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It should not take a head injury

*after personally sustaining a head injury & coma*

to figure this out...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Satirical Blog

*(utilizing articles discussing facts)*

By:  Susan MeeLing

After the head injury caused a coma while I learned how to deal with the headaches, migraines, cognitive disorders, memory problems, and other medical conditions I went from College Algebra with Trigonometry & Calculus down to 2nd grade math.  Here is how logic works for someone like me::

~  It took awhile for the doctor's recommendation to use sticky notes, to help remember.

~  It took several months to realize sticky notes moved, let alone to remember to speak with the doctor.

~  After I finally remembered to ask the doctor about the note problem, notebooks were recommended.

~  When I could remember to pick up a notebook, it took a long time to learn similar to sticky notes, notebooks are not always where they were placed.

~  After I was able to organize the notebooks over several months I still had not learned notebooks are not always readily available, at the necessary time.

~  When I remembered to speak with the doctor about the notebook problem the doctor had few other suggestions, to assist memories better.

~  After several events and adding up sticky note and notebook location problems, I realized my skin goes everywhere I do.

~  Wanting my tattoos to only be for me and not for public consumption I started the ink on my legs, able to hide easier.

~  It would not be until many tattoos and several years later I would realize my memory problems were usually not as bad when wearing shorts, capri pants, or a skirt.

~  Between 3-5 years after my first tattoo I had the first tattoo completed on my arms, and my memory has slowly progressed towards an easier memory jolt.

 

 

When I say "it should not take a head injury to figure this out" it is partially in humor from personal experiences, towards understanding.

 

If I can laugh at my mistakes after recognizing and dealing with them, so can you.

 

You have the knowledge, understanding, and wisdom I lack in order to put everything together to fix the problems seen with abilities I do not have. 

 

Utilize the information within the blog to find genuine repairs and instead of complaining of the "hurtful" commentary, prevent the issues from reoccurring.

 

Then again, it should not take a head injury to figure that one out.

Every parent has had a situation as such, one way or another

I know I am not the only parent who has ever allowed my children to play with other children to go out and socialize, while having a good time with the others. I know I am not the only parent who has allowed my children to have a sleepover with other children, at other parent's homes. I know I cannot be the only person who has a similar story of these of which the experiences were what they were, though possibly the outcomes might have been different.


When my son, my daughter, and I were living in Carrollton Texas I allowed my son to have a sleepover with one of the classmate friends he had at school at McCoy Elementary which I got along with that male's mom, I had gotten along much better with his dad, and I could tell what type of male the son was at the time. I know I am not the only parent who has gone through this, however despite the amount of flashing of all of the material possessions his parents could purchase for him to my son, my daughter, and I; the parents were quite wonderful to speak with, and spend time with. Their house was not far from my house and though the dad did not go over to my house, I was able to meet them and speak with them several times. There were a couple sleepovers which my son went there, though there was only one sleepover at my house which their son came over after the mom dropped him off at my house.


I set up various snacks for the children to have, my daughter spent more time with me in comparison to the two playing their video games, and as she and I read books together the two children played as they did. When it came time for me to cook dinner I made pot roast, mixed vegetables, biscuits, croissants, mashed potatoes, spaghetti with sauce that had handmade meatballs, as well as dessert; all of which I cooked from scratch and added my own seasonings the way I do, and have over the years I have cooked. My son and my daughter sat down at the dining room table and began eating after I made them a plate of food and when the boy who came over saw everything I cooked, he crossed his arms and told me he 'was not going to eat such trash and wanted dessert first'.


My daughter laughed and said "That is not how mom has things in this house", which the boy did not like and scowered his face in her direction while demanding I order food that he wanted or he was going to call his mom.


I told him I would prefer he eat the food I made or at minimum give the food I cooked a try before he said it was not good enough for his dinner, and he demanded I order pizza instead of making him eat what he did not want to. I showed him the different food I had made with plenty to spare and he demanded I order him pizza, or he wanted to go home. My son and my daughter explained to him my cooking actually was much better than he thought and better than the food you could buy at a restaurant, though he was not having any of it; literally, or figuratively. When the bickering continued as my son and my daughter ate up their meal, had seconds, and were ready for dessert; the boy continued demanding I order pizza as when he told his mom what he wanted she would do so, and he did not understand why I was not like his mom.


When I said "Your mom is your mom and I am James and Lidia's mom, so that is a difference", he threw his hands in the air and demanded I order pizza, threw the plate in front of him across the dining room, and started kicking the chair he was sitting in. Maintaining my composure I told him the food he had to choose from was more than enough options ad if he wanted to eat, he was going to eat what I cooked or nothing at all. When he said that he could outlast me, I looked at my son and told him "You know the rules of my house, and that means if he does not eat the food I made he does not east anything."


My son nodded as my daughter laughed, and the boy threw more of a fit. I waited another couple of hours as the boy continued throwing his temper tantrum before I sent my children to take their showers to get ready for bed, as the boy stayed at the table pouting and moping. When each of my children took their showers and returned begging the boy to simply eat something so they could play before going to bed, I had enough. I went to the kitchen, I grabbed the phone, and I handed the phone to the boy telling him "Either you eat the food I cooked, or you can call your parents and tell them to pick you up." He kicked the table from underneath and started crying a whole bunch of tears peeking through his hands to see if I was looking at him and after awhile he asked why I did not care he was crying about not wanting to eat any of the food I made, which I told him "I think you answered, your own question. I made the food, you are in my house as a guest, and if you had any problems your mom would have told me when she dropped you off. Here is the phone, you can either call your mom or eat. It is one or the other, no other options in regards of eating food."


He then demanded I bring the desert pie I made out to him which I told him the rule in my house is you eat your dinner first and then you get desert, which he then told me how his mom and dad did things in their house. I reminded him that he was not in their house and he was in my house which meant my rules, though he did not care. My son and my daughter watched as the continuation of such went on, until it was passed the allowed extra time up from bed. The only saving grace for that boy was my son asked if he could have a bowl of cereal instead just so they could play for a little bit, which I obliged. The boy ate half of the bowl, poured the rest out onto my dining room table, and walked over to the den to play video games.


I thought to myself, "I am so glad I laquered several extra layers on top of this table" as those who know what that Asian carved table looked like, know how many crevices I had to clean milk and bits of cereal out of as well as the glass.


They were allowed an extra half hour before bedtime, and then I read my son, my daughter, and his friend a story from a couple of books. The boy kept moving around saying he did not want to hear me speak, which my son and my daughter then stood up and told him he did not know what he was talking about. I finished the stories before tucking the boys into bed, knowing they would stay up talking for a little bit. I took my daughter to her room, read her a few extra books of stories and after the boys were alseep, I tucked my daughter into get some rest. I had insomnia as usual at that time and thus I was awake until the morning when it was time to cook breakfast. I made scrambled eggs, poached eggs, hardboiled eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and strawberry topping for the pancakes if they was wanted. My son and my daughter ate several plates of food as the boy looked at everything and asked if he could have cereal instead of my cooking as he did not want to try any of the food I made; which my daughter rolled her eyes saying "You don't know what you're missing!" My son smiled as he shoveled some extra eggs into his mouth finishing up the plate, to make himself another plate of food as I made a bowl of cereal for the boy rolling my eyes.


When the children were done, they went to the den to play video games as I cleaned up. Thankfully I did not have to deal with the spilled milk again, though was annoyed for having cooked as much as I had for so many leftovers. It worked out fine as my children ate the rest of the food as the time went on, though the boy's attitude was annoying me beyond words. I know there are those who fully understand and comprehend my aggravation, and frustration of the entire situation; though it was not over, just yet. When the doorbell rang I answered the door, and there stood the boy's mom and he ran over to her telling him how mean I was for making him have to deal with eating what I cooked and how mean I was for not ordering pizza instead. Instead of what I thought would occur the mom then looked at me and told me that if she were me, she would have gotten her son what he wanted. I smiled politely and said "Well, I am not you."


Ironically there might be a few southerners, who can understand exactly what was going through my thoughts well beyond that statement though of course not the only ones since I did grow up in New Jersey and I was in the Army branch of the United States of America's Armed Forces. The equivalent in reference to the latter portion of "Hooah", for those who understand and comprehend.


Then the mom of the boy continued to tell me everything she would have done instead of cooking dinner and cooking breakfast, and where she would have purchased the food from as she walked towards the door saying 'keep that in mind, for next time'.


There was not, a next time.


That sleepover was shortly before October 2009, in reference to the timeframe of what occurred at McCoy Elementary School in Carrollton Texas of Carrollton Farmers Branch Independent School District.


Several years, situations, events, and etcetera later in 2012 after moving into Thousand Oaks Apartments and Townhomes in San Antonio Texas my son became friends with a boy named Greg Murgatroyd which they had fun playing their games together. As I was doing everything I could for my daughter after the McCoy Elementary School situations as well as what I could for my son as much and as best as I could while maintaining myself, the friendship between Greg and my son grew over the time in the apartment complex. His mom and dad were employees there at the complex and I kept them up to date of the different aspects as there were times my son would have a sleepover at their apartment before the rest of that occurred in full to the end of those situations. The boys went back and forth between Greg's parent's apartment and mine, and played throughout the complex as there were multiple activities throughout for them to do and run around.


After winding up in Washington state in Vancouver Washington before Tacoma Washington, my son went back to San Antonio to visit with Greg and his family; though when he returned from Texas, the friendship continued up until a certain point. One day my son came to speak with me in the room I was kept in annoying the individual at the time who is now my ex-boyfriend to tell me about an argument he had with Greg, as he said Greg called him a bunch of names, as well as questioned his sexuality. My son and I talked for a while about the situation which had aligned with a situation with a boy in high school which my son had gotten to know at Pioneer Middle School name Ethan, and the stories told to me were similar of the name calling as well as the situations surrounding. Then came the day which my son told me he had to defend himself and a few friends from Ethan throwing rocks and sticks at them, which occurred after Ethan had been caught causing problems for some female classmates of my son. I was and am proud of my son for standing up for the females and his friends, though I was surprised the school nurse who should have been able to tell the difference from a bruise on his wrist in comparison to a broken bone demanded I get my son to a doctor with a note clearing him from medical conditions. I told my son what the doctors were going to do, how the appointment was going to go, and what the medical staff were going to say and do. To a T, everything went exactly as I said that it would. Which in the end the military medical personal told my son there was nothing to worry about and should have listened to me, the whole time.


Thus I know there are some who can very much understand and know what I have written in verious situations of such aspects.



My son James and my daughter Lidia in 2009 #letters4james #letters4lidia

The ultimate measure of an individual is not where they stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where they stand at the time of challenge and controversy.

We must reject the idea that everytime a law is broken society is guity, rather than the law breaker. 

Freedom is never-more than one generation away, from exinction.  We do not pass freedom on through our blood stream because freedom must be fought for, protected, and handed on for the next generation to do the same.

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

It should not take a head injury to figure this out, because you are smarter.

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