Childish revenge

It occurred to me last night that by today's standards, I had abused my children horribly when they were young. I made them eat salads prepared on the same wooden cutting board which I had cut up the meat on. I let them crawl on the floors and outside on the ground and never once applied hand sanitizer when they were done. In fact we did not have antibiotic-al soap of any kind anywhere in our house. They cut their teeth on my car keys and though I never did set my purse down on the bathroom floor at the store and then on our kitchen counter, I did set them down on the bathroom stall floor. In my defense: you try to answer natures call with a baby, a toddler, a preschooler, and an angry 10 year old. There were NO baby seats or changing tables in the 1980's. I felt lucky to find a handicapped stall so we would all fit.
Looking back now this may have been the reason my children developed the retaliatory system that has been employed by millions of children ever since. There was some sort of adult proof alarm installed on all bathroom and bedroom doors in my house. I could not hear it, but it is the only answer to how they KNEW.
I would look over the situation in the tv room and think to myself "Ah... The children have been subdued by the Disney movie on the tv. I can retire to the bathroom now."
3 seconds after the bathroom door closed, an alarm not unlike a fire truck klaxon would go off, the tv screen would change to a flashing red light, and a voice would issue from the walls making a "toilet zone" alert announcement which I imagine sounded something like this: "All children get up, go make messes, your mother is in the bathroom. Can't you see that there are possible poisonous combinations available in the kitchen? The lotion is only 36" off the floor on the shelf. Quick, get that drooling sister of yours out of baby jail and point her at the nearest electrical outlet. You there, older child, why are all 3 of your sisters staring blankly at the tv? Do you want them to be happy for this long? Hurry, hit one of them or take her toy away. You, young child with the complete mobility and entertainment unit wrapped around you, can't you get out of that yet? OK then roll it over to that spindly table with the glass stuff on it and ram it. You have between 3 and 15 minutes to destroy this place. MOVE IT".
5 minutes later I would open the door to complete devastation. The baby would be standing up holding onto the lamp cord with her nice drool covered hands. The 2 year old hanging half in and half out of the walker under the table where everything which was on it has fallen is screaming like a banshee. The four year old is trying to get to the lotion bottle with all the cans, pots, pans, and knives from the kitchen she created a ladder out of. Meanwhile the oldest one is using one of the smaller one's dolls to stir whatever horrible concoction he has created in the koolaid pitcher.
About 3 or four years into this drill, I figured out there must be some sort of electronic device I could not see or hear at work since this sequence of events had been repeated with varying degrees of devastation each and every time I left the area where the children were. Later in life they learned to create wide-spread havoc by going to the old create a diversion and let one of the others go do the damage routine.
Now I live for the moment when one of my kids calls and tells me of the latest atomic bomb dropped into their livingroom by the little darlings. It seems when you get older, you can not hear the klaxon anymore but your kids can. Behind those angelic looks and too cute antics are demonic little destroyers just waiting for you to relax your guard. All is right in the universe!
Clean your houses little bunrammits, the children are plotting!!

Frustration

Why is it that nothing ever is as easy as it seems? And why is it that if it seems too easy, it was? Nothing ever happens really fast that is worth having happen, yet I find myself extremely frustrated with waiting and having to figure out stuff through trial and error (and error.. and error). I am trying to have a bypass surgery. I have been trying for over a year. If I went into the completely long boring story it would probably put you to sleep. Let's go to the super quick version: Went to a doctor. Doctor said "Hey did you want better health? Go to this surgeon and get a bypass. Your diabetes will go away". Went to surgeon. Surgeon said "OK". Insurance company said "OK". 3 days before surgery was scheduled, insurance company said "opps, my bad. I meant no". Went through 6 months of bull sugar weight loss doctor bull sugar. Of course the insurance company would not pay for this either. Found out original surgeon stopped doing bypass while I was fulfilling the requirements of the insurance company. Found new surgeon. New surgeon said "OK". Insurance said "NO. We don't allow you to have that surgery at that hospital with that doctor now". Does anyone else have this quality of bad luck?
I feel like my world was set up for someone else right now. There simply is NO way this was made for me.
The resolution:
There are little stickers in my back yard called Goats Heads. These little stickers are my heros today. I have decided to become like the goats heads. I am going to stick into the Cigna peoples feet, legs, butts, and any other anatomical parts I can and hurt like only a sticker can until these people do what I want them to.
E fricken nough! I want the dratted surgery. I have jumped through all your stupid hoops. (and I might add looked pretty silly doing so) I want the darn surgery NOW>

Reading

Lately I have been reading my 3 daughters blogs. I love to hear what's on their minds, even if I don't agree or approve. The children I gave life to are the center of my world here on earth. Yes, I believe there is another world to go to. Hopefully Opera and turnips will be outlawed in my little corner of that world. Not so much by marshall law, but just the "restricted in this area" kind of rule. But I digress... on to the reading. You can tell a lot about a person by what they read. There are levels to my reading.
Level one is total entertainment. You know, keep it light and fun, nothing serious, just fiction.
Level two is educational. This is a very small part of my reading and usually only happens when I HAVE to know something. You know, like what is diabetes?
Level three is necessary. The Scriptures. I do want that spot in Heaven some day. Want to know about your Heavenly Father? Read his book!
In order to be better entertained, educated, or elevated I read.

you can't fail if you don't try.. and other reverse wit

Tobi my blogger daughter who has mastered the art of blog fu, myspace fu, decorate your space doe, and the manly art of email has asked me to put a picture of myself on this blog spot. One small problem, I can't find a picture of me. Truth be told I don't want one either and would never save any pix of myself unless one of my 10 grandkids was captured in the same frame doing something priceless. I just don't have one, so I leave you with these words of comfort.......
Ancient Chinese secret: There is no photo in the small black box? Grasshopper, no one can give you that which you desire if they do not have it?
You can teach an old woman to blog, but you can't make her face appear on line without cooperation of a digital camera?

FINALLY

Today, FINALLY the nurse/scheduler at my bariatric surgeon answered her phone and told me she submitted my file to my insurance company for approval. This makes the total process just under 1 year to start. I went to a bariatric surgeon at my doctors recomendation on May 31, 2007 for the first visit. They submitted all my info to my insurance. It was accepted. 3 days before my surgery was scheduled, the insurance company rejected it all. (opps, our bad ?$^*@) I had to go to a weight control class for 6 months and pay for it myself, so I did. When I went back to my bariatric surgeon, guess what?? He doesn't do this surgery anymore. So he recomended another surgeon. It took me 3 weeks to get in. Then it has taken the nurse/scheduler 5 weeks to type up my notes and submit it to my insurance company. I would say this is reasonable, but they are in the same physicians group. Today she told me that she doesn't know how much time it will take the insurance to reply, but they haven't rejected any of my stuff.
What does a woman have to do to get rid of diabetes? Evidently, you gotta jump through a LOT of hoops. If you are considering this surgery know this... it ain't easy, it ain't quick, and it ain't simple. I have been to nutritionists, weight doctors, psychiatrists, surgeons, counselors, and meetings, meetings, meetings. Most of this was on my dime. Everyone wants a slice of the pie. All I want is to feel better. I don't even qualify on the basis of weight. Only on my "co-morbid" complications. Maybe this is the only answer for those of us who can not lose enough weight to be healthy or maybe the only way to feel better is to be beaten this low with all this crap in the first place? By the time I get the surgery I'll feel grateful for the pain?
There is a bright side to this though, the end of the 15+ pills a day I take. The medicine alone is killing me in copays. Hopefully soon I will be able to post a blog which says I am not having to take all this medicine every day.

The wonder of Tobi's blogspot

If you want to see Beautiful, go see Tobi's new blogspot. The flower is gorgeous!! And... so is my little cowbong grandson. Ok, I am predisposed to love all pix of grandkids. But seriously, you never appreciate kids as much when you are a parent as you WILL as a grandparent. The sweetest sound on the planet that I know of so far in life is the teakettle like scream of the grandkids over the phone as their parents struggle to give them whatever they are screaming for and answer my banal questions. It is sweet because I am past all that and able to appreciate the quite healthy lungs on that child. And it is sweet because at moments like that I KNOW there is a mothers curse, and it works!!