Archive for the LinkWhoring Category

I used to think ___ but now i think ___. #OutofSortsBook

Sarah Bessey's new book, Out of Sorts, released last week. She is doing a synchroblog with a writing prompt about how and why we have evolved in our beliefs over the years. I'm all about a writing prompt, even if it takes 3 days to write. Ha! LetMeOut-WM I think so differently about so many things now, I don't even know where to begin. I always felt torn between 2 extremes. I either felt so utterly broken that I was beyond hope, or I felt like I had all the answers and was in the fast lane with the saints on the stairway to heaven. I think the self-righteous arrogance was a coping mechanism to deal with the massive inferiority I felt. I would find people whom I was "better than" in order to feel better about myself. Of course that was only when I was sober. Truly, underneath any bravado I put up, I always felt less than. Not good enough. As I wrote about not too long ago, "If I couldn’t ever measure up to my dad’s standards with my behavior, how could I ever hope to measure up to God’s standard of absolute holy perfection?" I thought I knew who God was, but I really never saw Him for who He really is. For many years I did not consistently have someone in my life speaking truth to me about the character and nature of God. That means I definitely did not have someone reminding me of the Good News - the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I forgot that I couldn't earn my way to God. I had neither a dramatic falling away, nor did I have a dramatic return. I had a gradual descent into a breakdown where something had to give. Things started to change from the time I realized I was having a breakdown. I changed when I realized I needed help. It began with a medical doctor appointment where I walked out with an antidepressant and a couple of recommendations/referrals for therapists. Then I not only picked a therapist, but started attending Al-Anon. While I was largely silent in Al-Anon for a while, I sat in that first session with my therapist and verbally vomited on her. I told her things that I had never ever said out loud. To anyone. I learned first in my therapist's office to be honest about both my present and my past. To talk about what happened, what was happening, and how I felt. And nothing would ever be the same, especially once one of my close friends told me I needed to quit drinking. And that's when I had to get really honest. When you grow up in a fundamentalist culture with an abusive father, you learn things about God that just aren't true. Sure, I believed Jesus saved me, but I didn't fully believe I could be and was forgiven. I had to revisit everything I thought I knew about God, and tear down a lot of false teaching of legalism. I had to work through a lot of resentment not just with the religion of my youth, but with God himself. I used to think that God was just waiting for people to do the wrong thing in order to enact a swift and thorough punishment for the least little infraction. Therefore, I had to be on guard all the time to not mess up, and when I did (because we all do), I lived in bondage to shame and fear. For many years, my only relief came from a bottle. But having been delivered from the compulsion to self-medicate, I now know that God is kind and loving and merciful. I now know without a doubt that Jesus is enough, and because of Him, I don't have to try to earn my way into the Father's good graces. I am fully known and fully loved. The Holy Spirit wasn't the one filling me with fear and shame. Oh, no. It's the Holy Spirit that reminds me who I really am - a beloved daughter of the Father.
So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. John 8:36 (NIV)

#medicatedandmighty – It’s complicated

This is it people. Two prescriptions to maintain this crazy. Wish me luck.

A photo posted by @muthalovinautism on

That is my friend Erin Jones. Her story has just blown up over the last few weeks. It's a story about hitting bottom, and getting help back up. I encourage you to follow her on Facebook and/or check out her blog at Mutha Lovin' Autism. Her story is shedding light on mental health, and seeks to break the stigma associated with mental illness. I'm standing with her.

#medicatedandmighty Standing with my friend Erin @muthalovinautism and sharing my story of needing help, and before and after pics. I might have been running regularly in 2012 and looking ok on the outside, but I was trapped in a cycle of self-medication and denial. Midway through 2013, I hit a bottom, and started getting help. 5 months after I started taking an antidepressant, I stopped drinking. 17 months later, I stopped smoking (again). 18 months later, I put on makeup and a skirt, and told my story to a room full of people. 20 months later, I weaned off the antidepressant because it gave me the emotional reset I needed along with my program to feel my feelings without fear of them and without being consumed by them and work through the pain if the issues I stuffed, suppressed, and numbed for most of my life. #throwbackthursday #tbt

A photo posted by Martha Nemec (@dragonlady42) on

The last time I posted, I mentioned wrestling over sharing my unsanitized story. Since then, I have added My Story to the menu above (below on mobile). Because I have reached the point that I am ready to share it. Because one thing I have learned in recovery is that I am not alone and someone else has done or experienced something I have. Which means, there is someone out there who thinks that no one can possibly understand what he or she has been through. It's what my Manifesto is about. It's about letting just one other person know they are not alone. And someone cares. And there is hope. I may or may not be on the autism spectrum. I don't have a diagnosis, but I show a lot of signs. I'm still not convinced that I developed symptoms that would be considered on the spectrum due to trying to cope and survive the abuse as a child. Regardless, I have never felt "normal" and came up with my own coping skills which work well for a child, but not so much as an adult. I am certain that the abuse and all the methods I used to cope contributed to my own mental illness - namely depression and anxiety. Y'all, you can't function "normally" when you are bouncing between the 2. Self-medicating will prolong the inevitable breakdown. Stuffing and suppressing will only last for so long before you blow up. And the isolation will slowly wear you down until you want to die. Whether by your own hand - quickly or slowly - or through recklessness, without professional help, you will find yourself in such a depressive state that death looks like the only viable option. And I know firsthand, you can't just pray that away. No, you need people who have been there and back and will walk with you or just sit with you without blaming you or trying to fix you. If you have been struggling with depression and/or anxiety, you probably do have a chemical imbalance which will require medication. Years and years of stress will throw the chemical balance off because your body has been on alert for so long it doesn't know how to not be on alert. It absolutely is a physical, mental, and spiritual sickness. You can't just treat one area and expect the other areas to recover also. And you absolutely cannot fix yourself. If you liked this post or it resonated with you, would you please share it below? Thank you!

Changing ain’t easy

I have had a raging case of PMS since yesterday evening. TMI you say? Perhaps, but hey, it is what it is. Everybody and everything has been getting on my nerves. When I'm not angry, I just want to sit and mope. I want to eat all the things, and it makes me a little angry that there isn't any chocolate in this house. Well, there might be some cocoa, but I sure as heck don't want to cook. I did do some work though. I did a couple of hours of coding, which did not improve my mood even though it was slightly easier coding in Dreamweaver than just typing all of it manually. Of course it didn't work, and that pissed me off. But really, I have never written any code that worked the first time. And I love troubleshooting. Since then I have realized why it isn't working and it's not my code, but at this point I am not going to log into GoDaddy and upload it. After all, I need to save some work for tomorrow. ;) And I practiced for Sunday. Anyway, I couldn't stand my bitchiness anymore so I texted Petra to whine. She told me to organize something. HAHAHAHA! Right. Like I even know where to start, but I did remember about partially cleaning the toilet this morning and gave her all the details of that. That led me to make myself go finish cleaning it. Which was oh so gross. Once that was done, I looked at the shower curtain and decided it needed to be washed. Well, heck, might as well clean the shower too. It just snowballed and I cleaned the whole bathroom including baseboards and walls. Then I thought, "Huh. That was a lot more productive than sitting on my pity pot wishing I could drink a glass of wine." Because of course it would be at least a whole bottle. During one of my many breaks, I read this blog post: The Problem with Asking for Advice. He hit me right away with this:
Often, when asking for advice, a person isn’t really seeking something new. They’re just looking for validation, affirmation of a choice already made. And this is a problem.
That hits close to home. But, after reading that and looking back on what I have done today, I can see where I am making changes in my behavior when the crazy creeps in. I didn't want to write code today. I didn't want to call the security office at work to see if I can get back in the compound yet and work on site. I didn't want to practice. I definitely didn't want to clean. But they were all things that needed to be done, and they all kept my mind occupied with something besides obsessing over escape. I mean, for real. It's just freaking PMS. It will pass in a day or too and then I can piss and moan and whine about having cramps for a couple of days and look all miserable like Brownie when she has her "special time." I was telling my therapist last week about the trip to Arkansas and some things I did to make a little bit of peace with the past. She didn't let it pass and "forced" me to go more in depth about one of the things. Then she asked me what I had done about it at the time. I kind of laughed and said, "Well, I avoided." Then she laughed and sarcastically said, "Really? You avoiding?" because she called me out on that months ago. That has been a hard change to make. But as I work on changing that behavior, I can see that it really is easier to confront something or someone that is legitimately bothering me in some way than avoiding the situation and storing up resentment. Go figure. ;) And funny enough, just writing this has chilled me out.

Moving on

My name is Martha, and I am a Missionary Baptist deacon's kid (DK). And I'm an alcoholic. I just reported the latter to my security officer so it can't be used against me now. My co-workers know too. My mother does not, and I intend to keep it that way because that might be the one thing she doesn't forget. ;) And I got sober before I got the nose ring. haha! :) I was told not too long ago that I have been pretty open about blogging about my "junk." Well, now that I have dragged all of my skellingtons out of the closet to my sponsor (and lived through it), I feel much more comfortable sharing my junk publicly. Because I kept a lot of crap bottled up for so long that I nearly imploded. It's been a year now since my emotional breakdown which could in a sense be considered my rock bottom even though it took me a while after that to admit that my drinking was a problem that was perpetuating my other problems. I read a couple of articles this morning that hit home and prompted me to be willing to put some more of my junk out there. 5 Reasons Pastors Kids are Leaving the Church – Guest Post by Emily Wierenga Do Prodigals Feel Welcome At Our Churches? I learned as a DK very early how to keep up appearances. I knew the right way to speak around the right people. I learned how to smile and pretend everything was okay. I might have missed my calling as an actress because I kept up quite an act. Things were not okay, and I was not okay. My dad was verbally and emotionally abuse to my mom and I, and it couldn't be shared. So we suffered in silence. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for how it affected me. It nearly destroyed me. I learned not to trust anyone, and not to respect authority, but to go through the motions as if I did. Of course that can't be maintained, and so I would act out. I felt different from everybody like I didn't fit in. Then I got drunk, and that changed everything. It was my 3rd time drinking when I hit that sweet spot of drunk where I felt good. I was confident and relaxed for the first time. I could be myself without analyzing everything that I or anyone else said or did. I enjoyed life, at least until I sobered up. I didn't realize it at the time, but I never did drink like I "normal" person. I drank to get drunk - trying to get back that feeling of that first good drunk. Sometimes I did it, but more often than not I went way beyond that sweet spot. It became a means to escape. It didn't matter how many hangovers where I swore I'd never drink again, I was going to end up doing it again. And when I did, I was going to drink until there was no more alcohol or I passed out or I was throwing up. I would feel guilty the next day, but still kept drinking. I was extremely fortunate that drinking never got me into any trouble with work or the law. I never missed work because of my drinking, didn't go to work drunk, and rarely went in with a hangover. I never got into any trouble with the law. But for the grace of God, it never progressed farther than having Petra tell me I needed to stop for a while. Which, of course, I couldn't. What really stood out to me in the first article I linked above is: "PKs aren’t given a chance to experience God’s grace and mercy; they’re just forced to memorize the concepts." The same was true for this DK. Grace and mercy took a back seat to following rules to maintain your own reputation among other people. Or rather my dad's reputation which he destroyed himself. In the second article, there was this: "And when prodigals bottom out, they often return home and to the church." I returned to the church before I actually bottomed out, but I nearly left again. I did leave the Baptist way behind because I could still see and feel that pressure to maintain an outward appearance of righteousness. I couldn't live up to that standard as a child and I can't live up to it as an adult. What I can do, though, is learn how to rest in the finished work of Jesus. It took over 30 years for it to finally sink in, but I am not accepted and loved by God because of anything I have done, am doing, or will do. It is through Jesus and Jesus alone that I am made righteous. He paid my debt. I have nothing to earn. The best work I can do on my own is like a used tampon before God. Oh yeah, that's the literal translation of "filthy rags" in the Bible. But if Christ's death on the cross is not enough to pay for my sin, it's not enough to cover anyone's and none of us have any hope. The justification of salvation is an instant event, but sanctification is a process rather than an event. That is why I can put my junk out without wallowing in the pit of self-pity from guilt and shame due to not being perfect. That's why I no longer look at trials as punishment but as instruments of growth because they are chipping away at my self-centeredness and my guilt and shame of not being perfect. Only Jesus was perfect. I have 5 1/2 months of sobriety by the grace of God, one day at a time. I am making peace with my past and letting go by the grace of God, one day at a time. I am learning to open up and call people when I am feeling the insanity of the committee in my head and need someone to talk to and to talk me down, by the grace of God, one day at a time. I am learning to live in the present and not reliving the past or trying to control the future, by the grace of God, one day at a time.

Making the most of it

I had to run a virtual 5k this weekend because my foot was broken the previous weekend. "Broken" is an exaggeration. It hurt like it was broken, but 1) I didn't go to the doctor over it and 2) whatever I did to it happened at work while I was sitting at my desk. Saturday was just nasty windy, and so was yesterday morning. But after noon yesterday, the wind died down some, and the sun was out and I made myself go run. I tried every way I could think of to not do it and yet still count it, but I finally just texted Karyn and Molly "Tell me to run," knowing they would give me that bit of motivation I needed to just go do it. I hated every single step of that run. But. I'm working on finding bright spots among the suck. As I approached the halfway point, I noticed a pond. I've run past that house countless times, but yesterday was the first time I noticed that pond behind it. I noticed the squirrels, which really isn't unusual. I noticed the frogs croaking in the ditch on the way back, and noticed how once I got past them, they stopped. And, by the way, I love the sound of a bunch of croaking frogs. I stopped at a neighbor's house and chatted with him for a minute (pausing the workout - lol), and learned he was a boxer when he was younger. The actual running (and my time) sucked, but the rest of it didn't. I tried to get the dogs in the photo with me, but only Brownie would even remotely cooperate. I also ripped a hole in the butt of my running tights while trying to get the dogs in the shot. :-/ But it really was a beautiful day for a run. The race was the Stop Stroke Shuffle 5k. Enjoyed supporting Dani's cause, and would not feel the donation wasted if I hadn't run. Thank you Dani for the reason to get off my butt! :)

Sometimes running is just weird

Also, race recaps are hard for me. This is why I generally don't do them. Ok, I do them, but not like most runners do recaps. Perhaps it is the self-diagnosed ADHD. Squirrel! ;) Anywho, I misunderstood the dates for the Snowflake Shuffle 8k, and thought is was last weekend. Which wasn't happening. No running happened last weekend. Actually, no running has happened since the Morrow Mountain 15k. Because injury (mild), sick, and polar vortexes. So I have done absolutely no runs towards the Winter Miles Challenge. And then Thursday I went home sick with some kind of plague that came on suddenly and had me in bed wishing for death. I got better. So, when I saw that the 8k was through this weekend, I saw a glimmer of hope to actually do it. Oddly (for me) I woke up this morning ready to run. That almost never happens. But I got dressed, and got out there and did it. I told the hubster the route I was going to take stating "I am NOT running down to the Rocky River and back up that hill." Yet when I got to my turn around point at the top of said hill, I said "What the heck," and did it anyway. That made the turnaround just past the river bridge, and I decided to stop and take pictures. Because that's how I roll. I didn't even pause my watch during the photo shoot. I didn't quite run all the way back up that hill. I made it halfway and then walked and wheezed my way to the top. But I ran the rest of the 2 miles back except for after I called the hubster and then couldn't get my phone back in its holder. And the run felt good. The whole way. Minimal knee pain. No back pain. It was as if I hadn't just run for the first time in a month. Weird! With less than a mile to go, I had a little meltdown. Every now and then I'll have a running meltdown that has nothing to do with running. It always happens in front of someone's house. It wasn't bad enough to stop over, but still. It was "public." But brief. So race 2 is out of the way for the year. And I intend to spend the rest of the day reading and drinking chai tea lattes.

Maniacal Monday #27

I'm in a pretty craptastic mood (still), and actually spent yesterday evening looking forward to going to work. I got up Saturday morning and ran the 12ks of Christmas. I mostly ran the whole thing. James called me right at the last mile and nearly threw me all off so I walked up that last hill while putting my phone back in the carrier case. But, I ran down the final stretch determined not to be dead last. lol. And I got the finisher's medal, and most of the tribers waited on me to finish, and Nicole and George both gave me hugs which was just so sweet. My 1 picture was made when I finally got back to the car. 15-ReindeerRun12k Oh, and I am still tremendously sore. :sigh: George invited me to a race on Facebook, and I thought it looked interesting and invited Karyn also just because. Well, she will actually be in town, and so we are both registered for the Morrow Mountain Trail Race 15K which we may or may not end up regretting. And on that note, I think we both signed up for 14 in 2014. I did anyway, and I think Karyn is going to if she hasn't already. I don't plan on running anything longer than the Tar Heel 10 Miler, and that one only because I signed up for it last year. Because finisher's medal. ;) And the broken out window in the living room finally got fixed. It's not completely fixed, but the panes are in place and just need to be caulked in. But it didn't happen before tragedy struck. Sushi/Mako somehow got out of it, and the dogs made short work of ending her life. :wail: [caption id="attachment_1910" align="aligncenter" width="268"]RIP Sushi/Mako RIP Sushi/Mako[/caption] I got caught up on grading this weekend, and got the kids' work graded, mostly recorded, and new schedules made. There was one portion of Jamie's Algebra II that I reassigned with "We will go over this together," because she 1) didn't seem to get it and 2) had a big "help" written on one of the assignments. So, I went to YouTube looking for a Fleetwood Mac's Oh Well, and found this.

Maniacal Monday #23

I had one of the best and most exhausting weekends in a while. Seriously, 7pm last night, I crashed. It was great. Ok, it was mostly great. There was a lot of yelling when I got home Friday. I even fired James. "I know now I was suffering from pre-menstrual syndrome." - Truvy Jones. And on that note, I put on my black yoga pants Saturday afternoon, and those things are always covered with lint, fuzz, and hair. My hair, dog hair, and cat hair. Because we all shed. I immediately thought of that scene in Steel Magnolias when Truvy hires Annelle and Annelle tells Truvy she has "tiny little hairs and fuzzies" all over her. Truvy's response was "There's so much static electricity in this room, I pick up everything but boys and money." I tweeted that, because it's how I roll, and then I went to the store with hair and fuzz all over my black yoga pants. Because that's also how I roll. My tweets also publish to my Facebook, and thus began the quote-fest. Petra dropped a quote, and we went back and forth for hours while she did photo editing and I graded. I've seen that movie way too many times. I'm sure I saw it every day for my last 6 weeks in Kuwait back in '97. I know that when Lisa and I sat in the chow hall one day with the major, and Steel Magnolias was playing, we were quoting line by line with the movie. And the major looked at us and said, "You guys have been here too long." Fun times. :) I got up Saturday morning and went to Raleigh to run the 2nd annual Run to Reclaim 5k. It was 30F when the hubs and I left the house. I kept reminding myself that the Anderson Creek 10k earlier this year was a lot colder. Anyway, I caught a fantastic shot of the sunrise over Jordan Lake on the way. It had been at least 6 weeks since I last ran, so I was totally amazed to finish in under 37 min. My official chip time was 36:42. I combined runs, and so this was also my Dynamic Duel Canada vs USA Virtual 5k run. And if you haven't, go sign up and do it!! Especially if you are from the states. Because I think I saw an update on FB where Canada had come from behind and was winning. Not that there are any losers in this one as it supports the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. :) Here's my "finish" photo with the awesome shirt I got from the Run to Reclaim 5k. Because I just love the florescent yellow. ;) photo(2) And then I got on my bike and rode 9.69 miles. Which is just crazy. But I only had to stop twice going up the hill-to-be-conquered this time. And one of those I was all bent over my bike trying to catch my breath and not puke in someone's driveway...while there was someone in the yard. Grading. That was the other low point of the weekend. Chad bombed 2 of the 3 tests he took last week, and didn't finish all of his work that he said he finished. :headbang: I spent nearly all day at church yesterday because I was on schedule to play with the worship team. I'm pretty sure I screwed up the chords on every single song, but especially the last one. I even had the chords written and taped to my guitar and couldn't get them right. But it was still fun. And I have a cool story. So there we were during the second service after the sermon. Pastor Nate was leading us in prayer before we watched a special video from Pastor Benji. My head is bowed; my eyes are closed. I heard this noise start up, and I wondered what it was. I kept mentally going through everything on stage that could be making it and finally thought maybe Shawn turned on the fan. Then it seemed to be just a bit louder and it started to dawn on me what that noise was and as I opened my eyes and started to raise my head back up, I heard a step from across the stage which was Rodney about to come warn me of the projector screen that I could now see was about to come down on my head. Hilarity then ensued as I quickly tucked and rolled. Ok, I just ducked and moved back. It was funny. Heidi was in the same boat, but she was by Rodney, and not as tall as me, so she had a tad bit more warning. Again I want to say how much I enjoy being part of the C.O.R.E. Worship Team! Now let me tell you about lunch. The hubs fixed me a gluten free hamburger helperish thing for lunch yesterday, and when we got done with it there really wasn't enough for my lunch today. So he said he would fix me sweet potato home fries which are awesome! Anyway, when I packed up my lunch this morning, in addition to the sweet potatoes, there was a small container of deviled eggs. Score! And, there was ham underneath the sweet potatoes. Like Christmas in November. I was singing this the other day grading Jamie's work: And I will wrap this us with a huge THANK YOU to all of our veterans today and for those still serving. There are too many friends, family, and co-workers for me to name, but I am partial first to my husband, my extended family and my husband's family, and then to those I served with in the 3rd Combat Communication Group, Al Jaber Air Base, Kuwait, and the JAC & 423rd ABS in the UK. All gave some. Some gave all.

Funday Friday #22

TGIF. I say that like I have a nice relaxing weekend in store. lol This has been a crazy busy week. Again. And it's going to be a busy weekend. And I really need to make time for an Al-Anon meeting. Karyn and Molly double-teamed me with 5ks this week. One is a virtual, and therefore I am going to do The Dynamic Duel Canada vs USA 5k in conjunction with Run to Reclaim 5K. Because that's how I roll. And plus, I haven't run at all in like 6 weeks, and Saturday is my only free day to run unless I get a wild hair and do a run during lunch next week. Anyway, running 2 5ks tomorrow just won't happen. Probably. ;) I'm playing Sunday which means I'll be at church almost all day. I'm actually looking forward to it. Rehearsal went great, and I left feeling just so pumped. KitKat is still falling off the landing. OH! I killed a HUGE spider Tuesday morning and didn't even scream first. This was quite an accomplishment. Both for not screaming and for actually killing it myself. James has since referred to it as a tarantula, but it wasn't quite that big. Then yesterday morning as I got out of the shower and started drying off, I felt something stick into my hand. I looked and saw legs and immediately knew I'd just been bitten by a black widow. So I shook out the towel before finally dropping it to the floor, and then the culprit emerged. It was a red wasp, and it much have just barely stung me because it really didn't hurt that bad. I also don't have the huge red swollen area that follows a sting. Just a little swelling, but it itches like crazy now. I might feel a little like honey badger. My kids. photo(1) They decided to fight over the front seat. Please take note of where we were. That's a mausoleum behind them. :rolleye: Being mom of the year, I took a picture. No one was actually injured, though they did both end up in the front seat wrestling over it. There was no punching or scratching or hair pulling. It ended when I finally said "Enough!" and made Chad get in the back seat because Jamie had called front before we even stopped. You may (or may not) ask why we were at a cemetery. On the way to their counseling appointments (which only I had to attend), Chad asked what the big building was in the cemetery we passed. I told him a mausoleum, which I then had to tell him what that was and that I would stop by on the way back home. One of them asked why we don't have any crypts here in the states, and I told them mausoleums were essentially crypts, just not underground. I tried to find a really cool video to end with, and was not disappointed. Ok, it might not be cool, but it is hilarious.

Maniacal Monday #21

Know how to start a Monday off right? Oversleep. Slept right through the alarm (or hit snooze in my sleep), and was awakened by the dogs barking 15 min after I should have been at work. Fun times. I finally finished the VIRTUAL RIDE for breast cancer hosted by Run with Jess this weekend. 31 miles of during October, and a lot of butt pain. lol I did manage to take a picture while I was riding during my second ride (the 12.5 mile one): photo 1 Less than 4 miles into and I was already in pain. And I'm pretty sure I was even rolling downhill when I snapped it. ;) I rode 11 miles on Saturday, and that was all I could do. That left me 4.1 miles to finish yesterday, and as soon as I sat down on that seat I knew that was going to be a long 4.1 miles with a sore butt. But, after about a mile, my butt didn't hurt so bad. Probably because my legs started to hurt worse. haha After it was over, I had the hubby snap a shot of me on my bike with the medal, because who doesn't love bling? photo3-smaller Now I have to start running again since I have a 5k coming up next month and a 12k in December. I had to ask a question of Jamie this weekend. "Do you want to graduate on time, or do you want to do summer school or another year of school?" She's 2 weeks behind, Chad is 4 weeks behind. Craziness. I've cut off internet for both. James said yesterday that they needed gas for their mopeds, and I told him I had been deliberately not getting more gas for them for the same reason they have no internet. And since he isn't making them do their work which is the whole reason he isn't working at a real job that actually pays, I have a fun-filled pending talk to have with him. Anywho, Amber tore up my hand yesterday while we played. I didn't realize the damage until I put on lotion and it burned us. I was very amused at KitKat's ungraceful falling off of things she was sleeping on over the weekend.