positivism

Trying to be positive tonight in the face of some minor downers and annoyances — such as — baby had diarrhea in the bathtub; took baby out of tub; baby ran to living room and had diarrhea on the carpet. In two different places. Also, we were supposed to find out today about moving — but the guy R was supposed to talk to was at a combatives tournament, so no news. It took everything I had to refrain from screaming, “I KNEW IT!!!” (so I just yelled it instead). Today we also had a seriously botched seasonal sugar cookie-making session (cranky mama + cranky babies), so I called it quits and stuck the kids in front of the TV instead (said cookies have just come out of the oven, and I will probably eat half of them myself in an effort to self-medicate). I know, whine, whine, whine.

So about that trying to be positive thing — I have a loving family. We have a happy home. We have the gospel. And really — that’s enough.

I’m off to decompress with some boring things — namely, sugar cookies and books. Rock on.

{print via thebigharumph on Etsy}

more make it wear it

So I gave McCall’s M5388 another shot, this time shortening the yoke by an inch and shaping the sides a bit. I also used the Little Folks voile I’d been hoarding, which turned out to be a bad idea, because THE DANG THING IS TOO DANG SMALL IN THE DANG ARMPITS. I could wear it for church and other dressier occasions, but it is too constricting for everyday around-the-house wear, which is disappointing. So now I’m trying to decide what to do with it.

See? This is me, trying to decide.

We’re having a happy week so far — lots of swimming, lots of family time, lots of custom orders to work on. All good things.

my mom vs. cook’s illustrated

On the debate of whether or not potatoes need to be poked before going in the oven…

…Cook’s Illustrated loses. I quote from The New Best Recipe: “We found no benefit or harm was done to the potatoes by poking them with the tines of a fork before putting them in the oven.” I told that to my mom while putting potatoes into her oven one night, and she made me poke them anyway. Wish I would have poked mine last night.

When I opened the oven, discovered what had happened, and told Richard, he said, “That sucks.” And without missing a beat, my sweet little Lizzy chimed in: “That sucks.”

Yesterday we were looking at boat pictures in her word book. I pointed out the buoy and said, “Say ‘buoy.’”

“Boo yeah.”

“No, buoy.”

“Boo yeah.”

interesting equations

You guys give the best advice.

So I called the pediatrician’s billing office. Right away, the representative said, “Oh, there’s a mistake on here.” There were two charges — one for $160 and one for $92 — and apparently the second one shouldn’t have been there at all. When I pressed her a little and said that $160 still seems awfully high for something that, really, should be free, she told me that the visit had been coded as a sick child visit. (Seriously? A weight check and dosage adjustment = sick baby?)

She’s looking into it; I’m supposed to call back on Friday. I’m feeling optimistic about it.

FOURTEEN DAYS!! That’s how long we’ve got until The Man comes home for a blissful nine-day vacay. He graduates from OCS and will officially become a 2nd Lieutenant in one week, and I couldn’t be prouder. We thought about having me fly out there for the graduation festivities, but the logistics of it all (flight + car + hotel + childcare on this end + fancy dress + nursing baby) threatened to make our heads explode every time someone brought it up, so the girls and I are waiting for him to come to us.

I hope your day was beautiful — and that you had a little moment to do a little feet-putting-up, too.

…and another thing

I know this is going to strike a nerve with some of you. But I would like to present one reason — just one — why we need serious health care reform in the US.

Remember this ridiculous doctor’s office visit? I took my baby in to get her weighed and her medication dosage adjusted. That’s it. A weighing and a prescription write-up. How much, in this country, does that cost?

Two hundred and fifty-two big ones, my friends. Two-five-two.

Thankfully, we have health insurance, so I’m only paying for a fraction of that bill. Even so. Please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks that this is wholly out of control.

the last straw

Today was the third time we’ve been to our pediatrician’s office here in our temporary home. While I haven’t been totally jazzed with the office and staff, I’ve liked our actual pediatrician okay, so we’ve just stuck with them in order to keep life simple.

But today made me mad. So now I’m trying to decide whether I should A) just stick with this office since we only have one more well-child visit for Maren to deal with, B) go to the trouble of finding a new pediatrician for that last well-child visit before we move, or C) write them a nasty letter AND find a new pediatrician.

In a nutshell, here are my bones with Bayside Pediatrics:

1) Instead of giving kids one shot of DTaP, they give three separate shots for Diphtheria, Tetanus, and Pertussis (because it’s cheaper for them).
2) It seems like a lot of their equipment is outdated (e.g. no digital scales — this really annoys me for some reason).
3) Our visit today was to get Maren weighed so we could get her acid reflux medication adjusted. It took way, way longer than it should have (I’ll spare you the details).
4) The doctor (not our regular one) totally talked down to me regarding my choice not to have Maren see a specialist (I simply don’t feel it’s necessary at this point).
5) The doctor was openly disdainful towards how I chose to handle my toddler’s tantrum and basically told me that what I was doing was wrong.
6) The front desk told me they couldn’t call in my prescription. What the hey?!

Maybe I just got spoiled with the Budge Clinic and our AMAZING Nurse Practitioner there, Sheryl Roper-Hodges. But there are some things that just seem like they should just never happen at a doctor’s office — like Bone #5. Ooh, that just made me so mad.

So? What do I do?

faxing. again.

Dear US Army,

I have this great idea. How about you start a secure electronic database where there’s a file for each soldier, complete with every document ever associated with that soldier, accessible by employees of the US Army who need to use it, anytime, anywhere. You know, like universities and other major organizations have. That way I wouldn’t have to fax you my marriage and children’s birth certificates for the zillionth time, proving, for the zillionth time, that I am in fact married to my husband. And that the babies are his.

Respectfully,
A Loving Army Wife.

P.S. I love my sister in-law’s “Recipe for an Army Wife.” Mmm, tasty.

hate. moving.

But fortunately, my mom is a rock star and is pretty much packing my entire house AND crisis-managing Big Miss at the same time. And fortunately, as long as we stick with the Army, I will never have to do this again — next time I will be like my sister in-law Jenny and read a book while my house gets packed up around me.

I just found a list of recipes I wrote down a month or two ago that I wanted to make from this one pastry book. It includes things like “Viennese Cream Brioche” and “Gateau Basque.” Ha, ha, ha.