Change Ahead

I have not been writing much of my own content lately because I have been preoccupied with things going on here and preparing for a potentially BIG change within our lives.  We have arrived at a point with Pickle in which he is pushing up against a ceiling right now in placement. When this has happened in the past, he has regressed. The last thing I want is to see all the hard work and efforts everyone has put in go away, but the question has now become what is in his best interest and where do we go from here.  I also know that every time we have presented Pickle with an obtainable goal, he has shown us that he is able to do it and I would really like to see what he can do.

On our end, the circumstances that led us to seek Children Service’s involvement are no longer present. Pickle is not the same person he was coming into the situation or even three months ago and neither are his siblings or Jer and I.
I know that what Pickle needs is more real world experience that he is not going to be able to obtain within any paid placement with staff being paid to oversee his every move. I think he needs guidance from his parents and the mentoring available through his peers and siblings to learn to navigate the world as he would like to know it. So, we have decided to try and bring him home and attend the high school for his last nine weeks of his senior year.
This is not something that Jer and I are doing on a whim. We’ve re-evaluated this situation at every turn and right now, we see that he has maxed out what he can do in the system and that home is the best option. We have already agreed to a voluntary six month plan with Children Services because we know it is in Pickle’s best interest to ensure continuity of care and have the proper supports in place.  We are also realistic and know we will still need services for job training and placement, education planning, behavioral counseling and waivers/vouchers for things like summer preoccupation/camp and possibly respite to ensure that nothing/no one becomes stagnant.
I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know how long home will be the best option, but I know right now it is and may continue to be throughout his attendance at college. But I am not envisioning home to be a permanent placement. Only because I am mother who wants for my child what any other mother wants, to see her child reach his fullest potential and him living at home for the rest of his life is not Pickle’s fullest potential. I also think that allowing him to come home will give us the opportunity to see if Pickle may be able to go beyond a group home setting and with supports in place he may be able to achieve what he ultimately wants, which is to reside on his own.
The MR/DD board is concerned that we are setting him, and potentially our family, up for failure. I could not say why they’ve developed this stance and I really don’t want to get too caught up on that statement or those feelings. I just know what I know. And I know that I’m not asking DD to do anything that they wouldn’t normally do for a client. I’m only asking that they begin the process now instead of waiting for him to age out of the system at 21.
Everyone else is on board and has arrived at the same conclusion we have.
Hopefully, after the meeting with all the parties involved tomorrow we will have a better idea of the big picture.
I would ask that you join me in prayer for God’s will in this situation, not my own.

How to determine if you need CRAZY meds

“If you do need to take medication the math is really simple: which sucks less? Taking an imperfect medication that controls the symptoms of a condition that puts your life somewhere in the spectrum of “barely tolerable” to “dear God please kill me now;” or trying to get through life with that same condition which will keep getting worse the longer you go without treating it. A lot of these meds suck donkey dong, but you know what? When you’re mentally ill, and/or have some neurological problem like epilepsy or migraines, and you’re not taking any medications, or not taking the right medications, it sucks syphilitic donkey dong while a red-hot poker is being jammed up your ass.”

Courtesy of

The thing I don’t get about my husband

I love my husband. No, wait….I adore my husband. I have reason to. He is THE man.

I have said that in the lottery of men, I have won the jackpot. My girlfriends have called my husband the The Holy Grail of men. He’s a nice guy, he treats me like a queen. Heck, he’ll even refer to me as his queen on occasion. He loves me just the way I am. He gets me. He has no addictions or vices. He’s taken on my kids as his own and if you know my story, you know this is not your typical step-dad situation here. I have an adopted, special needs child, which means life can be chaos. The man accepts it all.

We love each other. We actually make people sick. We’ve been told that. Not in a mean way. But, in a nice way. We’ve been told by more than one of our friends that we are the epitome of what a relationship should be. We are “in love”, we are best friends and we totally and completely get each other.


There is this one, itty, bitty thing that I really don’t get about my husband and it bothers me. A LOT.

My husband has naked women tattooed on him.

I don’t know how this happened or why he decided this should happen. It was before we met and like the real, fleshy women who came before my time, I really don’t feel like it’s something I want to know a whole lot about. However, now that I’ve compared it to real, fleshy women – I guess I wouldn’t understand if he was holding on to pictures of old, naked girlfriends either. Back to what I was saying….He has three of them. They are like pin-up girls. I guess his first tattoo was the Betty Page with devil horns on his right forearm. The second would’ve been the Roxie, on his left upper arm and then the last, which is a ah-MAZE balls, artistically speaking, but the worst from a feminist perspective, is this bondage chic on his lower right leg.

They normally don’t bother me in our day to day activities, and he is pretty good about trying to wear long sleeves and pants, but obviously you can’t do this year round or when you’re playing sports. So they’re times when I look down and think, “Geesh, honey – could you tuck your pornography away?” Like…when we’re hanging out with other people’s kids and I notice the kids noticing,  when he’s coaching one of the kids sports, when we’re swimming at our gym or in my Grandma’s swimming pool with the whole family, counseling sessions with Pickle, when we are at a parent/teacher conferences, at church. I mean, it does get a little awkward.

Have you ever met a guy with tattoos like this? I have. A couple times over. They’re awful. I mean like the most despicable, degrading towards women, pieces of crap, scumbags EVER. And my husband is not even remotely close to that. In fact, he’s the furthest thing from that. I don’t want people to EVER assume anything like that about him. He’s the most respectful man I’ve ever been with. He’s huge on respect and I want everyone to know that and to see that and to appeciate that.

Usually when people get tattoos they symbolize something for them, they mean something to them…you know,  say something about who they are?

What the hell does this mean?

What on Earth possessed this decision? Not once – but three times???

I just don’t get it.

This will always be the thing I don’t get about my husband and I wish it didn’t bother me, but it does.

The Note

I’ve decided the best way to deal with this situation concerning my terminally-ill ex-mother-in-law is to just say what I feel and mean what I say, in the most simplistic of ways and let her take it from there.
Really, that’s all I can do.


I don’t know how to start this note or where it might end I guess I just feel that God has put it on my heart to write for awhile now. I don’t think I could ever reconcile the truth of what we have lived in the past few years with what you have been told. I just think it has been terribly unfair to you and I but especially the kids. I just want you to know that we really care about you, immensely. We love you and if you ever want to stop by and talk or talk about nothing at all, the kids would like that, I would too, and the door is always open. Ball’s in your court.