Mean Girls–Can we be friends?

I’ve been wanting to write something about an experience I had with a couple of real life ‘mean girls’. This occurred back in 2010 (when I first moved to Texas) but it still stings a bit whenever I think about it.

I was already in my late thirties when I met Nicole (I’ll use fictional names). She was a beautiful, gorgeous girl with blonde hair and amazing blue eyes. We hit it off instantly and soon I was hanging out at her house almost daily. I hadn’t had many girlfriends in my lifetime and was ecstatic to call her my new bff in Texas. I fell in love with her and her family. I did. I don’t care if it sounds weird. (lol)

Anyways, I tried to do everything right. She had confided to me that her husband had cheated on her multiple times so I stuck by her side and was polite with him. He was very likable but I wanted to prove my loyalty to her, my bff. I wanted to prove I could be trusted since she had also had problems with girlfriends. Life was great for a whole year — until a third and then a fourth girl joined.

I guess I can’t fully put the blame on these new girls. I had realized that my beloved Nicole wasn’t the person I fell in love with. Still, there was something about her that was just magnetizing. Maybe it was her beauty? Everyone wants to have that pretty friend who appears to have it all. Except that Nicole made you feel exclusive. She made me feel like I was part of her family and as if only I would ever know her deepest secrets. She let me in her world and I felt sorry for her. She had gone through so much that I wished I could wrap her up in a comfy blanket and keep her safe in my arms. It felt great at first until I began to notice she’d tell everyone all her ‘secrets’. I realized this was her way of manipulating you so she could have your loyalty. Soon, she had everyone against everyone and she was the innocent one, without any fault.

With me, it began when she’d tell me how much she hated her neighbor. She would go on and on telling me how her neighbor was a drunk, abused pills, was emotionally cheating on her husband, etc. She’d end it with “I can’t stand her. I hate her.” I listened and tried to be there for her, emotionally. At the same time, I thought she was being fake and didn’t know what her motive was. You see, every time her neighbor went by her house, Nicole was nothing but pure sweetness towards her. I remember her and I even went to the neighbor’s baby shower and Nicole’s gift was just towering over the rest. How could you treat someone whom you hate with so much appreciation and kindness? I didn’t get it. I soon had a talk with Nicole and told her how uncomfortable I felt because I had nothing against her neighbor — and while the other two girls that later joined us were clearly mean to her neighbor, I didn’t feel I had any reason to be.

This is when our friendship began to shatter. I guess I wasn’t as loyal as I thought I could be. One of the mean girls (I’ll name her Tiff.) even went as far as punching the neighbor on her face to defend Nicole’s honor (I’m exaggerating. It was over some gossip that Nicole began herself!) The police even visited Tiff’s house and everything. I thought this was madness. How could a woman, with a family to take care of, give so much power to another woman? This would never be me. I did have my limits and I wasn’t willing to get into some pathetic high school drama at this late in my years. Ridiculous.

Not only did Nicole talk about her neighbor to me; she also would tell me things about the other two girls that joined in. I couldn’t stand it. There I’d be, sitting next to Nicole with an angelic smile, knowing what I new. The other two girls were trying to be just as loyal to Nicole and I’d know all the garbage that was being said about them behind their backs. NEVER did I think I’d be in this situation. Tiff was definitely trying too hard. The other wasn’t that bad and I trusted her the most. I’ll name her Connie.

At forty I had my Benjamin and now with a baby to take care of, I decided this would be how I’d weasel my way out of that group. I guess Nicole suspected what I was up to because she began changing towards me.  I suspected I was next one to be talked about and her neighbor confirmed that. I confronted Nicole and asked if there was anything we needed to talk about. She denied everything. I knew she was lying but I went along with things. I too didn’t know how to tell her straight out how I really felt. I didn’t know how to come out and tell her that I thought she was two-faced, a hypocrite, untrustworthy. How I felt uncomfortable every time she talked bad about Tiff and Connie behind their backs. I kept my mouth shut and thought it’d be easier if I weaseled my way out.

One Friday night I agreed to meet them at Nicole’s house. I sensed the thickness in the air that enveloped us in her garage that night. Boy was it thick. I should have left, ran right out of there, but I didn’t. I thought I could handle it. Tiff’s face was full of truths Nicole could no longer hide — and I knew. Connie was stuck in between and I noticed how she’d flop sides. At times she tried to make the best of the night and other times she’d try to instigate. Both Tiff and Connie swore to be my friends also except that they never came to me to talk about our little group’s situation. They both clearly showed their loyalty to Nicole. I was fine with that. After all, Nicole met them first. If I could only make it through that night, each time I’d see them less and less. But it wouldn’t happen that way. The thickness made it not breathable in that garage that Friday night. They would all ignore me at times and talk about how much fun they were having visiting each other’s houses. It hurt because in all the three years I had known Nicole, never had she just stopped by my house to see how I was doing. Even when I was pregnant and I went through a horrible month when I felt suicidal; Nicole was the one person I confided this to and I begged her to come visit me. She never came.

That was it. I excused myself and went home. I decided I was finished with the charades. The following Monday, Connie called me to make plans for Nicole’s birthday. I really believe Connie was attempting to include me and make me feel better. Nevertheless, I told Connie I was done with that friendship. We talked for a bit and she insisted I patch things up with Nicole. Ofcourse, I didn’t tell Connie everything. Still, I said I couldn’t talk about it with Nicole now because now, she was pregnant and I didn’t want to upset her. Connie said I was using that as an excuse because she just knew Nicole was a big girl and could handle it. Dummy me, I should’ve known I was right and taken my own advice. Instead, I chose to confront Nicole, though still not fully. I didn’t want to upset her too much. STILL, I came out as the insensitive one. How could I upset her now that she was pregnant? (I knew it!)

OMG. I could go on with our drama but maybe I’ll save some details for a later story. Till this day I’m not even sure what happened and how it happened. Just that in the end, I was the one who was shady and Tiff was Nicole’s new bff. I was hurt.What was I supposed to do? Tell on Nicole? Tell the other girls of all the bad things she had said about them? No. That would have been immature. A good friend of mine who was living in AZ advised me not to say a word and just get over it. She promised me that if I told, these girls wouldn’t listen and I’d be the one still looking bad. She was right.

Two years after Nicole and I were no longer friends, I decided to tell the other two girls. They swore we were still friends but I should have known better. They never came to see how I was doing either. I still remained in Texas one whole year after our fiasco and neither of them came. No one was calling me either. No texts asking how I was. Nothing on Facebook — no comment a regular friend would make. Still, I felt bad unfriending them. I told them partially what Nicole had said about them and much to my amazement, they continued being friends with her. My AZ friend was right. So, I finally got the guts to unfriend these two.

Another three years went by and I kept in touch with Nicole’s neighbor. We’d catch up every now and then and I finally told her also what Nicole had said about her only because she asked. I had no idea even she, also, was keeping a relationship with Nicole. I couldn’t believe it. What a strong hold this woman had on these three other women. The neighbor told me she confronted Nicole and Nicole denied it, ofcourse. I thought the neighbor would know better but I think she too wanted to belong to Nicole’s world.

One day the neighbor asked me, in tears, what she should do? I told her she should find forgiveness. She admitted that Nicole was making an effort to try to be back in her life and had written a really nice letter to her. I never got such a letter but I realized I never was meant to belong in their group. I was fine without them and needed OUT! So, I told the neighbor to forgive. In all honesty, I believe people can change, grow, be regretful. As for myself, I got out of Facebook, almost untraceable. Only those interested in my writing, mixing, etc, will find me. I’m also heading a path of becoming a healer. Therefore, ofcourse I forgive Nicole. I forgive Tiff, Connie, the neighbor and most important, I forgive myself.

When I think back on my ‘mean girls’ experience, I can’t deny a part of me misses Nicole. It’s too bad that in this life our paths went different ways. Nevertheless, it was an experience which helped me grow and I am grateful for that. =)

 

 

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Taxes rant – Don’t mess with Taxes!

So I’m sitting here, trying to finish up our taxes for 2017. It’s crunch time. I feel the panic and for the first time in my adult life I fear we won’t make it by the due date. I’m usually early and have our taxes done by Jan/Feb. This year though, with the move back to Texas and all the organizing, I’ve been slacking off — and to make it worse, I’m waiting on one last piece of information. My husband, being a diesel mechanic, is always needing and buying tools and receives an itemized list from the Matco guy. Ofcourse, now, the Matco guy is taking his sweet time. It’s the very last thing I need to complete our taxes and be done with it. I could put what I think he spent but I just wouldn’t dare. If we don’t get that list soon, I just might have to claim them in 2018 because — don’t mess with Taxes!

It’s always such a bother to gather up all the information. We rented out our home last year so I had to gather all the information for that. We really got screwed with that deal but we fortunately got the people to move out and that was a huge worry off my back. Still, there is so much money we lost but we didn’t know all we could have claimed since we were kind of new at this whole renting thing. I could kind of eye ball it but I wouldn’t dare because — don’t mess with Taxes!

The info that I do hate searching for is for example, car registration fees. I hate it because I always forget to write it down or keep the receipts. I spent precious, valuable time yesterday searching for the dues all up and down our bank statements. Yippee. I wondered if I could just give an educated guess but — don’t mess with Taxes!

OMG — donations! Those too. I hate thinking back on dates and what all it was we donated. We’re so lazy when it comes to getting rid of stuff. What I mean is that we’d rather donate or give things away than have a garage sale, for example. Every year I swear we end up donating thousands of dollars worth of stuff but I only claim about $400 or so. This time I have the receipts but not sure where some are. Especially with this move. Everything is scattered and I still have boxes to go through. Oh and I already have two big boxes of clothes to donate this year — and guess what? I threw away about five trash cans full of clothes, books, movies, two carpets, pillows and a small dresser. Why? Because my husband mowed the grass on the vacant land next to us and then remembered about the field mice. I’m a city girl so I had no clue about field mice. We had our garage door open and had placed several boxes we took out from our storage unit and stored them in the garage. It was all stuff we were going to donate. Well, when we finally did our move and came back to Texas, all of the stuff had mice poop! =o Yea. Disgusting. I had to throw all that away. Can’t claim any of it now because — don’t mess with Taxes!

Next year I gotta up my game. I have to get more organized so I don’t get lazy when tax season 2018 comes around.

Hope you all are doing much better than I am and as a Texas resident I’d like to remind you — don’t mess with Texas! =D

From Cali to Texas

I was originally born in Houston, TX but grew up in California. I love California. Every time I think of how much I love it, I see myself rolling around the sand in its beaches and deserts and on its dirt in the mountains. I’ll leave it at that, otherwise I’ll never stop writing. My husband grew up in Chicago. We met in California but he’s always hated living there. He says it’s only due to the high cost of living. An average house on sale for $500,000? It’s ridiculous — and I don’t blame him to think it absurd. Either way, I love it there and I can’t see myself living anywhere else. I have lived in Wyoming and now — Texas.

I can’t say it’s horrendous where we live now. The town is small and safe. There isn’t much to do here — which used to drive me insane (because we lived here before) but this time I don’t mind it at all. As a matter of fact, it’s just what I need at the moment. I can focus on my writing, my mixing (yes, I’m trying to be a dj), and my other interests. I don’t have family in my business, though I do miss them terribly, and I am far from fast food. There are a few fast food places in town but we only have one favorite. So, it’s not that bad.

It was last winter when we made the decision to move back and believe me, I was crushed. I held it together well and I fooled my mom that I think she’s resentful because she believes I truly want to be here. In reality, I agreed because it made sense and because they say to get out of your comfort zone for change. My husband wanted to start his own business and a friend here was going to help him get started. My middle child needed his own space now and well, we just couldn’t go on living bunched up in the fifth wheel in my parents driveway. Something had to change and I finally pushed on that stuck domino.

Now you know a bit of what’s currently happening. I’m horrible at short stories. LOL. My goal was to get you guys caught up. From here on I’ll post about things that we do here — maybe some thoughts, challenges. I have a feeling this year will be amazing and I’ll love to share it on here. I’m keeping a positive attitude and staying optimistic as it is my true nature to be. (Did that make sense? Ha-Ha — I’m tired — I’m not going to worry about it for now. LOL). =D

Till next time…XOXO.

Third reason why I stopped blogging…

Third reason why I stopped blogging…my husband.

My husband left Texas kicking and screaming. We were already holding on by a thread to keep our marriage going. The decisions didn’t come easy but I can honestly say I have done it all for my children and for the memory of all the men and women who have served in our military. Many times I wished I could have left my husband and started fresh somewhere new in California. At the same time, how could I leave him? What would I tell my children years down the road when they find out that their father was having serious problems with his PTSD and I just quit? Whatever happened to “through sickness and in health”? And what about his great sacrifice to serve his country?

My condition was that we move to California and that he’d visit the VA and see a therapist. My husband hated me. I could feel it and he was just so mean at times. That was the first year in Cali. The second year was up and down and with many other problems coming into the picture, I didn’t really pay attention to our marital issues.

That third year seemed to have a great start. My husband was supportive and it’s like a switch went off and he got me — he got our marriage. It was around April that the opportunity of moving back to Texas came up. I wanted to stay in California so bad but it was appearing to be the impossible achievement. I had high hopes with Benjamin in school now and I’d be able to focus on my writing and working as a substitute teacher. I had several plans for our next move and was feeling less stressed. Then, Benjamin’s bus situation began. Shortly after, my husband began bringing up moving back to Texas. After that, problems with my parents, with Benjamin’s summer school, with his regular school, my mom falling, us bonding, my dad and I fighting…it just seemed as if the problems were coming one after the next. We had to move and fast.

December came and I was feeling defeated. My husband’s friend offered him a job in Texas and I raised my white flag and surrendered.

That’s it in a nutshell. I’ll leave all the details for later.

We’re back in our Texas home. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. I do have my conditions but I am so much more relaxed.

There, I’ve covered my drama in 2017 for the most part. The next posts will be about my new life in Texas. 😉

Never Too Late to Stand Up to Your Parents — You Just Might Learn Something About Yourself

Continuing on about why I had stopped blogging for so long…my parents.

I tend to go on and on and give too many details but I’ll try my best to get to the point. Ha-ha. Yea, right. So, (I’m really trying to find a good place to start here bc I have too much on them also. lol) we had moved from San Diego to North California, to Texas and back to San Diego. Why we moved back to San Diego? That’s another desperate housewife story that I have saved for another blog. Oh geesh. Ok, so, we bought an rv and we were staying on my parents driveway. (I feel I have to say all this because as my blogs continue, you can tie everything together later on.) I had told my husband we couldn’t move close to my family but for reasons I just will not know, we ended up right on their driveway where we lived for three years. Well, one year was in the house with them and two years in our fifthwheel on their driveway. I hated it.

In the beginning I tried to make the best of it because I very much wanted to be back in California. As the years went by though, the past hurt I carried for many years, inflicted by my parents, just dragged me down. There is so much to say but for now I’ll just speak of what was going on after May/June 2017 that kept me from blogging.

When my parents began meddling, judging and criticizing me about the decisions I was making as a mother, I just allowed all the resentment I had been carrying for over twenty years to consume me and I began getting depressed. I gained about thirty pounds and lost motivation for writing. I knew I had to get out of there or I was going to die. Seriously. That is how I felt. The days went by so desperately slow. I felt every morning I was just looking forward to the end of the day, the end of the week, the end of the month, the end of the year. There had to be good things coming. I just knew I couldn’t stay there. At the same time, it had been an ideal situation while my youngest, Benjamin, went through his screaming phase. Where else could we have gone? He was wild and defiant and screaming like a crazy kid. Another convenience was that my parents would help me some with the kids. Just having them around served as a distraction for my middle son while most of my energy and attention was going on Benjamin. My parents also helped me deal with a serious situation my oldest got himself into (save for another blog).

Every time I wanted to leave, I had reasons to stay and reasons for feeling gratitude also. It was a double edged sword. I was grateful for so many things but also resentful. I decided to use this time to confront my parents and get all this hurt out. OH BOY. OH BOY. It was a war zone at times. When I wasn’t confronting my mother about something, I was confronting my father. After we yelled and cried and hugged, then I’d be fighting with my husband. It was as if everyone wanted a turn. It was a difficult time bc I still had to stay focused on my kids and make sure they weren’t around during the explosions. I won’t go into details for now.

When my mother had her accident, things really began to change. As awful as it was, it was also the best thing that ever happened for our relationship. She couldn’t walk for three months and needed help for almost everything, at first. It was during this time that she just became a different person.

Every morning Benjamin and I went inside the house and had our breakfast. Benjamin spent time with her and then he’d go on his own to play. I loved mornings. My mother and I really bonded. She couldn’t walk away and needed my help. It was perfect. As bad as it might sound, I loved these months. Did I say I loved these three months?

I asked my mother a gazillion questions and got to know much about my father’s side of the family and some of her own side. She was hesitant on giving me too much info on her side of the family and I still wonder why the secrecy. I have come to my own conclusions. To wrap this up, I just would like to say how important I believe it is to know your parents. I mean really know them. By knowing them a little better, I got to fill in the blanks of my own story. Well, not all the blanks but the most important — like the ones which were holding me back.

I do love my parents, very much. I wish we could all live together but I realize that we cannot. Not right now at least and maybe not ever — though I am hopeful that we can live close. We wound up back in Texas for now (for another blog) and I gotta say I am enjoying the peacefulness from living in the country. I think all the fighting is done with and now I can concentrate on the other side of myself. I have lots of catching up to do!

That’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll share yet another reason why I stopped blogging. YES. There’s more! ;D

They call me MOMMA BEAR

WOW. WOW. That is all I can think of at the moment. I finally have the time to sit down and type something down and I gotta start off with WOW.

Life is just amazing. I had first intended to write away on here daily and share my life with everyone. Things took a turn for sure. I don’t know where to begin. All I know is that if I start with something, the rest will follow. Hmmm…let’s see. How can I say everything that has happened in a nutshell? I will try.

Things were great. My son, Benjamin, was in a pre-K school and was learning so much. I was having time for myself and was beginning to get back into my writing. Things were falling into place. My son’s bus ride was quite long and I had a problem with him being on a school bus for an hour but my parents, the teacher and bus drivers assured me it was fine and Benjamin loved it. I tried my best to let it go until that hour bus ride home turned into two, three and even three and a half. That was it! I was livid. My parents criticized me, said I was over reacting and when I questioned the teacher, she was unresponsive. Everyone told me that I had to understand traffic was just bad in the evening. Still, I was not ok with my four year old, who had trouble communicating, still being potty trained and autistic, to be strapped down in a bus for three and a half hours. The last time he got off the bus he peed on himself and he came out of the bus with a change of clothes. That was it!

After that I called the special ed administration and they said that was absolutely not acceptable and questioned why I had let it go for as long as I did? I felt so stupid. It’s crazy how much control over me my parents still have. I allowed them to make me question myself but that was it. Not gonna happen any more. I picked my son up from school after that until the end of the year.

At his IEP meeting, I requested a closer school and he got it. I was so happy. The school was about ten minutes from us! Also, I was told my son was accepted for a summer program at another school also closer to us. I said I didn’t want my son to attend summer school but they all insisted that he should attend even if it was for a week. I found that odd but once home I shared the news with my parents and ofcourse, they too insisted that Benjamin should attend.

I was hesitant but I ended up taking Benjamin the first day of summer school. I drove him because now Benjamin was terrified of buses. Well, later that night, I noticed several bruises on his back when I took his shirt off. I saw what no mother would ever wish to see on their little ones. His chest had several bruises, his stomach too. I took pictures and for the second day of school I had him stay home. I was shaking because my first thought was “bloody murder” but, my dad told me he probably got them while playing and I was making a big deal. I couldn’t think straight. My father grew up in a tough neighborhood and he’s always saying how kids nowadays are too sheltered. I decided I needed to stay away from my parents and think for myself. The next day, I went to see the teacher and showed her the bruises. She was alarmed. She also looked stressed because it turned out that she had twelve special ed students in her classroom and one teacher assistant.

Well, to hurry up here because I have so much more to say, I contacted the principal, the special ed administration, sent out emails and left messages and finally, everyone was calling me, kissing my rear. School had begun on a Tuesday and by Friday, they had opened up a new classroom and hired the adequate amount of aides, which are required by law. The principal begged me to have Benjamin attend the rest of the summer school program but I said he wouldn’t be attending. They should have been prepared since day one. You see, the teacher admitted to me that she had no clue how he got those bruises. She said she had too many special ed students and couldn’t watch all of them. She also said that many of the special ed students are hostile and probably one of them hit my son. My son, not being able to communicate what happened with me, …, sorry…I just want to cry about it all over again. I am here to protect him and that is what I’ve been trying to do. Three and half hour bus ride? NO. I don’t think so. First day of summer school and coming home with bruises on his back, chest and stomach? I don’t think so.

I could have taken this to child protective services. I could have called the police and had charges against them. I just have to admit my parents voice and opinions held me back but it really bothered me for several months the “not knowing what happened”.

Well, we continued enjoying our summer and I was determined to make it a fun one. We visited the beach, went to the pool, the parks, etc. I was glad to devote my time to my children.

Then, my son turned five but he didn’t make the cut off date for kindergarten so he began pre-K at his new school. We were once again excited and optimistic for that fresh start. I met the principal, the teachers, visited the classroom and was pleased with the staff. That first day was wonderful. The teacher was so kind and cheerful. I just knew we’d become good friends by the end of the year. The second day my car wouldn’t start, so my son was late. I felt awful but fortunate the school was close enough so he was only a few minutes late. Then, something so tragic happened — my mother slipped and fell and hit her head on a metal bar. It was so scary because it came so close to hitting her temple — centimeters away. She didn’t want us to call for an ambulance so we helped her get in my car and took her to the hospital where they concluded she had a fractured knee and wrist. We were so amazed that was all because she fell HARD…really hard. There was no way she came out with just that. No bruise on her head, nothing. No bumps. Nothing. It was a miracle.

So, I had been rushing from here to there and was late to pick up my son. As I ran across the school parking lot, heading to the office in a frantic state bc now I worried my son would wonder where I was, the teacher’s aide is just screaming at me across the lot. I stop and look her way. She is screaming at me and tells me my son is in the office and then she points at me and shouts, “Tomorrow is short day and you better be on time!” I was shocked but I continued to run to the school office to get my son. In the office, I see the teacher and she’s talking with another parent. When she acknowledges me I apologize and mention my mother fell and I had to take her to the hospital. She says, “Yes, I know,” and continues talking with the parent. I’m feeling puzzled bc I just got yelled at by the TA and now the teacher says she knew my mother was in the hospital. She didn’t know! It wasn’t in the news! She just didn’t care. Besides, I was only about ten to twelve minutes late. Still, I felt horrible. I couldn’t get over it and thought about it all that night. The next day, I was sure we were on time in the morning and I wanted to apologize to the teacher. I asked her for a moment of her time and explained again how my mother had fallen and I was terrified and driving around to get her to a hospital. The teacher showed no empathy whatsoever. She said, “I know. That is why I gave you my card so you could call me to let me know if you’ll be late.” I said, “I’m sorry Mrs. X but you never gave me your card.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No mam, you didn’t.”

— I usually let it go and accept fault and not think much about it but their attitude was just really getting me pissed by now. I had all the stress from my mother falling and the stress for being the first days of back to school. I knew she must be under a lot of stress but so was I and if I was being civil, I didn’t understand what her problem was all of a sudden. It was so bizzare. The first day she had been a dream and by the second and third day she was a completely different person. I had even introduced her to my parents that first day and she was so delightful. I was expecting that when I told her the news about my mother, that she’d show some empathy and ask how she was doing. Something. I had even spoken to the school secretary and said why my son was not attending the fourth day of school. I said we were going to visit my mother in the hospital. The school secretary, who did not know me at all, said, “Oh my goodness. Yes, that is an emergency. I hope your mother gets well soon.” —

The teacher rolled her eyes as she walked to her purse, took out a business card and handed it to me.

“I’ll give it to you again.”

I was shocked! Never in my whole entire experience with teachers had I experienced something like this. Like that whole year. Six months had gone by, three schools and I had a complaint on all three. The first, super long bus ride. The second, my son comes home bruised up the first day. Now, this third school, I get barked at by the TA and the teacher is rolling her eyes and lacks empathy.

Again, my parents begin telling me to let it go. They tell me that my son’s education is more important than how I am being treated. But I can’t let it go. No, I have way too much against the teachers. I’ve been listening to all these “experts” and it’s gotten me nowhere. I then chose not to take my son to that school too. I figured, my son is only in pre-K, we shouldn’t be going through all this stress. I figured I’m going to sing like a canary and somebody better start listening bc I have a year before it will be mandatory that he attends kinder and I am going to practice now on how to get good quality education for my son.

I called the principal and she also asked about my mother and empathized. I also called the special ed administration and was told I had enough to call the district’s “x” department (forgot the name but it’s where you file a complaint against the teachers/school/district). It’s not much what I’m asking for. I just want my son to be safe, number one. Number two, caring teachers who show respect to the children and their families. With that, we can all work the rest out. I am the parent that volunteers and helps from home even. I had always been on the teachers side since I have worked in the school system myself since 1994. I’ve been the TA for elementary grades, the Substitute teacher for 1st-12th grades and an early learning assessor for pre-K classrooms. I had never been on the helpless parent side.

OMg. I guess I took up much time telling you guys about this incident and it’s a lot. I’ll stop now and continue with another topic tomorrow. So much has happened. Too much. So much but for now, I’ll just let you guys know that I chose to stay as a full-time mom again and teach my son myself. After all, I am very much qualified. I do want him to socialize with other children, that is important, but for now, we’re staying home and studying a little bit and having loads of fun. Most of all, I’m loving him and cherishing each day. In August sometime, he’ll go to kinder and that’ll be it. So, while I have my parents questioning my approach, I believe my son is doing much better now and we have put the screaming years behind us. There’s no rush. I have nothing more important to do than be with him.

So, that’s one chunk of what’s been happening with me and why I had to stop blogging. Things are much calmer now so, stay tuned. *wink =)

(I’ve said so much and I’m not going to edit. I apologize in advance for the errors.)

LOVE BIG OR GO HOME

Old man shoots AT&T trucks

OH EM GEE…the world is going mad. lol

So, I come across a video on Facebook of an older man holding a gun and shooting…shooting…SHOOTING–AT&T service trucks! WHAT IN THEEE HEEEELL? I beging reading the articles I found online only because I wanted to know what would cause this man to do this? I always give the benefit of the doubt but to my surprise, it was just wrong! LOL

As it turns out, the short version, the man was mad that the trucks parked infront of his driveway and apparently, he went “bananas”. =O

He was arrested and his bail was set to $30,000! Ay, AY, AY.

What do you guys thinks about this? Crazy, huh?

(please be respectful and tactful if commenting…thank you)