Chronic Ama

Most adults have been through the grind of middle school. We often talk about how hard our jobs are or how much adulting sucks. But, I bet most can give you middle school horror stories. They should make a suspense movie about middle school. It would be more believable than the feel good Hulu specials we are inundated with to make kids feel alright. I kinda remember sixth grade. My teacher was Mrs. Kewin. She was amazing and kind and nurturing and our student council sponsor. I stayed in touch with her through high school. The last time I talked to her was over a pizza dinner at Mama's one evening when I was in college. Man, that's a real teacher. Someone that can stay in touch and whose name I will always remember.  Sixth grade was meh. I was in Catholic school with a class of 30, which included kids I had gone to kindergarten with. I think I hung out with Shannon, the only white girl in the class. She was petite with long blonde hair and her mother was the first grade...

 Hear me out here, we have a shower bucket.  Wait, that's not a fair place to start.  Let me rewind to February, the month that I usually start my garden. I've been gardening for about 4 years now and have gotten better at it over the years. (It honestly is great for quelling anxiety and getting my mind off whatever is bothering me at the moment!) This year, I planted more tomatoes, garlic, cilantro, basil, more red chiles, thyme, and some other shit that I can't even remember. You see, it's been a dry ass year and I've lost plenty of plant babies, including two of my coveted lavender starts, to the extreme heat that all us Arizonians should be used to by now. I got a little smart this year and made room on the patio for lots of things, but that wasn't enough. I was growing bored of trying to schedule what to water when and how to mourn the lost little green things and how to make a shade cloth impervious to the haboobs. (Not my boobs! Haboobs! Just google it al...

 I guess I was meant to open Blogger today and see the blog my daughter left for me last April, at the beginning of the pandemic. I must have had a flare up at the time. It was probably stress about the world being on fire.  That actually is a great opener for why I'm back. It's been on my mind so much lately to keep blogging about being a chronically ill mother. Mom is a tough job in itself, but there are so many more variations when it comes the Chronically Ill Mom job. I'll just take things day by day here and see where we end up at.  I've been feeling down today because I got a migraine yesterday morning that started with pain in my neck. I think my nerves have regenerated rather quickly following the ablation I had done in April. My migraines had started 2021 with an intensity only matched by my uncontrolled fibromyalgia flares. I had cervical medial lateral nerve ablations done starting at C3 and then going up and down to burn off all the nerves that were the culp...

Heyyy. Its Bella again.. I just wanted to check in and leave a lil message for my one and only mother. I just wanted to say how much I love her and support her. Today was a bit rough so I wanted to tell her how strong she is. I know she loses confidence in herself sometimes but I would never.You just have to keep going mommy and never forget we will always be by your side. When you fall we'll pick you right back up. I know somedays are hard for you but just keep your head up even if you have to stay in bed all day. I know you love to be out and about but sometimes its okay to not be okay. You know I hate that phrase personally. That's just my opinion though. I have so many mixed feelings about literally everything so that may explain it. But anyways yeah. Wow.. the last time I wrote one of these I was in like 6th grade. Time flies. Well not really I'm in seventh grade this year. That adds on to what I was saying.. I also wanted to thank you for all you've done during th...

I've been thinking about writing this for too long. I've started putting it down in my physical journal, but it didn't feel right just yet. I still don't think it feel right. It's too surreal and fresh out of my TV screen, But it happened. We had had enough and needed to get away. I flipped through listings for cabins up on the mountain, but decided that the cold really wasn't a good idea for either of us. I texted my mom and jokingly asked if she would pay for us to go to Vegas. No, but she would watch the kids. Was it doable? Could we really make it to Vegas? I remembered years back I had booked a hotel in Vegas for my parents as a birthday gift to my mom. It was very reasonable. I did it. I found a hotel suite with a hot tub in it for a reasonable price. I picked dates during Spring Break since the kids would be out of school and mom wouldn't have to shuffle them there and back for the three days we'd be gone. Six am on St Patricks Day came ...

I read an article recently about "unicorn moms." No, really. Someone wrote that shit. Because some twit out there thinks I want to be compared to a horse with a horn growing out of its fucking head. OK, I'll bite the click bait because I'm curious if a mom with a subcutaneous hunk of keratin protruding form her fucking forehead is anything like the one with the giant cystic zit on her chin from all the stress in her life. Unicorn moms drink and curse and don't care of their precious little brat gets a skinned knee once in a while. Oh Em Gee! So fucking eye opening, right? Why is there such a pretentious desire to squeeze women who have popped out a little crotch demon into these ridiculous categories. Fuck it, I want to be an asshole mom. Does that make it any better? No it doesn't. Here's why. Today I rocked the fuck outta my khaki linen plazzo pants from Old Navy, clean hair for the week, and my messenger bag with a giant fucking goat head pentag...

Good morning. I hope you had a pleasant morning. Me, I got to pour my coffee and look up to see the tears my daughter held back in her eyes. I got to see the pain streaked red across her face. I got to hear the heartache as she angrily told us she didn't sleep last night. Yesterday I got to hear all about the other girls that yelled at my daughter to drop the fight against her bully. I watched my daughter's shoulders slump as she said she had no choice but to yell back. I think her heart is switching the sadness to anger. My heart is breaking. I have raised both my kids to be loving and accepting of people. I'm raising mixed race kids in a technology driven world and that used to be scary to me, but we've delved in. We celebrate inclusive love in this house. Both kids know that they can grow up to love anyone. We celebrate culture with friends that have grown up differently or even in different countries. I attended a dinner in not the so distant past where the ho...