Why you don’t mix the government and money
I keep meaning to tell you this story, and what better time than during a government shutdown? Er, slowdown. Or whatever we’re supposed to call it. It just seemed like a good time to reaffirm what every American already knows, which is that our medical system and government are—SURPRISE!—not actually operating as smoothly as they’re supposed to.
Try to contain your shock.
So! Perhaps you remember that about a year ago, I took to the blog to detail how we’d finally gotten Chickadee qualified for Medicaid coverage while she was hospitalized. That was a really big deal, both because the process is crazymaking and because if she hadn’t, we would’ve been on the hook for medical bills we had no reasonable way to pay. At the time, I thought getting the Medicaid approval would be the end of our financial issues related to her illness.
Haaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha! Yeah. Pull up a chair! read more…
Another month, another calendar page
This morning I realized it was October (hello!), which of course meant I had to attend to two very important events:
1) Peanut butter pilly time (sung to the tune of “peanut butter jelly time” while feeding Licorice her monthly meds in a big glob of Skippy)
and
2) Updating the kitchen calendar.
The calendar is serious business. It requires colored pens. And consultation of several other calendars. And discussions with barely-awake family members. As I filled it in, I began to fantasize about what I wished was ACTUALLY on the calendar rather than the stuff that was REALLY on it.
You can read all about it over at Alpha Mom, because I suspect I’m not the only one who finds that color-coded schedule somewhat lacking.
Relaxing?
Otto and I have a quaint little Monday morning routine, and it goes like this: My alarm goes off, and I commence slapping my clock in sleepy annoyance, and Otto says, “Why does Monday morning always come so EARLY?” I grunt in response, and thus our love carries us through another week.
Oh, wait. Actually it’s COFFEE that carries us through another week. That charming exchange we have every Monday morning is just that precious little reminder that when you truly love someone, you forgive them for trying to have a conversation with you before you’ve had your coffee. And then you pack a lunch for your beloved and you don’t spit in it or anything. Because TRUE LOVE.
I think the problem is that every week, we have this idea that the weekend is going to be relaxing, and then every weekend we think OOH! AAH! NO WORK! Now we can do OTHER STUFF! And then the “other stuff” ends up being just as tiring as work, and/or we stay up late, forgetting that we are old and require a lot of sleep.
Let me just grab another cup of coffee and tell you all about the weekend. read more…
Slacker? Genius? Smartass?
Back in the days of OH I COULD NEVER EVER HOMESCHOOL (haaaaaaaa!), my aversion to this idea was multi-pronged. Basically I was convinced that:
A) I am not patient enough to be my child’s main teacher.
B) Curriculum planning is probably hell on earth.
C) Spending all day, every day, with my child would strain our relationship.
D) Working and homeschooling are incompatible, even though I work from home.
E) There is not enough Excedrin in the world for this.
Spoiler: I was wrong. I mean, Excedrin comes in really, really big bottles (especially at Costco!), plus there are ways to deal with all of those other concerns. For example, we use virtual school classes, which means that my “curriculum planning” consists of going through the course catalog to pick classes, rather than actually writing syllabi. Also, when I need to get work done I just ignore Monkey for a while. Easy!
[As for patience, well, I still think I’m probably not patient enough, not really. But I’m a lot more patient than I was a few years back, which is just as good for me as it is for him. And when all else fails, there’s that whole ignoring thing. Which I am totally joking about! Except not really.] read more…
Inconveniences of the dull and boring
“Our life is boring,” I told Otto after dinner last night. “I have nothing to blog about!”
“We should go on more adventures,” he replied. That Otto, he’s a problem solver. Though he seemed a little miffed when I declined his offer to leave the dirty dishes on the table, the children in their rooms, and grab the dog and drive off into the sunset. I’m not saying it wasn’t tempting, just that I was afraid the kids might eventually track us down. (Also, I hadn’t finished my laundry, and you should never run away without a sizable stash of clean undies.)
I just want to make it clear that I know I am
1) boring
2) relatively privileged
and
3) whining.
I KNOW. That’s not going to stop me, though. read more…
Sometimes I’m a little punny
Some of the drama du jour ’round here has me thinking about what it means to be in the right, and how the older I get, the less important it feels to me. The kids, though, man alive. When they’re right they’re RIIIIIIGHT, and woe betide the person who tries to interfere with their convictions with pesky things like a differing opinion.
We’re working on it, and while we do, I started working on a piece for Alpha Mom, and then cracked myself up by titling it The Unbearable Rightness of Being. Get it? Get it?? It’s okay if you don’t agree that I’m funny, because I know that I don’t always have to be right. (See what I did there? SEE? Oh, nevermind.)
Things which are ridiculous
My toenails; more specifically, my inability to paint them properly.
I believe in painted toenails. I don’t know why, because I almost never paint my fingernails and rarely wear makeup. I’m not exactly a get-dolled-up-regularly type, is my point. And yet, to me, summer = painted toenails. And given that I am far too cheap/lazy to get professional pedicures—hey, I have polish and passable eye/hand coordination—I do my own feet here at home. I am never either drunk or blind before I set out to prettify my feet, AND YET! What the heck is my problem? I manage to BOTH slop polish all over my toes AND miss entire sections of nails altogether.
I have been painting my nails for something like 30 years. You’d think I would’ve figured it out by now…? And when I paint someone ELSE’s nails—like on the rare occasions when Chickadee will allow me to do hers—I’m fine. This leads me to believe it’s some sort of angle issue, but I’m pretty bendy and not tall, really, so it’s not like my feet are all that far away.
[Somewhat-related digressions: Anyone else keep buying pretty colors in different brands because they’re cheap and then getting annoyed when they chip? OPI + MIR = BFF 4EVAH. I am currently sporting Lincoln Park After Dark both to pretend Fall has actually arrived and because the stuff I had on before this was a different brand and was all chipped up by the time I took it off. Also—random recommendation ahoy—am I the last person on earth to learn about Gooey? I appreciate how it keeps the (good) polish on my nails even while I’m scraping it off the surrounding skin.] read more…
Hipster me this
[Before I get into the actual post, a great big sloppy thank-you to everyone who responded so kindly to my last couple of posts (and the corresponding post over on Alpha Mom). I am emerging from the fog and hoping I never have to switch medications ever again. Thanks for being patient with me.]
Remember how last summer Monkey got glasses and there was much rejoicing? There was also some self-flagellation, because he’d been having trouble seeing for a while, and I hadn’t kept up with yearly exams, but all of you assured me that these things can happen and the important thing was that it had all been resolved and it could’ve happened to anyone. I like you, have I even mentioned that?
So a couple of weeks ago when Monkey started complaining (again!) that he was having trouble seeing, I was all, “Oh, we’re probably due for your yearly exam very soon,” and then I went and checked and, yeah, His last exam was in June. Whoops. I like how I totally learned my lesson from before, don’t you? I went ahead and made him an eye appointment. And then listened to a week of “Mom! HEY MOM! Can you read that from here? Because I can’t! I can BARELY SEE IT!” read more…
Things which suck
1) Feeling like you’re failing your kids.
2) Feeling like you’re failing yourself.
3) Feeling crappy.
4) HAVING MANY FEEEEEEEELS, period.
5) Sometimes not wanting to talk about those things because there will always be someone ready to tell you that you’re doing it wrong.
A thing which (hopefully) does not suck:
Me, over at Alpha Mom, reassuring you that you can manage depression and parenting and not ruin everything.
Yeah, it would be better to never be depressed and just naturally be a perfect parent, but it would also be better to own a glitter-pooping unicorn and never have to say, “Please don’t speak to me that way.” We don’t always get what we want, so let’s make the best of what we have.
Groggy
“You have to blog so I have something to read on the way home,” my father said to me this morning.
“No pressure!” I answered, and we laughed. Then I told him I’d try to come up with something.
When my folks come to visit for less than a week, it feels like they arrive and we eat and have some wine and some ice cream and then they leave. I never know where the days go. It is never long enough, and yet after they go I reassemble the house—taking the place mats off the dining room table and replacing the decorative runner that indicates we are normally an eat-at-the-kitchen-table family, stripping Chickie’s bed and putting her sheets back on and the guest sheets and towels in the laundry—and then curl up with Licorice and take a nap. I’m completely exhausted.
To be clear, it’s not my dad and stepmom who are exhausting. It’s probably just life, but somehow we stay up a lot later when we have company, I guess. read more…