"Oooh, he's learning binary!"

MacTroll got home from Anaheim last night at around 9:30 p.m. Papa, X-man and I were all in bed and, boy, were we pooped. It had been an exciting Halloween.

This afternoon after MacTroll picked up JR and X-man and walked them home, JR invited X-man into play. So, MacTroll came home and brought in the mail while the boys had a play date. He dropped off some sobering paperwork. For the last three days, I've been spelling words with X-man for a test on Friday. The first time I created a worksheet where each of his spelling words was missing one or two letters, so he had to really listen for the sounds. He got all of the words right. The next day, I busted out the foam letters. I read the words to him and he found the letters and spelled them in front of him. He only had one upside down letter and forgot the "c" in duck. 

Then yesterday, after school, I asked him to verbally spell the words to me. He got them all right except duck, again. But today, in a spelling "check" he misspelled all the words. He inserted the short "o" rather than the "u" in everything. It was really, really strange. The test was on white paper, which is hard for him to write on. And I got frustrated. Why is what he showing me at home not translating to the writing? When he gets home from his play date, I'll have him write the words again, and see how he does. But it worries me. I've been in constant chatter with his teachers about the spelling issues. And they are very supportive and encouraging and tell me that I'm doing some great work with him, but it's not getting consistent results, especially for him in the classroom. I was changing the ways we did them (rather than just tracing words or verbal/writing tests) to keep things interesting and limit complaining. No one likes to feel stupid. And when he gets things wrong, it deeply affects his self-esteem. And in turn, seeing your child take a nose dive, doesn't do anything good for the Mom's esteem either. My little man is totally working his little butt off, and it sucks to see him have to work so hard for things that come so naturally to other children both in terms of the writing issue and the socialization issues. But he totally has a heart of gold. He keeps on trying and he pours everything he's got into it.

Then I showed MacTroll the math fun that X-man brought home from Mathman yesterday. To me, it was a math game that X-man took from Mr. Cohen's house in NW Champaign all the way back to our driveway to explain how to play to me (remind me that he probably won't grow up to be an instruction manual writer), but in the end, he got it. And we played. 

There are five grids of numbers in boxes labeled A through E. You have to pick a number in your head 1-31 and then tell the "quizzer" what lettered boxes it is in. Then the "quizzer" adds up the first number in the first row in the upper left hand corner of each box and -- surprise -- you get the number in the person's mind. 

I showed it to MacTroll and he sat down on my scooter and seemed impressed that X-man was working in binary. "What? I thought binary was just a bunch of 0s and 1s?" 

MacTroll got excited, because he likes it when he knows more about something than I do, so he sat down and explained binary to me. Now we're all in the know. 

And I guess I need to pay more attention when I do things because Christie Clinic had to send back my check to pay for my surgery because the number in the check box didn't match the one I wrote out.

Oops!

** Update **
X-man gets home from his play date. I give him his spelling words. He misses the "l" in plum and the "c" in duck. But the other six words are perfect. I show him the sheet that came home.
Loosey: "Did you do this today?"

X-man: "No, that was from a long, long time ago." (Which probably means it was his pre-test on the spelling words on Monday. Now I feel all kinds of silly for being so frustrated.)
Lesson learned -- I just need to calm the heck down.

Frustrated Beyond the Norm

So, I was scheduled to get an IUD on Wednesday. But Carle called to cancel my appointment yesterday due to my ob/gyn having an emergency surgery. What surgery is emergent if there's a 48-hour advance notice?

Normally, I'm a pretty calm and patient human being. But when I was pregnant with X, I only saw the ob/gyn twice. I saw her at the 9-week appointment to hear the heart beat and to actually officially meet her, and then I saw her at week 15 to go over the genetic testing that we decided to decline. After that, she was always in some kind of surgery and never made it to my appointments. Instead, her nurse practitioner always stepped in. That's 25 weeks of care where I don't remember seeing her at all. Since I got diagnosed with the fibroid last January, and it took 60 days for someone in gyn to see me to confirm the diagnosis and go over my options and then another 30 days to get an appointment to get the IUD in the first place, waiting another month seemed -- obnoxious. And I had no faith or guarantee that the next appointment wouldn't shove me to the side, too. But I guess a doctor makes a lot more money doing surgery than she does inserting an IUD.

So, I told the woman who called to cancel my appointment that it wasn't going to fly. That I'd be happy to see anyone else at that time period that had an opening and could do the IUD. She said she'd have to leave a message for the doctor's nurse. As soon as I hung up with her I called Planned Parenthood. You know, the fetus killers? The ones that the Republican House Members cut funding for because they provide abortion services, never mind the thousands of other non-abortion services they provide at low cost every day. Yeah, them. If you didn't know, becoming a parent made me fly my pro-choice flag bigger, brighter and higher than I flew it before. I love Planned Parenthood. I love them because I know that they are a million things more than just an abortion provider.

They'll talk to you about your options and the risks of your choices, but they never, ever give you the runaround about anything, and they certainly never push you off of getting care for a four-month period. This is why we need more open minded family planning services and not less! So, I made an appointment with them for next week. That's right, a one-week waiting period rather than another 30 days, on top of the 90 days I already had to wait just to get an IUD to help control my internal bleeding so that I can store iron again and stop sapping my bone marrow of things like platelets. My care doesn't even have anything to do with family planning -- and I go to Planned Parenthood.

Meanwhile, a Carle nurse called back this morning while I was at work. I called her when I got home, but she was at lunch. I have yet to hear from her again.

I get such excellent patient care from my GP, from my son's pediatrician and from Weight Management. Why has my experience at Ob/Gyn always been so -- negligent? I mean, I like everyone I've met there on a personal level. They're just -- way, way, way too busy.

Mommy abuse

My child is spoiled. It's not because he's the only one. It's because up until recently his requests have been pretty low key and totally in the realm of reasonable. Go to the library? -- Sure! Have a piece of sugarless gum -- Sure! Watch a softball game together? -- Why not? Read you a book? Of course. Watch Scooby Doo with you while eating popcorn? Love to! Visit a Firehouse after school and see the trucks? Why not? It's on the way home.

So, when you go for several years getting pretty much the okay to do things, you expect it to continue, right?

But when your requests start becoming dodgy (like wanting to live off Pirate Booty or cut up random things around the house with kitchen scissors) -- and Mommy puts on the brakes, two different kinds of ugly behavior come from my four year old: either the world suddenly ends OR the gauntlet is thrown and war of wills is declared.

And it'll last for HOURS, the whining and complaining. I thought it was bad today, until tonight when we went from constant tantrum to ultra frustration. Giving choices doesn't seem to help. Trying to talk rationally won't work in the middle of heated tantrum because he's not ready to not be all raw and emotional about everything.

Tonight, he was so mad at me, he pretended to shoot me. I got hit or punched several times. He bit my left arm. He threatened to have me thrown in jail or thrown in the garbage and hauled away. (Can you tell he was really mad?)

I asked him not to do something. I explained why I didn't want it done and then asked if he understood what I was asking. He said he did. And then he did it again. I told him that if he did it one more time, I'd take away his Wonder Woman lunchbox of superhero figurines. He freaked out -- and 30 seconds later did what I asked him not to do. So, I snagged the lunchbox and put it up, and, thus, the war began.

After receiving the repeated physical abuse while trying to get him to reset, I declared I was done and marched up to my room, shut and locked the door. He spent 10 minutes throwing himself at the door And then said very plainly, "Please open the door. I want to tell you I'm sorry."

It took 45 minutes to get us to that point. So, I opened it. He ran in and sat in my lap and said he was sorry and hugged and kissed me. Then we left it alone. And the last words he said to me before falling asleep in his tent on the air mattress were, "You're okay, Mommy. You're okay." Then he patted me on the shoulder and fell asleep.

I know he's four and an emotional nut case right now developmentally. I pick my battles carefully. But it seems like there are more and more unreasonable protests coming from the other side lately. I keep trying to emphasize the positive actions, but he seems so quick to do the negative ones all the time. It's frustrating me. It's frustrating him. I'm so effing tired of dealing with it.

Turtle Trot

I am by no means a fast runner. I've always known this, and it was proven again during a training run with Quigs and Special K on Saturday afternoon, where Quigs put on her hare feet and ran like her ass was on fire. While Katherine did her best to shout directions (we were practicing on the last leg of the Illinois Marathon course) to Kelly and keep her eye on me.

When I finished, I'd run my usual 11 minute/mile pace for anything over five miles. My fastest 5k time is a 9:29/mile. But I run 4-5 days a week. Somewhere in my head I think that this should somehow make me faster. I do the speed workouts. I do brick workouts in preparation for my mini triathlons. I do strength training 2-3 times a week and have been slowly progressing my weight increases so that I'm pushing myself but not injuring myself.

My Body Blast instructor, Melissa, said the other day that our bodies are far ready to take on most new physical challenges long before our heads are. And I wonder if my head is some kind of random barrier to improvement.

I'm comfortable at my pace. It feels natural and good to run at it. My body needs no recovery the next day. After Saturday's run, I got up, biked 9 miles in 36 minutes and then ran a mile and a half at 9:50/mile. I felt fine. Nothing hurts. I'm meeting my requirements to burn 2700 calories a week for my weight management program. I'm trying new and different physical activities. I'm trying to keep life interesting so I keep exercising at least 60-90 minutes six days a week. And I'm not bored.

Normally, when I'm not in a state of "self punishment" I'd call this a success and turn over and go to sleep. My goal is always to get my time in, have fun and hopefully improve. But for some reason, I'm bothered by my ineptitude this weekend. I feel like I'm somehow not doing enough and falling behind while also feeling like I'm doing all I can. It's frustrating.

Once I let Special K and Quigs get far enough ahead so I couldn't see them, I calmed down. I felt better. Maybe it's just because I'm so used to running by myself. Maybe this is more about feeling like I'm failing to keep up, rather than just recognizing the tremendous accomplishments I've already made in improving my health. Maybe running needs to be about me getting it done for me... rather than comparing my running abilities to other more fit friends. It's just -- hard to do -- this weekend.

Frustration with Corporate Entities

I have had a lot of frustration this week. Frustration is difficult because the difficulties stem from many levels.

This week, my frustration was with bureaucracy that makes no sense.

Last December I needed to see an out-of-network medical provider. I called my insurance company and got the required pre-authorization to go see the specialist. I got the billing info, the provider's special codes, the whole nine yards. I received my pre-authorization letter in the mail. Then I made an appointment and went to see my provider. In the middle of my pre-authorization, I get a letter that my husband's medical benefits are changing after the first of the year. So, after the first of the year I would need to receive new pre-authorization (i.e. do it all over again) to continue seeing any out-of-network providers. I call up the new 1-800 number because I had two visits scheduled for after the first of the year, and they tell me "no problems."

I get a summary two weeks ago from the insurance company denying my claim for the first two visits I had in 2009... because I didn't get preauthorization.

I figured, "Oooh, it's a mess up, because thanks to my wonderful filing system, HERE is my preauthorization letter."

Alas, it can't be that easy. Apparently, the Mega Clinic I went to see my specialist bill the charges under some other provider's name... a provider I didn't see.

Okay, well, I'll call the Clinic and have them fix it. Alas, the Mega Clinc has some rule about billing under the name of the supervising doctor (whose name I didn't have preauthorization for) rather than the mid-level doctor, and, of course, I saw the mid-level. What can I do?

"Call your insurance company and tell them it's our policy NOT to bill under a mid-level's name, which they should know, and that we're happy to send them a letter from your provider, IF YOU WAIVE YOUR RIGHT TO PRIVACY, to send them the information they're seeking.

So, I call the insurance company who responds with, "You'll need to call your provider and have them give you an itemized bill with your provider's name and the charges on it. Fax it to us, we'll pay what's covered and then you can pay them."

I call the Mega Clinic back (and may I say that the woman who was helping me was very nice. I do not blame her for the large corporate bullshit at all). The woman at the clinic explains to me that it's not just a clinic policy to bill under the supervising professional -- it's a state law. Well, crap. She tells me she's sorry that I'm having to do unnecessary footwork. And what she would suggest I do was to come in and sign off the permission so they can share my info with the insurance company and then give the claims department at the insurance company the name/number and fax number of the poor person at Mega Clinic that spends every day in the red tape and let them duke it out. Because, I, as the patient, met my paperwork requirement when I got pre-authorized.

So yesterday, I went in and signed the paperwork to sign away my privacy, so Evil Insurance and Mega Clinic could get together like two long-time divorced parents who still hate each other while their only child is not in the room.

Then I called the insurance agency and said, "Here's the name and phone number to call and here's the fax machine number."

Because right now I'm sitting on $500 in medical bills to Mega Clinic. And well over half of it should be covered by Evil Insurance, and that's just the first two appointments. I can't wait to see what happens with the second two that were after the first of the year...

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. It's no wonder I run. Or I'd punch someone in the face.

Love em, Cause I can't Leave em

X-man has gone insane. He's been a ball of complete emotional breakdown for the last 3 days. He's 3, so it's no surprise that he's not listening. But he's changing his mind about what he wants to do or eat every four seconds and then when I tell him he can't change his mind he shouts in frustration at me.

He wants to keep playing all the time so he doesn't slow down and rest or sleep. It's like a ball of manic energy, plus his appetite has been next to nothing. I thought we'd hit some sort of plateau on the behavior for a while... but now we're back to tantrums and whining.

"Yes, I know you want some of your valentine's day candy. But Fun dip is not dinner."
"I'm not hungry! I'm full!"
"Then you aren't hungry for fun dip."
"Stop talking to me, Mommy!"

His brain is just fried right now. So here's hoping we get through it quickly...

So Frustrating

For the last two nights I've drugged myself with Nyquil in order to sleep through my coughing. I've had a headcold that had decided to move into my chest. Outside of when I'd erupt into fits of coughing while lying down I didn't notice it much, until I went out to shovel my front walk today.

I got to the end of the walk and I was sweating and exhausted. It was like I had no energy. The plan had been to shovel the front walk and then walk over to the rec center to do a short run on the track. Instead, I came back in side, checked on my pork roast in the slow cooker, baked some Cooking Light molasses cookies and then went up to read and ended up falling asleep.

I woke up at 4 p.m. to the smell of the yummy pork roast that's not on my menu, but I will admit tasting. I took a shower, but my body still felt drained. I was really sweaty, which I can't tell is because I got rid of a fever or was asleep in in a sunbeam under a feather down comforter. But when I stood up, it felt like I had low blood pressure because it took a while for the world not to spin.

Fast forward 3 hours. I got tired playing a couple games on the Wii after dinner. I wanted to eat comfort food. I had a molasses cookie, which is also out of the box.

Then I came up to bed, where I'm eyeing my book and thinking, "Where is that Nyquil?"

I just had surgery and was down for two weeks from that. I really don't want to have a cold that turns into bronchitis right after it. So, tomorrow, X-man is going to Chuck E. Cheese with MacTroll for a birthday party. Then, I'm hoping I'll feel better enough to go to the Superbowl party at Libbygirl's. If not, I'll have to send the boys with the drinks and fruit salad. But, dammit, I really was looking forward to just planting myself on their couch and watching football for hours.

I haven't done that since the Ravens were in the Superbowl in 2001. Seriously.

Ugly Demeanor

Usually, I'm a woman who is pretty even keel. I don't judge people on appearance. I give them time to sink in. I'm usually pretty understanding and not quick to make assumptions. But today, today I got annoyed at a great many things I don't normally get annoyed at.

I am usually a woman who supports parents and their choices, because I know, particularly the parents that I'm acquainted with, would dive in front of a moving train for their young ones. But today, I'm annoyed at how combative things are about certain subjects. How the tones that some parents use in order to voice their opinions comes across as the loudest one around, and I worry that other parents who haven't had the chance to really think about an issue and determine what is best for their family are influenced by that loud, bullying voice. I've always tended to hear what the voice says, and then determine for myself whether to listen. But when the shouting gets louder and the angry group it's solicited as minions starts going, the voice of dissent is often treated like it's crazy and invalid or even dangerous -- rather than just different.

I hate when people do that to each other. I hate it. And it makes me want to take the other side (even if I agree with the loud person's opinion) just to point out that diversity in views is always a good idea. That there is no one exactly correct way to do everything, and that by choosing something different that person isn't telling you you're wrong. Instead, she or he has found something that fits better for him or her. Shades of gray. I firmly believe in shades of gray.

I went to dinner at Lavender Lemonade's tonight all full of angst about this kind of stuff. Her usual pleasantness completely calmed me down for a while. But as I think about earlier today, I get frustrated. And I wish things were culturally different. And I wish the loudmouths would just shut up a bit, so I can regain my zen abilities again.

Because one of these days, I'm going to be tired of being the adult you can count on. The dependable, rock solid Looseyfur. One of these days, I'm just going to implode. I can feel it. Don't push me. You've never seen me mad. And trust me, there are reasons for that.

Blah happens even on vacation

The wind has been going crazy and the waves that were cresting 30 yards out are now doing it 100 yards out. They're also 4 feet tall and are eating the walkable area of the beach. 

To compensate, we watched some TV, played in the sand and then took a trip into town to eat at a restaurant called from Field to Fork. It's an all local food market and café. It was insanely good and we followed it up with a trip to Target for more diapers and some Lincoln Logs so we can build more effective parking garages for X-man's cars than the summer cottage's Jenga blocks allow. 

Unfortunately, while I was constructing the barn for the cars, X-man decided to sit on my back, which is fine... until he repeatedly struck me with an extra long Lincoln Log in the head. I've got a couple lumps on the head. 

We were supposed to leave 30 minutes later to tour the Sprecher Brewery, but I really needed a time out. I talked to MacTroll about it, but he looked really down. So I gave in and went. And it was me dealing with the 2 year old who wanted to tickle my face, but really just scratched my cheeks. He didn't want Daddy to hold him, so I did 90 percent of the holding. Then in the testing area, when he got his drink, he spilled it all over himself because he wouldn't sit still. Then he fell off of the bench. Then he fought me over a clothing and diaper change which left us both in a meltdown. We left and Mommy was ready to tear her hair out. 

I tried to point out how to get to the mall, but MacTroll wasn't listening. Then instead of going backwards I suggested that we stop at a town between the cottage and Milwaukee. MacTroll took the first exit rather than waiting for the exit with the Noodles & Co. sign. Then we drove into downtown Port Washington (bigger than Sarah Palin's hometown) and headed back out to the main high way completely missing the one exit where the restaurant was. 

So, it came down to us eating at Pizza Ranch, the only restaurant in Oostburg. We walked in and X-man did a 180 degree turn around. "Uh-uh. No! No! No!"

So here we are eating the left over cheese and bread back at the cottage. I guess it means no leftovers. But I'm uber frustrated. 

The bedtime shuffle

Two weeks ago we had a son who loved his bed. He happily crawled into bed for naptime or bedtime with a book in hand and flipped pages and talked to himself until he passed out.

For the last two weeks, he has refused to nap at home and it takes him 2 hours to wind down to fall asleep. If we end bath time at 7:30 p.m., he's usually asleep by 9:30 or so. Tonight it went as late as 10 p.m. And he was up at 5:30 this morning. 

From my research online and from talking to parents with other 2 year olds, this doesn't appear to abnormal, but MacTroll and I do find it frustrating. X-man wants to lie in a big bed with us to fall asleep, except when he's in the big bed, he does everything NOT related to sleeping. 

We've tried some classical music, like they use during naptime at school. We've gotten him a soft Bob the Builder and Thomas to sleep with and chat with. We've tried talking to him about how if he stays in bed, we're happy to leave the door open. 

But I fear, what this comes down to is me erecting a baby gate at the door and telling X-man that he's got to stay in his room. And I hate to do that after 2.3 years of him going to bed so well. But 2-2.5 hours at bedtime is really hard. It leaves no energy left in MacTroll or I to get other stuff done (dishes, laundry, etc.) that usually gets done when X-man goes to sleep.

We even ran him ragged from 6 p.m. until 7:15 p.m. at the park. He took a nice bath and got his two bedtime stories. So, I'm just at a loss as to what the change could be besides some kind of mental or physical development going on. Any child development experts out there?