We had a rough morning.

Michael is transitioning again, I think. He will be two in only a few short weeks. Twenty one months, corrected age. I’ve lost track of his developmental age. It varies from area to area.

He still has too many baby like tendencies. Cries like an infant. Sometimes wakes like one, too. That was last night and early, early this morning. Unable to settle himself. He never learned the skill.

He is like an old man, at times, too. Too set in his ways, his routines, his schedules. There is no in between for him. No give.

He has started to display a few toddler like qualities. He understands now, a little anyway, when I’m angry at him. That he is in trouble. And he says something that sounds like, “sorry Mommy!” He has started saying, “yeah” instead of answering “no” to absolutely everything. And he learned how to ask for a drink. That was big. He used to, until just a few short weeks ago, just scream and cry until I guessed. Now he mumbles, “ink” when he’s thirsty.

I am thinking of Emma. Wondering if the speech she spent so long preparing for has happened, yet. She got another new teacher yesterday. This should be her final one for the year, though. She has had a total of three. It’s kind of ridiculous. A school board should always be putting the needs of the students ahead of the needs of the faculty. But what do I know? Yesterday, her new teacher gave the students their order for the speeches today. Em was either third or fourth. She couldn’t remember. She was nervous. Asked me to listen to her practice it again this morning while I got dressed.

It was good. Better than I thought she was capable of. I am proud of her.

I am thinking of Kate. Wondering if the cough medicine I gave her this morning is still working it’s magic. It has been a terrible winter for all of us in terms of getting sick. One virus after another has made it’s way through the house. I blame whoever is sending their child to school, sick, even though I did it this morning. Both of the girls have missed too much school, I think, because of being sick. And Kate wasn’t too bad off. Kate was nervous this morning, too. That isn’t like her. She has loved school since the first morning she boarded the bus like her big sister. She cries on holidays because she misses her friends. Now she’s nervous and apprehensive. Two bullies in her class. One from last year named Olivia. She spits in Kate’s face. Punches her. Pinches her. Slaps or kicks or bites her. I have been in constant communication with Kate’s teacher about this little girl. I am finally fed up. And am now going over Ms. A’s authority and contacting the principal. Enough is enough. It’s not getting done. The second bully, Gauge (poor kid didn’t stand a chance with a name like that…it makes me think of tires or piercings…which gauge do you want?) sent another student to the ER last Thursday. Punched him so hard in the face they had to call an ambulance.

This is kindergarten in 2009.

I am thinking of my girls. Both of them. And loving them more than I ever have, if that’s possible.

It’s funny, this single parenthood gig. It is one of the hardest shows to run and yet…

I wouldn’t change it. I like being a single mother. My children have been my universe for so long now, it’s kind of nice not to have to share the galaxy with another.

(It’s not what you think. Don and I are fine)

I am thinking of the dark haired little peanut swimming around inside my tummy, making my uterus pinch with the stretching of a fourth time and making my eyelids droop before ten o’clock at night. I thinking of her, wondering how she will fit into this crazy ass family I’ve got. Wondering not IF she’ll fit in, but how. Babies have a way of teaching us, don’t they? Mostly when we’re not aware there’s a lesson in play.

I am thinking of Rock. How he has managed to disappoint me yet again. I wish I had the luxury of being surprised. But that passed away with the Christmas that almost was at his house. I no longer feel my jaw drop. Only my head. He’s at it again. Worse than ever. And I can’t list the ways he’s showing his true colours. Too public here, for starters. And pretty boring for any of you not really up to date.

Sometimes I wish he would just walk away entirely.

Most of the time, I can’t admit that.

I am thinking that “The Hour I First Believed”, so far, is Wally Lamb’s best piece of work. I am thoroughly addicted and remembering how I’ve missed him. I keep glancing over at on the angel table to my right as I tap this out. I can’t wait to get back to it. Snag a few more lines.

I am thinking that I am also addicted to the show, “Big Love”. I started watching it on DVD over the weekend. And I can’t wait to lose myself in another episode tonight. Then I can take the DVDs back and rent some more.

It’s fucking me up how evil Harry Dean Stanton is in that show, though. Really fucking me up.

I am facebook friends with Michael Jackson again. I think I spared all of you the excitement and the drama when it happened the first time in December. It’s far less exciting now. For one thing, it’s not as personal. He learned his lesson, I guess, and now we all have to lose out. For the record, please don’t bother with anything mean about MJ in the comment block. I love him. I can’t help it.

I have been tagged four times on facebook for some twenty five things thing that is floating around. I don’t want to do it. That’s what blogging space is for. I can’t get started on facebook, too. But I’ll probably do it.

Hey. Did Stiva ever do his letter? He sucks.

Don never completed his, either. He also sucks.

And on that note, I’ll hit play again and get back to it. Here’s my motto for the month:

“Coffee first…then your mundane bullshit”.