The Mini Van Soap Box

I've been feeling a bit uninspired of late.  A little boxed in, as though I had created this persona that I couldn't keep up.  

The last few years, for the most part, been crap.  At least medically.  I'm not even going to link back to the numerous post about Doctors, MRI's, deadly migraines and exploding ovaries...so, let's just all agree that over all I've spent more time with Doctors than I have with my best friend.  And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she fell is love and got married and is still in that blissful first year of marriage where pee on the toilet seat is cute.

I'm sure we'll start hanging out again in about a year.

Anyway, I'm a firm believer in being my own advocate.  And even though I saw a slew of doctors - the truth was - none of them REALLY knew why my brain was exploding.  So, I continued to see different doctors until the pain stopped - or until on of them could give me a logical reason as to why it was happening.  Funny thing happens when you see a lot of doctors.

1.  You get a lot of different drugs.
2.  You get a lot of bills for said drugs.  And apparently the health insurance company gets those bills too.

I will start off by saying I AM grateful I have health insurance. Very grateful.  Even if I am baffled by the fact that they won't pay for 'alternative treatments' (acupuncture or massage therapy) but they will pay for me to have Botox injected into my neck.  But all things being equal - I'm grateful that they are paying a portion of the medical bills.

At least until I started getting what I can only describe as Health Insurance Junk Mail.  Apparently they have taken all of my claims for the last TWO years and diagnosed me.  With Fibromyalgia.   And because they were so smart and diagnosed me all on their own - they put it on my ever so official Health Insurance Chart. This patient has Fibromyalgia.

Health Insurance Nurse:  "Hey! I have a great idea! Let's put her on EVERY SINGLE MAILING LIST there is for people with Fibromyalgia.  Even though she has no idea what that even is...or even how to pronounce it correctly"

Health Insurance Nurse 2:  "Hell Yea!"

Then began six months of going to mail box and going "What the shit is this?" and throwing it away.  My health insurance company is partly to blame for the lack of oxygen because of all the paper in my mailbox. I finally caught on to what was going on and called them.

Me:  Hi Insurance People.  Do you think I have Fibromyalgia?
Insurance:  Yes. Yes we do.  We pieced it together from all of these claims.  We are very smart.
Me:  I don't have Fibromyalgia.  Has an actual DOCTOR said that I have this?
Insurance:  No. Not at all. Like we said. We are very smart.  We figured it out ourselves.
Me:  Well, I actually find all of this kind of condescending. I don't have Fibromyalgia. And you sending me pamphlets of how better to manage my disease just pisses me off.  So stop.  Unless you can diagnose the feeling of my brain trying to push it's way through my eye ball.  Feel free to send me literature on that.

I did manage to ask before I got off the phone if massage therapy is covered yet.  It isn't.

The first two weeks of school have gone fairly smoothly. No major upsets or disasters - and we've managed to make it to the bus stop on time - two weeks running!  Only complaint I have is the cootie that she brought home as a present to me.  This particular cootie has crawled up my nose and is firmly lodged in my brain - making me feel as though my head is swimming while the rest of my body feels like it's been hit by a truck.





*****
The other day, while folding and putting away laundry, my daughter came running into my room.  She jumped on to my bed and said:

"Hey Mom! Can bugs hear?"
"I'm not entirely sure that EVERY bug can, but yes, I think some bugs can hear."
"K! Thanks!", and ran away

I assumed it was something she learned in school.  How cute, I thought, she's still thinking about her studies when she gets home! Yea! School is awesome. She'll be brilliant! Then I started trying to decide how we'll pay for the Ivy League School she's destined to attend.

And then I heard the screaming from down the hall.  I found a small child with her body pressed against the wall - screaming at the ceiling.

"HEY BUG! MY MOM SAYS YOU CAN HEAR SO DON'T IGNORE ME! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!

*****

Every so often my husband has to work after hours. He's usually home at a decent enough time, but this particular evening he didn't get home until after I had fallen asleep. 

I can only guess that he wasn't as stealthy as usual while trying to change his clothes and set his alarm clock for the next day, because apparently I woke up.

I say 'apparently' because I don't remember much of this.

Turns out I was extremely irritated that he didn't have my sister with him.  I shot up in bed and demanded to know where she was.  How dare he not have her with him.  My sister that lives 5 hours away. The sister that has no plans of coming to visit as far as I know and who was certainly NOT supposed to be in my bedroom at 1:00 in the morning.  I can only assume his reaction was something like "Wha? Huh?"

I used to talk in my sleep all the time when I was younger.  Interestingly enough, my sister would intentionally talk to me while sleeping - and then write down the crap I said.  Something about strawberries, a snow man and a Smurf.

It's seems I'm in good company this week.  I've read so many stories and posts about sending the kids back to school.  Some folks are thrilled - some sent theirs off for the first time, so there have been tears and fears.  Mine started 1st grade - and although we aren't new to the idea of school - we are new to public school.

For the last two years we've had her in private school.  Not because we're private school people, or that our public schools suck, but because Kindergarten in our area is a half day program.  I have NO idea who that's good for.  Certainly not for the parents who have jobs. And I can't imagine any five year old can learn anything in the two hours that they are there.  It takes me two hours to get her ready in the morning...So, I'm thinking just enough time to get to school, get the coat off, have a snack, pee and then back home again.

One of the things I love most about our private school - aside from the Teachers and staff is the privacy & security of the whole thing.  One door to get in. One door to get out.  Staff members sitting right at that front door...watching.  And it's locked from the outside.  You sign your kid in and out.   For a mom that has some serious anxiety issues - this was good for me.

However, as time goes by I realize more and more that my anxiety is my own, not hers.  I have to let her grow and do the things that she wants to do (within reason, of course!) She wanted to ride the bus - and as much as it killed me - I agreed.  Now, that's not to say I didn't have the runs for the four days leading up school starting.  And weird dreams. And quite a few sleepless nights.  But Tuesday morning found us at the bus stop with all the other kids.  Mom's taking the required 1st Day Of School pictures - and me hiding behind my sunglasses - smiling and chatting with the other Mom's - but secretly plotting how I can start home schooling her.

We are now three days into the school year - and aside from a few small mishaps - she loves it.  I'm thrilled with her teacher, and from what I've been told from the other Bus Stop Moms, the school we go to is great. I've relaxed a bit more - and pooping a bit more normally, thanks for asking.

But I will never forget that cute little face pressed up against the school bus window blowing kisses and waving.

The Bus Stop Moms have told me that THAT novelty will wear off soon - and I'll be dragging her ass to the bus stop just to make it on time.  Enjoy the moment while we can.

This last Saturday we went to a party at a friends house.  It's always nice when the friends you have, that have kids, have kid friendly gatherings.  You let the kids try to kill each other - while all the adult folk sit back, drink beer and make sure there isn't too much carnage. No one likes blood stains on their furniture.

The friends house that we went to is an old friend of mine, I've known her since high school.  In the last few years she's been married and had a baby.  I couldn't be happier for her - her husband is a riot and her baby is adorable.  Perfect little Christmas card family.  Her husband is Cuban American and his family is, obviously, as well - and lives in Miami.  A few of them even came up for the party.

Hours into the party - kids asleep on the couch - the adults have mostly separated into two groups.  The girls are inside talking about girl stuff and most of the guys are outside talking about....whatever it is they talk about. 

I spent about a half an hour or so with the girls, and went outside to check on my husband (or to get another beer) and when I opened the door - all I heard was a very agitated Cuban talking about glue sticks. I leaned down to my husband...

"What the hell is going on?"

"I told him what was on the back to school supply list that you got. I think I might have told him how much a glue stick is..." he says

You see, I've spent the last month trying to get all of the supplies on this list - and every day I'm AMAZED at how much I'm supposed to send to school.  25 glue sticks, y'all.  50 pencils.  Crayons, markers, colored pencils, highlighters, dry erase markers, scissors, tissues, antibacterial hand stuff, Ziploc bags, and sanitizing wipes.  If you don't find the right store - and the right price - a large glue stick can cost up to $3.00.  If you aren't willing to put the time to shop around - that's $75 in glue.  Just glue.

Now what's totally awesome about getting a Cuban worked up...is half of what they say is in English and the other, well, isn't.  And they talk a lot with their hands.  And loudly too.   Then his parents got into it.  I've never heard such outrage! Over Glue! And somehow the conversation turned into how good of parents we are! "¡Increíble! If MY KID needs glue -¡Mierda santa!  You call me! I'll bring him some damn glue!  ¿Usted me está embromando? Freakin' Glue!  ¡Pegamento!

My husband started the Great Glue Cuban Riot of 2010.  I don't know if we'll ever be invited back.