Dell, this is all your fault

Dell, this is all your fault

I am not ashamed to admit that right this second I have 2253 unread emails in my gmail inbox. Shoot me. It's taking up less than 20% of my something or other, and I prefer to think of it as proof that I exhibit only certain OCD tendencies. I must confess a small thrill to watching the eye twitch of my more driven friends when I casually toss out the fact that I have THOUSANDS of unread emails, but -as usual- I digress.

I may have mentioned it but you guys all seem to be doing drive-bys and not really reading anything and I rarely have boobie pictures here so it bears repeating: I'm making almost all my holiday gifts and buying myself a laptop. I promise not to use it while driving but I do NOT promise not to sneak it in the bathroom with me which is a joke because I don't even have peace in there ...

Anyway, today I got an incredible email about my future tricky laptop!!! Ice T wants me to have it. He told me himself*. And because I randomly clicked imported email addresses you might hear from him, too. If I missed you, or you don't know me but want to give me money anyway, listen up, fools.

Is it just me or is he just dirty-sexy-delicious?!

*Dear Ice T: Thanks so much for contacting me to help my cause!!! I totally appreciate the heartfelt plea you made just for little ole me. Touching. I promise to take your personal work on my behalf as interest in my future as a potty-mouth writer and not as an invitation to drop on by. Or to look in your windows. Or to hide in the backseat of your car. Probably.
xx
peace out darling


> AMENDED TO ADD: I should put a lot more thought into these posts. I think I'll make it a New Year's resolution. For now, I'm left explaining... I stumbled upon (why, oh why can't I develop ideas like THAT?!) this great promo by Dell. Star Power. You can choose a star (Ice T didn't really do this just for me. Shocked, aren't ya?) and send an email to your friends and family to, uh, beg for money for stuff. I *do* want a laptop, but I didn't really think anyone would send me money. The video is so awesome and that's what inspired me to send it. To a whole bunch of my peeps. So, I took advantage of their 'import addresses' function and sent off that funny-ass video. Two challenges? One - no record of who I sent this to. Which is a problem because of ... Two - In the email Dell has totally dropped the ball. Here, in my blog, the link goes right to that sexy-as-hell former pimp pitching a laptop. On the email that went out to my friends and family and anyone else I thought would get a giggle from it - there's the rub. The actual email has 2 buttons called 'yoursishere' and 'buyitnow' ... neither is intuitive for playing the video. I'm no programmer or major ad director, but I would have put 'press to play' or 'nita wants you to watch Ice T and be swayed' or something like that on one of the buttons. Seriously? What would you click? Nothing, right? Buy it now and hope Dell doesn't swipe your credit card number and say, 'Thanks for sending laptops all over America'??!!!.... wtf?!

So, I have 2 friends who've sent me cash without seeing Ice T's movie. Basically, I have friends that respond to me begging for money. I did not know that. Had they understood the freaking ad, they would have clicked the link, played the movie and said to themselves, "That Nita has found a virtual way to fly her freak flag. I can totally see her with Ice T, sitting on that couch and smoking a Christo. Crazy beatch." The irony was lost. Which kills me.

But, this is totally working out for me cuz people are actually contributing! Thanks you guys. I love being a part of this crazy Universe.

xoxo

proud parenting

proud parenting

Most of the time she's very much her daddy's daughter. She likes to line things up, build sculptures with negative space, sit quietly with a book, think deep thoughts ... and it's been very good for me to slow down and appreciate her little personage. Especially when it makes no sense to me.

But every once in a while she throws me a bone.


on the way to school this morning

rio: Mommy, I want Damonn... Damonna... Madonna!

me: Sure thing, buddy. I'll see what's in the player.

rio: Techno, please. Not old school.

*sigh* She really is my daughter.

must be the meds ....

must be the meds ....

... that I found on the floor and promptly ate.

***

Today has me experiencing a weird shift. Yesterday Rio and I were late to school. Remarkable because I have thrown world-class fits about 5 minute delays. I hate late. But yesterday she had very specific hair-do requests and granting them made us a little late. Mind you, I'd still have a stroke if I was even 10 seconds late to pick her up ... but I wasn't at all concerned we were a bit late TO school. Subtle shift.

And - I still haven't talked to my mother cuz I just plain don't know what to say. I want to say, "Man, you put the suck in suck," but I don't feel like that's going to be productive.

And - my father called yesterday, talked to our fabulous sitter, said he'd call back in an hour - and didn't. And - I didn't remember that til I was thinking about my sucky-mcsuck mom, so, yeah. I'm not worrying over things I might have in the past.

And - I'm not going to Boston with Rio. End of story. Bear and I are odd as fuck so worrying about Rio's, uh, eccentricities is a giant waste of energy. She'll be fine. She has two parents who really love and care for her, who try to answer 'why' a thousand times a day, and who kiss her while she's sleeping every night before they retire. She'll be fine. Better than, probably.

drinking umbrella

drinking umbrella

Every once in a while I find something on the internet that reinvigorates my faith in the brilliance of mankind. Today, this is it.

A drinking umbrella. Genius. And fun! Instead of 'Raindrops on Roses' I could sing, 'Raindrops on my numb red nose .. es' ... well, you get my gist. The only only only problem I can see with this invention is that it appears one has to tip the umbrella down to open the flask and then whip it upright to get the nectar into your mouth. Won't I get wet? Won't I look stupid swigging from the bottom of an umbrella, now that I'm wet? Will I give a fat rat's ass? I think we all know the answer to that one ....

Added bonus? Now you know what to get me for Christmas. Fill it up, too.

I present: a girl I knew before she had boobs

I present: a girl I knew before she had boobs

Stowe is a funny little town. I was north for the holidays and arranged to meet up with a friend of mine. Who lives in Rhode Island. Yeah, we both drove 4 hours to meet in Vermont instead of someplace close to our homes, but, yeah, that's just how it's rolling around here these days.

Anyway, she's doing comedy. Here is a sample of her working on new material. The really funny thing is she's been doing this in the back of classrooms since grade 4. I love her to death

important lessons on operating a 3 year old

important lessons on operating a 3 year old

* When they say, "I have to tinkle right now!" they pretty much mean it.

*When your daughter sings "Happy Birthday Mommy!" really loud first thing in the morning you should prepare yourself. All that loud and early singing was the preamble to the incessant "Can we make cuck-cakes?" that will not cease until you relent and make said 'cuck-cakes' and make them now. With help. And direction. From your child who has discovered she knows everything. Yay.

*Same 3 year old totally doesn't get the concept of time and cooking so when you do agree to the baking, know that you are in for, "Are they finished yet?" every 10 seconds for the entire time it takes to assemble ingredients, grease and flour tins, make batter, pour into cups, watch the mofo things bake with the light on and then, then, then, instead of waiting for them to cool you must break one open with your bare hands and juggle it until it's burned out of its molten stage and you can deliver it onto a plate from the special tea set so finally, at long last you can silence, "Are they finished yet?" with a fresh cupcake that has given you 2nd degree burns.

*She will then have one bite and say, "How 'bout Clifford Cheerios, instead?" and you know in your heart that she saw you pour the last of them yesterday and she should know better than anyone that you haven't had time to get to the store, right? RIGHT?

ahem

Today I ran a host of errands for Bear. I took the water/sewage bill in, laid the bills in the envelope next to the bill on the counter. The woman counted it out and handed me $60 back! In cash! Mine! When I wondered aloud at my windfall she said, "It's probably a tip!" and I thought, Bear is so great! I got a tip! I can go buy, myself, um, a, an, some ....? The pontificating stalled me a bit for I'm not often in possession of cash or extra time so I was standing with the twentys and spacing out wondering if I had time to get my roots done when I was shaken from my trance and asked to move along. I did. Because the chicks at my town municipal building scare me a little. This is their idea of a warm welcome, all perched on the counter:






Rio's new winter coat came today, looking like it had been kicked from the warehouse, but it's darling and we're heading to Stowe for a 3 day holiday. In a hotel. Under assumed names. I'm ridiculously excited. See you soon and enjoy your holiday!

Oh, and f-Christopher Columbus.

:)

and i wonder, still i wonder, who'll stop the pain?

and i wonder, still i wonder, who'll stop the pain?

If I move, and don't tell my mother where, does that make me a bad daughter?

don't poke the bear

don't poke the bear

He's concerned he's been improperly portrayed. He wants everyone (his mom) to know that he doesn't ever make fun of her. It's true, he isn't the mean-spirited sort. He insists their version of 'Who's on First' is a give and take.

Okay.

Anyway, as a peace offering I'll list his top 5 super sweet moments as they strike me.

1. She can totally make him at least half an hour late for work by running after him to the door and saying, "Daddy, you forgot I wanted to give you two more kisses!" and he comes running back like a fish on a hook. She'll follow that up with, "Daddy, you forgot I wanted to give you two more hugs!" and you can see how the time ticks by, what with the kissing, hugging and running back and forth.

2. When I saw her in striped summer sandals and a striped fall sweater and pants that were still too big so her butt was hanging out ... I thought he'd merely opened drawers and threw things at her. Turns out he'd chosen the sweater and summer sandals based on a shared pallet of stripes and the pants because their stitching fell into that color group.

3. I bought a new carseat and, unasked, he took it out of the box, read the directions, put the zillion straps into their proper slots and set it all up for us.

4. When I hear him reading to her over the monitor he makes it sound really good. He gives every character a funny voice and he always reads at LEAST three books whereas I'll sometimes try to only read one and concede to two.

5. Two days ago she uttered a spontaneous, "Oh daddy. I love you sooooo much!" followed by a big neck wrangling hug and it made him cry.

who's on first?

who's on first?

As with most three year olds, Rio has some, ah, interesting ways of spitting the english language. A lot of the funny ones are disappearing; a melancholy occurrence.

One that is holding tight is, "What you just said?" instead of "What did you say?", ad nauseum, 40 times a day. Because I'm insane I first thought she was deaf, then dumb, and then I realized it's just how she rolls right now.

Bear can NOT help himself but to correct her. I have no less than 25 toddler-raising books opened to the part where it says you don't make fun of your kid's speech, but he can NOT help himself.

bear: I think I'd like a snack.

rio: What you just said?

bear: What did you just say?

rio: I said, 'What you just said?'.

bear: Um (eyebrows shooting up and weird dad face) no, what did you just say?

rio: (clearly annoyed) I said, "What you just said?"!

I may help her amend that to, "What you just said, dumbass?".

boring update

boring update

Halloween involved the first coup of her career. She asked to be Clifford the Big Red Dog and so I dutifully ordered the costume. I also made myself an Emily Elizabeth costume. At the very last moment she refused to be Clifford and decided to be Princess Pea (if your kid doesn't watch this show, try it out. These kind strangers are teaching my daughter to spell!).

Here we are pre-taking-candy-from-strangers*:






Why did I forge ahead, you ask? Because I had mofo 2nd degree burns all over my fingers and lint all over my house from making that effing wig, that's why.

Funny thing? We were planning to hit our friends' neighborhoods but only made it to the ones right down the street. The daddy was out with his girls in a wagon. We spotted him and I jumped out. "Hey Kris! We'll park at your place and catch up with you, okay?!" and his odd stares and giggles made sense when his wife confessed she'd forgotten to tell him we were coming. Thanks for that, Christina.

***

For over 3 years she's allowed me to dress her and do her hair as I see fit. Those days are over. Yesterday we went to AC Moore and she had a lively conversation with a woman and her son about her hair clips, her furry coat and her Uggs. Also that sometimes she's a princess and that if mommy wipes her butt, mommy has to wash her hands but she doesn't. All the while she was in her new crazy hair-do which consists of many small colored band holders AND a handful of my haircutting clips. I'm all about choosing your battles. These days I have so many from which to choose that I generally allow her to roam the town looking for all the world like a midget maniac.








***

For her flu shot I convinced her that Princess Pea called and was wearing ponies today, hence the mildly normal hairstyle. What you can't see is that she's wearing one brown Ugg boot and one pink Ugg slipper. Pick your battles, right?






What you also can't see is that in the rush to get us all in the car and to the doc's office for the 6:30 shot, I forgot to put on my shoes and I had on my Ugg slippers, too. Both pink. "No one will notice," assured Bear.

Everyone, including other parents, kids and the nurse, looked at my feet.

*We spend a fair amount of time trying to equip our youngsters with a healthy hesitance regarding strangers, touching, candy, etc., yes? And yet Halloween involves a special outfit to go door to door to take candy from strangers. And Christmas time? Puh-lease. I don't think it's a great idea to stand in line to coax our children to sit in the lap of an old man who promises them presents. I'm just sayin'.

we interrupt the stupidity ...

we interrupt the stupidity ...

Everyone knows I don't do forwards (I'm going to have eleventy billion years of bad luck), answer questions about what animal I'm most like (gazelle), post quizzes stating I'm Princess Leia - what space cadet are you? (Paris Hilton), but I came across something that I must share.

Please go to DadGoneMad and consider buying yourself a t-shirt. One of his best friends just died and the proceeds will go the freshly fatherless 14 year old son to help with athletic costs.

I got one. Says 'Hot Wife' and I plan to wear it to the gym to see if the trophy wifes are capable of A) reading and B) laughing.

we're on the road to nowhere

we're on the road to nowhere

I did it. Joined a gym. The World Gym in my town is running a great special and I got online and joined.

Even better? Today I went! And took a spin class! At 6am! And I didn't cry or throw up!! Exclamation points came with my membership...

So, yeah, I'm committed to having a healthy body and healthy mind. Yay me. Oh, and everyone who is forced to deal with me, too. Yay you guys, too.

***

I have a lot of friends. I love them all terribly. They are literally the pieces of the puzzle that is me. They all hold a piece and the whole thing doesn't make sense without all of them. That said, my best friend that I speak to multiple times daily is traveling the planet right now. You'll see her messages here - no punctuation and packed with inside jokes. Say hi to her and know I'm a giant girlie dork because yesterday I left a message on her cellphone telling her I miss her and I had to hang up quick because I started to cry. Hi Mare!

***

Not much to share right now. Starting to see body changes. Really feeling fitness changes. Making a concerted effort to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Figuring out December plans. Loving my husband, daughter, dog, most of my family, and all the puzzle pieces.

I think I blew something open in my head during that spin class ....

what's NOT for breakfast

what's NOT for breakfast

There are times when I think advertising/product development might be fun. Then I get a chance to actually look around and I'm back to wanting to live in a cave. But I would like to be a fly on the wall for certain development meetings....

Picture it:

Bunch of self-perceived hipster development dudes sitting around with a pile of VC, trying to find 'the next big thing.'

h1: reading People magazine ... How about ankle devices with swarovski crystals?

h2: Nah, I think Paris already has that and she's the only one stupid enough to buy one.

h1: Yah, prob.

h2: Hey, says here that organic foods is a billion dollar industry. We gotta get some of that.

h3: I got something here somewhere (shuffles stacks of reports) here it is! The government rearranged the food pyramid. Wait ... yeah, it's still unintelligible. Great! I've got the best idea!

h1,2: Eyes wide. Behind sunglasses. Inside.

h3: Waffle-whiz. Organic waffle-whiz.

h1: Seriously?

h3: (madly sketching) Comes in a can. Americans are lazy. Or in a rush. Yeah, in a rush. Let's not point out lazy. Um, I think breakfast is no longer the celery in your bloody mary. And it's organic. Organic! People will buy it just for that reason! WAFFLE.WHIZ. Right? Riiiiiight?

'Organic' batter from what is so obviously left-over CheezWhiz cans makes me sad for some reason. I think organic manipulation coupled with extraordinary sloth is the new black.

zoom, zoom, zoom, etc.

zoom, zoom, zoom, etc.

My darling grandmother was here for a week. She left today. I don't know how she feels, but I'm completely exhausted!

I dropped her at the airport and went to the Fine Furnishings Show and had the best time. Bear and Rio went to my SIL's World Famous Halloween Party in CT and so I went alone. I really needed a break from all noise and I applaud my husband for getting that and not being insulted. I are lucky :)

I are also incredibly exhausted for a number of reasons. My gram and I ran ragged all week. Too many activities. Next time - same amount of trips/dinners/lunches/exhibits/shopping trips but two weeks. That should be only mildly exhausting.

My other problem is more complicated and self-inflicted....

me: Bear, this TIVO is totally jacked and it's driving me crazy to watch, or try to watch shows on it. Please, let's get rid of it all. Cancel cable and cancel TIVO and we'll buy seasons of shows we want to watch and gorge like good tv-ers. So, please, I beg you, get rid of it all.

cut to 4 days later.

me: Bear, there is a TIVO box outside the garage. Just got delivered. Why?

bear: It's for a project that is top secret so please don't look at it and don't talk about it.

cut to next day.

me: Bear, there is a cable guy here to INSTALL DIGITAL CABLE! His work order says you want to be called first, but he's here and can't work the new super-duper hi-tech TIVO.

bear: Yay! I'll be right home.

So, he did not cancel anything. Rather, he upgraded everything. And he's dead certain it was exactly the right move. The self-inflicted part of this is as follows:

Get home from Providence, sparkly with art infusion. Lie on the couch at 3pm to see if House had recorded. Watch House. Realize we have a zillion new stations. Watch Law&Order for 2 straight hours. Realize I can watch 2 channels and have backing up capabilities on both, and proceed to watch Law&Order AND Law&Order:SVU for another hour or so. Bear comes home, we get Rio to bed and I just barely, at 11pm, dragged myself away from watching hours of LA Ink. I don't even like the show and now I have to watch the season finale to find out why Pixie's boyfriend is such a douchebag.

I am joining a monastery and not for any of the reasons I might have previously done so.

blessed are the deaf

blessed are the deaf

I had the best lunch with 2 sets of my great-aunts and uncles, and my gram, and the lovely Rio. Who didn't get a nap.

Luckily the chocolate revived her.

Unluckily it awakened her inner maniac.

Luckily most of the table is hard of hearing so the fact that, halfway through a giant piece of 'Death By Chocolate' cake, Rio raised chocolaty finger horns and started hollering, "Rock and Rollllllll!" was missed by all. But me. Who laughed and thereby set the stage for future inappropriate behavior. The force is strong in this one. Very strong....

on a lighter note...

on a lighter note...

Rio is laying on my grandmother's bed. She's face down, long legs swinging in the air and taptapping the bed in lazy alternating arcs. She just said to Gram:

Hey Betty Boop - are you old?

That kid.

i am some kind of idiot

i am some kind of idiot

Why am I surprised when things go so horribly wrong with my mother? I must be stupid. Really stupid. Bad-probably-shouldn't-have-bred stupid.

I'll skip the thousand instances of passive aggressive, borderline personality bullshit, testing of my patience .... that my mother engaged in on Sunday. I'll just hit the high points.

*My darling grandmother wanted to go to Vermont to see her. Her, my mother. Her who has never had a nice word to say about my grandmother, or recently deceased grandfather. Her who didn't attend the funeral, but called daily to boss the rest of us around. Evidently, her had been calling and being sweet in anticipation of death benefits. Her is even more evil than I imagined.

*My mother absolutely ignores Gram when she gets out of the car. Goes right for Rio and doesn't speak to or look at my grandmother. Already, my blood pressure is heading north.

*She has chosen a restaurant that is closed. She won't call ahead, it's around the corner from her house, arguably she passes it 100 times a week. And yet, she makes me park and get everyone out of the car before 'remembering' it's closed on Sunday night.

*She is an embarrassment at the restaurant where we land. If you knew her, you'd know I have 17,000 words worth of material. But enough said.

This is where it gets bad. After dinner she said she had a gift for Rio and would we please come in to her place. I say, and I quote, "We will come in but only if you put the dog up." She puts him in his fenced in back area and we all enter the filthy smoking lounge that is her house.

Her dog is throwing himself against the slider again and again, screech barking. She's taught him this behavior and constantly reinforces it. She has every dog psych book ever written and she has advice for everyone on the planet about their dogs, and it is with incredible forethought that she has ruined this very expensive, very well pedigreed champion. It's awful but the dog is totally out of control and is a biter.

Rio has to poop. Fabulous. I take her through the deathtrap house into a filthy bathroom. I clean up as best I can and place my child on a toiletpaper-lined seat. The place is brand new but looks just like a 40 year old bus station bathroom. I'm gagging.

We return to the sitting room where my mother has her hell-hound leashed and up on the chair next to her. Dog behavior 101 says: leashed dogs are more aggressive due to the urge to overcome the restraint and sitting on a chair is an elevated status, further exacerbating the intense aggression problems of this dog.

"We are leaving," I say and herd my grandmother and child to the door. Mother immediately stands and her dog jumps down and starts pulling for all he's worth to reach any of us, all the while snarling and snapping; leaping and twisting; screaming and digging into the floor. Frightening site.

I reach the door to the entryway and tell me grandmother to get in the car quickly. I hold onto the doorknob so they can clear the second door and cross the yard to the safety of the car. My mother is twisting and twisting the doorknob trying to break my hold, and her dog is throwing himself waist height against the door. Once Rio and Gram are safely in the car, I let the door go and run out. She's right behind me saying, 'He's on a leash!' and I get into the car and leave.

***
She called last night to tell me she's taking a stop smoking medication. I let her have it both barrels because Rio was with Bear and my brother was out to dinner with my gram. My mother relies on the fact that I wouldn't want to make my grandmother uncomfortable and timed her call in the middle of what should have been grown-up dinner time.

I blasted her. I told her that she has no respect for me as a person and she lies. She put my child and grandmother in harm's way by bringing the dog in, and she was damned sneaky about doing it while I was in another room. She doesn't have any respect for the boundaries I so clearly set and she created a dangerous situation simply to get a reaction from me. "My reaction," I stated, "is this - you always ask 'Can I have Rio by myself?' and it occurs to me that you don't want her, you want me to say 'no'. Well, here it is. No. You've gone too far this time. I have another call and I'm hanging up now. Goodbye."

I honestly don't know if I'll ever talk to her again. This is the straw that buried the pyramid that dropped out of the sky that crushed the palace that had a stable where the camel made its home.

lazy

lazy

Our exercise for writing class this week is the run-on sentence. Here's mine. Whaddaya think?!

***

The clock clicks to 11:29 as she bursts through the door and I am struck by her beauty and the new smell of ‘young woman’ that floats in just behind her and all at once I’m transported to when she simply smelled of child and when asked, at 2 years old, what she wanted for Christmas, had so clearly and forcefully stated, “A pygmy marmoset monkey,” and shooting her mother a withering look continued, “and we do, too, have room because they are small!” and another vision of her floats into my consciousness – this time covered in fake tattoos, wearing only a jacket, ivory cabled tights and cowboy boots and comfortable in that outfit as only the young can ever be – and I find I am shocked by the woman that is pushing out the girl in a thousand new ways every day, every month, every year, and when she’s questioned about the dance and the boy I find an odd relief when I see the last vestiges of thumb-sucking manifest in a charmingly crooked smile as she simply says, “We had fun – goodnight!” and, whoosh, she’s come and gone, ever changing, still, again.

what a difference a day makes ...

what a difference a day makes ...

I grew up in a way that makes me a master of crisis. I was a little, tiny fireman; on-call 24/7. That has left me with the propensity to, um, overreact. On occasion. Like around this whole eval thing.

Once I stopped spinning and spraying and exploring which special foams don't impact the environment ... I had the chance to listen. Really listen. From my 'I'm a smart person and nothing is on fire' place. And I realized I had shut down, gone to defc*n 8, and I had on my battle-scarred shield which has always helped me deal with all the noise. All the hysteria, real and manufactured. All the danger. That shield that filters out everything but the HUGE CRISIS and makes me able to wade into the thick of things without concern for myself.

I went to the Developmental Medicine Department and read all about the possibilities. Then I lifted the shield, took a deeeep breath, and realized that none of those particular things on the drop-down menu apply. Sure, she has this piece and that piece ... she likes to line things up ... she doesn't particularly care for loud noises ... she just started pre-school that she attends alone (where she's doing great) ... she is used to me and I'm big fun and, for now, she is more at ease with adults. Big deal!

Her pieces of those sets of 'indicators' on the DMD site don't make for a full set of anything - except an awesome kid.


:: For all of you who gave your support loud enough to drown out the imagined sirens, I extend sincere thanks. You made a difference.

wrecked

wrecked

Um, yah.

Preschool is going well. As long as she's away from me, she stops crying. Growth is happening all around.

Now, the dance class is another story. She won't get out of my lap. Ever. Once in a while for a quick second, but that's it. Her comfort level is non-existent. After almost a full year there.

Today we had the full meltdown. I told her she couldn't sit in my lap during class; she had to pay attention. So she proceeded to drape over my legs and try to crawl up on my shoulders and pulled at my shirt ... crying all the while. The teachers keep trying to talk to her.....she's having none of it.

I wish I had a mom to talk to. I don't. I talked to a few trusted friends and got all different, all very sensible recommendations. So, I called her pediatrician.

After listening he recommended another eval at Children's Hospital. Gave me the number. I'm at my wit's end and just so sad and frustrated. I know it's really bad for some people. I know other kids have it way worse. But I still feel like this is going to break my heart.