Supermom hits a brick wall

So, what happens when supermom has surgery on her foot and has to use crutches for two weeks? Her superkids come to the rescue.

I spent last weekend plopped on the couch with my foot propelled in the air with a pile of pillows. I was told I could get up to go pee. That was it. I was to stay put for three days. Luckily, I didn't really think through the whole surgery idea and its consequences, or I would probably still be hobbling around on a sore foot instead of clomping around on crutches.

My husband stayed home on the day of the surgery and took care of me. He did really great on Saturday too. By Sunday, he was tired of playing foot maid to the surgery queen. I don't blame him. I'm rather obsessive compulsive and get upset easily when you stir my hot chocolate with the big spoon instead of the little one, or set the remote control down on my left side instead of my right. Well, maybe I'm not quite that bad. Okay, yes I am.

I was really worried about Monday morning. I had to get the kids off to school, get myself off to school, and go to work that night. However, superkids came to my rescue. They fought over who got to make my hot chocolate and who got to toast the bagels.

My Ellie has been very awesome. She has inherited her mother's obsessive behaviors (bless her heart) and she is really great at doing everything I need without my asking her - and exactly the way I would do it. Our dog has been on antibiotics. I asked her to fix a snack for him with his pill. This is a true show of her tendancies.

"Ellie, get the baggie down that has a piece of bread in it and tear off a piece. Then put a little bit of peanut butter on the bread, push the pill inside it, and fold it in half." Ellie gets everything down from the cupboard and sets in out. She tears a piece of bread. Then she says, "What side should I put the peanut butter on?"

Oh yes, I am raising a child to be just like me. I've apologized to her many times. At least I can help teach her how to overcome the obsession. Like I have. Really. Okay, not.

Anyway, I have been very humbled. I cannot do everything. I have found out how to carry a glass of water (okay, a can of Dr. Pepper) across the floor without spilling it. I hop around a lot in the kitchen and can clean for about 10 minutes before my "hopping" foot hurts too badly. I can sit on the folding table in the laundry room and fold clothes. I can even make my bed. But there is a lot that I can't do - and it takes four times as long to do it. I have had to resign myself to the fact that my house is not going to be spotless for the next few weeks, and I have to stop looking in the kitchen so I don't cringe at the mess. Recovery from hitting a brick wall takes a little time.

Insurance and aspirin

You know those trucks that say "How's my driving? Call 1-800-999-9999. I think that insurance companies should include a 1-800 comment/complain number.


The clinic where my husband was treated last year billed my insurance agency. My insurance agency payed the bill. 10 months later my insurance company discovered a problem and reversed the payment. So I got a bill from the clinic.


Today I called the insurance company. I found out that the clinic billed my husband as a NEW patient when actually he was an ESTABLISHED patient. Can you imagine the horror? It just gives me chills to think about it. Okay, not.


So I had to call the clinic to tell them "Aaauugh, um, like, can you bill him as an established patient? Cause, you know, golly gee, the insurance company, like, really wants you to."



After I banged my head a bit (hence the aspirin) and finished the phone calls, I started looking for that 800-comment/complain number on the bill. It must be in the fine print.

Is it a Utah thing or do moms everywhere advertise their kids?

Okay, I don't know if this is just a Utah trend or if this is something that is taking place all over the country - (I live a rather sheltered life) - anyway, it's really trendy to have vinyl clings on your car. I have some Hawaiian flowers on the back window of my Durango. But the most popular images are usually found on minvans. They show a cartoon picture for each member of the family, mom, dad, brother, sister, sister, and cat. Then some of these vinyls go so far as to include a name for each family member under the cartoon image.

Am I the only one that thinks this is just nuts, or am I over-paranoid? To me, this is saying: look, I have a boy named David who is about this size (must refer to picture) and loves baseball (again, the picture). If you are interested in kidnapping him, please just follow my minivan. I may make 15 stops before I get home, but you can see where his school is, where we like to shop, his favorite playground, where his friends live, and where we live. Please use any of these places to plan your kidnapping.

Is it just me?

Why does a 1st grader know what "popular" is?

My youngest daughter Jellybean started first grade this year. She had an awesome kindergarten year and made lots of new friends. Last summer, I was talking to her best friend's mom about 1st grade and teacher choices. Kara hoped that Jellybean was in the same class as her daughter because the other kids in her neighborhood won't play with her daughter at school if they aren't in the same class. They will tell her kids point blank that "you are not in my class, so I'm not playing with you." Kara complained to the other moms. They responded by saying that was just how it was. I was kind of in shock over this.

So now we are halfway through 1st grade. I will ask Jellybean about friends from last year, and she will tell me that they hang out with the popular kids. These comments do not make me want to run out and buy the coolest new clothes for my daughter so she can be popular too. These comments make me mad. My 1st grader should not have to deal with popularity. She is seven! There should not be cliques in elementary school. Why is it this way? My older daughters did not have this - so it seems to be centered around a certain group of moms and their neurotic desire to make their child popular. I have to wonder how this can happen at such an early age.

I try to teach my kids that what is important is how you treat other people. That what is inside is what matters. That clothes don't make you a good person. But when we deal with popularity at age seven, what hope do I have to make them understand?