My son is turning 9 soon, and with the new place that we made the move to, the school is literally a five minute walk (ten if he goes by the lights proper which he is expected to do). I walked my son the first week to school and back. Consulted friends and family, they agreed that I could let him walk to school alone and see if he can do it. Give him some independence. I obsessively shadowed him, from across the street to make sure that he was going down too the light, that he was looking both ways before crossing. Same for coming home from school. Made sure he didn't cut across (legal to jaywalk at that hour but I don't want him doing it) and that he was fine. City Hall, the Library and the police station are //right// there. Then there's the school.

The kid came home ten minutes early today, walking in, all happy. I have one good thing to tell you he says. Robin's dad gave me a ride, because he doesn't think it's okay for me to be walking home alone, that someone will kidnap me or rob me, or kill me.

I've had the talk with him about getting in cars with people, stranger danger. I have met Robins dad in passing once. They live in the same complex as us. But, again, I've met them in passing //once// and yes, she's his friend at school. I'm not comfortable with him getting a ride. I trust my son to walk home. We have gone over the route, he knows what to do if a stranger approaches him, and where the police station is, and where my friend Sam's house is if he can't get home, or someone is keeping him from getting home.

I'm at a loss of what to do. Another parents, has overstepped their bounds, with regards to my kid. Their very actions stating that I am being irresponsible with my son and his well being, that I don't think about his safety. It never occurred to me that he wouldn't think of them as strangers. Yes, I appreciate that hey, someone was thinking of my kid. hey they were looking to make his walk home easier. But I don't think it occurred to them that I might not be okay with this. What if I had gone out to meet him like I do sometimes. And he didn't come home on the street. And then I go to the school and the school has no clue. Hello amber alert. If my son is not home by 3:08, I'm out the door and walking the route to school to meet him and see what the hold up is.

I wish they made a hallmark card for this. Do I go over and talk with her dad about this? I mean, if they want to give him a ride, sure, fine, great. But I need a text message or a call, or a "hey, we're driving robin today, can Andrew ride with us" Because I'm //very// control freak about my son. Do I just let it roll off my shoulders like water off a ducks back?



Been a long time since I wrote in here.

After a spectacularly rough, horrible, terrible bad year with regards to my son's school, the inability of them to follow an IEP, and their choice to just classify him as a bad kid despite the shrink and district admin going : Well, why haven't  you gotten him an aide ? We've moved.

Away from that school district, closer to my husbands work, and closer to friends and a better district. We'd had enough with our landlady, with our school and we have medical bills that we need to make a sincere effort to pay off and be in shape for when the husbands company moves him to Iowa in a few years.

So we found a place closer to Gerry's work (20 minutes so far) and closer to friends (one is in the same complex) and cheaper by almost $200.

Both our parents coughed up money to help pay the security deposit since in all likliehood we are not seeing a penny back of the old place since she's already going OMG over things that technically she's not allowed to charge us for but you bet she'll try. Yes folks, my parents happily coughed up pretty much most of the security deposit, and without me needing to ask. It was an awkward conversation and I have every intention of paying them back despite my father saying we don't have to. But it happened, and for once, they came through for me as promised. Apparently too, they've come into some extra income from a boarder too, so. Hooray.

Andrew is adjusting to living in a new place, he enjoys the trains that go by, laments his lack of friends though he has one here but most of the kids are still in school here for another week, whereas he finished a week ago in his old district. We need to get him registered, and see what our options are. I have his IEP and everything ready, just waiting on a utility bill so we can get him set up for next year and what plans are for him and his aspergers. This time, we're not going to be nice right off the bat. We saw what that got us. A year of backsliding, and then us sitting there with "I told you so" smeared all over our face as three weeks before school ends the school shrink is lambasting the school for not doing what they were told to do.

But, we're almost a week in and so far, we're enjoying the new place and I can actually get us all to sit at a table for dinner and talk about our day. Tomorrow, we're going to visit the library, and attempt to keep andrew at his current reading level, if not get him up a bit more. Cross  your fingers folks, I'm hoping that it's the start of a few good years.

Heroes:Sin City

Las Vegas. City of Sin. A place where you can be who you want and get what you want, if only for a night. But maybe forever. A city devoted to luck and lust and living it up. And leaving the mundane trudge of everyday life back at home. A city where mobsters and gangsters engage in a tug-o-war for turf and the law is often left impotent to help right a troubled populous. The underbelly is a dangerous place, not for the clumsy tourist to stumble into.

And through it all, threaded among us, are the special few. Chosen by fate or genetics or design, they possess gifts and abilities unlike anything any human has ever seen. Just different enough to be frightening, secret organizations strive to keep them underwraps. And use them to their own ends. But at what cost?

In a city build on smoke and mirrors, where will you stand?


Heroes: Sin City is a MUX set in the universe of the NBC show Heroes. With a heavy focus on original characters, the setting and story are new and unique. You can find us at heroessincity.com : 4400, where a helpful staff will answer any questions and help you along toward helping shape this new community with a character of your own!


(no subject)

I feel like this terrible horrible woman.

I love animals. I adore and love my cats. I love them so much people probably get sick of all the pictures I take of them.

But I cannot in my right mind, go into debt for my animals.

The kitten - not so much a kitten anymore - has gotten sick. With an as yet unidentified infection/illness. We knew it would not be cheap, but we do have our financial limit as to how much we will spend to make her better.

Right now, after a day at the vet, drugs, exams, the handfuls of tests they did, we're out 300. And they are not really closer to figuring out what's wrong with her.

The gross part of this post. She's pooping mucus. Straight mucus, nothing but mucus. her bowels are irritated by something, and she's running a fever. They sent us home with antibiotics, and instructions to watch her, bring her in if she gets worse. Things were looking okay. It'll be a tight week next week but w/hubby out of town and using company card, we'll be cool.

But we can't afford for her to get worse. As it stands now, the vet just called and told us to come in tomorrow, and get two other drugs, and to get their special dietary food for her. Total cost looking to be another 100.

I can't do it. I love her dearly, I have bawled so badly over her being in the discomfort that she is and sick, and crying because I am literally driving us down to our last 200 till next friday, to even get to the point that we are at right now, and they are telling us we need to spend another 100.

And I can't. because it's either this 100 dollars worth of medicine, or we're eating nothing but ramen next week.

And I feel like shit because I should, I should go do it, I wouldn't hesitate to do it for my son. And yet I'm crying because I can't afford to do it. They wont' do a payment plan, I have no idea why, even our dentist does one. They told us they can set us up to apply for a credit line with some company but, it's like, for real? For a hundred god damned dollars I'm going to go into debt?

I always said I had this financial hardline with our pets, and that was it. And I've hit that financial hardline and I don't know what to do. I love her dearly but...

I just can't do it. And they make me feel like shit on the phone for even saying "I need to think about it" Like, come on. I just spent 300 dollars I really couldn't afford to, I //told// you I only had 200 to spend, and now you're telling me it'll be another 100.

What am I supposed to do?

What would they have done if we literally could not have even paid 100?

Life is so fucking cruel at times.

(no subject)

The epicness of an item in my possession could not be squealed about in 140 letters or less.

Some weeks ago - After I had inquired over twitter whether it could be done or not - I mailed my nook cover to New York. A member of the production team of Nurse Jackie was going to cart it around, shove it under the nose of the actors and have them sign it for me. It had already been signed on a trek up to LA by Lenny Jacobson when I went to see him perform in a play.

Friday I was told it was on it's way home to me, and I came home today after picking up the kid and it was waiting. True to his word Chris Swartout had done just that - But forgot to put //his// autograph on there tooo!

Lenny! Arjun! Emily! Edie! Stephen! Peter! Merritt! Anna! All there, and all for me. I cannot express - there are no words - to how fucking happy and how big a smile there is on my face when I ripped - How could one not rip open that envelope? - open the envelope and flipped it open?

The kindness of strangers, people I just talk to on the ether that is twitter, individuals who worked hard and do work hard to provide us a little half hour window of enjoyment on a Monday night - this spring!!! - Took a minute to scribble a hello.

Thank you and know that when I crack open my nook, I'll be squealing a little more in my heart before enjoying a good read. Thank you Mr. Swartout for an inadvertent Christmas Gift. It arrived, safe and sound and happily cherished.


(no subject)

Found my 5 gallon fish tank the other night and so after a couple days straight of going to the pet store, brought home some "molly's"

Oh I got 4 female molly's. Three of which are pregnant.

Yes, pregnant. So I have currently 7 fish in my tank right now, and a call to the pet store promised that they'd take the babies that managed to survive a day, but that truthfully most would either be eaten by the other molly's or be sucked up the filter.


the kid meanwhile, is like "Oh mom! More fish!!!!" Right kid.

(no subject)

I have, in my 31 years of existing on this earth, learned to a degree to not succumb to the siren call of my father. To a degree.

A not so brief run down here will ensue. My mother died when I was three in a car accident that some wonder how I survived. She went through the front windshield, with me in her lap and died on impact, leaving my father with three very very young children.

To which, he could not cope and promptly turned us over to my grandmother. Thus ensued many years of going every second weekend to my fathers place across the city, spending the weekend with him and then back to my grandmothers till the age of nine in which he moved across the country.

He married a few years later to my step-mother who hails from the philippines. We were called out to 'visit' him, and eventually that summer we stayed. At the age of 12, one has their personality pretty set, and as such, while my step-mother had hoped for three wonderful filipino children, needless to say, she did not get that. And it's hard, I realize that later, to be freshly married and inheriting three pre-adolescents. But she knew this, going in.

It was 5 years of pretty crappy teenagedom, with sporadic relief from the mother of my best friend and the families of other friends along with the leaders from my Sea Cadets who on occasion took into their hands to ensure that I got to do things with others in my corp and with my friends that didn't include working in the family restaurant when I wasn't at school. Who made sure when I  had cracked my ribs, that i was actually taken to a doctor instead of ignored and written off as "stomach ache" while I hobbled around school thinking I had a burst appendix.

I lived at my friends for two weeks then, her mother so enraged at the situation.

I managed to keep up good grades too. But I was still not the perfect filipino daughter (despite my pot head brothers) and my father never once sided with us on anything despite evidence to the contrary (I am allergic to chocolate, far more worse in my teenage years that I couldn't touch any of it and on more than one occasion found a box of chocolates slammed upside my head and being accused of having eating one. Right. No.) and while she got brand spanking new jewelry sets every year and whatever she wanted, we were relegated to salvation army clothes and new shoes from my tips and babysitting jobs.

I grew up pretty fast.

At 17, I fought back and was promptly shipped - at my grandmothers expense - back to Ontario where at the end of summer, I simply refused to go back to BC. My grandmother in her infinate wisdom, ate the cost of the ticket, cleaned out a room for me and has never looked back. Even did battle with my dad over it to the point of hanging up on him repeatedly. Ona  fixed income, no promise of money or expectation, she took me in.

My father on the other hand, was enraged at the loss of access to the soon to be incoming inheritence from my mothers death. Yes people, there was money involved. It's never good when there's money involved. Threats to have me declared incompetent were rebuffed and declared baseless since I was going to use what little of it was allotted for me, for school.  Good luck convincing a judge otherwise. They came down to bring me some of my things that I wanted from back home (didn't mail it, too expensive, and yet they mailed huge refridgerator boxes to the phillipines 3 times a  year) in an attempt to convince me to come home. Remember, she's filippino, I was the only kid who helped in the restaurant, and it's a pretty black mark against her in the community that I left home.

They had to stay at my uncles up the road, My grandmother told them they would need to stay up the road at an uncles, because she didn't think it would be good for me to have them there. I needed my space. It was a short visit. It was a small box. They left without me.

Things got a bit better with time, space and a change in status by getting married and having a kid. The day I graduated, they sent one of her cameo necklaces to congratulate me. But never money to help with college (Inheritance only was enough to cover my rent and tuition for the duration, not food, books and other necessities). They still sent money to the filippines all the time.

At this time, they adopted two of my cousins from the filippines in an attempt to bring them over to here. I had to sign papers stating that I wouldn't mind. My brothers held out for money, five hundred each I found out. I just signed. I wasn't at home, and mom could have her perfect filippino girls.

The day I got married, they flew down and my step-mother gave me one of her first jewelry sets. But never helped with the wedding costs. My grandmother spent who knows how much on it, and the whole year getting the two acres to perfection for a summer country wedding. Even laid down patio stones and planted flowers that would bloom at that time. I had joked that my father would have to pay to walk me down the aisle. I didn't make him, and he walked me down the aisle. In a suit that didn't fit him.

Through my life, I have found that he has a stranglehold on my emotions. To no fault of his own, my husband does not like them. They never remember my birthday till months after the fact (despite my twin having lived at home with them), neither can spell my name right, and we have always felt like an afterthought to them. I get phonecalls every few months from my dad - The step-mother and I do not talk for more than two minutes because frankly, we are cut from two different cloths and don't have much to talk about - who will tell me how shitty my brothers are (I talk to my twin every month, now that I have his number), what house they've bought now and are renovating to sell, how my 'sisters' are doing in the pilippines and that the one will be over in a year as a nurse. That the other is knocked up and having a shotgun wedding which is pretty scandalous in the philippines.

And through this all, I still yearn for his approval. After a phonecall from him, I tend to lapse into a bad mood that can't be shaken for a day. It's never a call to see how I'm doing, but a call to tell me how shitty my family is and to tell me how great my 'sisters' are. My husband doesn't like that this happens. I've learned to live with it. Call display is a wonderful thing.

I've learned to not expect what he says to be true with regards to visiting till we have the plane times in our hands. Friends of their scored free plane tickets when buying a car, to vegas. Vegas is 3 hours away from me. They inherited the tickets, and booked their flight, not bothering to contact us and see when would be good to book it. If they had, they'd have been told to come the following week when Andrew has the whole week off.

First it was that they were going to drive in from Vegas to see andrew.


Not me.

But I've learned to accept that. That my son plays more importance in their life than I do.

They even shocked me by phoning when they heard that Gerry was sick via my grandmother to see if we were okay and needed money for medical bills. Yes, we could have used the money, but to take it from them, would have come with a thousand strings. Some visible, some not so.

Then it changed to they'd be in vegas but come spend a day or two of their 4 day trip.

Then that they weren't going to come down, because they were afraid to drive in the states.

Then my ex-step-grandmother and her husband were going to join them, and they'd drive and come visit.

Last time my ESG was here, disparaging remarks were made about my house, persimmons were handed over and it was a very fast hour visit of which I was glad was over.

Then it changed to just a day for a visit.

This was happening. I've called a carpet cleaner, I've started re-arranging my house, cutting out the clutter. I'm unconciously, and to a degree conciously, trying to show them that I'm a good mother, a good wife, I have my house in order.

Gerry can't take time off work, we don't have the money to shell out for a few nights stay in vegas (not this month) and Andrew cannot be taken out of school.

They have been told this.

And then last night, after marathon livingroom re-arranging, they call.

Unless we come up to them, they won't be seeing us. They're going to the grand canyon instead, want us to come with them.

Stupid me to think, that they'd understand our current limitations. Stupid me to think that they'd want to see us and make the effort to drive the straight literal road to our front door for three hours.

Stupid me for telling my son that his canadian grandparents were coming to see him and he's been telling everyone about it, he's so excited.

Stupid me.

Stupid stupid me.

I now know why I have such wonderful in-laws. Because god knew what shit I would go through and decided that I would have a wonderful husband, and his wonderful parents. Who call, to see how I'm doing. Who send things in the mail like cards, or flowers or something they saw and thought of me. Who travel when they can (my MIL is a sick woman and most times, just cannot travel) at the drop of a hat.

My FIL hates it when I tell him that they are more my parents than my biological ones are. He gets angry, but it's the truth. It's sad, but it's the truth.

I'm going to go ahead with getting my carpets cleaned, with re-arranging my house and weeding through things. When they call again tonight, it's not me that they're going to get on the phone. It's my husband, because I don't want to deal with them. They're not the ones that are going to have to lie and tell their grandson that Grandpa and Lola won't be coming down, that the plane broke or something like that.

I won't tell him that we're not important enough compared to the grand canyon. That he's not important enough to drive 3 hours despite his cousins back in canada being important enough to drive 8-10 hours.

He's 7, he doesn't need to know that.

Please god, in your infinate wisdom, please let me be a better mother to my son and let him know that I love him so much.

Make me good.

(no subject)

Still so very unimpressed with my childs teacher that I've called the principle and asked for a sit down, to request having him moved to another classroom where the teacher has some modicum of understanding in how to deal with a child with minimal special needs. It's really not that hard to stop him on the way out at the bell and ask him if he has his homework.

It's not that hard to not give me a snitty look when I've walked all the way up to the school, waited outside your classroom for 15 minutes and then ask for a copy of the homework that he hasn't brought home and deign to ask you where the lost and found is.

She at least moved his desk closer to the other kids groups of desks, or t hat might just have been the janitor needing to vaccuum. Either way, this morning and her "Well what do you expect me to do about it" Re: his lack of homework coming home, really got my goat.

I expect you, to do what you are paid to do as a teacher. I expect you to read is IEP within the first three weeks, and not be scrambling when I call for an informal meeting because I got a whiney call home from you about my child being a horror in class and what are all these things you sent into class with him.

I expect you to DO WHAT YOU ARE LEGALLY OBLIGATED TO DO ON HIS IEP and not just go "I don't like that, it will disturb the class" It's a fucking inflated seat cushion with nubs on it. It's sensory focus. He //sits// on it and he wiggles on it, but it helps keep his attention focused on the school work. You //want// him sitting on this seat. You WANT him with these squishy balls when doing group attention stuff. That clipboard he has with squares of symbols that indicate math, recess, lunch, History, social studies.. they're not for him to play with, or for you to deal with, it's a //schedule// and it helps him to break down his day, focus on that task at hand, and do his work.

Very. Very. Unhappy.

Trying not to cry. I have never had a teacher like this before. So resistant and ignorant. You have Special Ed staff there to help you, me willing to help you, there are //books// and so much resources at your hand, to learn how to deal with something you've never dealt with, and much more than I even have at home. And yet all I get is outraged body language and a blank stare.

Which means we're not waiting till November, it's a request to switch classrooms to someone else. I don't ask for much, I just ask that my kid not be treated like a leper and that his IEP be actually read. Not whining and bitching about "I have 30 kids in my class, I can't be giving him any extra attention" When I point out that you just have to normally swing by, touch a shoulder, re-direct and then carry on.

That apparently, is too much to ask. Funny, his other teachers had 30 kids in their classes and I never heard those words out of their mouths and they were dealing with him in the discovery stages of his disorder.

It doesn't cut it with me.

Camera :(

My brand spanking new GE X500 broke within 2 days of having bought it. It's insane and crazy and it broke the day before our NY themed geek fest. So very few pictures were taken because of lack of real good indoor lighting for Ipods and iphones to take pictures.

Which has another friend and I scouring the internet to see if I had bought a camera with a really crappy design flaw or whether I was just a really unlucky person and got a camera that had a faulty piece in it and a new one likely wouldn't have the issue.

Geek squad proclaimed that it was "Like the motherboard of a computer but the digital camera version" has shorted, or broken, He couldn't pin point, but that I could send it in  and I wouldn't get it for a month, or return it and get a new one in ten days.

Which leaves me upset either way because... god the luck lately. We're returning it today and then re-ordering the same camera.

The camera, has some cons, but the pro's far outweigh them and some of the cons, frankly, don't really affect me and I don't care that much. LCD screen on the back will at times not portray the true quality of the picture. Sometime (on certain function you set it to) you'll get blank pictures. But if you set a 3 second delay for seeing your picture right after you take it, you can see that it's a blank and retake, but I only had that happen on one setting.

Shutter speed/noise. Dunno about shutter speed I'm self teaching myself about aperture and shutter speed, but the sound thing... just turn it off. Go through the optionsand you can turn off all the sounds and end up with as ilent camera.

all in all, i love it, the panorma mode was DELICIOUS. Seriously. SO now i just have to wait. A little more, and I'll have it again. Fucking best buy credit.