Stay Together For The Kids??? What?

I know it’s Father’s Day and I should be confessing my love without end amen for my daddy, but honestly I can’t help but feel hurt and jipped. Don’t get me wrong. I love my dad. He’s a great man, he provided sufficient enough, he loved just enough, he was there just enough. Equal to my mother who did just enough to get by.
I’ll tell you what has my bowels all up in an uproar here.
Friday night I drove around half the evening in my car pissed off with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I had a heated blow up with my husband, and decided it would be best to go have some time to myself.
As a drove around for hours. HOURS.
I realized I have no “Home”. Nowhere for me to always come home to. No safe haven. That doesn’t exist for me. I suspect this is something fairly common in people from my generation.
You see I come from the “stay together for the children generation”. My parents did the “just enough” until they felt their children were grown, and then they flew the coop. My mom ultimately made the decision, she cheated on my father. It’s something I struggled with for many years. I blamed her for everything that ever went wrong in life and childhood for a very long time; then one day I grew up and I got over it.
This isn’t what this is about though. I’m not trying to finger point and call out names.
My point in this idea of stay together is beyond ridiculous, and though you may think it is better because then the idea of split/shared custody is out the window; ultimately it leaves the “adult grown or near adult grown child” feeling homeless and lost.
My dad and mom both went on to remarry. Both live with their new spouses in different homes then I grew up in, and I just don’t feel like I have a place.
My mom and dad both I’m sure would welcome me with open arms, but not growing up with their new significant others I honestly don’t feel welcome on their parts. Not that my step parents aren’t great.. ok my moms husband not so much… But the point is if my parents had split up early, my childhood would have been much different. My adult life would be much different, but maybe when I’m pissed off at my husband, and driving around at 1am I might feel like I had a place to go, a place to lay my head, arms to hug me, hold me, tell me he’s a jerk, it will be ok tomorrow, then give me a swift kick in my ass and get me on my way.
Don’t stay together for the children and do just enough to get by; stay together and REALLY REALLY work at it.

20140615-124854-46134599.jpg

Standard

I’m Tired

I’m tired of always feeling like a single parent, I’m tired of never having any emotional support from my husband. I’m tired of
him feeling like the only thing he has to do is financially support us.
I’m tired of being over ruled on disciplining my children. I’m tired of my husband pinning my oldest child against me.
I feel my relationship with Caiden slipping through the cracks . . . I’m just tired, and heartbroken, and lost.

Standard

Advocating For Your Babies

I’ve always felt like I’ve been the best advocate that I could possibly be for my children. Imagine my surprise when I was hit with the news not even a week ago I in fact had not been.

My middle child, my sweet biddy boy Caleb started Kindergarten this past August. After a year of preschool and working with at home he was still lacking a bit on knowing letters, and numbers but I had complete confidence in our district that they would do what was right for my child along with myself advocating for him as well.
From August until November I watched my child regress. I watched him go from a confident, sweet, always smiling child to very closed off, unhappy, and his confidence had taken a huge hit. As much as we worked with him at home I could see a disconnect. The nights were on, the wheels were turning, but he just couldn’t process.
I asked for testing to be done through our school. An ETR (evaluation team report) was administered, test results were briefly brushed over, and an IEP was “set in place”. I admit fully to the responsibility of not asking enough questions, not pushing for more answers. I was promised my child would receive 3 days individualized services, 2 days of group. He would also begin receiving speech services as well.
The year went on and I noticed no change. Caleb was not picking up, when I would work with him at home he identify 1 out of 3 letters half of the time. I hit a level of frustration wondering what was I doing wrong? How could I do more? What could I do to help his teachers? So much limited progress pushed me to have yet another meeting with his education team. I was assured that he was receiving his services, and that “they just didn’t know what else we could do”.
I had the discussion then of possibly retaining Caleb. Another year just to mature might do wonders for him? I still had not made up my mind yet.
I continued to work with him at home. I saw some progress but very little.
In May I received through the mail a letter for retention. The letter stated that we “had already had a meeting determining retention was best”. No such meeting had occurred so I refused to sign.
In the midst of all of this we recently moved; we now have a choice of 3 districts my husband urged to send to his home school, as I battled the decision of leaving my boys where they were already going, or send them to a new school the following year. After hearing several times from Caleb that he wasn’t going to his “special class I decided not a week ago I would schedule an appointment with the guidance counselor to see how his IEP would be handled there. She asked for a copy of his IEP and ETR to review.
I asked our current district for the copy, and they were very hesitant to giving me this copy.
Once at the new district I watch the guidance counselors body lau gage and find that maybe something is up with this IEP and ETR.
The guidance counselor closes the meeting by saying “I know for a fact we can do better then this”.
Cue scratching of my head in bewilderment.
After 5 reviews of 5 special education background individuals I find that this individualized education plan had in fact been a copy and pasted document that midway through they left the other child’s name “Christian” will be given the Woodcock to assess his annual progress yearly in areas of basic reading skills. Caleb will need the following interventions. . .
And it goes on.
I also find the my child’s IQ score was incredibly low. They chose not to disclose this with me more then likely because they knew this test was NOT administered correctly.
I was told he tested at 4 years and 6 months on his testing which put him behind only 6 months, yet IQ score barely had him at a functioning level.
I learned that my child had not received a second of intervention time, no time spent with a special education teacher, and rarely received speech services. I learned many things.
I’m heart broken. I feel like the highest failure a parent could possibly be. I failed my child miserably, our current district failed him; but Momma is the one person you should always be able to count on to be in your back corner advocating for you, and I didn’t. I trusted our district to do what was right. A district who had done so well with Caiden, a child who thrives.
I’ve learned a lot about trusting someone else to do right for your children.
We’ve made the decision to send to the other district, I’ve learned to NEVER EVER again sign for such a paper on the same day. Caleb is now receiving tutoring throughout the summer to hopefully get him at a level of a starting Kindergartener. He’s receiving speech services outside of the home, and this mommy plans to be in contact with the OHIO BOARD OF EDUCATION this week. It won’t help my child, but how many others have they done this to?

Advocate for your children, trust no one else to do what is right for their education because when it comes down to it no one is more concerned about doing what’s right then Mommas.

Standard

Life Ain’t Always Beautiful . . .

It’s been awhile. . .
The last time I had a successful daily/weekly blog was back when Xanga was in in all it’s glory of a hay day.
I’m not even sure where to begin. Do I give a back story, a brief history about myself, or do I jump straight to the heart of it, what’s bothering me and really got me wanting to write again.
I’m not sure. . .

I’m the mother of 3 amazing children. Caiden (8), Caleb (6), and Chloe (4). They are my greatest blessings in this life. They drive me completely insane on some days, but every day you can absolutely count on the fact that I love them beyond measure so much some times that it scares me. I never knew I had the capability to love this way until they came into my life.
My marriage is not a fairy tale, we were high school sweethearts, we married after dating for almost 3 years and then became pregnant with our first child almost immediately. We have had plenty of “rough patches” so to speak and I’m certain we will have plenty more. Often times I bury myself in a book, an episode of Greys, a project, Facebook, what have you rather then talk or deal with the fact that my marriage is probably doomed and I don’t have the strength or sometimes want to fight for it. He doesn’t either so what’s that saying. For those young ones who have not experienced this yet I hope you don’t. Some wonder how I can say I love him yet say we have a loveless marriage. . . It happens more then you think. . .
On with the next subject since I’m just attempting a brief run down here.

I suffer from bipolar disorder, PMDD and diabetes. They all have a hand in my ups and downs. They used to be VERY frequent but after a very long time of being unmedicated and constantly raging I sought help and FINALLY found a medication that works. Thank the good Lord for that.

The last three years of my life by far have been the worst for me. We have had so many trials.
From splitting up with my husband, reuniting with him, buying the home of my dreams, giving that home up because it was infested with bedbugs, buying another home to find that the neighbors could have been modern day Charlie Mansons, going completely off of medication, falling off my rocker and spending a night in jail that will haunt me for the rest of my life. . . Many many trials.
We made it through though and in a way I suppose I’m stronger for it, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me bitter. It has.

I guess I hope to make this my diary of finding myself, finding my joy, my reason. I want to be more, do more, love more, care more and live well.

I guess I’d sum this brief life summary with saying what some great country singer said . . .

“Life Ain’t Always Beautiful But It’s a Beautiful Ride.” Or at least I hope to turn it into one.

Standard