One kids vacation is another person’s nightmare.

Last weak really devoured me whole… didn’t even bother to spit me back out. Last Monday marked the first day of February vacation week for schools, thus symbolizing me having to work from 6:30am to 4:00pm without my usual 2 shifts and a break routine. I hate being the first one at work during a vacation week, you have to dragged over a bunch of games and binders and other materials that don’t all fit in your arms while trying to unlock the front door and not spill a coffee all at the same time. It stinks.

Anyways, being the first one there also means I get yelled at by parents who are upset at the administration office for not filing their paperwork which of course is my fault because I apparently should have done it even though that’s not my department. Then before 10am on Monday I had a kid with Tourettes tell a girl to “put your lips on my penis” when he has no vocal tics. All his tics are physical but he didn’t know his doctor told us so he is constantly being perverted and trying to get away with it. That set the mood for the whole week. I tried to avoid his groups at all costs because honestly I don’t have the patience for him. He used to be a regular member of the after school program and I dealt with him daily for months on end and I was not in a good place last week so I let someone else deal with him.

So not only did I have a more grueling schedule because it was vacation week but Wednesday was also the big move. I took Wednesday “off” even though I got up just as early and did more physical labor dragging my crap up to the third floor than I would have done at work. Being that I’m extremely out of shape this killed me. Thursday I was so sore and I could barely move around enough to walk around at work with my group of kids. I was so sore I had trouble falling asleep AND waking up. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and I couldn’t. Thursday and Friday dragged so slowly I literally thought I was stuck in time. Friday my group was particularly rambunctious and annoying. I had a 3rd grader tell me he wished he had a bomb so he could blow up the teen center. So that was fun. Not. Friday I got to go home early thank goodness!!! I went home and lounged in my pajamas after a short trip to the supermarket to grab some food because my dad was coming over Saturday for dinner.

Saturday morning comes and I take K to work. On the drive home was when I got the call about my fluffy little monster, Gizmo, being sick. So my first day of relaxing was ruined by sadness. I went home and sobbed for an hour or two. My dad came over later and I tried to have a relaxing evening with him; playing Xbox with your 53 year old dad is always fun. Sunday evening however my mom called and said Gizmo was doing much better although he still needs to be watched closely, THANK YOU WORLD!!! Still a little sad that he almost died and nervous for his health in the future but I video chatted with my dog (yes I know I am strange) and he seemed less out of it so I’m hoping he keeps improving.

Monday we went back to our normal work hours. Yesterday between my two shifts I literally just read for 2.5 hours then had a quick lunch and went to work. I also convinced K to order food because I didn’t feel like cooking.

Today has started out alright, morning shift was rather smooth except an incident between a boy with autism and another child arguing weather or not superman had ice breath… but luckily I wasn’t there for that, I was doing bus call so the other two staff had to deal with it.

I’m also looking forward to going to lunch with my friend from work, Ilyssa, and catching up. We have a lot in common and struggle with a lot of the same issues so it’s always nice to spend time with someone who understands me.

That’s all for now! Happy Tuesday people!

Third floor tenant with a broken heart.

Well me and K are all moved. Boy, dragging all our furniture to the third floor was real hard. Luckily my dad was able to help because we couldn’t have done it on our own. There was so much stuff to move even though we threw out or donated a bunch of stuff before we packed. We moved on Wednesday and I’m still sore from it. The move was especially hard on Lola kitty. She made the most heart wrenching cry I have ever heard come from an animal as soon as she got in the car. She is probably still traumatized from the time she got spayed. Plus it was pouring rain. Then when we finally got her to the new apartment we had to keep her in her carrier for a little while so we could move some of the big furniture. Then once she was out she slept in her litter box for a little bit. Poor thing was so confused and scared. But she’s better and back to her normal playful self. Everything was officially unpacked last night when I put away the last 2 boxes (my books of course.) Thursday morning I had to go to work and it sucked so bad, I was soooo exhausted. But the drive was much shorter so that made me happy.

Today I got a call from my mom… I never look forward to answering because usually it’s something loan related or something she wants to bitch about. But today… it was even worse. She told me that Gizmo, my very adorable, cute, lovable Pekingese is in the hospital. I guess he had trouble breathing and was vomiting foam from not being able to breath. This is literally the most heart breaking thing in the world. I love that dog more than anything. I believe he was my soul mate. I saved Gizmo from my mother’s drunken, drug addict sister when he was only 5 weeks old. She got him for herself. I went over to play with the puppy and I saw her throw him at a wall because he peed on the floor. I mean really bitch? He was only 5 weeks, you have to train them! She didn’t even have newspapers down or a pee pad or anything so where else was he supposed to go. If I remember correctly I was about 11. I called my mom from the house phone and told her to pick me up at the gas station down the road. When my aunt went to the basement for something I grabbed the poor tiny pup and ran as fast as I could out of the house. He was whimpering and his lip was bleeding a little where he landed. I felt like the universe sent me to save him and so I did the only thing I could think of. Steal him. I know this seems bad but I was only 11 and I hated my aunt anyways. She was in and out of jail and I wished she’d just get out of our lives. I couldn’t let this innocent angel faced dog stay with her after what I saw. I know he was grateful. He had such a good life with us. My mom was an abusive bitch to me but her and I both spoiled that dog like he was royalty. I think he knew what I did for him. He spent his whole life trying to protect me. Whenever my mom would get drunk and beat me he’d growl and bark at her and bite her ankles until she stopped. Even if it was just yelling, he always sat on the floor between us ready to bite her feet if she came near me. Whenever I was in my room crying because I fought with my mom he’d come up and lick my face clean. I always heard him whimpering when I came back from school everyday and I was always greeted with his smiling face. He would sit in my lap whenever I watched tv. If I was sitting at the table, be it for dinner or just doing homework, he would lay belly up under my feet because he always had to be touching me. He was so gentle other than when my mom was being her usual self. I swear he was a teddy bear came to life. He had the most beautiful dark brown puppy dog eyes ever. Sometimes I’d stare at him and I swear he was trying to communicate how much he loved me at all hours of the day. I haven’t seen my booboo (that’s what I called him, cause of his slightly crooked jaw) in over a year. My mom moved down to Florida then Alabama then Colorado and now back to Florida. The worst part of knowing he’s dying right now is that I can’t give him one last hug. I can’t let him know how much he saved my life. I only saved him once but he saved me every single day. And now he’s sick and dying and I can’t be there for him.

Probably some of you will think I’m crazy. He’s just a dog right? But he’s so much more than that. He was my friend when I was in need; he was my guardian, protector, and brother. He was most definitely my animal spirit come to guide me through a tragic childhood. He was everything to me. He still is. After my mom moved him away from me I swear to any God of any religion in the world that I smiled at least once a day because I remember a time I had with him. I can only hope my mom does the right thing and won’t let him suffer. Even though he’s sick and might die I will still love that furry little butthead. I’ll love him so much that after I die I know my dead, decomposing body will still love him. And that’s that.

I love you, Gizmo.