Ok, so I know I'm getting behind my goal of making an entry every few days a week or whatever. (Although, technically, I did say that I was sticking to one entry a week so my slacker ass didn't get down on myself.) But you see, about 3 weeks ago, my uterus and ovaries decided to rebel against me and try to break free of this mortal coil. (Wow, I sound so dark and goth.) They have been losing, but they have been putting up a helluva fight. Such a helluva a fight, in fact, that today is the first day that I've been able to walk upright ALL.DAY.LONG.

I know, it's shocking, right?

Now, I'm not sure if that means that they are tiring of fighting or if the fact that I have the PLAGUE and have been laying on the couch ever since I came back from shooting my very first gun has anything to do with it. I'm hoping that they are giving up the fight, cuzz, really? I'm fucking tired of walking like an old lady. And I'm tired of being in pain, as well. In fact, I was supposed to call my doctor and see if she would call me in a refill of Dilaudid or if she needed to see me first. I'm betting she'll need to see me first, which is gonna kinda suck a lot of monkey balls.

In other news, I shot my very first gun today. Curious why? Well, I have decided that I am gonna "kill me a bambi" this year. (Not really killing a Bambi, I've just been telling people that to see what kind of reaction I get. Typically, it's a mix of horror and you-need-to-lay-off-the-crack-pipe-you-are-a-GIRL-don't-you-know-that?! Which amuses the hell out of me) I'm hoping that I get my child support tomorrow (it came last week) so I can go pick up an orange hat and at least an orange vest. You know, so I don't get mistaken for a Bambi. Apparently I shot damned well for my first time. My mom called to let me know that my step-dad had been raving about it when he got home. LOL

And that's pretty much gonna be it. I hear the couch calling my name and I need to go check on the boy and the nephew, as we are not at Scouts for the second week in a row. I've got the PLAGUE and I had to pick him up from school early cuzz he had an "accident". (read: shit his pants) I was LIVID when I got home. See, they called me to let me know that I needed to come get him cuzz of his "accident". Not a big deal. I said that I was on my way home and that I wouild swing by there before I actually got home. Then she tells me that he might need cleaned up. Excuse me? Now, normally, this wouldn't have been an issue. I live close enough to the school that I can get there in 5 minutes if needed. Except I wasn't at home today, and I was probably being a moron for thinking that when I SAID I wasn't home, that I was clear about NOT BEING HOME. I told her that I would stop home and grab him a change of clothes before I got up there and she said that he might need to be cleaned up. AGAIN. As if I didn't hear her the first time. I said fine and hung up. I had made up my mind that if he was in the bathroom covered in shit when I got there, I was pulling him from teh school. I mean, I can understand not wanting to do that kind of clean up cuzz of all the molestation allegations that go around and what not, but there comes a point where you say Fuck It and do it anyway cuzz if you don't you could potentially endanger the child. Seriously, being covered in shit is NOT something I want my child to do for longer than a few minutes if it can be helped. Luckily, he was in the office when I got there. He smelled like shit, as I assumed he would, and he had fingerprints on his shirt. I signed him out and asked him who helped him clean up when we got in the car. He said no one, that he had to do it himself as best he could. I wasn't happy about that, but, then again, he wasn't sitting in the bathroom waiting for me, so I guess it's not too big of an issue. I'll be letting my ex-mother-in-law know, since she pays his tuition, and I'll also be telling her that if they fuck up one more time, he's being pulled from that school.

Did I ever blog about the HUGE fuck up they made with Child Protective Services? Let me know and if I haven't, I'll blog about it as much as I can with out getting into too many details. The situation at his father's is NOT one that I want him to be in, but I jhave been told that I have no choice...