This was a weird day. My husband pulled a muscle in his back moving some boxes a couple of days ago and it really seized up on him at work yesterday. He came home a bit early last night in a lot of pain, and spent most of the evening lying on the floor. I hoped he’d be feeling better this morning, but he wasn’t – I woke up to him calling in to work. I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable, so I insisted he go to the doctor. What is it with men and the doctor, anyway? He hates going to the doc! He actually tried to convince me today that he was FINE, as long as he was lying on the floor and not sitting, standing, or walking. Dork.

So anyway, I drove him to the doctor this afternoon, which was weird in itself. I never drive us ANYWHERE – I can’t even remember the last time my husband was in the passenger seat of my vehicle while sober. He moaned and groaned every time I hit a bump or took a corner too quickly, and by the time we got to the clinic, I had a case of the giggles. Bad, unsympathetic wife. And after we got out of the car, we realized that he needed to lean on me in order to walk – which just made the situation seem that much sillier to me. My linebacker-esque husband mashing me into the parking lot by my shoulder was just cracking me up! And once inside, we found that it was easier for him to walk if he just followed me, and put his hands on both my shoulders. So, we walked through the clinic with him hunched over, halfway bent over, and pushing me along by the shoulders. I felt like we were in a horse costume!

And then my husband’s very Asian doctor was cracking me up with his demonstration of how muscles seize up and contract when you injure them – he sort of acted it out like a skit, complete with crazy facial expressions. By the time we finished up with the doctor, the clinic finally found a wheelchair for my husband that would fit him, and I pushed him to the pharmacy. I stepped out of line for a moment to snap a picture of him looking extra pitiful, and the woman standing in line in front of us glared at both of us. I laughed.

Once we left the clinic, prescriptions in hand, we decided we were both starving. The muscle relaxers were kicking in, and my hubby was actually feeling a lot better, so we didn’t have to do our horse imitation anymore. We hit a nearby Mexican restaurant and had an absolutely delightful dinner together, and talked and laughed all through dinner and all the way back home. My husband actually got a little mushy, thanking me for taking care of him all day, and telling me how happy he was that he married me. Awww! I sure wasn’t thinking we’d have a date night when I saw him laid out on the floor this morning!

I’ve figured out how to eliminate all drama from the internet in a few easy steps.

Please don’t assume something is about you. Chances are, it’s not. I know it’s hard for all of us to hear, but the world really isn’t revolving around each of us. Few people have specific targets in mind as we go through life. Sometimes a post is just a post. MOST of the time, I’d wager. So before you think to yourself, “Well, what did she mean by that?” or “Is that supposed to be about me?” Just…stop. Step away from the internet, go for a walk in the sunshine, eat some noodles.

If it’s really under your skin, and you just cannot move forward in life without finding out the intent of whatever’s bugging you, here’s what you need to do. CALL THAT PERSON ON THE PHONE. Have an actual conversation, comprised of spoken words. Perhaps you don’t have that person’s phone number. I understand. Here’s what to do in that case. Find their email address, and send them an email that says, “Hey! I need to talk to you about something. Can you give me a call at ____ ? Thanks!” (Insert your phone number there.)

Here is what NOT to do. Do NOT post a vague comment or tweet, laced with hostility. Do NOT confront them publicly, on their Facebook wall, on Twitter, or in their blog comments. Do NOT write a passive aggressive note to them. (You could end up here!) It doesn’t matter how much you pepper your post with uppercase letters, winking smilies, and lols – people will misinterpret your tone and interpret what you’re saying in a completely different way than you mean. Pick up the goddamn phone and have a conversation like an adult. Think to yourself, “How would I have handled this problem if we lived in the year 1989?” Here’s how: you’d pick up the phone and call them up. You’d bitch about it to your husband, not to the entire world wide web. You’d have done all of this while wearing Shine Free purple mascara and 5″ high bangs, plastered into place with Bold Hold hairspray. But that’s what you would have done.

If everyone would just follow this philosophy – first, don’t assume it’s about you – and second, don’t try to get to the bottom of things through your keyboard – SO MUCH DRAMA could be averted. We could change the world, people.

My little boy has been out of school on break for several weeks now. He starts back up in about two weeks, THANK GOD. I love having the kids home for awhile, because I’m lazy by nature and I like to sleep late. But I hate seeing my son struggle day after day after day. He’s so accustomed to his very structured daily routine at school, and we have very little structure at home. We have a loose routine in place – specific mealtimes and bedtimes, for example – but everything else is just kind of free-flowing. I keep trying to put a routine in place like on Supernanny, but we never can seem to stick to it.

And, as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t really WANT that crazy, strict picture schedule like they have at school. I know the boy would cope better with more routine, but I truly feel like the more relaxed environment at home will be better for him long term. I think growing up in a big house full of kids is more of a benefit than a detriment to my son, because he’s learning to adapt to changes in his routine. I also like the idea that he’s growing up, y’know….sort of NORMAL. Our lives don’t really revolve around him and his needs, they revolve around the children and all of their needs. I think it’s important for him to see that the world wasn’t created for him.

I’ve seen kids with autism completely lose it when things don’t go the way they expect them to, but I don’t see much of that with my son. What I DO see is him missing his teachers and friends. Another benefit to growing up in a big family is having other kids to play with all the time, but it’s hard when you’re the only boy in a family of girls. Yesterday, we headed out to the park to take advantage of the unseasonably gorgeous weather. I packed up a picnic lunch and we spent nearly two hours out in the sunshine – it was glorious. And it’s in that setting where all my kids are on a level playing field. They may not all be able to read and write yet, but they can all climb rock walls, play tag, and swing so high they touch the sky.

I hope I’m doing the right thing. That’s the hardest part about parenting a child with special needs – not knowing if things are going to work out in the end. But I guess that’s true for all parents, right?

No, not really – but I’m starting to feel like I should!

Here’s my Vent Of The Day. Oldest child didn’t get up on time. The excuse is always the same, “I set my alarm, but for some reason, it didn’t go off!” I sympathize with her, for real. I have no idea why they make high school start at the crack of dawn. Elementary-aged kids have such an easier time getting up when it’s still dark – they should have elementary school start early and high school start later. But they don’t. Anyway. She didn’t get up on time. So instead of rushing around and heading out the door and hightailing it to school, she got dressed and then sat on the couch and pouted.

Um, yeah. I don’t understand this problem solving approach, either. Eventually, I realized she was sitting on the couch and asked her what was up. She didn’t have an answer for me as to why she hadn’t left yet, beyond, “I don’t know!” She somehow had herself convinced that if I didn’t call the school and excuse her immediately, that they wouldn’t even allow her into the classroom. Like they would just shut the door in her face. Like they would prefer that she miss an ENTIRE 99-minute class, rather than just miss the first 25 minutes.

This required my husband actually driving her to school and walking her into the front office, where we could get some clarification on the tardy policy. He called me up on his way to work and said, “GUESS WHAT, babe. You won’t believe this. But they’ll actually LET HER INTO CLASS even if she’s late.” I know! I was stunned, too. (Not really.)

Tomorrow begins finals, at 7 in the morning. Tonight, I’m putting about three more alarm clocks in her room!

Well, you know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words. I could probably just post the picture and leave it at that. But no, that just won’t do – not for long-winded ME!

My oldest child is driving me to drink. And I’m seriously on the fence, teetering between “she’s a teenager; she’s supposed to be apathetic, dishonest, overly dramatic, and hate school” and “how in the hell will she ever function in society OMG she’s going to be living here when she’s 30 years old and end up working at Del Taco.”

It’s a tough road we’re on right now. Without overstepping the boundaries of privacy too much, I’ll simply state that she’s been struggling with some depression. I recognize it. I understand it. Hell, I LIVE it. I know exactly what it’s like. And I’ve told her that. The thing is, you can’t rely on the excuse of depression as a free pass for getting out of everything you don’t want to do. Like, homework. I know she doesn’t care about school, and I get that. School is a big fat drag when you’re fourteen. And how often do you really use algebra once you’re out of school? I fully recognize that she is only there for the social aspect. But I just can’t make her GET IT that she still has to DO THE WORK. It’s that whole fake-it-till-you-make-it thing. You might not care about it, but you still have to DO it. Even if you struggle with depression, you still have to fulfill certain responsibilities. That’s life, y’know?

Ugh. It’s nice that I have my husband to talk me down from the ledge. He’s already raised two teenagers, and he’s sooooo easygoing about all of this. I know that there are plenty of folks out there who didn’t give a shit about high school, and they aren’t homeless or anything like that as adults. But still, it’s so completely frustrating when I can’t find ANY passion in my child whatsoever. She’s looking forward to seeing her friends at lunch tomorrow, and she’s happy to know that she’s not going to die in the near future. And that’s IT. There is nothing else that she cares about. Nothing. It just feels beyond the normal teenage bullshit to me. And like I said, I’m wavering. Part of me is scared to death for my child, and worried about her future and completely stressed about her mental wellbeing. The other part of me is like, “Eh.” Almost everyone I know with a kid in high school is telling me a similar tale. Her issues are just not that unique, really.

I’m praying hard that she straightens out and realizes that life is awesome and that there is true joy to be found in it. I know being a teenager sucks. I remember. I’m banking on the notion that by the time my other four kids are teens and putting me through hell, my oldest will be well-adjusted and content with her life, so she can help knock some sense into her siblings. I think that’s my only hope. And maybe in years to come, I’ll mellow out a bit, too.