Patsy Cline said it best: "Crazy"

Here I am, 2:31pm, home and already had my second cup 'o java for the afternoon (I had 2 this morning before leaving for work, and I cheated and had a small (6oz.) cup of BLACK coffee at work...). Apparently I'm working my addiction up to a full pot of coffee a day. And, to think, I'd been doing so well at only having one measly little cup (black!) in the morning before going to work. I've tried to quit coffee, go it the 'tea' way...but let's call a spade a spade: living among roosters as I do, working, having the PEANUT (note: the caps is on purpose)...facing the day without waking up to the smell of syrupy thick espresso strength coffee, to be guzzled by the 12 oz. mug, is like asking me if I'd like a visit from Jack Kevorkian (life without coffee? yes, pencil him in at 3...). So much for the reduction of caffeine. On to bigger things:

I love my Peanut. Peanutzilla; the Chubber calls her "peanut-butter", B.J. often calls her a pain in the _________ (fill in the blank: neck, butt, etc...). I do. I love her so much, I often go into the 'red' caring for her and all of her various needs. I do without, so does B.J. and the Chubb, though the latter doesn't yet realize it. Ask me how long it has been since I had a whole-hog, pull-out-the-stops-vacation. I'll tell you: I don't rightly remember. Far. Too. Long. Ago. After all, I'm the girl who buys (bought) airline tickets to Europe or Hawaii on a spur-of-the-moment 'this price is too good not to buy it' whim. Sigh. Those days are looonnng gone. I'd like to be able to go to the salon every 6 weeks and get my highlights done without my mental abacus going into guilt and worry about bills overdrive, and so I don't look like the bus driver from South Park; I'd like to be able to go shopping once in a while without feeling like I'm going over the precipice and landing us into debt. I'd like to stay in the black, but it just seems like it isn't gonna happen.

Already, this month alone, we're up to about $200 in medical co-pays for Peanut, and it isn't even the end of the month yet. Not to mention, the $2,000 invoice from OHSU that we received the other day that we may be 100% responsible for (maybe the insurance will pay it, maybe it won't. I think that BCBS uses a 'magic 8-ball' to decide on what it pays out on.).

Back to the Peanut, and, more specifically our current situation: Her psychiatrist has recommended we take her to a psychologist (main difference: the former is an M.D., the latter is a Ph.D.) for 'neuropsychological evaluation....[to] rule out other neuropsych dysfunction; to include IQ/LD'. Blah, bluh, bla? Yes. I know, it is partly Greek to me, as well. Basically, we want to find out a baseline for Peanut's cognitive performance. The psychiatrist doesn't do that kind of testing, the psychologist does. So, off I go with referral in hand.

Cha-ching.

The referral we've got in our hot little hands is for an out of network provider. Translation: mucho dinero. I, of course, don't have to have this testing done, but being the compulsive problem-solving mama that I am, I am going to. Because, after all, if this sheds more light on Peanut and how to deal with her 'quirks' I'm all for it. But! It all comes at a price.

The evaluation Peanut needs will run the gamut of $1,200-$2,000, quote that the psychologist gave me over the phone.

Choke-to-death. [insert gagging and vomiting noises here]

The insurance will pay up to 70% of what they deem 'usual and customary fees' (after I've paid my $300 deductible). In normal human being speech that means they will decide what a doctor should charge, and based on what the insurance deems to be the 'appropriate' charge, they will pay up to 70%. So, if they say this type of testing should cost, for simplicity, $10, then 70% of 'usual and customary' would mean they pay $7, leaving me to pay 30% of the balance, or $3. Sounds relatively simple, but when you're dealing with multiple zeroes after the numbers it gets a bit more...hmm...how shall I say it...distressing. Furthermore, if Peanut's psychologist doesn't charge $10 for the testing, but charges $17 for the testing, the insurance still only ponies-up $7, and I'm left with the balance of $10. So, basically I'm a bit on the screwed side.

What is a parent to do? What I always do: try to do the best I can by my peanut. I continue to mumble and grumble over medical costs--but I'm lucky: I at least have insurance. Some folks aren't so lucky, and once upon a time in the recent past I was one of those folks who didn't have insurance...and by God, did I pray I didn't get sick.

I continue to be more and more political; I follow the insurance legislation for my state. I send letters to my representatives and legislators. I've been scheduled to testify in front of the legislature before (though the meeting was cancelled). All in the name of providing my daughter with the necessary medical care she needs to live the fullest and most productive life she can live. So that my husband and I can have some semblance of normalcy in our family: we know and remember all to well what life was like before Peanut had the appropriate therapies and help; life with an untreated child like my girl is sheer hell.

So, the song that plays in my mind's Mp3 player, today, would have to be Patsy Cline's "Crazy," because I'm crazy in love with my girl.

Guilt

I haven't posted in a long time. This, I realize. While things have been humming along in my life, as always, I haven't felt particularly inspired to 'put pen to paper'.

Ironically, I started up this site as a means of purging my thoughts and maybe lessening the mommy-guilt load that all of us with offspring and who are of the X chromosomal variety experience, and in doing so, (tee hee) and not posting I have felt this cumbersome guilt hanging around my neck: I am not posting, hence my reader (singular) will become bored of my site, and fly far, far away. (I do have that bit of vanity, sorry to say)

A quick recap: Spring vacation--good, fast, over and done with; April: seductively waltzed into our lives like an innocent little lamb, only to sink its deadly lion-like fangs into our jugular and let us know that this spring will be a bumpy ride.

My Princess Peanut will soon be five years old. I'm majorly freaking out over this life milestone. She's in a preschool cum elementary school ecstasy "I'm going to be FIVE!" When did this happen? When did that yellow, squalling, doesn't want to eat and you can't make me, 5 lb. 12 oz. bundle of pain turn into a school age child?!? I'm utterly blown away.

We're planning her party for this Saturday at NWKC, so, I guess that means the games have begun. I know some people will think it a bit bourgeoisie for us to pay that much for her party, but let me tell you, the price is chump-change for the sanity! Last year we had her party at the carousel, and it was beautiful: the kids (the few who could make it) showed up, they rode the horses in circles enough times I wanted to puke, they ate cake, peanut ripped into the gifts, the mess stayed there, we went home to peace and quiet, voila! perfect.

For something new, and to (hopefully) take some of the focus off of the gluttony of gifts, we've decided to have a book exchange in lieu of gifts. I've requested each child who comes bring a gender-neutral, wrapped story book (not labeled to Peanut) and when we get to the 'open gifts' part each child will get a book to open--that way everybody gets to open a gift, and I get to get out of goody-bag duty! (I know its sneaky, its cheap, I love it!) I hope that this exchange works out well. Truthfully, Peanut doesn't need a single new toy, but I can't see her not getting to open something at her party, and I'm not so altruistic (yet! working on it...) that I can tell my daughter's guests to simply make a donation to a favored charity...so, maybe this plan works? I'll let you know. If you have any feelings, good or bad, please post a comment--I'd love to get some thoughts on the idea.

Well, it sounds as if my sweet little terrorists are waking/no longer content to play in their rooms, so I must sign-off. Having major daycare crisis right now--my poor dear babysitter has injured her back in some excruciating manner, and as of now: I have no back-up care, hence I am home from work today (B.J. was home yesterday) so among the many things I must do today, finding a backup daycare provider is pretty high up on the list. Sigh. It never ends.

Dipping Sauce

I've been pretty quiet lately, hence the lack of posts. I wanted to get in at least one more post for March, as it charges out 'like a lion' so here it goes:

Tonight, for dinner, I served my family the most healthful, organic, locally produced farm-fresh foods...what? You don't believe me? OK, I admit it, it was frozen fish sticks, but here's the fun part, and, as you can guess it involves children, or specifically the boy child:

Chubbs is smacking away at his fish sticks and noisily slurping his milk, blowing bubbles intermittently for good measure, when I notice that he's dipping. My chubber loves to dip his food. I don't know what it is, but I think most kids have the same affinity: food is just somehow better if you can dip it into something before cramming it into your mouth. Chubber is my 'little dipper' and tonight was no exception. He chose to have a small blob of ketchup on his plate, sort of a little decorative garnish (heaven forbid he ever actually use his ketchup for anything other than a viscous substance with which to 'drive' his 'food-car' through as a means of vicariously living the life of a monster-truck driver...), but fish sticks just aren't as good if you don't actually dip them into something.

Well, tonight, folks, the Chublet has reached a new echelon of grossology: he devoured his fish sticks after liberally dunking them (repeatedly!) into his apple sauce.

Y-U-C-K-Y!

Can you even imagine a more disgusting combination than frozen fish-sticks dipped into organic (for real!) no sugar added apple sauce? That was just way too nasty for me. Ranks right up there with the Scottish delicacy of a deep-fried Mars bar. (shuddering in revulsion, here)

So, tell me, what's the nastiest thing your sweet little offspring has decided to 'dip'?

Happy Easter!

Wishing everyone in the Blogosphere a happy and reflective Easter.

As the most important holiday in the Christian calendar approaches, let all of us reflect on what was done on our behalf. We don't deserve grace or mercy, yet it is freely given to us (John 3:16).

It isn't about astrobright plastic eggs, candy (even peeps!), or pretty dresses on Sunday. Sometimes we lose sight of what it is all Truly about.

Give thanks for the grace that He has extended to us, and let's all of us work on extending the kindness, grace, and love He gives to us, to everyone around us.

A lofty goal, I know. I will continue to work on it, and perhaps, in time, I will come closer to achieving it.

Happy Easter.

More about ma' Peeps

Taken from the April 2008 issue of Parenting magazine:
by: Deborah Skolnik

4 Ways Kids are Like Peeps


1. They're sweet, though almost always a bit sticky.


2. You can give them a little squeeze if they're yours--but not if they're a stranger's.

3. They're a known cause of stubborn belly overhang.

4. It can be hard to stop at one, but after two or three, the mere thought of having another may make you queasy.







Lovin da peeps and lovin, y'all, ma' peeps!

Parental Advisory: Explicit Content

In honor of my all time favorite Easter basket treats:

The Peep Show

Get on the bus...

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