Azi called me a "Bum Ho" this evening. I'm really hoping it was just an unfortunate coalescence of sounds in her jibberish. First I said, "wait, did you just call me a bum hole?" kind of shocked and amused. She said, "Nooooo! I said Bum HO." "Oh," I said, and turned my smile away. I made no more of it.

I netflix'd a bunch of Weeds, and just sent them back after watching the first 2 episodes. I wanted to like it; I liked what I knew of the premise (mom sells pot to support her family after her husband's death, no more). But when she says, in the second episode, "I'm selling pot to maintain my lifestyle!" and I realized that was true, the show totally lost me. Her lifestyle is rich suburban mom with a full-time MAID in a McMansion. I just can't get interested in a character who's so dedicated to maintaining that status that instead of getting a job and maybe moving into smaller house or (god forbid!) an apartment, or just getting rid of the freakin maid, she sells pot to other rich parents and acts all scrupulous and desperate about it. Oh, and sometimes hangs out with the suppliers who somehow sell ounce upon ounce of weed to dealers and don't seem to see much profit (judging from their more modest 'lifestyle.') A show about them, I would watch.

I can get behind the mj, I can get behind dealing, I just can't get interested in her lifestyle or in her. I don't know what this is triggering for me, but some kind of class-related resentment no doubt.

We went to visit another school today, this time without Azi along. It's the 3rd "alternative" school we've visited. We liked one a lot, we LOVED another one, and this one, not so much. The gay vice principal giving the introduction and tour was sweet, but talked for way too long about the history of the site (ok, yes, we're as excited as you that this was once a horse pasture) and the building and the auditorium, and couldn't really answer in more than the vaguest terms what was alternative about the education style.

And then we sat in the 2 K/1 classes for a while. And they sucked. In one, the kids were sitting rows. Actual rows. Facing the teacher and working quietly. And then they had group time, where they chanted like little robots, "Yesterday was Monday, February fourth. Today is Tuesday, February fifth. Tomorrow..." Yeah. And the other classroom was sitting in group time when we came in, too. This classroom was better (clusters, no rows), but the group time consisted of the teacher explaining this chart she had made about ho many teeth the kids had lost, and how they were supposed to mark how many teeth they had lost in boxes next to the numbers 1 through 5-or-more. And then she pointed out the numbers verrry slowly and counted 1-5, with the kids, verrry slowly. And then she said that she had lost all her baby teeth, so should mark the 5-or-more box, and proceeded to point at each of the boxes and ask, "is this 5? is this 5?" Holy shit, these are 5-7 year olds, lady. They can count to freaking 5! Azi (any kid) would be bored out of her skull with that level of teaching. I felt like most of my elementary school years were (academically) a waste of time in their total lack of stimulation, and I don't want to subject her to that.

And here's what pisses me off the most. This is the school closest to us (it's like 3 blocks away). It's by far the most diverse school we've visited-- the K/1 classrooms were probably 60-70% kids of color. They have a great arts curriculum, it's K-12, all mixed age classrooms (and the high schoolers get to be TAs for the younger grades), good outdoor space, some good resources it seems... so why such lackluster teachers? Why such traditional teaching methods in an alternative school? I got the sense that for older kids, it's an awesome school. But for a young elementary kid, when you're with the same teacher basically all day, the quality of that teacher makes or breaks your whole school experience.

Diversity is really high on my list of important qualities in education. I'm bummed that the most diverse alternative school has such sucky teachers. I don't want Azi bored in a school just for the sake of diversity, I don't think. Although, in the long run, maybe that matters more? It's hard to sort out.

The school we loved (with the hippie music teacher leading the kids in anti-war songs, and the big digging area outside, and the Outward Bound expeditionary learning philosophy, and the cool teachers and NO ROWS), was of course, way too white. Not blindingly, but still yuckily. The school we liked but didn't love (the K teacher seemed great, and the learning was def alternative, but she seems a little burned out) was much more diverse. Maybe we should put that as our first choice? I don't know.

Anyway, the highlight of this visit was the little Kindy boy who was visiting with his mama. He was this little rockstar kid in a manual wheelchair. Adorable. Kept raising his hand to tell the vice principal things. Went crazy rolling around the gym when the tour went in there, whirling around his mom, wheeling back, doing twirls. He loved how fast he could go on the smooth floor (raised his hand to tell the VP that), and loved it when I told him how fast he was. When the tour was going upstairs (at which point I was wasted and had to leave anyway), and the VP didnt even seem to notice he was leading a small group which included one wheelchair and one walker, the kid was like, "I'm not going up THERE! And she [me] needs an elevator too!" I wished we had brought Azi so she could meet another disabled person, and one who was just like her (he was) and in a wheelchair. I want her to be exposed to "normal" disabled people, instead of SICK disabled people like me, so she doesn't associate disability with sickness and inability. I'm afraid she's getting a very warped idea.

I wish I had gotten his mama's number or something, but I didn't know how to approach her without her thinking I wanted a token crip kid for my kid to play with, and I didn't want her to think that I assumed we had anything in common just because I had a walker and her kid had a wheelchair. You know that thing? That thing that makes me sometimes look away when I go by an elderly person also using a walker, like-- "don't think I'm like you just because we both have these old lady things" and sometimes makes them look away when they see me. Like, if you smile at another crip you acknowledge that you're both in this club you really don't want to be in. When I use a wheelchair, the walker people smile at me because they can, because they can pity me from up there like the regular people. I didn't want the mama thinking I was like that.

We just a lot of really rich Indian food. Nothing has made me feel this right in months. I fucking love Indian Food. I just had to tell someone.

I'm just freaking out. These people on the Lyme discussion boards talk about their years of oral and IV antibiotics, and they're not better yet. Just more and more antibiotics, in various combinations. People have been posting just today about ear-ringing and deafness they've experienced with Azithromycin, one of the drugs I'm supposed to start next week. I'm reaking out. Totally. I need to start reading the herbal patients, but that's a yahoo group and It's hard to figure out for some reason.

Luckily, I just started bleeding, so maybe I'll be able to calm a bit soon.

Ben got me a banjo for Christmas. I know, right? I've had this affinity for banjos for a long time, since before frequenting the Cantab Bluegrass night in Cambridge in my early/mid twenties. I just like banjos: the shape, the sound, the mood. But honestly, I don't know a whole lot about Old Tymey, bluegrass, banjo kinda music. I just don't. But I've occasionally mentioned wanting to play the banjo. I just never expected to actually get one or learn to play.

He bought me a beginning banjo book, too, and found a video at the library to help me learn. A really incredibly sweet gift, all around. I almost cried.

It's been a long, long time since I've been truly surprised and delighted by a gift. I usually know what I'm getting, like a gift certificate or some book or CD I've asked for, or money from my parents to go towards what I want (like the adult trike a couple of years ago). This was the first out of the blue, totally thoughtful, big gift since I was a kid, I think.

I have one asshole, selfish, slap-me-now complaint about it, which I am not voicing to him. It's a new one, a "beginner's" one, and I think I would have preferred an older used one. He did mention that the older ones they had were all really nice ones, and not near this (lowest) price range, but I kind of wish he had checked around at other banjo stores a bit. I like the idea of an older, previously played, one a bit more, for whatever musician karma and greasy fingerprints it might have. Ok, jerk time over. I do love it. I have a banjo!

I get so annoyed that Azi doesn't play with her toys in her room, like hardly at all. Maybe a tea party with her tea set, as long as I'm in attendance. She only plays with things that are not-toy objects, which is all well and good, and even better imo than relying on plastic crap for entertainment, BUT she also refuses to give away most of the plastic crap in her room. She has this messy small room packed with toys she never looks at (gifts from grandparents, mostly, some stuff we bought that she was into for a couple of weeks, etc.), but then when I start cleaning it out and trying to give shit away she's like, "no, I like to play with that!"

I don't relish the idea of being a parent who throws stuff [toys] out when they're kid's not looking, but I'm realizing it's sometimes necessary. Like, for example, at holiday time when a new set of crap is arriving daily in the mail from Boston and Albany.

Luckily, this morning, she volunteered to give away her large legos (to her preschool classroom) and her racing track set, and some puzzles she never much liked. And here's where I'm having trouble separating my ego from her and her decisions. I like puzzles, I want her to like puzzles. She sorted through her "stuffies" and removed only the ones I happen to feel real attachment to-- Madeline, the giraffe, the moose, Trudy the plain little Waldorf doll-- and kept everything else. It's like she knows... she's actively differentiating herself. That's cool. But it's weird to notice my attachment and ego arise so strongly in relationship to this stuff. I, of course, want Waldorf Trudy to be her favorite, but instead it's her froofy unicorn with the golden horn.

Anyway, the room is in a state of total disarray, and everything started bouncing and tilting so hard I had to give up the cleaning project (oh, maybe 1/2 hr into it), so it might stay in this state for a long time. Unless Ben feels moved to take over, but, uh, organizing's not his strong suit. He took Azi out to the Pacific Science Center just now so I can rest, which I deeply appreciate. [Most of the time, he's a really generous and understanding and loving guy. But that's another story.] I hate having like a 1/2hr window during which I can do something semi-productive, and then being knocked down the rest of the day. Sucks.

The book I have on Lyme says, "IgG is somewhat more accurate." And that what shows positive for me. The book also says that if band 41 plus one other band is positive, you should consider yourself positive. I have 41, and 3 of the other Lyme-specific indicators, so I think it's pretty much that.

And now I have to proceed with researching treatment options. The author of this book on healing Lyme with an herbal protocol says that antibiotics tend to be pretty ineffective in long-term cases (and I think I read that this is especially so when the spirochetes have primarily attacked the neurological system, as in my case), and that if 30 days of abx don't work, give up on them and do the herbs. I know that the naturopath I see is of the school of thought that it can take 1-2years, YEARS, of abx to be cured. And there are a bunch of other opinions on the matter... I'm not sure whose to go with. The fact that blue's friend had a case similar to mine and healed himself with the herbal protocol is very encouraging of going that route, as is the risk of abx-- beyond developing an allergy, the tetracycline family is potentially ototoxic in high doses (ototoxicity can cause permanent vestibular damage and hearing loss), and then there's abx-resistent stuff. Does being on abx long-term make you more vulnerable to those type of infections?

Anyway, I also have to deal with the mind-fuck of almost 17 years of an undiagnosed illness. I don't even know where to begin with that, but I've lost a whole lot of sleep in the past few days. I don't feel like I can fully accept this diagnosis, mostly because I am so used to not having one. I can't make sense of what I feel right now, and Azi's waiting to make cookies with out new cookie cutters now.

It snowed a little in Seattle this morning, which was a comforting sight after a short and fitful night's sleep.

I'm so confused about this Lyme thing. Got that ridiculously expensive testing, and 2 weeks later went in for the appt with the naturopath to review the results... and the weren't there. The only result that was there was my CD57, which was low, which "basically only happens in Lyme." What basically meant, I have no idea, since she decided to send me away and have me come back the next week (she's only there one day a week) when the Igenex results would be in. So then her office called Monday to say she had to cancel her appointments for Wednesday, for some reason they would not explain (I hope she's ok), and that she didn't have an opening for 2 more weeks but she might be opening up a Monday and they would call me back to schedule that. They didn't call back all week.

So, meanwhile I called the Bastyr lab myself and asked them in I could come pick up a copy of the results, or if they could mail or email them or something, and no one called back. So two days later I called again and they finally did call back to say they were in the mail.

Ok, so I got them today. Igenex tests all the "bands" for both IgM and IgG antibodies, and according to IgM, I am negative, but according to IgG, I'm positive. Same thing with this particular form of Babesia-- another tick-borne co-infection, *but* one mostly/only found in the Northwest. Is it possible I've had Lyme all along and then just happened to get another tick-borne disease in the 2.7years I've been in the NW? And the number for the IgG Babesia thingy was pretty high, but why would that be high and the IgM be totally negative???

If anyone knows anything about antibodies and how they work, fill me in, yeah?

And I also found a couple of weeks ago that my iron is still way low, despite all the dark greens I've eaten and all the friggin Floridix I've taken. A brief google search revealed that non-heme iron is not only mostly unabsorbable by the body, but that spinach and other greens (along with whole grains, coffee, chocolate, etc.) contain this stuff-- oxalates and phytates, I believe?-- which BLOCKS iron absorption. Like actively blocks it. So, all of this work I've put into changing my diet to mostly greens, whole grains, beans/tofu (uh, and yeah, some coffee and chocolate) to raise my iron has actually worked against it.

I'm taking the prescription iron supplement now, with 1000mg of Vitamin C, and seriously planning to start eating liver... or at least a steak. Can my mostly-veggie gut take it? I digest salmon once a week or so, so cow shouldn't be huge jump, right?

I'm feeling so depressed and frustrated and scared. What else is new?

After losing hours of sleep last night wondering what today's appt with the Lyme-literate doctor would bring, and then moving through many stages of anxiety in the waiting area, she didn't even have the test results back from Igenex yet. Igenex is the only lab that does this super turbo advanced Lyme testing...which is still possibly not decisive, but it can give clues, or rule it out I suppose. I had to pay out of pocket for it because Medicaid doesn't pay for things like advanced Lyme testing, and they told me it would be $450 (plus another $100 for a CD57 test from another lab), and I got the bill earlier this week-- well, the receipt, since I had to give my credit card info with the blood-- and it was freaking $750-- how they gonna bump it up $300 and not tell me? How can any segment of a humane society charge someone who receives a grand total of $415 per month in SSI benefits $750 for a fucking blood test? WE NEED SOCIALIZED HEALTH CARE. Like real socialist health care, where rich people can be charge $2000 for this test so poor people can pay $10. From each according to his means, people, please! But, no, rich people get super turbo health insurance which pays for all this shit, and poor people have to pay out of pocket. Self-perpetuating class divisions.

So, no Lyme results today, but at least she didn't charge me for the appt, and we rescheduled for next week (she's only at the Bastyr clinic on Wednesdays, and seeing her in her private practice costs about double). BUT, she had the CD57 results, which is a specific immune system thingamabob, and mine is low, which she says, "basically only happens in chronic Lyme." I'm scared to google what else it happens in. It wasn't lowlowlow, but it was well under the range of normal. She says it's an indicator of Lyme the way that low T-cells is an indicator of HIV-- not absolutely diagnostic, but (to be redundant) indicative.

And now I have a whole bunch of research to do on the socio-political oppressions of the trans population for a presentation in my multicultural counseling class, which I was supposed to be working on steadily all quarter. I haven't worked on it much at all, what with relationship trauma/drama (which is surprisingly really good right now), and health worsening wondering exhaustion worry.

Plus, everything is overwhelming me. The house is a pigsty and I can't even start cleaning, because it's all so much more than I can possibly do. I have photo album projects halfway done and I am too overwhelmed to proceed with the next step. I'm just so tired. I haven't knit anything in a long time, and have like 5 projects I wanted to do for Christmas. I just tried searching for patterns and there is so much I can't make sense of anything and I don't know what the good websites to search are, and I'm sitting here with crap all around me and all over the floor and why am I even contemplating starting some knitting project when I don't have the energy to clear off the couch.

I need to cook something healthy because my child hasn't had vegetables since she had the stomach flu last week (except for some peas in her TJs mac 'n cheese), but the kitchen counter is disgusting and by the time I finish cleaning it I won't have energy to cook anymore. So, I wait for someone else to clean it but B doesn't believe in clean counters so it never gets done. Unless I want to ask him to clean it, at which point he'll act like I'm a huge demanding bitch and stomp around cleaning it and still do a half-assed job, and the counter will still be too cluttered or messy to cook on.

Mac 'n' cheese and peas again, I guess. Who needs protein, right?

I'm just like 20x more depressed when the house is disgusting like this. It really affects my whole ability to cope with life. I get so mad that B has all of this energy and doesn't use any of it to make our house livable, unless I argue with him to do it. He just goofs off on the internet when he's supposedly "working" (he's behind in 3 of 4 classes), and uses his energy to play with Azi so she never learns to entertain herself. Meanwhile, the whole house is covered in crap and I'm immobilized by the magnitude of energy it would take to clean it. Like 1/20th of B's energy for a day, and an entire week of my energy (if no one adds to the mess during that week). Not fair.

I'm exhausted. I'm so tired of feeling like shit and doing everything I do through the haze of serious shitfeeling.

I'm also starting to do my crazy craigslist searching for places to live in other places. This holiday weekend made me think a lot about my grandmother Marnie, who died this past Spring, and the Thanksgivings we spent at her little tin shack in New Jersey. (Really, it was made of tin, or some such. Even the interior walls were metal. She used magnets to hang things on the walls.) We went to the little veggie potluck our friends have, and that was nice and all, but I felt so lonely afterwards. My family drives me mad, and I pretty much hate my sister and everything she stands for, but I feel a sense of obligation, and desire, to be closer to my parents. And Ben's family, too.

But now that I might have Lyme disease (I'll know more on Wednesday), I'm becoming scared of moving back East and exposing myself again, and exposing Azi more. This book I'm reading says that it's found in mosquitos, too, not just ticks, and in the urine of animals and thus all over the ground in the woods. My germophobia is high, and I think if we moved back east, I'd never walk barefoot or go outside during mosquito season. That would suck.

I like that there are hardly any mosquitos in Seattle.
I miss the snow.
I like seeing the mountains in all directions.
I like the school options for Azi here.
I like the friends we've made.
I miss my other friends.

B says, "I don't like the thought of standing on some slushy street corner in Cambridge, waiting for a bus." "Really? I do," I say. So, he mostly wants to stay, I think, but won't say it firmly, because he also misses being close to his family. He's finishing library school soon, in March, but only has one class and a portfolio to go, to theoretically, he could start working and do that one class as a distance class. We could make this decision for like, January, or for March.

I think I might just be obsessing about moving again because I'm feeling worse, and when I'm sicker my mind perseverates on ways to escape, not fully realizing that moving doesn't mean an escape from my illness. I think it's also a coping mechanism that helps keep me from falling face first into despair and depression. If only I could keep moving every year or two, but I have a partner who hates change, and even if we broke up we'd have to live in the same place to coparent.

I think I just want my mommy right now.

I'm 31 on this big juicy fog-laden Scorpio day. Happy Birthday to me!

My kid woke up at 4am with a fever (damn that flu shot) and has been awake since, but thanks to the magic of the DVD player automatically replaying the Heffalump movie, Ben and I got to go back to sleep, in our separate beds. I wonder if the waking, or the fever, are also related to the fact that we went trick-or-treating yesterday (karmamama's neighborhood commercial district has weekend daytime Halloween), and let Azi decide how much candy she wanted. Last year, it seemed to work to let her just plow through all the candy the first day; she'd take one bite of something, hand it over, and move on to try something else. She didn't end up actually consuming a whole lot. This year, she consumed a whole lot.

I went to herongrrrl's pagan church for the first time last night, with karmamama, and had an interesting time with a lot of sweet folks. It was really powerful to hear Nema's name called out, watching her mama do the spiral dance around the fire in the dark stone circle. At the end, pieces of the sweetest apple were passed around, and I thought of sweet Nema's face from the pictures, and then heard a newborn baby crying in the silence (someone in the circle had their babe with them), and it was so so heartbreaking, knowing Shaun was hearing the cry, too. I have this ache for Nema to be with us, and I know that for Shaun it's an overwhelming huge aching bottomless pit. And today, we'll celebrate her son's birthday (and mine).

Sometimes I just really really have no idea how to be a parent. I don't know what to say to Azi about our friend's baby dying. (She knows everything, it's not a question of whether to tell her, it's a question of what else to say to help her through it.) I don't even know if I am supposed to say things to make her feel *better*, or provoke her sadness so she can just cry and get it out, or comfort her fears somehow, or give her a sense of faith or something... I just don't even know what I should be trying for, so I have no idea how to talk about it with her. She went with me to S.'s house yesterday, and she saw her for the first time since it happened, and I saw Azi staring at S.'s belly and looking terrified. And then she didn't get why everyone (S.'s parents and sister and dh and S. herself) was smiling at her (adults like to act cheerful around children, so the children don't worry, I guess??), and I could tell that the dissonance between the horrible thing that happened and the smiling faces was weirding her out. I can imagine her little mind thinking that no one else seemed to care that a baby died on its way to being born, and wondering why she was the only one who felt scared and sad about it.

BUT, when I try to talk with her about how scary and sad and awful it is, she just shakes her head no, and her eyes widen, and she says nothing, or says "No, don't talk about it." And when I ask what she's feeling-- and this has been happening increasingly for the past few months, it's not just with this-- she says, "I feel nothing." She almost always answers me that way, and it's really hard for me to deal with. Why doesn't she EVER want to tell me about her feelings? Like, ever? And not even about this, which she's seen me cry and talk about, which she's obviously really affected by. She drew a picture of a "crying baby snowman" at school, she rubs her eyes and looks freaked out whenever the subject of babies comes up.

This morning her preschool teacher told us that she's pregnant, and when Azi heard, she got that wide-eyed, terrified look on her face, and I started to say, "Oh, yeah, Azi, you're thinking about the baby" and started explaining to the teacher (who already knew, but might not have realized that Azi would connect the two, and be scared for Meghan's baby), but Azi just shook her said and said "No. No, I'm not. No." She won't talk about it at all. So, I started saying reassuring things about how Meghan's baby is just fine and growing well, and almost all babies are born and live and are fine, but that S had a really awful and sad thing happen, but Meghan's baby will be ok, we hope. And I was stumbling all over myself wanting to be honest, wanting to be reassuring, wanting to make her feel better, contradicting myself. When I said "Meghan's baby will be ok" Azi smiled, but then when I corrected myself by saying, "We'll hope and hope" or something my-mom-like like that, she got scared again. I just can't not screw up when I try to talk to her.

Plus, as usual, I feel like a huge failure as a parent that she won't ever tell me what she's feeling. Her buddy was over yesterday and HE started telling me about things that happen in school, and "so-and-so hurt my feelings when he said..." and "that made me sad when..." and I was like, WHY doesn't my kid talk to me like that? I'm so communication oriented when it comes to relationships, and I need to talk and need to hear people's feelings, and just feel so alienated and disconnected by this lack. I'm worried that she never will open up to me, or worse, that she's learning how to seriously sublimate her feelings and actually thinks she's "feeling nothing!" She cries and has tantrums and even during a huge cry she will not admit *any* feelings. I'll be like, "Yeah, you seem really angry about that, I understand" and she scream and kick and yell, "NO, I am NOT ANGRY. I'm NOT ANYTHING!"

Well, the Buddhists weren't so bad. The extremely arrogant guy I can't stand who facilitates the meeting (which means, he wrangles us chatty women into submission, and never shares anything personal of his own) didn't come, and I actually really like his wife, who did. And the single almost-adoptive-mom-- she should get her referral from China in a few weeks-- came, and I remembered how much I love her. And I had made potato salad with a vinaigrette and avocado, which was so good. And the other guy proceeded to do *all* my dishes after the meeting. So, ok, I didn't quit. And the wife of the obnoxious facilitator announced that they are not coming after next month's meeting, so all the more reason for me to stay in. I might even look into what's involved in the facilitator training for these Kalyana Mitta groups.

But I do need to look for some kind of disabled parents support group, or even an online community. I've looked before and not found anything, but that was probably 2 years ago... there has to be a community somewhere, right? Or do crips just not procreate? I know a few moms with fibromyalgia and other chronic stuff going on, but maybe no one has such a problem with it that they need a support group around parenting while ill? I don't know. If I knew more about web page development (or whatever), I might try and start one myself.

I found a bunch of mediocre movies for sale for $.99 each and figured it's a lot cheaper than renting and I can just give them away after. So I bought twelve of them, 4 of which are for Azi. I've also been getting caught up on the L-word-- finished the first series. So, this time without a family is media heavy. And somewhat cleaning heavy (well, at least the kitchen is clean, and few rooms are vacuumed, and most of the laundry is clean and sorted and put away). I can't work for more than like 20min at a time, so not a whole lot of unpacking or setting up the house has gotten done.

But I had wanted to really catch up on sleep, and I can't seem to break the 6hr/night barrier. I am so exhausted and dizzy and depressed. I think I might have finally slept more than 6 hours last night, but Ben called at 7am, thinking I'd be up (like I was the other days), but I was actually deep in sleep, and dreaming. And he called from his Aunt's house, and while he was asking me something, his Aunt told him that Azi (who was asleep in the car in the driveway) was awake and crying. Fuck him for not being within earshot. Fuck. She was so upset, being alone in a car at a new house without daddy in sight must have been scary, plus she had woken up at 6:30 NY time, after only sleeping 7.5hrs, and then had only slept 15 minutes in the car. She needed a fucking nap, and he should have been nearby so he could keep driving her if she started waking. So, I was mad at him and worried about Azi, and then of course couldn't get back to sleep.

I ate breakfast, hardly able to walk around the house feeling so dizzy and shitty, and then laid in bed near sleep for another 2 hours without getting there.

I am so mad and exhausted and completely depressed about my symptoms being so bad after 16 years of this thing. Why does nothing make it better?? Nothing works. Everyone else finds "the thing" that works for whatever ails them, and then has this nice, neat, story to tell about how they finally found the right diet or the right homeopath or whatever. I try all this shit, year after year, and stay in the same hell.

I feel like these "rest" days were a drop in the bucket, and I need months of sleeping alone to really get into a healthy sleep schedule, and so much more rest regularly, and maybe I'm just not cut out to be a parent at all. I miss Azi, but I'm too exhausted to actually wish she were here. If she were here, I would be feeling as bad as I feel, PLUS having all of her intensity and demands and work. I just can't do it. This weekend is making me think it would be best if Ben and I split up, partly because he's out of control and angry all the time and all that, but also because it would mean that I'd have Azi just half the time. God, that makes me such an awful person, I know. I hate myself for it.

And now the self-righteous, perfect, healthy, rich Buddhists are coming over for the Dharma and parenting meeting. I can't wait to hear how their perfect lives and perfect kids and perfect massage therapy practices respond so well to their intentions, the arrogant fuckers. I think I'll tell them this week that I quit. I can't stand the direction the group has taken, and I have nothing in common with parents who are physically healthy anyway. I need to find a disabled or chronically ill parents support group.

How do people do that fancy "behind the cut" thing? Because I just watched the last episodes of Six Feet Under this weekend, and need to discuss, but I don't want to put any spoilers in where people who haven't watched it yet (but might want to!) will see. Someone told me the big event, by mistake, a few weeks ago, and I knew the "secret" in that Sixth Sense movie before seeing it, and that stuff sucks.

Anyway, I don't see anything on this Update Journal page about a "cut"...

"You poop out your eyeballs!" and other such witticisms are coming out of my daughter. Frequently. Now, I like poop humor, and have encouraged it by laughing and participating. But sometimes it gets mean, and meaner when she's actually angry, and I'm starting to realize that laughing at that stuff will give her the idea that she can throw around poop insults (if not actual poop) at people when she's angry at them. And I don't want her to be some mean bully girl who yells "You stink like poopy armpits," and makes other kids cry. So, I need to delicately address the difference between poop jokes, all in good fun (uh, like when she says she wants "a pickle and poop sandwich, please"-- that shit's kinda funny-- and poop insults, directed at another person.

On an unrelated note, I recently started knitting her a pink and red backback, because she needs a backpack. I was going to put a pixie pocket on it (a la marnie of curlypurly) and surprise her with it, maybe for her birthday. But Ben, not knowing it was a secret, told her, and she was completely disappointed and announced to me that she does NOT want a knitted backpack, she wants a WONDERPETS one. Does anyone else have a Wonderpets-obsessed child? I like them, they sing opera, they work together to save little animals, they learn about geography a little. But they don't even make freakin Wonderpets backbacks, do they? I found an iron-on Wonderpets thing on ebay... Maybe I can find some cheap plain backpack with an area big enough for the iron-on. I like the

And give my lovely knitted creation, when it's done, to someone who likes it. Bah.

I have a nasty cough which started with tickle on Saturday and has steadily gotten worse since. "Mama, you catched it." Yes, yes I did. (She's had a cough for 2-3 weeks, and has ear infections, too.) But the post-worthy thing about this cough is that, when I cough, which is all the freakin time, I pee. Yes, I tore a whole lot when I gave birth, and this peeing while coughing/sneezing/laughing thing has been a problem since. I do kegels, not like all the time, I should do more, but I think my urethral nerves--or whatever they'recalled-- were damaged, because the kegels I have done have not made the problem better. At all. It's usually a Few Drops Problem, or a Tiny Trickle Problem. Sometimes requiring an underwear change, usually I just stuff a bit of toilet paper in there and the drops will be on that. (Sorry if that's gross to anyone.)

But anyway, this cough is some kind of turbo charged cough from spasmodic hell, and I am soaking through pants. I've gone through 3 prefolds today, I have one stuffed in my crotch right now. I'm drinking tons of tea, and going to the bathroom a lot, but even one sip in my bladder, and this cough will zone in on it and squeeze it out.

I should do more kegels.

Oy, I thought I could tell the difference. But no, apparently.

So, the class I'm taking (today was the last day!) is full of these fresh from college straight chicks with, like, trendy jewelry and expensive haircuts and stuff. My buddy in class is this sort of gruff guy, who's 30 like me, and smokes and wears roller derby sweatshirts (well, one-- tonight he had this cool rollergirls thing on)-- we're kind of on a similar page, I think, in the social scene of the program. Kind of outsiders in the sea of upper class do-gooder conservative girls. So, but also in class all term has been this dyke-- she's extremely shy so I've only said hello and stuff. I've also tried to kind of give her the subliminal we-know-we-have-something-in-common butch nod, and once she was sitting there when I was talking to Joe (derby dude) about relationships with women. You know, in case she felt like the only dyke in class. Joe was complaining about his crazy ex-girlfriend and generalized about women and I was like, "yeah, I dated women before my current partner and it's really no easier" or something corny like that.

So tonight, the three of us end up sitting together waiting for our meetings with the TA, and Joe is talking about pot smoking and she says she was so drunk and stoned once she puked (that's not nun-talk, come on!), and we get around to talking about how liberal the university is for a Catholic school, and she says how Jesuits tend to be the liberal end of Catholicism and I ask if she's Catholic and she nods quietly. And I'm like, "really? Are you practicing?" and she nods and smiles and there's this awkward pause before she says, "I'm a sister, actually." Zoinks! All along I thought the butch haircut and mannish clothes were lesbionic, but it turns out, apparently just modest. She's in the Order of the Holy Names. Not that she's not also a lesbian, just that, well, she's a nun. She's like, married to Jesus. And I feel like I said about 10 things I would have considered inappropriate in the presence of a nun.

So, now I want to get to know her, but the quarter's over, and she's way ahead of me in the program so I probably won't. My mom would be so happy if I had a nun friend.