April Fool's

Okay Peeps, lay some jokes on me... There's nothing like April Fools to entertain a 6 & 7 year old. Here's my menu for tomorrow:

1.) While they are sleeping tonight, change off their PJ's, bed sheets & spreads so boy is in girl's and girl is in boy's. This was smooth going last year and they had a good crack up about it, so we'll try it again.

2.) Instead of their breakfast "yogurt", they'll be presented with frozen chocolate yogurt. Still working on something gross like green toast or something scary.

3.) Gummy worms in their lunch sandwiches.

That's all I have so far. Anyone have some good pranks to play on their kids or spouse? What's on your April Fool's Menu??

Mental Health Parity

Mind - Body Politics - NYT article
Check out the above article for the truth of the matter.

In the state of California, there has been the law of parity between medical and behavioral health care since about 2003 or 2004 - I can't remember. There are other versions in most states, and this month, the issue has been brought to a federal level. Basically, it means that behavioral issues should be parity to medical issues - insurance companies are no longer able to put a cap to psychiatry & psychotherapy treatment the same way they can't to a medical problem such as diabetes or cancer.

The question that underlies Mental Health Parity Act is "Is there a mind body connection?" Well, puhlease! I think we all know that there is. Do you get a headache when you're anxious? Does your pulse race when you're upset? But yet it has to again and again be demonstrated scientifically. Too bad for insurance companies, because there's now a lot of data to prove the point.

When parity first came out in CA, I was working at an insurance company as a case manager. There was a huge panic about it, if we couldn't capitate people's benefits, how could we control the utilization of care. Would everyone want to be in long term therapy? Well, the answer to behavioral health parity, as with medical insurance, is "medical necessity". One can have a problem, but does it need ongoing or intensive treatment?

Just because someone has a heart problem, it doesn't mean they can electively choose to undergo heart surgery and have the insurance pay for it unless it's medically necessary for their survival. Only it's pretty hard to develop uniformity of treatment protocols when the current measurements of mental health distress cannot be captured by a CAT scan or EEG.

What comes to my mind when I hear "Medically Necessary" is the alternative to what I call "Quality of Life". Meaning, should my medical insurance pay for non-necessary plastic surgery? Can I live without the Double D's? versus, of course the chemotherapy is needed to save my life. Other scenario - Can I function normally (holding a job, maintaining safety and self care) without psychoanalysis of my Oedipus complex or am I about to go hurt myself or someone else because of it?

I worked at the insurance company while my kids were young. It was a perfect fit, I worked from home, I had flexible hours and full benefits. Then it started to get on my nerves. Even being back in the office, I felt like I was going in daily to my own coffin. Who was I helping? Did it even matter? I felt like I was playing a game of monopoly. My productivity was measured on # of calls I took and how much I produced without having an attitude. My clinical skills floated in cyber space.

I learned so much from that job - I did a lot of growing up on that job. I'm glad I'm out of there. Now being back to hospital work, "medical necessity" takes on a fuller meaning. It's easy to distance myself when I'm drinking a cup of coffee at the computer, taking a call from someone I don't know. It's a different ball game to see blood, scars, stitches, icky things (Note: There's a reason I'm not a nurse.) I've seen staples sticking of a self imposed slash to the neck. Hundreds of overdoses. Slit wrists. Attempted electrocution. Near gunshot wounds. Confusion. People who were found by the side of a bridge or cliff, contemplating jumping off. People who've maimed other people due to hearing voices and psychosis.

People don't do these things because they had a bad childhood. Hey, if they did, we'd all be in the shrink ward... There is some kind of brain chemistry that affects judgement and impulsivity that cannot be fully understood by talk therapy. These are medical conditions whether the insurance company wants to admit it or not.

So Kudos to American Government for allowing the issue to present in their courts. It's a step in the right direction.

3WW - writer prompt -glass.question.token

Check out Bone's Awesome Writer prompt 3WordWednesday....(on my blog roll - I can't figure out how to link on my mom's computer..did I mention I hate windows? <---Mac Lover)

I'm still out of town, but here's my entry. I'll have to check out everyone's when I get back...

His pockets were close to empty and his hands covered in grease. But on the way home from a hard day's work, he saw the glass ring in a window shop. It was on sale, and close to the right price. He bought it on impulse, carefully wrapping it in a box. He'd clean himself up on Sunday, wear his suit maybe and take her for a meal. Not just the local diner but a nice place - Howard Johnson's where she could order pepper steak.

Pride kept him from asking her the question that burned in his heart. When things were better and he had a real diamond to present, he would do it then. For now, the ring was a token, if not a promise for the future.

I'm off!

See you all soon - I'm off to Boston early in the morning. It's my 2nd trip since the big "D" - my parents decided to dissolve their marriage just when I had settled into mine. Go figure. Now Dad's remarried, Mom's bitter. They're not speaking to each other. This after 40 years of marriage. Try telling 2 kids they can't mention the other grandparent's name in their presence. Now I am figuring out how to stay out of it and divide the time without guilt (that word again!)

Other than that, we can't wait to see the place, see our loved ones and visit my old haunts.

Happy Spring!

3WW - Husband's Version: money.tangled.understood

No one in my family was ever allowed to speak about what our dad did to make money. It was simply understood that there would be hell to pay for bringing it up. But eventually, the confusing secrets and non-stop lies became so tangled with the truth that we just gave up trying to understand any of it.

Packing

WriterKat's going on a trip to Bean Town this weekend. When I prepare for a trip, I write out everything I need to pack, right down to the socks. But this time struck me as funny since here's the top items on my list.

Cell Phone
Cell Phone plug
Lap Top
I-Pod
Camera
Video Camera

Jeez. I hope I don't get mugged. There's a lot of $$ in that suitcase. But I can't figure out what not to take.

I'm not going to list the full suitcase of winter-wear. I'm too depressed to be losing my 70 degree weather - Sun & I had just reunited and now I'm abandoning her for someone in their 20's. Brrr.

3WW - writer prompt - money.tangled.understood

Check out Bone's awesome 3WW

Hub:
TBA

Me:
When Jack and Sadie shattered glass under the Chuppah, they had no idea how tangled their marriage would become. Their love for each other, put on the back burner with the addition of children, the unending quest for money and success would spin them around until there was no forward or backward. If they fully understood what was before them, would they have taken the plunge?

In their tiny apartment on the tenth floor of Sunrise Assisted Living, Jack went to his bureau and took out a small wooden box, full of glass shards from long ago. Dusting off the box, he placed it inside Sadie’s folded hands and waited for the ambulance to come for her body. As Jack looked into his wife’s eyes for the last time, he knew without a doubt that they most certainly would have, again and again, without a question.

Mommy War

I always wanted to be a mom, so it surprised me how thankful I was and am for my career, if nothing else to escape from the relentless demands of being exactly that. As the kids get older, I find that I want to spend more time with them and be part of their activities. I like being part of a crowd called “Mom” and talking about the most mundane things like summer camp and how many confetti eggs I filled last year. Nevertheless, it surprises me as a career person how things like finding a Tupperware that holds 36 cupcakes and spending 4 hours on my feet guarding the dessert bar at the Spaghetti dinner can be so exciting and fun, wishing I was the one who got to sell the raffle tickets, wishing I was the girl scout leader, wishing I was serving hot lunch.

There’s this thing in me that to be a career person and a mom…oooh, not good. But if I’m a mom without a career…oooh really not good. I straddle the fence , as if I can’t be both or more like I can’t like being both. If I like being a mom, it means I’m unprofessional. If I like being professional, I can’t be a mom. There’s these huge waves of guilt on either side of not doing enough, not being enough, not being there enough.

People talk about the “Mommy Wars” and no matter who says that being a working mom is harder than stay-at-home or stay-at-home is harder than working, we all have our view points, and there’s judgment slung either way , if not directly, at the school waiting bench or across phone lines on your afternoon commute. I don’t think it’s an issue that ever or maybe even needs to be resolved. It must have to be resolved inside of yourself, aka, myself. Which is something I haven’t been able to do yet.

By the time I will be fully comfortable being a working mom, my kids will be old enough not to care, and I will still be left with the guilt of not being there for them 100% the early years of their life. (And now I have to justify myself to say that I was only working part time the first 5, that my money contributes to the nice things we have, that, that, that, to save myself from feeling judged to the full extent of my guilt.) In the end, is justifying needed? Do our kids excel or do we screw up our kids either way?

I don’t think I will ever be satisfied until someone says “Yes, you are a bad, bad mommy for not being with your kids when they needed you.” Because that is the voice I hear in my head when the lights turn black at night. Yet every morning, when the sun shines, I wake up saying “Thank God I am what I am,” and pray the bergezzers that it will all turn out allright.


And by the way, if you want totally cool bake sale tupperware, here's your puppy: http://tinyurl.com/yw5jnv

Married, Burried...

Ever hear that song? I can't remember who sings it but it's a good one..
Here's a funny email I received today, had a chuckle. (Sorry it's small, I couldn't download it any larger).

3WW - writer prompt - apartment.began.numb

3WW

Hub:
I woke up to another day that never ends. I’m completely dead inside. And on a good day, I’m just numb. The day began like it always does: realizing my eyes have opened and I’m just staring at the broken ceiling fan. My whole apartment is sagging under the weight of broken things.

Me:
The apartment was supposed to be her second chance at life. A lot had been destroyed in the last ten months. Her memories were the only thing left intact. She could hear the crash of metal and a baby’s scream. She could smell the stench of her breath and burned rubber. Her legs were numb but her mind, haunted.

She wheeled herself up the ramp and entered her new home. She began to hyperventilate as she faced stark living room. The walls were freshly painted, and everything was in the right place. It was too much to take in. Shaking, she rolled into the kitchen – the only place where she felt safe. Her hand relaxed when she found her bottle. She poured the vodka over ice and took a long swallow.

Shakey's: A tribute to America

We went to a local pizza joint that we've lived near for 18 years and never set foot until last month. It's a dumbed-down Chuckie Cheese without any sort of gaming to the games. It's strictly kiddie gambling - throw the money in and get x # of tickets. Totally addicting.

We went since my DH is going out of town, and it was our goodbye dinner. Of course, I work days, he works nights, so he is only able to spend 15 minutes with us before he's off to teach. An expensive goodbye dinner for someone who is hardly there to say goodbye to.

I go to the counter and ask to have change for a $20. The very nice young man said "Would you like (5) 4's?"
"Uh, Yes." I said afraid to correct and then confuse him. (Plus if he actually had 5 $4 bills, I'd be in fat city.)

After spending our (5) 4's, we are ready to cash out. My daughter's saving hers for a bigger toy (smart girl.) My son's got his eye on about 10 things, and I'm carefully subtracting each prize on scrap paper. Meanwhile, a not-so-bright doped-up helper stands looking at me with glazed eyes. Finally, he starts calculating and comes up with better numbers than I did. I ask him for a remaining receipt so son can use the rest later. He just looks at me and says "Here, just take this back," and hands me the original tickets receipt. So we got about $20 worth of "free" stuff (which amounts to about 1 paper glider, 1 super ball, 1 smiley bank and assorted candies.)

What this says about America:
1.) We'd rather gamble than read to our kids.
2.) Family time is best spent when we're hardly together.
3.) Our kids are great gamblers but know carp about math.
4.) We thieve against "the man" and have hardly a speck of remorse.

Despite my third eye over the night, it was great fun and we'll go back soon. A few more trips, we'll have enough for the plastic lava lamp. Now that's something to take pride in!

As a side note, my son is designating his new smiley bank as his "mission bank" so he can "buy people in other countries rice and books." Now that's my little man. Gambling for God. The American Way.

Hillary-Obama Obama-Hillary

Hillary's made 2 statements that I've heard about sharing the ticket with Obama. To my knowledge, I haven't heard it from Obama. On excite.com, a quote: "Clinton said: 'I've had people say, 'Well, I wish I could vote for both of you.' Well, that might be possible some day. But first I need your vote on Tuesday.' "

What is this about? Serious consideration? I doubt they could get along together, who ever is on top. An invitation to Obama while she's succeeding, knowing she's probably going to lose, so that he'll consider her? Or a ploy to invite people on the fence to swing to her side? Hmmmm...

What do you think?

3WW - writer prompt - sidewalk.twice.rest

3WW

Hub:
They were just going way too fast for me. I couldn’t breathe. Twice, I felt like I was going to pass out – once, I actually thought “I am going to die!” So in front of everybody, I simply had to sit down, right there on the sidewalk, just to rest and catch my breath.

Me:
Not once, not twice, but three times now, I have fallen onto the sidewalk this year. Today was the latest. Head first, bag everywhere, cell phone sliding into the street. Strange faces looking at me and driving by. Either I need new shoes or I’m going too fast and need to take a day off to rest. Maybe both.

Sticking with..

I'm working on completing a 52,000 word manuscript by 12/31/08 and I am at 20,000 words today. It feels very good. The interesting part is although it is mostly crap and 97% will probably be flushed down the tubes, I don't really care since my main reason for forging through is to actually complete a project. It's my 40th birthday present to myself. Next year, I will look at the mess and hopefully take a few gems to start over and make something out of it.

I could start again now, but in my years as a 'motivated' writer, I've been doing nothing but starting over. I'm great at titles. And first paragraphs. Fairly good at ideas. But crappy at sticking with. So it feels like I'm breaking through by pushing forward and letting that inner critic sit and wait for 2009. It can go to town Jan 1, but not today, not this year.

Busy

I've been busier than a one-armed paper hanger. How I hate that statement. It's right along with my mother's other fav, "Always something to keep the rabbit's tail short." Which leads my thoughts to how she woke me up every morning singing in her quasi-opera voice "Morning has broken like the first morning; Blackbird has spoken like the first bird. Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning! Praise for them springing fresh from the Word!" (a religious Gaelic diddy). (You can't begin to imagine how totally annoying this was).

Oh well, when I'm busy, I go straight to bitterness of my mother, as if it is her fault. Sorry Mom. I seriously hope my children aren't irked and blaming of me, but most likely........

Anyway, that's why I haven't been around visiting too much. But hopefully I'll have a day off soon and can be bloggy again.

Addendum:
I just googled this song, if Cat Stevens had woken me up, it might have been much gentler: Cat