Sweet 16

The day has finally arrived--LEVERAGE. 
It took a long time for Greg to convince me that Kindsay should have a cell phone.  After finding a text she sent from MY phone to my realtor "will you send me a picture of your daughter"...I was so against it...me..a pedophile?  geez.  There was no way that I wanted to be held responsible for the mass emotional destruction and nerve damage caused by Kindsay around the clock.  But, I broke down.
Kindsay thought 16 was it...she was finally going to get one.  Nope, I kept saying to Greg.  Greg then appeals to my softer side, which with Kindsay it's near the surface but still needs scratching away to unveil. 
"Yvette, she's been marking the calendar for a year now, she's researched all the phones, she's talked about this every day forever, she has few things in life to bring her joy.  We have to get her a phone."
Fine.
Got her a Galaxy S2...it's nicer than mine, my husbands, and all the services are in place.  Now, to give it to her.
Sixteen years ago yesterday I gave birth.  I had a false alarm once before, so when I woke Greg at 2AM on Oct 2, 1996, he told me to call him from the hospital if it's a go.  Yes, he was serious.  We lived 3 minutes from St. Agnes, so he didn't find a problem with it.  After giving him a form of hell in labor, he took me once my mom came to watch Rebekah.
The doctor said Kindsay would be delivered in less than an hour.  Oh no, I said, I want drugs!  I spent 12 hours in labor with Bek without drugs, I wasn't going to spend a minute with this delivery.  Okay--it'll push the delivery back an hour...uuummmm -- DO IT.
The needle is lifted in the air behind me and I watch Greg's face turn from "what the h*ll is going on" to "what the %#$@^ is that?!!??"  My gown slipped revealing my whole natural self to the entire staff which then turned his face to "ahhhhhhhhh!!"...of course a woman in labor willingly hands her body to everyone else, as long as they get the stinkin' kid OUT.  right?
But it was the point during delivery when the nurse yelled at Greg to grab my leg and put it over my head that I thought I was going to lose him.  He probably only got my leg over my head because he fainted into it while helping the nurse.  As fast as Kindsay can buckle a dog into an upright carseat, she was out.  We were overjoyed, we didn't know it was a girl.  My in-laws, my parents, siblings from both sides--it was a party in the recovery room.  Until the doctor came in and expressed his concerns and need to test her for Down Syndrome.  All was quiet.
And the rest is history.  No really...read the previous posts. 
She got her phone alright, but not without a little torture from me.  I told her that the gift she was getting from me was the party.  She had 3 girlfriends come and all our family.  She sat down at the pizza parlor and immediately her legs were shaking, her eyes were flitting.  Alright, go ahead and open your gifts.  Like the hurricane that swept Dorothy away, Kindsay had opened every envelope, not even counting the money that fell onto her lap.  Only stacked it up and smelled it.  The money literally stuck to her nose for a good 3 minutes.  She finally opened her purse, gave one last smell good-bye and tucked the money away.  $140...um, buying your own stuff for a while girlie! I let the whole party go by, and then I arranged for Rebekah to call.  The phone was buried in my purse in tissue in a bag, so I pulled it out and could hear the ringing. I put it up to Kindsay's face and said, "what is that ringing?"  It was seconds before she yanked the bag, pulled the phone out of the box, and had the phone flying through the air landing in 3 pieces.  "A phone!  I got a phone! Oh my gosh, I think I'm going to cry!  Oh oh oh oh...get the phone, is it okay?"  panic, mania, anxiety--all of it shooting through the roof of Me 'N' Ed's.  We got the phone back together and into her hands.  It was so fun to watch.  We all waited for that moment all evening. 

And you know what?  She's been the nicest sweetest compliant -- you name it-- child.  "Mom, I'm going to clean my room.  Oh oh oh, let me get my pills.  Hey Garon, you want to look at my phone?  Here...look at it."  All while I sit back in amazement, joy, and trepidation--who will she text first?  could be you...buckle up.

Take the Key and Lock Her Up

Can I get a show of hands who thinks locking Kindsay in her room at night is the best thing for her (us)?  No takers?  Allow me to plead my case.
How does waking up to fine, white dog hair all over the kitchen floor because your child took the Shetland and placed her on the kitchen table and took a pair of scissors to her fur?
How does waking up to a room full of knocked over table trays scattereed carelessly near your 67" t.v. sound?
What about realizing she left your $600 device on all night that if burns out will not be fixable, only need replacing?
How does waking up in the morning to dirty dishes in each room (3 total downstairs), stacked on your furniture along with all associated trash sound?
What about walking first thing into the kitchen in the morning, only to find every single cabinet door open like a scene from Poltergeist? 
Well, that was Greg's morning the other day...not one of them--ALL of them.  It's hard enough to get up in the morning and battle it out with a child who didn't sleep all night and won't get up willingly to catch a bus that comes at a certain time and only waits 3 minutes before it leaves, only to then add having to clean up after a wild night of subconscience reeling without having gotten up any earlier for work and your other two children. 
OK...now then...
Can I get a show of hands who thinks locking Kindsay in her room at night is the best thing for her (us)?
 
Well now, that's more like it.

Summer Lovin'

Wow...I've really let myself down...I blog to keep a journal of life with Kinsdsay, so missing an entire summer is inexusable.  That isn't to say there wasn't material...every day there is material. So where do I begin?  How about summer, good old summer time.
My life is never normal.  I'm always bracing for battle.  Kindsay has now grown to my height and wears a larger size than I do...that said, what Kindsay says--goes.  Since Greg and I worked while the kids were off for summer, my mom had to come babysit.  She didn't mind, until the day Kindsay didn't get her way.  Thankfully, Kindsay's summer school started soon and Greg only had to work a week once the kids were home.  There's always an answer--a blessing! 
My mom, bless her heart, drove 20 minutes to my house every morning for that in between week to watch the boys. I say boys because they like climbing, and now having two stories, they are climbing higher.  Kindsay could sit in her room with her food laid across her chest, inches from her mouth enough for her to vacuum in the next bite while watching Youtube all day, so she wasn't the worry.  But then again, we have dogs.  We all know how Kindsay loves to "care" for the dogs.  One night she dashed into our room excited--Daddy--come see this, hurry!  Greg mosied into her room expecting nothing more than more Justin Beiber on her wall only to find Lily the Shetland strapped into Kindsay's upright carseat.  Lily, with all the fur probably pinched in every buckle, sat without her usual smile and wagging tail.  She looked helpless and defeated.  Yes, Kindsay can get ANYTHING into a carseat if that is her will.  Greg was upset for poor Lily, but not before snapping a picture, knowing we'd laugh about it----later.  We still don't know how she did it...don't want to know.  So Kindsay has deemed Lily "her" dog because, well, Lily is a female and that's how the world works according to Kindsay.  Our other dog is male...so naturally the boys' dog. 
Back to Kindsay, summer, my mom, all the fun, etc, etc..
So Kindsay, in her unusual loving way, gets Lily to fall in line somehow, usually by force.  We have to watch this because we don't typically believe in unnecessary roughness or mistreatment of animals, unless Kindsay becomes so unbearable we have to break our own rules.  Kindsay is in the entryway preparing Lily for a walk.  What a nurturing thought, right?  Except Lily's collar is quite tight, she squirms and whimpers, which makes my mom angry so she goes to Lily to help get it off, while Kindsay is still getting it put on.  Not a good combo. 
My mom is very sensitive to dogs, so she tried telling Kindsay what was harmful to the dog, but Kindsay was having none of it.  Frustrated, my mom just took the initiative to get the collar off, which Kindsay ignored and continued to put it on.  Lily is in the middle, though siding more with my mom, until the collar finally came off to Kindsay's wrath.  My mom stepped back to try to explain to her why choking a dog is inhumane; instead of listening and learning from her wise elders, Kindsay took the leash and whipped it at my mom, hurling the metal clip end of it onto my mom's back behind her shoulder.   My mom screamed out in pain, and it was then that Kindsay was knocked out of her perseverating trance of "must take dog on walk" and realized what she had done.  My mom, reeling from the burning pain of having been whipped, spewed cuss words like a southern drunk, making my boys freeze in their shoes, jaws dropped.  Needless to say, the worst my boys hear in their own home is "Holy Crap!"...My mom, realized her vulgar reaction, called me bawling in embarrassment for having called her granddaughter a series of unfortunate insults. I didn't blame her, I felt terrible!  Was Kindsay unmedicated?  Most likely, and that comes back to me.  My mom gathered the boys together, though still stuck in their spots and jaws dropped at the rated R for violence and language scene just played out, and ushered them to her car.  She then went back into the house and grabbed both dogs and slammed the door behind her.  Kindsay is her baby, her pride and joy granddaughter, but she'll be d***ed if she's gong to be beaten by this kid.  Kindsay called me and went off, tantruming about how she wants to kill herself, hates herself, blah blah, so I ran home to get her.  I came in the front door talking with Greg on the cell and Kindsay goes from screaming and bawling to "WHO'S THAT ON THE PHONE????"  I say--it's your father.  Her eyes get big, she lets out a big sigh...oh I thought it was grandma.  She knows she blew it.  My mom had a huge bruise for week on her back...but Lily appreciated it, I know she did.

The Appointment

With Greg home for the summer, he has turned into Mr. Mom.  I work 7-hour days, which for summer school is stinking long, plus I've been doing extra hours to prepare for the next school year, so make that 10-hour days...
Kindsay has been attending summer school, but hers goes for four hours a day...ONLY.  Not enough, that girl should be out and busy all day because the minute she gets home it's "STriP" and computer harassing till bed.  Except for yesterday, when she had an appointment.
I'm leaving at 7 and getting home at 6 at night, so you can imagine by the time I'm home my eyes are on fire.  Yesterday Kindsay had her "period pill" appt., which is birth control to all of us folks, and we have to annually see her NP to keep those rolling in...and in previous posts you've seen what damage can be done by NOT having those pills.  I had to leave work early since her appt was at 4:40, so I left in time to get home, scoop her up, and get her to that appt stat!  I walked in the door, weary and Greg walks up to help unload my arms and get Kindsay out the door.  I told him I would get on dinner the moment I got back and the nice guy, father of the child mind you, offered to take her to the appt.  I jumped on that like it was chocolate ice cream (it's hot)...I threw the insurance cards at him, gave him instructions on what he needed to say to the NP, and tossed Kindsay the car keys to get her to leave and shut the door behind them. 
Poor Greg.  He's just not fully prepared for some of this stuff like I am.  I do all the appts, I know all the numbers, info, stats, history, you name it.  Greg is calling me for this and that and what not...the appt was down the street so thankfully he found it alright.  The biggest problem?  Kindsay hadn't taken her pills that day.  We've been very diligent about those with her being in school, but she missed them that day and the evidence was ubiquitous.  Here's Greg's account of what went on at the big OB/GYN appt of the year:
First of all, I'm the only guy in the entire building.  It's closing time and it's all women exept me and I'm with my daughter of all people.  We go in the room and Kindsay, being unmedicated, cannot sit still.  Touching this, that, here, there...sit down Kindsay, don't touch that, put that down--that's not yours...like having a 2-yr-old in an antique store.  I'm a nervous wreck with a room full of med supplies that she would love to experiment with on the dog.  She goes to the hand sanitizer and loads up...pump after pump...Kindsay--that's enough--stop!  Finally she pumped so much she was spreading it up her arms.  The stuff was a sticky, definitely gooey, and not absorbing into her skin. It's that time that we here the tapping alert on the door that the NP was ready to see us.  Kindsay leapt to attention and sat on the bench with her hands rigidly behind her back, clearly aware of potential trouble and misbehaving she's done.  The NP came in and greeted Kindsay, extending her hand to shake it...I tried to stop her--no..I wouldn't if I were...too late.  The sticky gooeyness was all over the NP before I could stop it.  She tried to remain pleasant with the santizer working it's magic clear through next week.  Kindsay just fidgeted..giggling on occasion out of madness that was consuming her that late in the day without meds.  Moving on..."So, have you had any periods?"  she asks Kindsay.  I wish we could just pull the woman aside and fill her in--please address us because you aren't going to get straight answers from her--instead of this proper dr/patient relationship that isn't really appropriate for Kindsay's understanding.  She addresses everything to Kindsay.  Kindsay says, "Sunday, I had one Sunday."  The NP looks over at me as if to confirm..."Any symptoms you've noticed?"  I have no idea what symptoms she's even asking about...I could just shake my head and couple it with a look of complete ignorance on the whole matter.  "Sunday?" the NP repeats..."as in last Sunday?"  No, Kindsay says, A long time ago...a long time ago on Sunday, not last Sunday.  Ahh, okay, so the pills are doing the job as we'd hoped.  "Any boyfriends?"  For some reason, I can't get this NP to understand that Kindsay is NOT on the pills to protect her with all her sexual activity because there is NO sexual activity, and yet she asks such a question which of course Kindsay responds with enthusiastic affirmation.  "Is this something we need to worry about?" the NP addresses me now after she asks the bombing question.  I recall how just that day Kindsay had an imaginative conversation with her imaginary boyfriend, Bryan, who she wants to name the backyard rat after (another story for another time), and I shake my head, trying to keep from destroying Kindsay's dream of this boyfriend of hers while conveying that indeed there is no need to worry.  Just give me the pills, Lady, and we can be done with this nightmare of awkward discussion of sex, boyfriends, periods, pills, and all to do with my daughter who is always on "spring break at Daytona Beach" because we have to see in her underwear all the time because heaven forbid she wear clothing around her family.
All was said and done and Kindsay got her pills.  Greg came home with her, probably some respect for what I have to do every time I take her to any appt., and yet that night when I lie in bed exhausted and needing to sleep he reminded me how he helped by taking her to the appt.  "You helped by taking YOUR daughter to an appt that you've never had to do before?" Okay, I admit, a father attending that kind of appt is unusual and he gets kudos for offering.  Maybe next time he'll offer instead to make dinner while I go to the appt...I'd actually prefer that.  I think microwave hotdogs are okay on occasion.  I have a whole year to look forward to that.