Of Flowers and Ball Pits

Today I have many a musing rolling around in my summer weary, heat imploded head. Add to that air full of smoke and God knows what other particles thanks to wildfires 200 miles away from here, and you can imagine my lowly brain cell capacity today.

First things first, I owe a big public THANK YOU to my dear mom, a continent away for several months, who wept when she read my recent Obama post. She's in Germany toiling with the ex-pats at Democrats Abroad to ensure Barack Obama is our next President. I got lovely purple (my favorite color) flowers from her yesterday with a card that read "Your article after Obama's speech made me cry. I am so proud of you. I love you. Mom" Now that's way better than a comment any day (not that you should stop the commenting because you know what crack it is for all bloggers). Right back at ya, Mom!

Now I must relay a funny story about a fellow mom and friend. We'll call her Poison Pen. I went to her house last night for book club (We read Rockabye by Rebecca Wolfe of Girl's Gone Child.). So Ms. Poison Pen answers the door in a sling. Now I would expect to greeted by a Singapore Sling, but not the medical variety. Here we were all gushing around her, worried she had tried some crazy daredevil adventure from her youth. Skateboarding. Windsurfing. Ripsticking. Roller blading. Mountain biking. Surfing. Belly dancing. Tantric sex. Pole dancing.

Nope, turns out Poison Pen fell off the balance beam. In a Mommy & Me class with her 2-year old. Now it's generally not nice to laugh at other people's mishaps, though Mac Daddy believes the only reason to watch figure skating is for the falls. And I must admit, it does make it way more fun. But get this, she not only fell off the balance beam, she fell into the ball pit. I'm talkin' a massive ball pit that's like 9 feet deep. Imagine the worried looks she got from other parents who were trying their darndest not to bust a gut laughing and secretly thankful it wasn't they who fell. I bet there was a lot of snickering going on. At least Poison Pen provided great dinner table conversation fodder that night. It turns out she tore some thumb ligaments and needed hand surgery. Geesh. Yeah, I feel bad for her and all, but don't tell me that's not freaking funny stuff. The story wouldn't even of have been blog worthy were it not for the ball pit.

Now if you haven't checked out In the Motherhood, you're missing out. Lots of I-want-to-look-away moments a la Curb Your Enthusiasm. Funny mom moments that I bet you can all relate to...and even top. Chelsea Handler, Jenny McCarthy, and Leah Rimini (The nutty Scientologists apparently tolerate humor.)are stellar in that made-for-the-web way. Chelsea especially. I'm so going to get her new book.

And lastly, I am ACHING for a new pair of shoes. It's been eons since I've treated myself. DSW is sending me love letters, begging me not to break up, enticing me back. So what if Father's Day is coming up? Mama needs some shoes! And a new bag while I'm at it since Deal is fully potty trained, opening up a whole host of new handbag options! I have my eye on these impossibly impractical, playground unfriendly jazzy little sparklers. Maybe daddy needs a date night for Father's Day with a hot MILF on his arm.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's 5:00 Fridays!

Disheartened

Today I am a bit disheartened.

Yesterday I took Deal to the doctor for a nagging cough. That led us to the hospital lab for some testing. Nasal swabs on a 2-year old is not pleasant, yet Deal was an utter super champ. He even thanked the nurses as they gave him a firetruck sticker and a Dum Dum lollipop. It was of course no big deal for us to go the doctor, pay the $15 copay, head to the hospital lab, get a $7 prescription filled. We are thankfully well-insured. Mac Daddy's company takes good care of its people. Plus, though we are not wildly wealthy, we are among the top echelon of Americans who live more than comfortably.

Mac Daddy and I spend wisely and are not frivolous people (as long as you don't count the occasional shopping spree -sales racks only). We believe in donating money and time because there are plenty of lives that are worse off than whatever self pity we feel. We are the world's best tippers. We treat our nanny as part of the family, not as hired help. Think about your creature comforts. A cleaning lady? DVR? 100 pairs of shoes? Sure, we splurge and waste money. We treat ourselves to luxuries. That's because what are necessities to us are luxuries to a whole host of others. And I'm not just talking about the Sally Struthers kids in ads in faraway countries. I mean right here. Under our noses. Among us.

I have never in my life worried about where my next meal would come from. My family answered my growling belly with plates of chicken curry and rice, spinach lasagna, and the occasional Doritos or Oreos. I have always had a roof, a very nice one at that, over my head. I took college for granted. Of course I was going, and of course my parents would pay for it. Same for boarding school, trips abroad, and vacations to Hilton Head and Palm Beach. I never was denied medical care, no matter how big or small the ailment.

Now what about all those people who don't live like I do? What about the kids who wouldn't have the benefit of going to the doctor, much less the hospital? Deal just had a nagging cough, nothing life threatening. That's because we can afford to get him the care he needs to prevent minor ailments from exacerbating into something nasty. Deal and Bird also have a bedroom to themselves, with full size beds no less. A loving, secure, comfortable, clean home. Emotional and financial security go a long way.


The state of our healthcare is shameful. A disgrace. Shambles. We have hit rock bottom. Are you listening in your ivory towers on the Hill? A basic level of healthcare is a right, one that our forefathers promised us. Now imagine if your son died because you couldn't afford to take him to the dentist. The dentist! One thing leads to another so the seemingly simple toothache could point to bigger issues. I once volunteered with a boy whose cancer was spotted by his dentist. Think about how many parents must weigh the expense of basic medical care with dinner on the table. This is a reality, not some media hyperbole. We, as a nation, are in denial.

Don't get me started on the insurance business. What a deplorable bunch of louts.

For now, I will be angry until I find a way to transfer this rage into something more productive. Luckily Deal is doing well. There's nothing that a humidifier, some meds, his teddy bear, and a giant dose of TLC won't cure. And let's not forget the follow up doctor's visit next week.