Aitch has been calling me “mama” lately. It is not being said in the soft, southern-draw-way one might imagine when a child says “mama”, but more in the possessed-by-a-mass-murderer-doll-under-the-bed kind of way: “ma – ma, ma – ma, ma-ma”.

Speaking of weird shit kids say, tonight after her bath, Aitch was sitting on a stool we keep in the bathroom so she can reach the sink. I was combing out her wet hair, when I heard, “It looks like a penis.”

“What??” I asked, surprised, and stopped to find her doing a very thorough examination of her girly parts.

“It looks like a peanut.”

Um, OK.

But then she amended her observation:

“It looks like a dinosaur!”

That’s a rhetorical question, obviously.

My husband and I had a serious discussion about what this next fall will bring as it specifically relates to moving him to public. The idea scares the shit out of me. He will go from a class of 50 to approximately 400. His body will literally be in constant flux, moving from room to room and the poor kid’s anxiety levels will be through the roof.

You probably don’t remember this, but I distinctly do. Remember the incident at daycare that got us “fired” from the care-giver’s services? Doodicus kicked one of the other kids in the head. This had been the proverbial straw for the care-giver. We were fortunate to find the daycare Doodicus currently attends but for weeks – WEEKS – when I would pick him up from there, he would sob and sob and sob. He had no friends. No one liked him. No one played with him. One time, I pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car just to run to open his door and try to comfort him from the cruelty of it all. He never got over feeling it was his fault for losing everything that was routine to him.

So here we are, six years later, talking about the very same thing, racing time and the boiling points to see if it will be a voluntary decision or if the private school will make the decision for us.

I know realistically that I am only make excuses. He’ll adjust. He has adjusted. We would have put him in the public system after sixth grade anyway, so aren’t I just expediting the process and doing us all a favor by just doing it for the fifth grade? Wouldn’t it just be equivalent to ripping the band-aid off instead of lifting it slowly, hair-by-tiny-hair?

More rhetorical questions.

One other issue comes to mind, and someone touched upon it in the comments: Aitch. If Dood stays at Private, they would be in the same school. At least until he hits seventh grade. That would give them two years “together”. But really? Would they even see each other that much? If we put them BOTH into public next year, they wouldn’t be in the same school anyway (the public school system has a middle school for just fifth and six graders). We thought about going ahead and keeping her in the private school since she’s already registered for pre-K, but then we worry how would Doodicus handle the fact that while SHE keeps to go to the school where all HIS friends are, we are shuffling him off to be amongst strangers. Illogical for you and me, but not for him. Wouldn’t he perceive that as more of a punishment than us trying to get him the help he needs? I can answer that one: yes, that’s exactly how he’ll think of it.

I casually mentioned to Doodicus the idea of going to a new school next year. I said we think the public school might have teachers who are more equipped to help him specifically with his needs. He told me that one of his friends went to public and then came back to private. This other child told him the teachers were mean. The kids were mean. He then bluntly told me that he doesn’t want to leave “his” school.

You all know I don’t expect answers. Life would be too easy if all one had to do was to ask the internet and to get a clear and concise response. Sometimes I need more than just to hear myself think.

I mull over my head the things I really, REALLY want to say to the school’s teachers and principal, but what keeps me from utterly losing my shit is that I know it will be Doodicus that they’ll take it out on. Each year I seriously consider buying ADHD informational flyers, books, packets and handing them out, but I don’t want to come off as passive-aggressively telling someone who supposedly has an educational degree how to do their jobs teaching MY kid.

What really bugs me is that we go through this every damn year. The web-adage: lather, rinse, repeat, comes to mind frequently. Before I can even finish the question, “Why aren’t they better prepared for a child like mine?” I answer, “….because they blow them out of their tuition-padded doors and into the free public school system when parents realize they are paying to have their child treated like crap.”

IMHO, of course.

And this is where you ask, “Why are you paying tuition for a school to NOT provide your son a learning environment suitable for his ADHD?”

Ah, yes. Here’s where things get really stupid. Pull up a chair. Would you like lemon or cream in your tea?

This elementary school has a great reputation scholastically; for the normal child (note how I give you the air-quotes as I say that), that is. While we may (or may not) get the IEP or 504 assistance in the public school system, they are very 30-years-ago in lesson plans. What’s really at the heart of that question is simple: WE don’t pay the tuition. His grandparents, who insist that we educate the kids through this elementary school, pay the tuition. When we originally enrolled Doodicus in the private school, we had no idea that he was ADHD. Not that THAT is any excuse, but more of an FYI. I guess if I’m going to tell you gammy and grampy pay the tuition, I might as well tell the whole story.

So you might ask as you hide your accusing eyes by looking into your cup for an imaginary piece of lint, “Now that you know, why don’t you save your in-laws some money and get him out of that school?” Because we haven’t told our families that Doodicus is ADHD, and frankly, we have no intention of doing so. Two of my four sisters know, but that’s because they took care of the kids when I had my cancer surgery and they had to be prepared for the morning behaviors and to administer his medication. They are also a bit more forgiving, too.

With my husband’s family, they are UNforgiving and out-of-touch. They believe ADHD is an excuse for not being able to discipline a child. In their mind, ADHD is just a bullshit term by doctors to use to lazy parenting. When Dood was diagnosed three years ago, I convinced myself then that it wouldn’t be much longer and the grandparents would be a – how should I say – nonissue. Who knew that they would live forfuckingever?! See? I’m an ungrateful asshole.

But here’s my question: Why should a private school be able to shun their responsibility for continuing their education so they can be better prepared to teach children with ADHD (or ADD or autism or any other learning disability)? In the email I got from his teacher, she said (and yes, I am quoting), “…AND please discuss with him (again) the importance of getting his act together.”

Oh, yes, of course! *gives self a face-palm* It didn’t even occur to me these past six years that I should tell him to GET HIS ACT TOGETHER!

What do you think would happen if she told parent of a child with a visual impairment “please discuss with him (again) the importance of learning to see”?

His teacher talked to me today. "He needs to take responsibility." "This is not going to work out going into the fifth grade." "He is belligerent." and on and on she went. I want to interrupt her and shout, "You know he’s ADHD, right??!!" I don’t know what else to do right now, hands tied and at work, so I write and hope you will understand.

After our meeting a month ago, things are no better. They are no worse, except for this week. While the teachers agreed that assigning my son a "buddy" to go over his assignment book to make sure it is complete (a total of five minutes would probably need to be dedicated to this concession), this has not been done. We do an inventory of the backpack when we pick him up from school. If the assignment book has nothing written on it, we have no idea if when he tells us just the worksheet is due if it really IS just the worksheet that is due.

I try hard not to doubt every thing he tells us. It’s not fair to him, but obviously it’s not fair to us, or to his class, or to his teacher, but god, this cannot go on.

Before I even dialed my husband, I called the school psychologist. And cried. I plead with him to help us get Doodicus the help HE needs. I hiccuped to him as I told him that Doodicus is a good kid. He’s not deliberately trying to get into trouble and that I’m sure all of his parents tell him that their kid is a good kid at heart and that "they just can’t help themselves!"

You know what he said? He said that most parents do NOT say that when they call him for help. Parents do not stick up for their kids, and my heart broke even more.

The impression I got from his teacher during our ever-so-brief phone call is that Doodicus is a burden to her. That she doesn’t have time to dedicate the time that is required when you have a student who most days is perfectly "normal" so that when he is disruptive and non-compliant, he’s too much to help through. Sparring Partner and I have talked in the past that maybe he DOES need to be in the public school system to get the IEP help he obviously needs RIGHT. NOW. but we see things improve and we stop worrying. Until something like this hits the fan at the private educational level.

I feel selfish for even contemplating the future and how I dread all the problems that come with our local public schools. I feel like a pile of shit for hesitating because I *just* got Aitch enrolled at pre-K at his school. I know she will excel, but that means my son will not. If I reverse the situation, there’s no guarantee that my son would flourish while Aitch would not, right? Maybe they both will be very happy. But of course, they both may be miserable.

This is so hard. As I paced the hallway of the office building I work in, which was the only way to have "privacy", I cried and blubbered on the phone. The psychologist said he would look into getting Doodicus into the handicapped program and now I start the crying afresh. He’s just ADHD, right?? That’s not a handicap!! His "friends" will label him. The teachers will refer to him as "THAT kid". I will wonder if he will ever reach the point of self-sufficiency when he reaches adulthood. How will he get a degree? A job?

And I feel helpless. Like I can never do enough. I feel like I haven’t done enough. And then I remind myself to stop being a self-centered whiner and think about how my son feels right now. He’s aware that the school has the option to expel him and he has to sit in the classrooms and wonder when the other shoe will drop and if we stopped loving him for something he can’t really control. My heart is breaking because I cannot and will not stop loving him.

Commence dramatic weeping.

Upon initial research, I found that white wines or other clear alcohol (VODKA!) may be better tolerated for sorry souls such as I. This was a glimmer of hope as I just don’t like white wines (and Zinfandel? That bastard of wines will not even get past my front door.), but I keep a couple of bottles of Vodka in the freezer, ever at the ready for emergencies.

The other night I craved a Bloody Mary (spicey! With pepper!! And O! M! G! horseradish!!) so I threw one together, garnishing it with a couple of pickled asparagus spears. I soaked in the beauty, both visually and gastronomically. Thirty short minutes later I felt the tightening of the sinuses at the bridge of my nose followed shortly by tell-tale faint wheezing.

I am gutted.

At a recent family gathering, I was offered a glass of wine. I declined and explained my sensitivity. “OH! That’s going to suck. What are you going to do?”

I responded, “I suppose mainlining heroin would be considered a ‘bad thing’?

Lacking impulse control means he has problems thinking clearly through the consequences to his actions, that he does… well, impulsively.

For his birthday, we gave him a Nintendo 3DS. Some may think it’s an elaborate gift, but electronic games are life-savers for us when we have to sit for somewhere for an extended period of time (two- three-hour car drives; dinner with in-laws; doctor appointments, etc.) because it’s the only thing that can keep him quietly distracted. For everyone involved, something like this gaming system can keep our sanity levels on an even keel. If you have an ADD or ADHD child, you know what I’m saying is true.

He’s been begging us to allow him to bring it to show to his friends at the daycare. I have repeatedly stood my ground and said no. In the past, he has actually snuck things to daycare and either lost them or had them damaged, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s not allowed to bring anything electronic with him to share.

However, this week, which he is off from school for winter vacation, he asked over and over again if he could bring his 3DS to show his friends before everyone was back in school. Tuesday night I finally caved with only one seemingly easy condition he would have to meet: exceptional behavior for two days straight. That meant no whining, no complaining, no crying, no fits of rages, no poor housekeeping, no arguing. His BEST behavior is what I was asking for.

And then I found out that of the four 3DS games he has received since his birthday, he had already “lost” two (I actually had one in my possession that I had found left carelessly on the floor a couple of days before). An additional condition was announced. He’d have to find the remaining game cartridge. You’d think I’d asked for the moon with the wailing and gnashing of teeth, albeit in a much more subdued manner considering our FIRST condition. As an incentive, Sparring Partner told him if he found the cartridge today (Wednesday), he could bring it as soon as Thursday to show his friends. With this new fire lit under his ass, Doodicus produced the “lost” cartridge within 10 minutes (it was under the couch).

Finally! With our reluctant blessings, he set aside what he was bringing to daycare tomorrow (Thursday) and got ready for bed. That’s when everything turned sour. I can’t say what he had done, but it was a breach of the housekeeping rules we have and it was something he had done already this morning; no more than 12 hours after my original condition of being on his BEST behavior for 48 hours. Eight of those twelve were spent asleep. So basically within an hour of waking up, he had blown it and then tried to hide it.

The deal of bringing his 3DS to daycare was completely off the table for both Thursday and/or Friday. In other words, we were back to square one and my original rule: no electronics to daycare.

We tried to explain how inability to show responsibility and consideration for the rules of our home is what blew it for him, but instead of listening and learning, all he could do was pound his head into his pillow and demand we give him a DIFFERENT punishment – an alternative. Not a word of apology or remorse was said. Why? Let’s look back at that whole impulse control thing. Normally, we avoid doing something wrong because we are able to think through the consequences to our actions. Doodicus does not…wait, no: He is INCAPABLE of thinking this way. He performs an action without a moment to consider the consequences. This then means that he feels no need to apologize or feel bad about his actions because in his head he’s done nothing wrong (if he thought he had or was going to do something wrong, he probably wouldn’t do it. Make sense?). Instead he just considers us cruel, unfair, and more and more commonly expressed in fits of rage, that we hate him.

The impulse control issues is probably one of the hardest things we deal with when it comes to the ADHD. It contributes to 90% of the day-to-day issues. When my husband is blowing his stack over something Doodicus has done, I have to remind him over and over again that our son just doesn’t have that edit button; that filter in his brain.

This all happened within an hour of me writing this out. In fact, I can hear Doodicus in his room muttering to himself in anger and disappointment (not with himself, but with us). Tomorrow we’ll have to be on high-alert for smuggled items in pockets, socks, shoes, underwear, coat, all of which he’s done before. Tomorrow I will hope that he’s learned something from all of this. And tomorrow I will worry that he may never.

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I saw some handmade gift tags on Pinterest but the photo wasn’t accurate with the description and then blah, blah, blah, I became annoyed and distracted. Sure, I’d love to have hand-glazed, ceramic gift tags, but seriously?? I have a life. In spite of what you might read on Facebook.

While at Hobby Lobby, I found a tub of Sculpt-It and it didn’t require mixing or baking so in my head, it was a win-win. I could invest $13 into an experiment and no one but me would know if it was a Big Fat Fail. Happily, they came out better than I expected and so I’ll pass on this lazy mom’s findings.

In addition to the Sculpt It, you’ll want some cookie cutters (or just make your shapes with a glass), rolling pin, straw, ribbon (or twine, which is what I used), wax paper and a surface to work on.

As you can see I used one of those flexible cutting boards, but I strongly recommend setting down a sheet of wax paper to work on to reduce the stickiness of the Sculpt It. I also used a couple of paint stir sticks to roll the clay down to a good thickness. If you are a regular baker, you won’t need a cheater like me.

The tub of Sculpt It has handy “tubes” ready to take out and work a little at a time. If while you are working it and dries a bit, just wet your hands and then worked the clay again introducing moisture gradually. I only had to do this a couple of times.

Here’s one tube of clay rolled out and I used a glass to get round ornament/tags. Not that I needed to include this photo, but it was there.

Here’s a batch of little hearts that I used the straw to punch holes in and then just some stamps to create the design. I might use these for Valentine’s Day as a small garland in my office and just thread some ribbon in and out of the holes.

This project is so easy and basically mess free, I let Aitch and Doodicus make some as well. Aitch’s favorite part was blowing the clay out of the straw.

Below is a photo of a completed ornament/tag on a package (I ‘shopped out our last name that was stamped in the main body of the ornament) by wrapping the twine around the package and then tieing on the tag.

Some things you should know about the clay: it shrinks, just a little, but if the hole you make is *JUST* the right size before it dries, it may be too small afterward. I’m also surprised with how strong and light-weight the final product is. Give it at least 24 hours to dry completely.

I had been able to make enough tags for what I needed this year so I made a few to experiment with including a round ornament with several holes on the circumference so I can weave some ribbon through the holes (if you do this, make sure to have an ODD number of holes!). I also tried “sewing” spaghetti pasta in one, but that didn’t thrill me. I suppose you could use a large needle and some yarn and sew it while they are still wet and if you didn’t like them, wad it up and roll it back out again. Maybe even add some food-coloring to a batch. However, that’s more work than I’m willing to put in to it. Another shape I thought about trying was a thin rectangle and then use them as just “everyday” tags and stamping “From Doodicus” or “From Aitch” on them to use throughout the year.

Easy, cheap, child-friendly, and cute.

Today, which is Monday, is my mom’s day to stay with the kids, but it was also the day of the appointment. I didn’t say anything when she first showed up, but left her and Aitch to do their thing and ran some errands (I’m normally at work, but had the day off). While gone, I psyched myself up to remind her. When I finally did, while she didn’t want to, she said, “If it will make YOU happy…” No, it wasn’t going to make me happy because I knew what it meant.

When Dr. Brain introduced himself and asked why she was there, she shrugged, mute. I then had to explain that there has been some memory lapses and that she repeats herself in her story-telling and questions. I felt like an ass; like I was somehow throwing my mom under the bus or at the least, complaining about her. I tried to explain that we were there to see if was indeed the normal progression of aging or if it was something else we should be aware of.

He then went into a series of questions that I initially thought were rudimentary in nature:

What is today’s date? The 11th. (It’s the 19th, and we had just signed at least four pages of paperwork that required both her signature and today’s date.)

What year is it? 1980. No, that’s not right. *long pause* I don’t know.

Who is the President? Kennedy! (answered almost too quickly and too enthusiastically) Wait, no…. *another long pause* I don’t know.

How many grandchildren do you have? 10. (she has 11)

There were several others including some simple calculations and where she lived. She struggled with the math problems (What is 100 minus seven?), but was able to answer what city, county, state and country she was in. He also had her draw something similar to a Venn diagram, but instead of circles, she was supposed to do hexagons, which were already drawn on the paper. He then asked her to write a sentence at the bottom of the page. She wrote: “Right [sic] a sentence on the bottom.” At least he laughed at that, but he did make her write an original sentence.

Afterwards, he took several seconds to review his notes, including several hash marks he had made in the margins. Her score was 23 out of 30, which he explained as he presented his opinion: beginnings of dementia, which usually means Alzheimer’s. He explained his scoring system and that he’s going to put her on a new medication. He told us what I had already known about the meds and that is they don’t make things better; they just help to keep things from getting significantly worse too soon.

In a year he will test her again (but yes, we will be following up with him much sooner). In a year, her score should be the same if she takes her meds regularly. Without the meds? She might only score a 19, maybe a 20, at the annual exam.

I could tell as I watched my mom’s expression while he described his findings and the medication that she was upset. Her face flushed and for a split second, she even teared up, but my mom, who is quite stoic, quickly reigned it all back in. Dr. Brain noticed it, too, and went on to explain that we were there to help make sure she stays as independent as she is now. She’s able to cook, clean, drive and basically look after herself and make choices for herself. The medication could potentially give her four more additional years before nursing home care may be required.

Dr. Brain was efficient and frank in his examination and delivery of his news, and yet he was still compassionate. It was hard to hear and I can’t imagine what it is was like to be in my mom’s shoes. She’s seen so many of her friends go down this path and never come back. Understandably, she was in a very subdued mood after the appointment and it was soon that she had to leave to head home. For me, I am also feeling deflated. Four years, even under the best of circumstances, is such a short time. My children will be building memories; my mother will lose them.

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First of all I work for an o r @ l surgeon. I’m not just talking a fancy dentist, I’m talking maxillofacial surgeon, the peel-the-face-off-of-someone-to-put-their-bones-back-together-if-in-a-disfiguring-accident type of surgeon. But as exciting as that might sound, those cases are extremely rare around here. Generally speaking, the main thing we get to do around here is surgically remove teeth.

My responsibility is the handling of the insurance and finances, and in today’s insurance climate, it’s fraught with issues and policy holders are left either dumbfounded in confusion or boiling over in indignation.

First of all, I am going to preface this with a statement I have to tell clients every day: I don’t know what your insurance will cover or pay. Policy holders who get pissy about this really need to take a look in the mirror. If YOU have an insurance policy and YOU are paying the policy and YOU elect to take the coverage, then YOU are ultimately responsible for knowing what your insurance will pay and what they won’t. As a courtesy, I will verify coverage, remaining deductibles, coinsurance and even get a quote of benefits for you, but, and that’s a mighty big “But” (…I like big BUTTS and I cannot lie…) the information I obtain from YOUR insurance company and pass back to you is only as good as the representative I talk to on the phone at YOUR insurance company.

If you are referred to my boss for “0ral surgery”, that term does not always mean what you think it means. If you said “0ral surgery” to your medical insurance, that could be taken to mean to mean something as complicated as an osteotomy, which is where a surgeon breaks your face and realigns it. Then your insurance company may believe that it’s to give you a physically more appealing profile (like in a case of “weak jaw”) as an enhancement. OR, it could mean correcting a congenital defect or even a progressive defect in which the lower jaw is undersized or doesn’t grow at the same rate as the rest of the face.

On the other hand, 0ral surgery could mean the surgical removal of a tooth instead of simply extracting it with some fancy pliers.

And that’s why your medical insurance doesn’t normally cover 0ral surgery because they consider it dental. BIG TIP #1: To find out if your insurance will cover 0ral surgery, call and ask them: “Are there any benefits for the SURGICAL REMOVAL of a tooth?” Now they may ask you if it’s impacted or erupted. If you can see all of the tooth, you can pretty much assume it’s erupted. At that point, 90% of all insurance companies will tell you no, there are no benefits. If you are not happy with that answer, then just ask if there’s a difference in benefits depending on whether your tooth is erupted or impacted. That should help you in case you really can’t tell either way.

When it comes to your dental insurance, benefits for the surgical removal of a tooth is almost usually there. ALMOST. Same question to your insurance rep can be asked. BIG TIP#2: If they ask you if you have a code (which who the hell would know the code for the surgical removal of a tooth unless they actually work in a dental field?), here’s a safe bet: D7210 – surgical remove of an erupted tooth. There you go. You’re welcome.

The bigger problem with 0ral surgery is the anesthesia. We don’t use “gas” here so I’m not even going to go into that as I have no idea if dental insurance covers it or not. We use IV sedation or local anesthesia (the numbing shot to the mouth). Local anesthesia will be covered and is included in the surgery. Logically, what kind of sadist would ever surgically remove a tooth and NOT numb you?? Therefore, there shouldn’t be a separate charge for local.

As for IV Sedation, only a licensed professional can provide this service, so be advised. IV sedation, or “going to sleep” as it’s commonly referred to, is rarely ever considered “medically necessary”, so for those people who say “The tooth is infected and a friend of my cousin’s brother-in-law who works for a veterinarian told me it would be medically necessary for me to go to sleep!”, well your argument is moot.

With that being said, that doesn’t mean your dental insurance won’t cover it. Don’t walk into the surgeon’s office and announce, “I have to go to sleep or I’ll rip the door off the wall when the doctor touches me!” when all you are having done is taking out one abscessed, erupted tooth. You’ll get no sympathy from me or your insurance. Of course, we’ll go ahead and put you to sleep if that’s what you want, but I’ll warn you ahead of time your insurance isn’t going to pay for it and I’m going to collect the charges for it before they even take your blood pressure. If you seriously have a dental-phobia, then you should be willing and able to pay for the “luxury” of going to sleep. And if your insurance does indeed pay towards anesthesia? Well, alleluia! You have excellent benefits. Here’s your refund! BIG TIP #3: if you don’t have the finances to go to sleep, but you don’t like the sound you hear when someone is working on your teeth and mouth? Bring your MP3 player and plug in.

Here’s where things get complicated. Do you know what your Third Molars are? They are the wisdom teeth. The surgical removal of the wisdom teeth breaks all the rules when it comes to insurance benefits. Some medical insurance plans provide benefits specifically for wisdom teeth. Some dental insurance plans specifically exclude benefits for wisdom teeth. It is safe to assume to never assume that while you may know what insurance benefits you have and don’t have, that those benefits apply to those suckers. I don’t recommend calling just once, but twice, and to talk to two different representatives.

As I wrap things up, I would advise you to familiarize yourself with how your medical AND dental insurance may coordinate on benefits for 0ral surgery. I recently had this example: medical insurance only covered impacted wisdom teeth and the dental considered the procedure strictly a medical and had no benefits at all for the specific procedure. What happened was that the patient’s wisdom teeth were all erupted, so no benefits under the medical and none under the dental. All that insurance and no payment whatsoever…just sad. And then there’s the “no duplicate clause”: medical had benefits but the deductible was crazy high ($10,000) and not even close to being met. The claim was then sent to dental, but they had the “no dupe clause” and since medical already processed it, they denied. Again, all that insurance and not a dime was paid out.

Lastly, BIG TIP #4: look at your Explanation of Benefits (EOB) when you get it. Don’t wait until the doctor’s office sends you a statement for balance due and then get your panties in a bunch wondering what the balance is for and call the office and start chewing out the office staff claiming you don’t know what you’re being billed for. I repeat: YOUR insurance is YOUR insurance. I don’t pay the premiums, YOU do. If you want to know what your insurance paid and didn’t pay, call the phone number that came on your EOB and ask someone. And if you get a check with your EOB because your insurance company pays you directly and not the doctor, don’t be a tool and cash the check and spend it on outstanding bills and then not pay your doctor. You will get absolutely no sympathy when you call and say, “I got a check three weeks ago for $500 but I spent it on my cell-phone bill, cable and cigarettes and would like to make payments of $50 a month with you.” That just makes you douchey and a flake.

I’m sure I missed something equally important and as boring, but I have wanted to share this information for a while with you, the ‘net. After a decade of experience at the hospital and now this, I can safely say that only about 90% of policy holders understand the basics of their health insurance. It is complicated, but making the attempt to gather information makes everyone happier, and trust me, I don’t like looking at anyone’s face as they gape at me in open-mouth horror and shock when I deliver a quote of benefits. I don’t want to see your buccal cavity. My boss does.

Who doesn’t have a story about a toddler saying something completely mind-boggling in its logic; humiliating in its over-sharing; or just plain funny?

The other day I picked up the kids from daycare and I made the normal chit-chat (Did you have a good day? Did you do any projects? How much homework do you have?) when out of the proverbial blue and its unlikely lighting, he struck:

It would have been fun having those four other brothers or sisters, wouldn’t it, mom?

Of course I shrugged it off with nothing more than a “I suppose so” in response. I try not to think about it, you know.

I said *try*.