But this weekend he asked me if the Easter Bunny was real and I decided to tell him the truth. “You’re the Easter Bunny?!”, he asked incredulously. And then, “Is Santa Claus real?” and I told him that yes, Santa Claus was real. At first he said okay but then after a minute of deliberation he asked, “Is Santa Claus really real, mom?” I hesitated and he said, “If he’s not real, I’ll be okay with it”, shrugging his shoulders. I looked at him and it was like I flash-forwarded to him as a teenager. It was just the way he looked and the way he said it. He was so mature. I told him that Santa wasn’t real either. “You mean you’re Santa???!!!” At first he looked sad. I told him that Santa Claus was based on Saint Nicholas and that we could read about it if he was interested but he wasn’t.

Later he asked me, “Was Santa Claus alive when you were a kid, did you get presents from Santa?”, and I told him that Saint Nicholas lived hundreds of years ago.

I think I was more upset about telling him Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real than he was; that loss of innocence. Of course, now that he knows that I am the Easter Bunny he told me the toys and candy he wanted for Easter and it sounded like a Christmas list!

Most of the magic of Easter and Christmas is gone for Tyler now, never to be the same, but I’m glad he was grown up enough to take it alright.

Does your child still think the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are real?

The post The Awful Truth first appeared on Mama Sick.

Tyler’s top gifts were a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles playset, Zombie Trash Packs and Mutant Mania, a make your own mutant boxing game. Tyler got me a snowman mug with teas and hot chocolate in it, and a candle. Jacques and I don’t do big gifts, we don’t have the budget. I got a high quality can opener that hopefully will work and a beautiful leopard spotted ornament for my all cat ornament Christmas tree. Not on time for Christmas, but he is also getting me a device that will allow me to stream to my t.v.

How was your day?

The post Christmas at Our House 2014 first appeared on Mama Sick.

3. What was the last thing you bought?

On Saturday, Tyler and I set out with two objectives:  To get an Advent Calendar (or a Countdown to Christmas Calendar) as it was December 1st, and to do some grocery shopping at Marc’s.  I figured that at the most we would be back in an hour and a half.  Just two places to go, right?  One thing in one store and some groceries.

We head to Target because they have an Advent Calendar for two dollars and that works for me.  Tyler asks if he could look at the toys.  I figure why not, we have nothing better to do and maybe this can give me some more ideas.  Luckily there is one more scooter to use, I say luckily because they only have two.  Just two for their huge store.  I get onto the scooter and we zoom to the toy department, with Tyler complaining that he has to walk and I get to ride.

We look at all the toys, including some for girls, as Tyler knows I like toys too, the girlie ones.  Strangers ask me if I know where things are such as the Angry Birds…I think…Wooden Board game.  I try to help the woman find this one Angry Birds game in the hundreds of Angry Birds toys.  I am getting so frustrated I ask her nicely why she doesn’t go on the internet to get her impossible to find Angry Bird game that her nephew wants?

After being in the toy department for an hour I tell Tyler that we are picking up the Advent Calendar and leaving.  “I’m hungry!”, Tyler wails.  Since it has now been more than an hour after the huge lunch Tyler ate, I know he once again must fuel his furnace.

We zoom to the snack bar.  I am able to walk in the snack bar and so I park my scooter right outside the snack bar.  “I want an ice pop!”, Tyler wails.  Knowing that an ice pop won’t do anything to fill him up, I bargain with him that he can have anything at the snack bar, except the ice pop.  Cookies?  Ice cream?  Yogurt?  Tyler isn’t buying it.  He sinks to the ground and starts crying.  Please know that Tyler is not throwing a temper tantrum.  The pediatrician has told me because he is so tall, thin and active that I need to feed him as much as he wants.  At least five snacks a day.  If not, he gets chest pains, stomach, cramps, his legs give out on him and he becomes tearful and irrational.

Knowing we are going to have a major meltdown soon, I tell Tyler that he can get the ice pop but he must eat something else too.  I don’t even have the money for one snack, let alone two but one has got to do what one has got to do.  Tyler chooses one of those chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches, we get some tap water and sit down.

My eyes gaze over to my scooter and…it is gone!  Someone has stolen my sweet, sweet ride!  I feel as upset as if my car has been stolen.  I cannot believe it!  Of course, I know how desperate people are for scooters…but still I would never steal someone else’s!

While Tyler is eating he says, “Mommy, that girl is in my class, I know her!”

Of course he does.  Whether we have lived in New Jersey, Massachusetts or Ohio, Tyler always knows everyone.  No one ever comes over to me and says, “Emily, woo hoo, all right!  What are you doing at the county fair?”

The little girl is shyly looking over at Tyler. You know, like one of those, look, smile, blush and look away things?  I say, “Tyler, why don’t you go over to her and say hello?”

The little girl and her family sit next to us.  Tyler and the girl are sitting next to each other, the girl, blushing and embarrassed, and Tyler, oblivious.  He doesn’t need a girlfriend he has told me, even though most of his kindergarten class is hooked up.  I have told him he has made a wise decision and to concentrate on his kindergarten studies.

By now I have to pee like crazy.  I ask the little girl’s family if they would watch Tyler for a moment but Tyler says he’s got to go to the bathroom too.  Normally, I would assist him but I have to go so badly I just kind of wish him well and beat it into a stall.

As I am walking out to the sinks, I hear, “Mommy, I have bad news.”  I am not phased.  Tyler’s bad news can be that toilet paper has stuck to his shoe or that there is a bug crawling on the floor.

I look over at my son and his front pants look as though someone has dumped an entire bucket of water centering on his crotch!  “What happened, baby?  Didn’t make it on time?”  “No, mommy, I did.  I thought I was peeing in the toilet but it turns out I was peeing on my pants.” “Ah, yes, we’ve all done that before, do not worry.”  Meanwhile, my mind is going in so very many directions at once.

“Oh my God.  He needs clothes!  Wait, we are in Target, I can get him new pants and underwear.  Are you crazy?  You can’t afford that, just take him home, we are less than ten minutes from home!!”

“Okay, Tyler, let’s go home right now, we can change you and then we can come back and get the Advent Calendar and go grocery shopping.”
“Mommy, Anissa will see!  She can’t know that I peed in my pants!”

“Honey, she is in the snack bar, I will sneak you right out the door!”

Tyler is now moving up against a wall in the ladies’ bathroom, front side in.
“I’m not leaving the bathroom, everyone will know I peed my pants!!  Mommy PLEASE!”
“Holy crap, my choices are either scar my child for life by making him walk out the door of Target or buying him new pants and underwear!  I guess I am going for the new clothes.”

Only I cannot get Tyler out of the ladies’ room!  Who is going to watch him while I buy clothes for him?
I flag an Associate down who is so flummoxed he must call his manager.  The manager who looks about 18, says if I can just get Tyler into the men’s bathroom he will watch him until I can get the clothes.  I must trust that this teenager will not mistreat my son.
Tyler crawls along the wall from the ladies’ to the mens’.  “Little dude”, the manager says, “It’s cool, I am going to watch you while your mom gets you some clothes.”
Using a scooter right now is impossible I need to be…SUPER MOMMY!  I frantically run to the boy’s department.  Target for some strange reason has great prices on everything except when it comes to boys’ pants.  I finally find a pair of jeans on sale for 11 bucks.  Now, underwear.  I only need ONE but I must buy six. I go for The Justice League.  I head to the check-out and of course the lines are enormous.  I am getting more nervous with my son alone with that teenager.  I start asking people on the line, one buy one, if they would let me go ahead, my child has peed his pants, is hanging out in the men’s room, etc.  Ohioans are a friendly bunch and most let me go.  Only one says disgustedly to me, “Whatever!”

The pants and underwear cost me $22 and change.  Clothing tax is such a bitch!!

I get back to the men’s room and the teen and my son are having a fine time. I say, “Look what Mommy has got for you, Tyler!” and the manager says, “Sweet!” and I guess it is.

I struggle with dressing Tyler in the men’s room while the manager guards the door for us.  We walk out and head to the Christmas department.

Target is sold out of the Advent Calendar.

Photo Credit:  hitflix.com

The post Way to Get a Sweet Pair of Pants and Underwear! first appeared on Mama Sick.

You do get what you pay for.  The aisles are cramped, the lines are long and there appears to be some sort of anarchy at work there.  But mostly no one minds because their either love the bargains they are getting or cannot afford to shop anywhere else.

It is another rough month for our family, trying to make our money last until I get my disability award.  It has been difficult with both of our cats absolutely needing veterinary care and Tyler and I having to buy clothes and snow boots for a Cleveland winter.

Before shopping, I estimated the price of what was on my grocery list and thought I had enough money.  Marc’s only accepts cash or check, which doesn’t really matter as I only have cash.

As the cashier was ringing up my purchases, I started getting worried that I would not have enough.  I tried to get her to stop ringing but she didn’t.  We were next to one of those claw games where you can win an Angry Bird, and Tyler was begging me to let him try.  The total came up to $63.99.  I gave her sixty dollars.  It was time to turn to the change I had.  Would I have $3.99 in change?  I nervously started counting my quarters, Tyler continued to beg me to let him try the claw machine.  I came up with $3.00 in change, the other .99 looked doubtful.

From behind me I heard, “Vy?”

“Excuse me?,” I said.

“Vy don’t you do this at home?  That’s all I want to know, Vy you don’t do this before you come here?”

I turned full around to him.  I faced him.  I said, “Why don’t I do this at home?  Because I am homeless, bankrupt and uninsured, okay?  I am not counting my pennies for fun, I am counting them because these are all I have!”

I turned back to counting.  The cashier was helping me.

“I am sorry”, he said.

“That’s fine”, I said. “Perhaps next time you will think before you speak.”

I took away a Gatorade. (I somehow feel the need to justify my purchase to you.  Grant and I need Gatorade because our mouths are extremely dry from our medications and Gatorade seems to be the only thing that works for us.)

“Here, now I have enough money to pay.”  This seemed to confound the cashier and I had to explain to her why I now had enough.  She fumbled with taking the item off and coming up with the new total and I feared the manager would have to be called.  I was so angry, all I wanted to do was leave.  Meanwhile Tyler was still screaming for an Angry Bird and I can barely tell him “no” or “maybe another time”.   I didn’t have the time to be able to explain to him how these games are almost impossible to win and that they mostly waste your money.

The cashier finally got it right and then I heard, “Here, take this.”  I turned around and the man was holding out a $10 check.  I could not understand him fully but he said something like I am sorry, I hope this helps or this may not be too much, just a little something for you.

I looked at this sweaty, slimy bastard and I took the check and said thank you.

Nothing would have pleased me more to tell him where he could put his check but the truth is $10 means I can get Tyler the game he wants for Christmas.  I took it for him.

I am tired of constantly having to prostitute myself for my family.  I will keep doing it because I need to but it does take a toll on me.  Every time I swallow my pride or get treated poorly on a daily basis because I am uninsured, homeless and sick, part of me does die.

I know there is light at the end of the tunnel.  I received a fully favorable decision on my disability case in the middle of October but as it stands I have heard nothing back, and indeed was told not to even bother them for at least 30 to 45 days.  November 29th will be the 30 day mark and I will be calling.  Where is my money?  I have been waiting three years to be to be told that yes, the government now believes I am disabled and I continue to wait, a prisoner of their whim, as to when they decide to pay me.

“Lovely Ladies”, courtesy of ukstudentlife.com

The post Prostituting Myself first appeared on Mama Sick.

We qualified for WIC right away, when Tyler was two-and-a-half years old.  As he became older he would ask, “Mommy, why are we here?” “For coupons, baby.”

Yes, my darling, you get weighed and blood taken from you for coupons.

Now that we are in Massachusetts, we see a Social Worker every couple of weeks.  “Mommy, who is that lady?”  “She helps us, honey”, I tell him, as Tyler is given a free Angry Birds backpack.

Occasionally I need to take Tyler with me to the Food Bank. “Mommy, what is this place?”  “It’s like a supermarket, honey, we get food here.”  “Why are we waiting in line to get food here?”  “That’s just the way it is”, I say, as we sit with some who suffer from disabilities ranging from near Catatonia to angry people who often randomly yell out things.  I feel badly that Tyler must sit in this environment, knowing that he could get scared.  Usually I bring books for him and read to him, or he looks at them on his own when I am meeting with someone.

There are other children at the Food Bank, most older than Tyler and I look around and wonder, “Do they know why they are here?  They must know by now.  How do they feel about it?  Are they saddened by it or do they accept it as a way of life?”

My mother grew up poor and she was repeatedly told by my grandmother, “You can’t have this because we are poor.”  She said she was traumatized by it and it still hurts to this day.

Tyler has known about the concept of being poor for a while now from the Spider-Man franchise.  Peter Parker and his Aunt May have trouble paying the bills.  In one of the movies, Peter lives in a slum-like apartment because he can’t afford anything better, and Aunt May loses her house.  The other day Tyler said,”Do you know why Peter always wears the same clothes?”  “I don’t know, why do you think he does?”  “Because he is poor.”  Then I explain to him that most people in cartoons wear only one outfit.

He has picked up the word “expensive” from me.  “Is this too expensive to buy, Mommy?”  Today we were at a garage sale and he said, “Mommy I found something beautiful for you, but I think it might be too expensive.”  Turned out to be cheesy party decorations but his heart was in the right place.

Usually I just say things like, “Mommy didn’t know we were going to be here so she didn’t bring enough money” or “We’ll buy this later, more towards Halloween”, and hope he’ll just forget about it, and lately, “I don’t know if Santa can get this for you because he has a budget.”

Maybe you think some of these things build good character.  Yes, Tyler doesn’t have to get everything he wants every time we are out or everything he wants for Christmas.

It’s just that…it hurts not being able to delight my child when I buy him a toy for no reason or just because he’s been a good boy, or just because I want too. It’s just that…I used to live a different lifestyle and knowing that the reason I don’t now is because of my chronic illnesses and is out of my control, is very hard to bear.

If you are in my situation, what did you tell your child or children about being poor and when did you tell them?  Or do they just figure it out on their own?

One of the things I learned from what has happened to me this year is that it doesn’t really matter to Tyler what he has, just as long as we can all be a family again.

One day he said to me, “Mommy, did you know that I love you and Daddy more than I love all of my toys?”

Thanks for reminding me honey, because I had indeed lost sight of that.

The post When Do I Tell My Child We’re Poor? first appeared on Mama Sick.

As I have told you, I have been going through a rough time mentally.  At the root of my mental issues, especially for this week, is the fear that I will not be well enough to get out and do things with Tyler.  Christmas Day was a happy one for Tyler, but as per usual I did not feel good enough to play with him and his new toys.  I went back to bed after presents and a few pictures, wondering why my body would not cooperate with my brain, why it just can’t for once let me do what I want to do, even though it really has before, mornings are just really hard for me.  And everyone has this picture in their mind of what the perfect Christmas morning and day is supposed to be like.

We were supposed to go to my aunt’s house at around 3:30 and I was worried about making it through the evening, so I laid down around noon but I was so anxious I could not sleep.  “I can’t do this!,” I thought to myself and cancelled with my aunt.

And it went downhill from there.  A feeling like I could not not do anything.  I had to call my therapist who said I should treat these feelings as if I had the flu, to rest, hang out in my jammies and to lower my expectations.  To give myself a break.

In the meantime I developed an either wicked bladder infection or urinary tract infection.  I was going to the bathroom every few minutes, especially when I tried to lie down.  I called the Primary Physician on call for this holiday week and his office was good enough to call in antibiotics for me.  I had waited so long, the pain was so bad, were in not for the narcotics I take for my regular health issues I would have had to go to the hospital.

Then extreme nausea and insomnia developed.  How much can I take?, I thought.  I wanted to die but in the way back of my mind knowing that I really didn’t because of Tyler and Grant. Then I realized…I had about a week ago, on my doctor’s orders, doubled one of my medicines for anxiety and depression and these were the side effects!  I was  happy to know that there was at least a reason for some of the things I was experiencing .

These last couple of days I was finally able to get some sleep and I took Tyler to one of those indoor jumping places yesterday.  I was so happy that I could break through the mental and physical pain and have somewhat of a normal day with him.  Tomorrow I want to take him to the mall, assuming it’s open; I need to get him boots or at least have him measured for them. Yes, like most chronically ill moms I am late as usual.

Tonight, Grant, Tyler and I plan to stay up, or at least wake up and watch the Times Square Ball drop and enter into the new year together as a family.  And maybe this is just what we need.  The other day Tyler said, “Mommy, I have parents and a home.  That’s all I really need.”

And when you think about it, that’s all any of us really needs isn’t it?

Wishing you better health, or continued good health, peace, and a better 2012 to all.

Love,

Emily

The post Happy to See 2011 Go, Especially This Week! first appeared on Mama Sick.

Total amount of stress, preparation, ordering toys:  10 days, 5 hours, 37 minutes

Total time it took to open gifts:  15 minutes

Worth it to see your child’s delight:  Definitely

The post Tuesdays With Tyler: Christmas in Pictures first appeared on Mama Sick.