Various

I know it's been a while since I last posted. It isn't that I haven't had anything to say. I have. I don't know exactly why I haven't posted.

Anyway, on to the updates.

My older son takes his driver's test for his license on Thursday. He is really excited. I wish I could get him a beater car to drive around.

My little guy is doing a little better. He's still a sweetie. He still has bad moods, but nothing like what happened at school that one day.

My landlord has sent a request to the Sheriff's office for a warrant of removal. The warrant should be posted within the next few days. At that time, I can request an extension from the court. From what I am told, they will grant a one week extension.

Unfortunately, none of the non-profit organizations have any funding for rental assistance. I have taken to getting cans and bottles for recycling. I need 40,000 cans and bottles, which equates to approximately 40 bags, in order to stay in our home. So far, I have six filled.

I do have another option. A very kind, sweet woman has offered to rent her mobile home to me. The home is in Ocala, FL, which is 1,000 miles away. I may very well take her up on her offer. It means taking both of the kids out of school (little guy will have a MAJORLY tough time with the transition and older guy will have to take his senior year of high school in a strange place) but it's something where the three of us can stay together. And it's a new opportunity for all of us. A fresh start.

Right now, either the cans and bottles will pay for us to stay in our home or they will pay for our trip to Florida. This all depends on who can work faster - the Sheriff's office or me.

Deeply Disturbed

Today, my nine year old son tried to kill himself at school by shoving a pencil into his neck. Fortunately, the teacher was right next to him and wrestled the pencil out of his hands.

While he is physically safe, it is clear that emotionally he has a problem.

We just got back from a mental health evaluation. They are recommending an intense course of therapy from 9:30 AM until 3:30 PM daily. I have to call them in the morning.

I need help. With everything going on, I can't do it alone anymore. But it seems that any time I reach out for assistance, I get knocked on my ass for "being weak".

My Sweet Little Guy

My little one has been saving up his allowance to buy a Mother's Day present for me. That child just makes my heart swell.

He got off the school bus today and ran into our home, yelling "Whose your mama?" I laughed and grabbed him. He gave me this beautiful card that he made at school today. It has tissue paper flowers on it and he wrote:

Happy Mother's Day from your #1 fan/son {insert full name here}

On the inside, he wrote:

You are the very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very BEST mom in the whole world!

Now, this is special to me for a few reasons. As we all know, the best gifts are the ones that your kids make for you. They are filled with love.

However, my little guy also has Asperger's. His small motor skills are not very good at all. He has physical therapy twice a week to help him. His classification also means that he doesn't have to write his assignments in class; he uses a computer to type everything. For him to write so much to fill up an entire card, both on the outside AND on the inside, just made me melt.

I've got this beautiful card on my nightstand where I can see it every night before bed and every morning upon waking.

Oh, and he gave me a blueberry bush because that's his favorite fruit. We're going to plant it together on Sunday.

Son's Birthday

Yesterday, my son turned 17. SEVENTEEN! Holy cow! When did he get that old?

We had a nice day together. During the day, he ended up playing World of Warcraft. (Is there a 12 step program for this?) Anyway, his character ran away from a rabbit. A rabbit. A cute, furry bunny. Naturally, I called him a p*ssy. :-) He immediately said to his online friend, "Dude, my mom just called me a p*ssy!" My 9 year old said, "That's your birthday present!"

It's fun being part of the chaos here.