt;br /&gt;It is truly cunning, baffling, and powerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-4302794239666838529?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/4302794239666838529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=4302794239666838529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4302794239666838529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4302794239666838529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/09/alcoholic-in-making.html' title='An alcoholic in the making'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-1114995081844601832</id><published>2008-09-04T08:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T08:38:03.858-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid is as Stupid does...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm going to try to remember some of the things I've done while drunk or high. Only to remind me of where I've been. I'm sure this is a short list. There is no way possible to remember everything I've done.&lt;br /&gt;Where to start?&lt;br /&gt;*While working at "the camp" I went out at lunch time and smoked a fattie with some co-workers. I spent the next two hours working without realizing I had a rather large bud stuck to my shirt. Nobody noticed?&lt;br /&gt;*I know of countless times I should of been pulled over but wasn't. Four (that I remember) times I was pulled over, completely shit faced and PASSED the breathalyzer. How? I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;*Most the time when I got drunk, I got crazy ideas in my head. Like getting drugs, or looting abandoned houses. Most certainly driving. I drove crazy...... speeding, reckless,  I should have been dead. Thank God I didn't kill anyone.&lt;br /&gt;Um what else?&lt;br /&gt;*Ditching my car and walking home, 12 pack I went to get in hand. Finishing that and taking my totaled car back to the store to get more beer. The radiator was busted so I ran outta antifreeze on the way home. Called my 14 year old stepson to come tow me home.&lt;br /&gt;*My first time drinking Wild Irish Rose. I was still living at home. My sister was living there too. We went into town and saw one of my "friends" walking. Ended up buying us some W.I.R. and he went home with me. I drank so much I felt sick. I don't remember if I threw up or not, I just wanted to sleep. I remember him trying to work my pants down and well.... I kept rolling over and trying to sleep. He kept trying. Never successful, and I never spoke to him again. I swore off that shit. The smell of it makes me sick.&lt;br /&gt;*My first time trying Tequila. I was up at this 30 yr. old's house, I was probably between 14-16. His neighbor across the hall was someone I knew also. I was already drunk on beer and started drinking the Tequila. Wooo Doggie!! Never again on that stuff either! I spent the night on his cool bathroom tile. Taking turns sleeping and puking my guts out. I woke up several times on the rim of the toilet. Yuck! Never, and I repeat, NEVER get that drunk at a bachelors house again! The toilet is enough to make you sick without the alcohol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The alcohol is not the problem folks! It's all these damn other people! Really, I think...  ( i know it's me and this disease)&lt;br /&gt;Most often I set out to get drunk. I usually didn't tell myself I could have a few. When I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; set out to have a few, it never ends with me saying "ok, thats it folks, I've had enough" and me trotting away happy. No Way.&lt;br /&gt;*One time, when I only went to have a few at my favorite bar of all time. I was completely over served. I followed some guy home, realized I wasn't comfortable there and left. When I woke up I was sitting at an intersection with the car in park, hanging out the door vomit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; all over myself, my car, and the road. Some lady was shaking me, (she happen to be a bartender from a neighboring town on her way home from work) telling me to wake up. I heard another lady in another car saying she should call the police. Anyway, the bartender took me home and gave me coffee and woke her husband up to drive me home. It happen to be 37 miles away. Bless their hearts.&lt;br /&gt;*Another night, same place. I met a guy there that wanted us to get a room. I knew he was married and I hate cheaters so............ I followed him on the way to a motel. He stopped along the way to pee. I told him to give me the money to go ahead and get us a room and I would be waiting for him. I pulled out with a few hundred dollars, his phone, and something else....don't remember what right offhand. I left in such a hurry, I backed into something and smashed the back of my car. But I showed him huh?&lt;br /&gt;*I stopped at my X's house to see about getting my dads ladder that I left there. He was cool with it, but his new GF wasn't. It was a second story apartment. I walked up the steps and stood in the doorway, saying hello to a neighbor who happened to be over there. His girlfriend was telling me to leave, but who the fuck was she right? So I stood there talking and she jumped up and ran over and pushed me backward down the steps. Knocked me out, my broken glasses tore gashes in my face and broke my tailbone. I might of had better reflexes if I weren't drunk. At least taken her down with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip of the ice burg. I'm sick of remembering. Anyone got any too-drunk-to-function stories? I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; some of you on my list have these topped. Lets hear em!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-1114995081844601832?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/1114995081844601832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=1114995081844601832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1114995081844601832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1114995081844601832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/09/stupid-is-as-stupid-does.html' title='Stupid is as Stupid does...'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8024313065869765131</id><published>2008-07-23T11:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T11:33:58.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to my dead cat.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;h2&gt;Dear dead cat,&lt;/h2&gt;What killed you? It wasn't old age! You were young and healthy... Was it a dog or wild animal that got to you? Did a car hit you? Were you poisoned? Some strange feline disease? What ever it was.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why in the name of God did you have to crawl under my front porch to die????&lt;br /&gt;U could of crawled ON the porch, or in the yard, or in the drive way.... anywhere that I could of seen you! Maybe helped you, and most certainly at least made it easy for me to get rid of your body!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nooooooo, you had to crawl right up under the porch just far enough so I couldnt see you. But I can &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;smell&lt;/span&gt; you! Oh boy can we all smell you. At first whiff  I knew it was something dead and rotting. It was a light odor, so I'm thinking you had drug a mouse or mole or bird up under the porch and left it. A few days later, the smell is growing, getting stonger.....&lt;br /&gt;By day 4 the stench is sickening and I'm starting to wonder just what in the hell is under my porch. I look, but I dont see anything. Doesn't help that its dark under there and you are black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it doesn't help matters at all that the weather has been dreadfully hot and humid. Your malodorous body is laying in hot sticky moist weather and the fumes of decay are lingering the perimeter of the yard. I am totally grossed out Midnight.&lt;br /&gt;Midnight, you were the perfect cat. Hardly ever around except when hungry. Very skittsh and didn't like letting humans get close to you. I never had to pet you, or let you in or out. I hardly ever saw you. Now I just want you to go away. Could you speed up the decomp please. You have overstayed your welcome this time. You are a very unsanitary and torcherously smelly guest and are no longer welcome at my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                        Signed,    Your Human,&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                 Cindy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8024313065869765131?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8024313065869765131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8024313065869765131' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8024313065869765131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8024313065869765131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/07/letter-to-my-dead-cat.html' title='Letter to my dead cat.......'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-3550668814397036820</id><published>2008-07-16T11:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T11:28:14.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still here!!</title><content type='html'>Thanks to So-Yun for sending me a comment, it reminds me that I do have a blog out there and maybe I should hop on it!!&lt;br /&gt;I have been so crazy-busy in the last month!! I'm typically gone from 7 am to 9:30 pm everyday.&lt;br /&gt;When I do get a few hours at home, I am busy with housework and projects. I built a wall to divide a huge bedroom to make two small rooms. I painted carpeted and redecorated both my kids rooms. (They LOVE them!)&lt;br /&gt;Due to unfortunate happenings, my kids will be coming home permanently this week!!!! I am excited!  The foster parents, who were my friends and also adopted my youngest child, have turned into monsters. I gently corrected them one day, while yelling at my kids on a visit. They were frustrated and arguing, and saying not-so-nice things to my kids. I simply said, very gently, that I didn't think that was appropriate. They flew off! How dare I question their perfection right???  UGH!!&lt;br /&gt;I told CPS of the incident, they agreed with me and told foster parents that they were in the wrong. Well they didn't like that, and have since been real assholes to my kids. The kids call me crying, wanting to go home.  Getting told they are no longer welcome there, and not to talk to anyone who "belongs to the family". It goes on and on. The teenage boys in the house, physically abuse my kids and when they cry are told to suck it up by the parents. RIDICULOUS!  Who is the adult there??&lt;br /&gt; So CPS can see that this is no longer a good place for them to be, and is in fact an abusive place for them to be in my eyes.  They are definitely first on my prayer list!! They need it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-3550668814397036820?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/3550668814397036820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=3550668814397036820' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3550668814397036820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3550668814397036820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-still-here.html' title='I&apos;m still here!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-4758410571098785882</id><published>2008-06-19T11:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T11:45:53.928-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A  moment of Silence....</title><content type='html'>I have been attending several AA and NA meetings a week. In those rooms I have learned a good many things. In those rooms I have heard stories that have broken my heart, made me cry, brought me joy, and gave me strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one particular meeting we always have a moment of silence for the people who are still using, or who will pick it up today for the first time, and for the people who will die today because of their addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, while talking to an old friend I had recently got in touch with, she informed me that she had been at the hospital all day. A friend of hers that she had met in AA had tried heroin for the first time with her partner and overdosed. It left her laying in a hospital brain dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That brings such grief to my heart. There are so many people who fall victim to this disease of addiction, myself included.  If you think about it, how many people right at this moment are dying? Overdose, drunken driving, murder for the drugs or money. I can't venture a guess that would be anywhere close to accurate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today a moment of silence for all the addicts who will pick up for the first time today, die today, or continue to struggle with their demons....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-4758410571098785882?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/4758410571098785882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=4758410571098785882' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4758410571098785882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4758410571098785882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/06/moment-of-silence.html' title='A  moment of Silence....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-1698175622562490007</id><published>2008-06-18T09:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T09:44:26.428-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='remodel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='steps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sobriety'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sober'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child services'/><title type='text'>Long time, No post!!!</title><content type='html'>Well I took an extensive break from blogging to rethink my thinking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I got my wall framed and finished (almost, it needs painted).  When I took up the carpet to start on the wall, I discovered I needed to replace the floor too, that was a pain in the you know what!!! But all is done. Although I have made many home improvements, there is more I would like to get done this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to buy enough windows to replace all in my home for about $600. Not bad huh?&lt;br /&gt;All new, never used. I am a bargain hunter and I couldnt pass that up.&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to find someone who can help me put them in! LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been able to stay Somewhat sober.  I know thats not the answer..... but I am ready to try again. I had no idea just how powerful alcohol was. Had I known that, I would like to say I never would of started drinking. I have been going to AA. About 4 a week. It is very informational, and I believe with fellow AA'ers I'll be able to work the program and find my sobriety. Even though I haven't completely given up drinking yet, the information I learn there through others stories and through the writings is slowly giving me the strength and the knowledge I need to put my drink down now and for ever. It is a great program, I highly recommend giving it a try if you suffer from this sickness.  One meeting or two, really wont do it for you, you need to try different meeting with different people and stories to get the real power out of AA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been going ok with the kids. I am learning to appreciate them more. Not that I didn't before, but I don't think I really showed them everyday how much they meant to me.&lt;br /&gt;I'll update on the kids later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-1698175622562490007?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/1698175622562490007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=1698175622562490007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1698175622562490007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1698175622562490007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/06/long-time-no-post.html' title='Long time, No post!!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-4805890786834797258</id><published>2008-05-28T08:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T09:14:37.802-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recovery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='framing wall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child services'/><title type='text'>Commitment</title><content type='html'>I have been meaning to blog daily. A six day gap is hardly everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great talk with Kylee. We went for a walk and I explained how hard it was for me to get over to see her often.  She's been thinking that I'm making excuses not to come over. Like when my car broke down. Or an unforeseen appointment came up.  I also have to build a wall to separate a large bedroom into two. That way Damon and I wont have to share a room any longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nephew came to help me, and somehow managed to cut all the studs a half inch too short. So, I don't know yet  whether I want to put up a wall that is short, or go buy new studs? I'm leaning for the short wall. I'll just tack the hell outta the sides instead of the ceiling and cover the gap with trim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before building the wall, I discovered I had to lay a new floor (It was rotting). I also got some carpets to lay down in three (maybe four) rooms. AND paint for most of the house. SO, I have my work cut out for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to work......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-4805890786834797258?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/4805890786834797258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=4805890786834797258' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4805890786834797258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/4805890786834797258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/commitment.html' title='Commitment'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8212711031563209034</id><published>2008-05-22T08:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T08:56:24.944-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting over</title><content type='html'>Ok, 1 day sober! Although I only fell off the wagon once. I have to start a new sobriety date. So... 1 day. What a setback! Thats good though, because that's motivation to not do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am bummed though. I got my new support order in the mail yesterday. They will be deducting $130.00 weekly from my check. Thats almost what I pay in gas a week. Guess whats left after that? $25.00! Yeah, you read that right! Rediculous! I finally understand why men quit their jobs when slapped with a support order. It is no longer worth it. Even when (if) I get my 4cylinder car running again, It still easily uses $60 in gas. Leaving me only $90!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I am NOT quitting my job. I will have to figure something else out...... sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take a risk. You have the power within to move mountains."&lt;br /&gt;                                                                        ~Cheryl Richardson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8212711031563209034?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8212711031563209034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8212711031563209034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8212711031563209034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8212711031563209034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/starting-over.html' title='Starting over'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-5265798546815144417</id><published>2008-05-21T12:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T12:16:35.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson learned</title><content type='html'>I fell off the wagon last night. Well actually the last couple of nights. I am kicking myself. In AA they tell you to pick yourself up and dust off and jump back on the wagon. Dont beat yourself up for it. Its bound to happen. So I was expecting it, and also not expecting it at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not drink to the point of intoxication though. Just enough to get tipsy. And a little slurred. Not that it really makes a difference. The goal is to not drink anything. But, I am holding my head high today. I know that I made a mistake and its not a major one. I didn't do anything harmful in a drunken stupor. Today is a new day, and that is what I am focusing on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Think BIG, there are unseen forces ready to support your dreams."&lt;br /&gt;                                                                               -Cheryl Richardson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-5265798546815144417?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/5265798546815144417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=5265798546815144417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5265798546815144417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5265798546815144417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/lesson-learned.html' title='Lesson learned'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-1730841527142890452</id><published>2008-05-20T11:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T11:49:18.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You learn something new everyday</title><content type='html'>I have always known that alcoholism was a disease. Lots of people will argue that, but once you have been there you know its true. Yesterday, I heard the phrase, "Its a family disease". I had never thought of it that way.&lt;br /&gt;Actually listening to my children tell me how they felt when I was drinking has had a big impact on me. Almost as much so as my drinking had on them. I thought I was doing everything the same as when I was sober, just with a beer in my hand. I had not understood how dissapointed they were in me. How left out they felt. To them, the beer was more important than they were. And while thats sounds obsurd to me, they are right.&lt;br /&gt;The first month of sobriety was easy for me. I think it was because my kids were freshly removed. But now that my emotions, thoughts, and routines have settled back to "normal", I have a hard time filling in the gaps when I would normally drink. Keeping myself busy and dealing with my craving is the best thing to do, but with dysthymia (chronic depression), I lack the motivation to actually busy myself.&lt;br /&gt;I have started by moving in very slow steps. Like, while watching tv, at commercial, Ill take the trash to the door. Then next commercial, I'll run a bag out. Same next commercial, then with the last bag, light it. (It has been raining for two weeks here so I had a lot of trash). Sounds lazy, perhaps I have become so, but it got the job done.  It was a minor accomplishment, but a necessary one to start down my new sober life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 4 bushes to plant, I've had them for a month just sitting there. Perhaps, I will start on those next. One a day maybe?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-1730841527142890452?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/1730841527142890452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=1730841527142890452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1730841527142890452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1730841527142890452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/you-learn-something-new-everyday.html' title='You learn something new everyday'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-991629795742430701</id><published>2008-05-19T12:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T14:13:54.301-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog 2 Win a Wii and Wii fit game!!</title><content type='html'>Hop over to Citymama's blog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://citymama.typepad.com/citymama/2008/05/who-wants-a-nin.html#more"&gt;http://citymama.typepad.com/citymama/2008/05/who-wants-a-nin.html#more&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to win a Nintendo Wii along with a Wii fit game.&lt;br /&gt;All you have to do is blog about your most embarrassing  fitness story. Lucky you if you don't have one of those!!&lt;br /&gt;I have a few, but I think this one is the best (worst).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;My Embarrissing (I'm-bare-ass-ing) Story...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been overweight. I am one of those girls who are too embarrassed about their size to go to a club where all the skinny b*tches are showing off their bodacious bods. I tend to stay at home and go for walks or bounce rediculously around my house to an exercise tape(I should really put up some curtains)! Well, for some reason I was having a bold moment and signed up for a trial membership to a gym. My son was about 3 yrs old or close there-of, and I left him in the daycare while I went to fumble around with the new-to-me equipment. Well, I tried a few things and thought maybe I would have more luck with a stationary bike(I think thats what it was).&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I was doing pretty good on the thing, making eye contact with fellow healthnuts (lol) smiling, waving "Hello" and so on. I must have started going too fast or perhaps it was just a moment of awkwardness. Somehow my feet left the pedals and with myself still pedaling (it happened fast) I catapulted myself off to one side. However, my britches were caught on the seat, I fell to the ground (all but my ass) and was hanging for a brief moment before my shorts gave way and ripped the entire back out. All the way down the seem, and across the butt and diagonal....you name it. The back of my britches were blew the heck out! I got myself off somehow, I could hear the snickers as I ran to the locker room. One guy couldn't hide it and was in full blown floor banging kicking cackeling mode. (I'm sure if I turned around he would have been laying there doing that too). Being a novice, I wore my workout clothes to the gym, so I didn't have a bag, or a change of clothes. Just my purse, which was too small to cover the wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now comes the embarrassing part....&lt;br /&gt;I stayed in there for a few minutes leaning against the wall and deciding what to do. Did I mention I don't wear panties? Well, yeah it gets worse! I have to get my son outta there and bee line it for the parking lot. I toyed breifly with the idea of going through lockers trying to find something that would fit or something I could tie around my waist. But I couldn't bring myself to do that. So..... nothing to it but to take a deep breath and make a run for it right? Wrong!&lt;br /&gt;I get down to the daycare room and while standing in the door, trying futiley to cover my rump-a-roo with my hands/purse. My little angle refuses to leave from across the room, I plead that I will buy him anything he wants if he comes now. That works and he leaves yelling at the top of his lungs what he would like me to buy him. Now that he has everyones attention on the way down the hall... he is Be-Bopping behind me when he yells "OOHH, Mommy I can see your Boom Boom! Mommy, you should cover that up! Why is your Boom Boom out? Mooommmy, you have little red dots on your Boom Boom, there's a lot of them Mommy." I try saying don't worry about it, we have to hurry to the car. I can hear more snickering and I think some of the people who watched me take the spill had followed for the rest of the action. My son without missing a beat, says, "Why are you sick? Oh, you don't want people to see your Boom Boom" We are almost at the door, I have to stop to let a group of people heard through. My son had scurried up for a closer look at my butt, apparantly he was fascinated. All of a sudden he yells "MOMMY!! You have hair on your Butt!" I feel my knees getting weak, I feel like I could pass out, or pee my pants. That was the last I could take, I swoop him up and run for the car. I have&lt;br /&gt;NEVER GONE TO THE GYM AGAIN!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel safer bouncing around awkwardly to my videos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-991629795742430701?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/991629795742430701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=991629795742430701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/991629795742430701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/991629795742430701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-2-win-wii-and-wii-fit-game.html' title='Blog 2 Win a Wii and Wii fit game!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-6349536697023600381</id><published>2008-05-19T09:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T10:25:34.225-04:00</updated><title type='text'>lets revisit today</title><content type='html'>Growing up seems like a dream. Some memories play through my head stongly while others pop in to say "Hi", and scare the fuck outta me.&lt;br /&gt;Some that play strongly though my head, are of my mother screaming at me with that exorcist tone "You have the devil in you kid!" That phrase alone is the only one that sticks out. However there was lots more.&lt;br /&gt;Another one is of Mom and Dad arguing. Dad was always drunk when he came home (late) from work. The first words outta her mouth were always "Where the hell have you been?", And then "Dont lie to me you bastard!" Then the arguing would carry on into the night. Most nights I would lie awake in bed with my stomach in knots, feeling like I would throw up. I would wait for things to start crashing and then sneak down the steps to make sure they weren't hurting each other.(Did they really think I could sleep through all of that?) I always hoped that one of them wouldnt die that night.&lt;br /&gt;I used to have the same recurring dreams (nightmares) when I was young. No suprise that they were anxiety filled. One was of me hiding under the tailgate of my dads old truck crying, there were Teridactyls(sp) flying around our house swooping down towards my dad. He was waving his arms trying to get them to leave. I was terrified they were going to kill him. I would always wake up sweating and crying. Another one was of mom and I standing out behind the train cars (there were three lining one side of our property), we were between the cars and the field. I picked up a rock (I can remember the look and feel of the rock perfectly) and I threw it at my mom. It hit her in the face and slid her whole face to the side of her head. It's not gory, I dont see any blood just her face on the side of her head. She is shaking her hands and making a sound something like moaning. I feel scared and sorry, then I wake up.&lt;br /&gt;I know, my mind is a piece of work right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-6349536697023600381?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/6349536697023600381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=6349536697023600381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/6349536697023600381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/6349536697023600381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/lets-revisit-today.html' title='lets revisit today'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-2309351749376630347</id><published>2008-05-17T12:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T12:25:33.017-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well it's been a week since I have posted. Seems like things just keep getting worse for me. I think God is trying to see how much I can handle. All three of my vehicles broke down. Got one fixed and it broke down again last night. Popped the halfshaft out of it when I was trying to take off too fast. Didn't know that could happen. OOOps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been going so so with my kids.  Kylee still gets her attitudes with me. Damon is just kinda ho-hum. I have been playing the questions game on myspace with Kylee. We take turns asking and answering each others questions in an attempt to get to know one another better.&lt;br /&gt;So far it has been pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats all for now. I'm pretty ho-hm myself today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-2309351749376630347?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/2309351749376630347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=2309351749376630347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/2309351749376630347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/2309351749376630347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/well-its-been-week-since-i-have-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-5767878714903738537</id><published>2008-05-09T14:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T14:55:29.327-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm getting frustrated</title><content type='html'>Why is when you think things are going well and you start to get your hope and sense of self back, that something comes along and tries to knock you down?&lt;br /&gt;When you haven't had your head above water very long, its pretty damn easy to drown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter is really confusing me. I have been reading the discovery that my lawyer gave me. The stuff my daughter has been saying is enough to make my blood pressure go through the roof. (Lies, Lies, Lies) Does she hate me? Is she trying to control the situation? Maybe trying to get back at me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get this, my daughter told the CPS that I gave her and her friend alcohol at her b-day party! I wouldnt even do that if they were 18. I have kicked minors outta my house before for bringing alcohol or comming over intoxicated. She even went so far as to say it was vodka and a red juice. I dont drink vodka, I don't like vodka. I am a beer person. Damn girl, WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND (yes there is more), she told Holly and Allen (her foster parents and my friends) that I didn't like the way they were raising their 3 yr old and that she over heard me planning to go kidnap him and take him to Tennessee!! Again, WTF girl/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is hard enough already without her adding all of that....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am seriously concerned about her. Her thoughts, her mental health. Is she one of those people that cant stop lying? A pathelogical liar I think its called?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling its going to get a lot worse before it gets better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never wanted a beer more than this week!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-5767878714903738537?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/5767878714903738537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=5767878714903738537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5767878714903738537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5767878714903738537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-getting-frustrated.html' title='I&apos;m getting frustrated'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8844192916631181933</id><published>2008-05-07T17:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T18:11:48.098-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's on my side?</title><content type='html'>One thing I have found out for sure. While going through all this, you definately get confused as to who you can trust and who you cant.&lt;br /&gt;My lawyer got the discovery back, which was full of all the conversations that have taken place. Conversations between the Children Services and the kids dads, myself, my ex, my friend who has the kids and so on. So anyway, I get a copy of this and have taken about an hour to read it. By the time I am done, I am lost somewhere between pissedville, and seetherland.&lt;br /&gt;There are definately different people in my life. People who want to help me. People who want to screw me. People who want to see me get help for myself. People who care, and people who don't.&lt;br /&gt;I found that I was mistaken about who was who.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit here wondering how much of what the children services wrote about their interactions with everyone was wrong because they had misunderstood the info that was given them, or perhaps mixed up some info. For example there was a statement in there made that said, Kylee didn't have any underwear and didn't know what size she wore because she usually just wears mine.&lt;br /&gt;HUH!!!!!!!!!! EERRRRRRRR! Hit the brakes. Did I read that right. Um, yeah. First of all, I am a 240 lb fat ass, and she is a 120 lbs bean pole. Second, I haven't worn underwear since I was pregnant with Kylee and haven't had a pair in the house in over 10 years!!! WTF, where did that come from. Is my child dilusional, or is the CPS making shit up, or what the hell did they misunderstand? Also, was in there that the kids told CPS that we don't usually have supper... OK again, WTF, that is all I do is work, come home, make dinner, go to bed over and over and over.&lt;br /&gt;AND (yes there is more, tons more), Kylee told them that she doesn't have any blankets or sheets at home and she has to sleep on the couch. Ok, deep breath, calm, mellow, SCREAM!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;She has a bed and sheets and blanket and pillows. (more pillows and blanket than anyone elseI might add). AND the whole family usually sleeps in the living room in the winter because its warmer and saves on propane. This year, I let that girl bring her entire bed into the living room for the entire winter. Couch my ass!!!! She is the ONLY one who had a bed all winter. GRRRR, sometimes I wonder what goes through her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, some people who I thought were my friends gave an opinion of me that made me and my family look like trash. Just when I have a good day. It gets bashed all to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets get to the fun shit now. I have three vehichles. One is down with a busted brakeline. The 2nd one yesterday had the caliper tie up on it, so I hop in my Bronco to gas it up and the damned transmission goes out of it. Once again, SCREAM! When it rains it pours, and when the suns out, a darn ole cloud covers &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; my house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has to get better right? Can't get any worse? We shall see.&lt;br /&gt;How much easier it would be to run away and start anew somewhere else........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8844192916631181933?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8844192916631181933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8844192916631181933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8844192916631181933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8844192916631181933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/whos-on-my-side.html' title='Who&apos;s on my side?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-3151784283763089814</id><published>2008-05-03T16:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T16:26:52.374-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ZZZZzzzzzzzz.......</title><content type='html'>What an ugly rainy day. I'm just blah....&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that I have only ever gotten one comment.&lt;br /&gt;Does nobody love me?&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knows what to say?&lt;br /&gt;Most likely I just dont have any readers. lol&lt;br /&gt;Thats o.k. I am happy keeping track of my daily woes in a public place. (even if nobody reads it) It feels kinda naughty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am craving chinese take out. I can smell it. Taste it. My mouth salivates just thinking about it. I had chinese last night even. This is nothing new. I crave it everyday.&lt;br /&gt;I think they must put cocaine or something in it. Just enough to keep you comming back for more. "Dude, this chinese shit is the bomb! Lets go get some more man!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids love it too. I bought some last night and took over to have dinner with them. I also took a fortune cookie for everyone in the house. We had a blast pronouncing (trying) the ''learn chinese" words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-3151784283763089814?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/3151784283763089814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=3151784283763089814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3151784283763089814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3151784283763089814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/zzzzzzzzzzzz.html' title='ZZZZzzzzzzzz.......'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-2994000933131909774</id><published>2008-05-02T08:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T09:17:22.501-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow down, Breathe....Breathe...</title><content type='html'>O.K. I am breathing again (for the time being). I talked to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;counselor&lt;/span&gt; on Wednesday and she put me at ease. I went in like a babbling idiot and came out with a little confidence.&lt;br /&gt;I started out our conversation with "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt; my daughter hates me, she doesn't want to come home, she is in love with my (almost) stepson who took advantage of her, she wants to live with Holly, should I let her go? How do I let her go, should I fight for my son, how can I fight for him and not her? What do I do? Damon is doing better at this new school and they are trying to say now that it was his home life that was the problem before." And there was more I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sat back and smiled that smile she has. And said, "First of all, you don't have to decide any of that right now." Her words of wisdom continued, and worked there magic. WHEW!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought It would be hopeless to try to repair my relationship with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kylee&lt;/span&gt; (although I am determined) in time for her to come home AND be happy at home. Thinking about it now, what &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; so bad about home anyway? She is 13 and confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My therapist ( I know I called her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;counselor&lt;/span&gt; earlier, but I like the sound of therapist better) made a reminder for me to hang up that sums up our session. It says...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I love my children and am willing to do whatever it takes to get them home.&lt;br /&gt;2. I need to focus on things that I can do to improve my relationship with my children, especially &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kylee&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;3. I have made some poor decisions in the past but that does not make everything I've done for my children a failure. I've made positive choices trying to improve my relationship with them like Strengthening Families.&lt;br /&gt;4. Damon was having difficulty at school because of problems getting school to follow through with his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;IEP&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;5. I don't need to worry about where my children want to live. I need to focus on making sure that everything I do gets me closer to my goal of having them home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me to start by telling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kylee&lt;/span&gt; that I don't feel like we have the kind of relationship that I would like to have with her and I want to know what she thinks we can do to improve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did that. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kylee&lt;/span&gt; was responsive and sounded like she wanted to hear that. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;There's&lt;/span&gt; the first step. Now to continue to think of ways to connect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strengthening Families was a summer long program that our family went to last year. It focused on just what the name of the class is. The very first thing we learned was... 1. Tell each of your children everyday at least 3 things that you noticed them doing that made you proud.  2. Spend at least 15 minutes one on one with each child, doing only what they want to do, without correcting what they are doing 'wrong" in your eyes. Simple enough right? It did make a world of difference in our day to day life. The kids felt better about themselves and I felt like a more positive parent. Only, after the class is over, those things kinda start to fade and old ways take over.&lt;br /&gt;She also put me to the challenge of finding out who I am. Good question right? I have been a parent since I was 17. I don't know what or who else to be. I am lost without the kids at home. I don't know what to do with myself. So my new goal is to write everyday, aside from here, about things that I am and things I want to be. Things I want to do. Things I like. I haven't started yet. But today is as good as any!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the time being, I have some relief and some hope. I am breathing slowly again. My puffy eyes, from crying so much, have gone back to looking almost human. My headache is gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-2994000933131909774?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/2994000933131909774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=2994000933131909774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/2994000933131909774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/2994000933131909774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/05/slow-down-breathebreathe.html' title='Slow down, Breathe....Breathe...'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-5899297205883390184</id><published>2008-04-30T09:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T09:12:48.691-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up Crazy: Wow, what now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/wow-what-now.html#links"&gt;Growing Up Crazy: Wow, what now?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-5899297205883390184?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/wow-what-now.html#links' title='Growing Up Crazy: Wow, what now?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/5899297205883390184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=5899297205883390184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5899297205883390184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/5899297205883390184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/growing-up-crazy-wow-what-now.html' title='Growing Up Crazy: Wow, what now?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-1340402957093227201</id><published>2008-04-30T08:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T09:06:49.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow, what now?</title><content type='html'>OK, yesterday was a learning experience. My thoughts are completely jumbled. I had a long heart to heart with Holly. She explained how she is in a hard place because I am her friend, and we have no secrets. However she has been given the responsibility of fostering my children and their best interest is her main concern. She has been talking with Kylee a lot. I am so relieved that Kylee found someone she can trust and tell all to, but WHOA!!! Hold the boat here.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly laid shit on me last night that smacked me across the face and stopped my heart. Kylee doesn't want to come home. She has the same kind of love for me that I have for my mom. There was never anything there. I love her cause I "have" to. She says that I am a pretty good friend but not really a mother. She feels like I care more about her brothers than her. Kylee wants to stay with Holly forever she said. She said she likes being there and being part of a family. And having a Dad (Allen).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know thats what my little girl has always wanted was a "nuclear family". I haven't been able to find it. All these years I was semi proud of myself for rising above. My mom and sister are mentally disturbed, my dad was an alcoholic, my life sucked growing up, I have been making adult decisions since I was 8 at least maybe younger. I know I didn't learn how to be a good mom. But I have been pretty damn proud of myself for surviving all that and being able to provide for my kids, and I was thrilled that I didn't "catch" the mental illness. I thought I was showing them responsibility by working everyday (not that I have a choice), paying bills and not spending frivolously and at the same time splurging on family outings occasionally. I was proud!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until last night. What a smack in the face. She doesn't want to come home. All of it was for nothing. I didn't do good enough. I FAILED. I have felt it for years. I have been losing my daughter. She and I are lacking a bond. She basically has said that the only reason she wants to come home is because she is in love with Jasons son Cody. I found out that her and Cody has had sex. And that she wants to do whatever it takes to be with him. She is convinced that I will still have Jason around and that she will have access to Cody. And if I dont, she will run away, or make up stories so she can get out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kylee doesn't like her brother much. She told Holly that she wants Damon to go home and she wants to stay. Holly said when Kylee knows I'm comming she turns into a completely different person. She gets mean with her brother. She gets an attitude and goes back to being sweet when I'm gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought Kylee was getting to the age that we could be "girls" together. Have great mother daughter time and boy was I misinformed! So what do I do now? Do I fight for her? We cant rebuild overnight what has taken years to ruin. At 13 she is not going to go through her teenage years and forgive me while she is confused and emotional. I dont think its too late to form a relationship with her. But I know that it is too late to raise her. I have already ruined her life and lost her. So do I let her go? I want her to be happy. I want her to have a chance. Do I fight for Damon? he and I have a bond. We get along and have fun together. When I have both together, its a chaotic mess. They act like they hate each other. They fight and compete over who is going to breath first!! How do I let Kylee go without her thinking I just dont want her. How do I take Damon back. How do I present that to children services without sounding like a total hateful bitch. Of course I want my little girl. But Kylee has made it clear that I haven't done good enough. I just want her to be happy. I want Damon to be happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-1340402957093227201?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/1340402957093227201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=1340402957093227201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1340402957093227201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/1340402957093227201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/wow-what-now.html' title='Wow, what now?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-3665021225277475955</id><published>2008-04-29T08:57:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T08:19:42.575-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I found a sponsor!</title><content type='html'>OK, I've been MIA fo a few days. Not a lot has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my chemical dependancy assesment yesterday. She was very nice and was very undecided where to put me (in what class). She said I was right on the line?? She asked me lots of questions about my usage, my feeling and my upbringing. This is old news, I've been down this road many times in the recent past with the CPS the councelor, my lawyer and so on. I've got the responses memorized almost verbatim. After all, I cant give two different stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She decided that I should be in the class entitled, stepping into sobriety. Its for someone that has a drinking habit and teaches usefull info about alcohol useage. I dont mind, I love learning new things and taking informational classes. This probably isn't the way to go about it but C'est La Vie! I did learn something new yesterday. Taking antidepressants quadruples the effects of alcohol!! WHAT? Hmmm, no wonder it doesn't take me ( a seasoned drinker) much to get tipsy!&lt;br /&gt;The class also requires me to go to 1 AA meeting a week which isn't a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good New!! I found a sponser! My cousins girlfriend is a recovering alchie and when I showed up there a little drunk on Friday, (ok a lot) she offered to help me. What a great gal! For your info, I continued drinking while I was there and ended up asking them to take me home. I did call them a few days later and thank them for putting up with my drunk ass. And to check in with my new sponsor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the kids on Saturday. We watched Mannequinn (sp) and made milkshakes that didn't require ice cream. Damon got an A in reading. Actually it was a double A? Have you seen that? She put two A's on top of his paper. Must be really good. lol&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this school for kids with ADHD and learning difficulties is great I think. I wish this school district here would adapt a little more. I have been fighting tooth and nail to get him a little extra help here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well readers, all one or.... none of you. Aww hell, thanks for listening laptop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-3665021225277475955?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/3665021225277475955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=3665021225277475955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3665021225277475955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/3665021225277475955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-found-sponsor.html' title='I found a sponsor!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8462881750791448515</id><published>2008-04-24T10:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T11:04:18.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What happens now?</title><content type='html'>My visit with the kids went well last night. We talked and hung out. Damon sat on my lap. He was heavy! He gained 12 pounds. Holly said her rule is eating at least half of whats on his plate. Where normally he only picks at his plate at home. He ate potatoes! Thats a big deal, this boy insists that he doesn't like potatoes. (Except fries of course)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly took them to the doctor yesterday. Kylee got 5 shots and a TB test. Damon just got the TB test. They gave her the Gaurdisil (sp) shot to prevent cervical cancer. I am kinda up in the air about that. I still haven't decided weather I wanted her to have it or not. On one hand its a wonderful thing. But it's relatively new, and the long term effects are not known yet.&lt;br /&gt;When the chicken pox vaccine came out, I jumped on it and got it for Kylee. However, I wasn't told at that point that she would have to get the vaccine every 10 years or so for the rest of her life because it wears off and as an adult chicken pox is life threatening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets just hope that there never comes any complications from this shot. Who has the right to make her health care decisions? They are still my kids, I still have rights. But I'm not going to make a stink about this. The goal is to get my kids back. Not to make trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what happens now? Its a game of hurry up and wait. They have been gone two weeks today and the only thing that has happened is... nothing! A couple of court dates for custody. A lot of bitching at me. And then, nothing. If I haven't drank. Jason is not there, then what is the problem? I want them back now. There is no need for them to stay away. I am not a danger to them! But thats how they make me feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8462881750791448515?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8462881750791448515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8462881750791448515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8462881750791448515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8462881750791448515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-happens-now.html' title='What happens now?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1006261495263648507.post-8291833151723299754</id><published>2008-04-22T12:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T12:28:51.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Idle hands are the devils handiwork</title><content type='html'>I think the biggest thing that has changed since the kids have been gone is all the extra time I have on my hands. I am living just to take care of myself. There is a first for everything I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get home from work to an empty (and clean) house. I don't know what to do. There is PLENTY that needs done, but I keep saying, "it will be there tomarrow".&lt;br /&gt;Usually when I get home, I start right away on supper. I have only made supper twice in the last two weeks now. I think that I should spend some time on myself perhaps. Take some head clearing walks. Get some exercise, lose some weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal is to be able to keep the same chore and discipline and reward routine when the kids come home as they have now. I wont be able to do that if I am still a mess. I have still not drank to get drunk. But I find the urge for alcohol creeping in everyday. Just before all this happen I had gotten a taste for the Sparks energy/alcohol drinks. Now I crave them. I dont want yucky beer, I want this tasty alternative. I cannot drink enough of those to get buzzed though. But I find myself drinking them anyway. Still not a good idea. I am sure that even though I am not tipsy from them, that the CPS would still use it against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been taking a new depression medication for the past 5 months or so. They seem to be helping. This is the FIRST one that has helped in ten + years. Of course I hit a big downhill spiral when they took my kids. They left me feeling hopeless and helpless and worthless and lifeless and, well you got the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope things improve soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1006261495263648507-8291833151723299754?l=growingupcrazy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/feeds/8291833151723299754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1006261495263648507&amp;postID=8291833151723299754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8291833151723299754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1006261495263648507/posts/default/8291833151723299754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://growingupcrazy.blogspot.com/2008/04/idle-hands-are-devils-handiwork.html' title='Idle hands are the devils handiwork'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07890815136545431455</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04152285428140164914'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>