TheMommyBlog
FamilyLast night I packed the children up to go to their father’s, where they spent the night before driving to Tahoe to spend the week with my parents and other family. I’m staying behind to pack the house and get it ready for people to start viewing it. They didn’t want to go without me, and I didn’t like it either, but I have too much to do, and my car would never make it through all the places where chains are required.
As Dylan stood hugging me on the sidewalk, he said, “You’re the best mom, ever.”
“And you’re the best son, ever.”
“Okay… but I don’t feel that way.”
“Wait. Honey. Look at me.” I knelt down so I could look right into his eyes. “You are the best son I could hope for. You and your brother both, in different ways, in wonderful ways. I don’t think you know how amazing you are, and how much I need you and love you. I don’t know how I would live without you. Besides, you said you’d take care of me when I’m old!”
He laughed, a little. Then he looked at me with pupils as wide as anything and said, “You know what the worst part of living is?”
“No, baby, what is it?”
“That someday your parents are going to die.”
I hugged him tight, kissing his hair, his ear, his face. “Oh, honey. No. Don’t say that. I can’t imagine. I don’t even want to think about losing my parents. When I lost my grandparents it was awful, and I still miss them. I’ll be here for a long time. I promise. And isn’t better than never knowing each other at all??”
He gave me one last hug. “Thanks, mom, you make everything better.”
He climbed into the car and I wiped my face so I could hug the next child.
Wow.
I’m going to work on feeling that way.
FamilyWe watched Kit Kittredge: An American Girl again last week because we hadn’t seen it in a while, and I am so glad we did. It helps to explain more clearly to my children what’s going on in our home.
Every day, they have been asking why we’re leaving this house, the only house they’ve known, the one they were born into and where they made all their memories and grew up and snuggled with me every single one of those days.
I sat them down and said, “I hate it. It’s not what I want either. But I’ve moved about thirty times in my life, and have never lived in any one place as long as we’ve lived here. It’s hard to move, but also, later on, you grow to love the new places just as much.”
They were still listening.
“I won’t lie to you. We have three choices. What do you think they are?”
“Well, we move…”
“That’s one. And if we sell and move, we will have all the money from the sale of this house to help get us set up and smoothed out and caught up again someplace cozy. The second choice is we ask Grandma and Grandpa to help pay the mortgage indefinitely, and even then we may not be able to get to the point where we can afford this place alone. What’s the third choice?”
“The bank could take the house, and then we don’t get any money at all.” Bingo.
“That’s right, hon. I would never let it get that bad, because we still have money in the house. We’re just selling it to get at the money so we can live happily on our own.”
“I vote we sell and take the money.”
That may have been a little too much information for young children, but they saw it all play out in the movie as one family after another lost homes to foreclosure during the Great Depression. It made it real for them, as did the moral of the story: family sticks together and makes sacrifices, and so long as the family is gathered together we have a home, wherever we are.
They are at peace with it. Largely.
This morning, I stripped all the photos, magnets, reminders, and calendars off the fridge. I carefully packed away all the clay masks and photo frame art projects that were hanging from my crystal cabinet knobs. I removed the “Kindly Control Yourself” sign, and am about to wrap up “The Most Spoiled Dog in the World” print.
My office desk is bare, and my computer is now sharing the tiny desk in the kitchen with the kids’ computer. There’s a lot of glare from the bay window, and more than a little traffic whizzing by in the reflection. I may have a seizure.
The kids’ rooms are next. I had planned to go through the rituals with them, but we ran out of time with homework and I had to tell them I would do it while they were on vacation with their father and my parents (nice, huh?). I explained that I would be taking down their posters, and both solar systems—one on the ceiling over each boy’s bed. I would be clearing all their books and treasures and putting them in a box nearby so that they will always have access to them. Those boxes along with the kitchen one, will be the first thing we take to the new place and unpack.
“Other than that,” I said, “it’s just getting ready for the Realtors and photos for the virtual tour. Need to clear up all the clutter.”
“But, Mom, I LOVE the clutter! It’s what makes it home!”
“You got it, baby. It’s going to feel weird for a while. But I promise to mess up the new place as soon as we get settled.”
He grinned and hugged me and said that I was the best mom in the world.
The goddamn fucking gate has been off the fence all this time and someone just stole my gas BBQ. It was here before I left for mom’s birthday dinner last night.
All I needed was to get the stupid thing back on the post. People offered to help but I didn’t stand there with a whip and it didn’t happen. I literally cannot lift it myself. And now the 16-foot storage POD will be here within the hour, along with Dylan and Daphne, who are sick. My ex is bringing them here so he can have phone calls.
And one of my children just received one of the worst behavior reports ever and I HAD NO IDEA. Why did no one talk with us about this before sending it home, so we could fix it?
It’s just raining kittens and ice cream here.
At least I will have time to myself to finish clearing out personal stuff so the Realtor can show the place ASAP. The kids will spending their winter break in Tahoe with their father and my parents this Saturday through Wednesday, so I got that going for me, which is nice.
FamilyI flew all the way back from Nashville at midnight on Friday so that I could see Daphne in Alice In Wonderland this weekend. She was just cute as a bug.
The Duchess: Be what you would seem to be—or, if you’d like it put more simply—Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.
Alice: I think I should understand that better, if I had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.
FamilyJust returned from NashVegas last night where I spoke at the Blissdom ‘10 conference at the Grand Ole Opry.
First, let me just say that that is seriously the most terrifyingly massive hotel property I have ever been in that didn’t have slot machines lining the halls. There’s one entrance that I knew of, and several pavilions to walk through whenever you had to get from your room to the conference to lunch to your room to drop stuff off and back to the conference. Several of these pavilions were rain forests, some were carnivals, some were massive band shells, and I am pretty sure they each had their own ecosystem, complete with different dialects spoken by the people who sold sequinwear in shops spread throughout the place. I actually bought a pair of jeans while I was there. I’d played a game with myself: if I found something in my size that wasn’t downright unwearable AND didn’t have a single sequin or crystal on it, I would buy it and wear it RIGHT THEN. Badabing.
My favorite part had to be arriving at midnight and not knowing how to check in. I was sharing with a roommate who had arrived before me and would leave after I left. So when I announced myself as Melinda Roberts, I got a few taps on the keyboard and then a blank stare.
“Um, try under ‘Mindy Roberts?’”
TypityTypityTypity. “No Ma’am.”
“Oh, God this is so embarrassing. I don’t remember my roommates name. I could give you her twitter name, though.”
Polite stare.
“MooshinIndy ring a bell?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well. I’m speaking at the Blissdom Conference here, does that help? Look, I’m sorry, it’s late and I don’t have the name, but we can call Cassie Boom who organized this and see if she can…”
She had walked off to look something up in the back room, or maybe to get a beer and a chair. I could be telling this story for a while.
When she came back, I was ready to say, “I’ll room with whoever else is with the conference. I only need to sleep a few hours and then I’m leaving for the airport in the afternoon. Look, has anyone called down for a girl? Heh. Kidding. But has anyone?”
“I’ve got you right here, under Mindy.”
“Ah, yes, that’s me, I didn’t mean to confuse things with a last name.” WHATEVER.
You’d think that would solve things, but no. It didn’t. She handed me a map of the premises that looked just like an amusement park map. Each parcel of acreage was a different bright color, with landmarks, elevators and regional embassies marked in pale brown type. I was having a seizure just looking at it.
“You’re going to want to walk right through those doors.” I looked up and wondered if there was an inscription along the lines of abandoning hope. “Then you’ll want to stay to your left, not the middle, your left, and right here are some elevators.” I couldn’t tell if they were a halfway point or the ones I was to use but I didn’t want to overthink this.
“Thank you so much, I can’t wait to get there. Now, is there anywhere you’d recommend to get a bite and a drink? No? Everything is closed? EVERYTHING? AREN’T WE AT THE OPRYLAND HOTEL? Oh, your room service is good. Okay.” Good grief.
People, I am not making this up. I was so stunned by the first biodome that I stood there clicking poorly-lit photos with my camera, partially so I could digest it later, and partially in case I needed to show it to a guide on my way home. Along the way I passed several open-air bars and restaurant gazebos that were closed—CLOSED—and soon found myself next to a bank of elevators. From there it was 2.3 KM due east to my room.
I got in and punched the fourth floor. When the doors opened, all I saw were rooms. Nothing that looked like a hall that stretched 2.3 KM. So I hit Lobby and went back down. Where there was sort of a dead end. So I hit four again and looked both ways. Huh. I went ALL THE WAY DOWN and ALL THE WAY BACK AGAIN before deciding to forage for a trail. As it happened, there was a hall that stretched waaaaay beyond 2.3 KM, and my room was about 1.5 KM past the first bend. By that time I was dropping my bags, tearing at my shirt and calling “CAAASSSEYYYY!” like a demented Marlon Brando. Oh, did I mention I tried to get into someone else’s room on the wrong wing? I did. I tried the card key eight or nine times before realizing that I was in The C wing, not the G wing. Sorry, dude. You can go back to sleep now.
Imagine my despair when I collapsed on the bed and realized my roomie was NOT THERE. Auuugggh. Casey, Casey, I found out your name, hacked my way through the forests and trudged the carpeted plains to find you and you weren’t there. Waaaaahh.
An hour later, she was back and my room service dinner - a Caesar salad and wine, $65, and a steal at that - was there too, so we talked and giggled and had pillow fights until past three a.m. At least that’s what I told my boyfriend who was a little inconvenienced that I’d taken so long to check in. Ahhh, give him a little something to think about. He likes redheads, and she thought it was funny. I love funny Mormons. Though she did get me good when I dressed in my red suit and skirt and she said, “Hey, you look like you’re headed to the Tea Party Convention!”
Biiiitch.
I did wear the suit for the morning, but the Tea party was literally next door to Blissdom and the TV cameras and people’s heads kept swiveling my way whenever I tottered by in my Mrs. Wiggins heels and tight skirt. I chose poorly. Hence, the gamble that I would find something that would allow me to blend before my afternoon session.
Thank you to everyone who made me feel so welcome (and Heather Sokol! We met after six years at last!) and to the organizers. It was a truly spectacular conference. And I don’t meant that it was dazzling, I mean that everyone was friendly, and open, and there was a complete lack of elitism and competition wherever I turned. Everyone was friendly and wanted to talk and to listen. No one would let me sit alone. The Cover Girl folks grabbed their chairs and scooted way over to make another space for me at their table rather then let me eat at an empty table. I was amazed.
It was exactly what our conferences used to be, and ought to be. It was Bliss. I loved meeting all of you.
Oh, and in case you were wondering why I’m bummed out, this was on my lawn this morning.
I’ve just been on the phone for an hour with Anthem. Six months ago, I applied for a policy with a request for HIPAA coverage if they denied my application (I knew they would, and they did). I waited for the notice that I’d been accepted under HIPAA. I knew it would take a few months. This has happened before.
Backstory: twice now, the company that carried my COBRA went out of business, taking my coverage with it. Instantaneously stripped of health insurance coverage.
Single mom of three, sole support.
I checked in periodically until last week when I finally got someone to admit that they had made a mistake. You see, they insisted that I had not checked the box for HIPAA, but I had. They finally admitted the mistake, awarded me coverage backdated six months to the last date of COBRA, and then promptly demanded that I pay all six months of premiums in 30 days or risk cancellation of the policy that had been awarded not ten minutes earlier.
“We’re sorry, we made a mistake, we’re correcting it, and you owe us $3,014.00 in thirty days. Or we’ll cancel the policy we should have awarded you months ago.”
Irony: my monthly medical expenses have averaged roughly the same as my monthly premium. I would MUCH rather have been paying Anthem directly.
So I went on a campaign. For the first twenty minutes they insisted that I pay all six months or suffer consequences.
So I went over heads. One supervisor later, they’d agreed to allow a partial payment of two months, about $1,000.00.
Two supervisors later, I’d gotten them down to one month, or $504.00. BUT! I must pay the remaining five months in the next billing cycle, which I assume will have one more premium accrued, so—wait for it— I’ll be facing that 6-month bill again for $3.014.00.
Christ in a breakfast nook holding a bagel in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
I had to get aggressive to get them to admit they were at fault, and then was shut out. I tried to go to legal, they would not allow it. A supervisor said, “This is not for Legal, this is our fault.” That is why they made an exception and allowed me to pay just one month within 30 days.
And they will not provide a way to expedite reimbursements for pharmacy and medical office charges. She’s sending me an email with a claims form.
God Bless America.
UPDATE: As of today, Tuesday, February 9, 2010, I have still not received the emailed forms. Looks like I will have to call in again for another go-round.
Marie, this one goes out to you! And to little Hugo, of course.
I want to know what you do when someone else’s kid gets hurt on your watch. That’s right, me. The clumsy one, the one with tattered insurance cards, the one to whom nurses wave at the local ER.
Has another person’s child been hurt on your watch? How did you feel, and how did the other parent react? Join the Momversation by commenting in a related forum:
FamilyI met with a Realtor yesterday. Time to start boxing up the books. We’re selling up.
Family
I’ve been working with Quaker Oats—not literally working with the oats, I’m not much of a sculptor—to help support the Share Our Strength charity, which is working to end childhood hunger in America. Some of my favorite bloggers are participating as well (yes, we are being compensated, and as you know I only accept projects I believe in supporting) and I’m looking forward to seeing what they come up with. They had some pretty big events and challenges coming up and Quaker helped them create some yummy concoctions to anchor tummies in advance. Seriously, people, there are a lot of things I never thought of putting in oatmeal that sounds awesome. The one they created for me? I could have predicted some of it but there are a couple twists I never would have considered and now I’m drooling over them.
I encourage all of you to “CREATE YOUR DAY” by going to WWW.QUAKEROATS.COM/CREATEYOURDAY and discovering an oatmeal creation that will best help you tackle the day that lies ahead. When you do, come back and tell me about it in a comment. I need all the ideas I can get, and have already spent more time than I’ll admit playing on the site. *cough*
For every bowl of oatmeal created on this site, GoodBite.com & Quaker will donate $1.00 to “Share Our Strength”, a charity dedicated to ending childhood hunger, up to $25,000. That’s a lofty goal, but with your help we can do it. $25,000 will go a long way to helping Share Our Strength continue their important work, and will add to the Great Karma Bucket in the Sky. We’ve all benefited at one time or another from others’ generosity, and might offer this as a reminder to the Universe that we’re grateful and willing to share with others.
NOTICE TO VIEWERS/CONSUMERS
The preceding video episode was sponsored and underwritten by the Quaker Oats Company, (Quaker). The talent and video bloggers appearing in the preceding video episode received cash compensation and/or in-kind remuneration in exchange for the services rendered on and off camera, directly or indirectly, from Quaker and/or Digital Entertainment Corporation of America, (DECA), the producer of the preceding video episode. The views and statements of the talent and video bloggers appearing in the preceding video episode were made independently and without influence from either Quaker or DECA.
Your child walked at 5 months? Great! He said his first word when he was barely out of the womb? Super!
What do you think? Is it important to push your children to reach developmental milestones? Or should we all just take a giant chill pill? Join the Momversation by commenting on a related forum:
FamilyResentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die. —Malachy McCourt
What do you think? Should your children be privy to the round-the-clock coverage tragedies such as the tsunami, 9/11, and the Haiti earthquake inspire? Or do you have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy? Join the Momversation by commenting in a related forum:
How’s your hoo-hah? Your twinkie? Your flower? How’s your… vagina? Yep, doesn’t quite have the same “cutesy” ring to it. And that’s just fine with Daphne Brogdon of Cool Mom who is not a fan for precious nicknames for private parts (is private part a cutesy nickname?), especially when used by moms. Do these nicknames annoy you, and do you think kids should be taught them? Sound off!
Do you use cutesy names for private parts? Do you use them in general or just with your kids? Share them, and join the Momversation by commenting in a related forum:
FamilyMISSion Amy K.R. got my attention with this week’s lesson: Let’s learn a Little something from our kids. She created a video called ”22 Things My Children Have Taught Me.” which inspired me immediately jump on the bandwagon and make one of my own. It certainly pulled me out of my funk, and it was so great watching the children watch it. They loved it, which is not always the case when it comes to my little projects. *COUGH*
First, Miss Amy’s video.
Now, mine!
Let’s see yours! Or leave a few lessons learned in the comments.
ARRRGH Youtube won’t let me choose my own music. Wah. I had “Loves Me Like A Rock,” but will have to go with “Someday, Someway” instead. Bah.
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