Ok, I knew I had been neglecting my little blog, but when the inclination struck me to look at it today...WHOA! I have not posted in over eight months?!
So what has the Four Walls Family been up to in the last eight months?
Well, first off, the I Clean Up After Myself Campaign? Epic failure. I think that I just have to accept that I am raising a pack of slobs, and give myself over to it. Oh, and the dishwasher died last night, so that will make it even more interesting around here until the landlord gets around to fixing it...
We passed the one-year anniversary of the foreclosure last month. No fanfare. I pulled our credit reports, and actually we're almost fully recovered in terms of our credit scores. Savings and sanity--not so much, yet.
The kids keep getting bigger.
Jellybean turned ten and is in fifth grade. Middle school is on the horizon, and every time I really think about it I start to hyper-ventilate, so that's all I will say about that today. She is still competing in gymnastics, although on a slightly less strenuous level, and her first meet of the season is in a few weeks. Of course, she is stunning in her new competition leo. It actually brought tears to my eyes when I saw her in it for the first time, but that's not surprising. Peanut has taken to calling me Cry-Baby-Mama, lately...
Miss Florida turned eight, was accepted into the Highly Capable program for our district, and is thriving there. Don't get me wrong, she has had some great teachers up until now, but she has never really been challenged. That was most evident the other day as she was working with Mr. Four Walls on a challenging assignment. She was struggling to grasp a new concept and broke down in tears, saying "I don't like not being the smartest in the class anymore!" That, my dear daughter, is a GREAT lesson to learn, and your life will be so much easier if you grasp it now at age eight and take it to heart: no matter where you go, who you meet, and what you do, there will always be someone bigger, better, faster, stronger, smarter than you. Don't let it defeat you, let it inspire you. Learn from them!
And now for Peanut. Oh, Little Peanut. She is still Terrific, just now as a three-year old. All that means, really, is her tantrums have become more mature. I had a really hard time with her birthday this year, though. Three. She's not so much a baby anymore, is she? Since we're done, it was really bitter-sweet for me. I suppose every birthday will be, though. Thanks to my sister for having a new baby the week after Peanut's birthday! Is it wrong that as I breathed in his Baby-ness, I wanted to take him home with me forever? It is? Ok, that's what Mr. Four Walls said, too. And he reminded me that they don't stay that little and sweet for long, as he pointed to Peanut and Miss Florida, wrestling, screaming and clawing at each other over...I'm not sure, really. Oxygen, maybe?
So what about me? What have I been up to that has caused me to neglect my mind-blowing fifteen Followers? As usual, Life. Around the time of my last post, I was getting sick and tired with always feeling sick and tired, so I started a long-ish process of addressing what was going on. Doctors appointments, lab work, etc, etc, etc. Long story short, I have now joined the ranks of the Gluten Free world. It's been six months since I've intentionally eaten gluten, and oh-my-goodness, what a difference! I'm not yet completely symptom free, but at least now I can function. I can braid Jellybean's hair. I can type. I can live without so much pain.
And I can look forward! So much so that I am finally returning to finish my BA! No more College Dropout status for me. So, I cannot promise this blog will not continue to be neglected, because let's face it: Wife, mom of three, employee, and college student...not much left to give there. But I will try to update and come up with interesting observations on what this crazy, busy, wonderful Four Walls Home life brings.
Showing posts with label Mommy Moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mommy Moments. Show all posts
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The "I Clean-Up After Myself" Campaign
It's an election year. Can you tell? I thought I'd mention it just in case you hadn't noticed. Consider it my Public Service Announcement for the day. You're welcome.
However, there is likely a campaign happening that you are not yet aware of, probably because it just started in my living room about five minutes ago. I call it the "I Clean Up After Myself" campaign. There will be no mud-slinging, and if there is, you have to wipe up whatever you throw, as soon as you throw it.
See, lately I have reached a breaking point. I. Cannot. Keep. Up. My house is in a constant state of disaster. It might have a bit to do with how exhausted I have been lately, dealing with Peanut and her recent Terrificness, I admit. I've said before that I am no Neat Freak. I am okay with the slightly disheveled design theme I have going. Three kids, two adults, and three pets all in 1,000 square feet - there's no way this place is staying photo-shoot worthy for any length of time.
However, when I can rarely see the kitchen counter, have bruises all over the bottoms of my feet from stepping on a bazillion lego parts, and have had to put the baby in gently-worn, unlaundered socks for the past two days.....something's gotta give. Today it was me, in the form of a blurry-eyed meltdown in the middle of what should be a kitchen but instead resembles a sad graveyard for cereal bowls, school papers, uneaten grilled cheese crusts, and God-only-knows what else.
We have tried chore-charts. They work for a while, but the funny thing about them is that you have to keep updating them, rotating chores from person to person, and adjusting them to whatever sports or extra-curricular activity interferes. Throw in a cold, unplanned over-time, or the impending Mayan-apocalypse, and things get off-kilter really quickly. So basically, they become a chore in and of themselves. And if I have a hard time getting the laundry done, adding the duty of the chore chart on top.....just doesn't work.
So, a light bulb. My kids have responded well to sticker charts in the past, but again, a sticker chart is generally just a glorified chore-chart, and we've established how horrible I am at those. But a basic, cover-the-whole-sheet with stickers you earn when you are caught doing a desired behavior? I think I can swing that. Basic behavior-modification tactic: reward the good, ignore the bad.
So here is our campaign sign:
Pretty simple, and not at all perfect. The kids and the adults will earn small stickers to cover first the letters then the white space when they are "caught" cleaning-up after themselves as they make the mess. No stickers for reminders or requests, only for taking initiative and responsibility for oneself. Extra stickers might be rewarded for taking on messes that aren't your own, such as cleaning up after the baby when she's gone on a Tasmanian-Devil style tour of all the play bins. Once the sheet is covered, we will go for ice cream.
Really, it sounds so simple, but anyone with children knows that theory and practice don't always go hand-in-hand when it comes to the art of parenting. Will it work long-term, successfully making new habits out of messes? I'll update later! And let me know if you want a position on the campaign team!
However, there is likely a campaign happening that you are not yet aware of, probably because it just started in my living room about five minutes ago. I call it the "I Clean Up After Myself" campaign. There will be no mud-slinging, and if there is, you have to wipe up whatever you throw, as soon as you throw it.
See, lately I have reached a breaking point. I. Cannot. Keep. Up. My house is in a constant state of disaster. It might have a bit to do with how exhausted I have been lately, dealing with Peanut and her recent Terrificness, I admit. I've said before that I am no Neat Freak. I am okay with the slightly disheveled design theme I have going. Three kids, two adults, and three pets all in 1,000 square feet - there's no way this place is staying photo-shoot worthy for any length of time.
However, when I can rarely see the kitchen counter, have bruises all over the bottoms of my feet from stepping on a bazillion lego parts, and have had to put the baby in gently-worn, unlaundered socks for the past two days.....something's gotta give. Today it was me, in the form of a blurry-eyed meltdown in the middle of what should be a kitchen but instead resembles a sad graveyard for cereal bowls, school papers, uneaten grilled cheese crusts, and God-only-knows what else.
We have tried chore-charts. They work for a while, but the funny thing about them is that you have to keep updating them, rotating chores from person to person, and adjusting them to whatever sports or extra-curricular activity interferes. Throw in a cold, unplanned over-time, or the impending Mayan-apocalypse, and things get off-kilter really quickly. So basically, they become a chore in and of themselves. And if I have a hard time getting the laundry done, adding the duty of the chore chart on top.....just doesn't work.
So, a light bulb. My kids have responded well to sticker charts in the past, but again, a sticker chart is generally just a glorified chore-chart, and we've established how horrible I am at those. But a basic, cover-the-whole-sheet with stickers you earn when you are caught doing a desired behavior? I think I can swing that. Basic behavior-modification tactic: reward the good, ignore the bad.
So here is our campaign sign:
Pretty simple, and not at all perfect. The kids and the adults will earn small stickers to cover first the letters then the white space when they are "caught" cleaning-up after themselves as they make the mess. No stickers for reminders or requests, only for taking initiative and responsibility for oneself. Extra stickers might be rewarded for taking on messes that aren't your own, such as cleaning up after the baby when she's gone on a Tasmanian-Devil style tour of all the play bins. Once the sheet is covered, we will go for ice cream.
Really, it sounds so simple, but anyone with children knows that theory and practice don't always go hand-in-hand when it comes to the art of parenting. Will it work long-term, successfully making new habits out of messes? I'll update later! And let me know if you want a position on the campaign team!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Going Bananas, One Word at a Time
Family meal-time is a big deal at our house. It doesn't need to be fancy; it just needs to happen - regularly and repeatedly. I won't bore you with statistics here, but suffice it to say it has been fairly firmly established that when families share meals together on a regular basis, around a table without distraction (no t.v, phones, etc), everyone is better for it.
So, my kids know when dinner is ready, they are to sit at the table. Unless I make a big, surprise announcement like, "We're having pizza and ice cream on the floor while watching a movie tonight!" (which I do sometimes, because I'm cool like that...). Lately, though, this has been a challenge for our youngest. At 27 months, she does not enjoy sitting anywhere. Ever. Period. Layer in a dose of early evening fatigue, and mix with the rumblings of a hungry two-year old tummy...let's just say not everyone is always enthused with our mealtime arrangement. And it's not always just her, but we get through it.
Like tonight.
Dinner time started with a battle: first getting her into her chair, then getting her to stop kicking and screaming and snotting long enough to attempt to take even a bite. As she's the third child and we've been to this circus many times before, we largely ignored her fit except for the occasional reminder that once she settled down we would love to help her get some food in her hungry tummy. Eventually she did, we hugged, she took a few tentative bites, and before long she was chowin' down on minestrone and garlic toast. Within minutes her fit was a distant memory, and we began our newest dinner game: One-Word Storytelling!
The gist is this: one person starts a story by saying a single word. Any word that pops into their head. The story continues one word at a time, one person at a time. If the kids were older I might put a spin on it by only giving a few seconds for the word to be chosen, or maybe adding key words that have to be used at certain times in the story - no matter how they fit (or don't), but for now we just enjoy the story as it unfolds. Even the baby gets in on it on some rounds, although it's usually some random word she throws out that just happens to work at that moment, so we go with it.
Without further ado, here is the result of our dinner-time creativity this evening....
I like to eat bananas, and when I do I get crazy! My sister thinks they are gross. She likes grapes. I wish she were a monkey. I know how funny it gets around banana and grape shelves when my sister and I jump on carts like crazy monkeys! The manager thinks it's funny, but not right, so we get in trouble - but today we didn't because we were the only monkeys there. My mom left us to fling ourselves off posts to get into the mode for swinging in gymnastics. We were going, so I got a banana and loved pickles.
That random "pickle" bit was Mr. Four Walls, by the way. Figures. He had to put his goofball spin on our Manor House moment. Makes it even more of a Manor House moment, I suppose. And I"m not even going to begin to try to figure out what it says about me that "Mom" leaves her kids alone in grocery stores to fling themsleves around as a warm-up for gymnastics.....
It probably says I've gone bananas, one word at a time.
What are your favorite dinner-time activities? How do you handle the dinner time melt-downs, toddler or otherwise?
So, my kids know when dinner is ready, they are to sit at the table. Unless I make a big, surprise announcement like, "We're having pizza and ice cream on the floor while watching a movie tonight!" (which I do sometimes, because I'm cool like that...). Lately, though, this has been a challenge for our youngest. At 27 months, she does not enjoy sitting anywhere. Ever. Period. Layer in a dose of early evening fatigue, and mix with the rumblings of a hungry two-year old tummy...let's just say not everyone is always enthused with our mealtime arrangement. And it's not always just her, but we get through it.
Like tonight.
Dinner time started with a battle: first getting her into her chair, then getting her to stop kicking and screaming and snotting long enough to attempt to take even a bite. As she's the third child and we've been to this circus many times before, we largely ignored her fit except for the occasional reminder that once she settled down we would love to help her get some food in her hungry tummy. Eventually she did, we hugged, she took a few tentative bites, and before long she was chowin' down on minestrone and garlic toast. Within minutes her fit was a distant memory, and we began our newest dinner game: One-Word Storytelling!
The gist is this: one person starts a story by saying a single word. Any word that pops into their head. The story continues one word at a time, one person at a time. If the kids were older I might put a spin on it by only giving a few seconds for the word to be chosen, or maybe adding key words that have to be used at certain times in the story - no matter how they fit (or don't), but for now we just enjoy the story as it unfolds. Even the baby gets in on it on some rounds, although it's usually some random word she throws out that just happens to work at that moment, so we go with it.
Without further ado, here is the result of our dinner-time creativity this evening....
I like to eat bananas, and when I do I get crazy! My sister thinks they are gross. She likes grapes. I wish she were a monkey. I know how funny it gets around banana and grape shelves when my sister and I jump on carts like crazy monkeys! The manager thinks it's funny, but not right, so we get in trouble - but today we didn't because we were the only monkeys there. My mom left us to fling ourselves off posts to get into the mode for swinging in gymnastics. We were going, so I got a banana and loved pickles.
That random "pickle" bit was Mr. Four Walls, by the way. Figures. He had to put his goofball spin on our Manor House moment. Makes it even more of a Manor House moment, I suppose. And I"m not even going to begin to try to figure out what it says about me that "Mom" leaves her kids alone in grocery stores to fling themsleves around as a warm-up for gymnastics.....
It probably says I've gone bananas, one word at a time.
What are your favorite dinner-time activities? How do you handle the dinner time melt-downs, toddler or otherwise?
Monday, April 18, 2011
In my day, it was up hill BOTH ways!
I am so tired. Every time I get a few spare minutes and I think "I should write. I want to write," all I end up doing is going to bed or vegging on the couch. Since these moments are so rare - the ones where I can actually think a full thought without being interrupted by "Mom. Mom. Maaa-om!" - I don't really feel any guilt over not utilizing them to their fullest (or maybe am I using them to their fullest.....). But parking my butt on the couch or crawling under the covers is not very conducive to keeping this blog up to date. Sorry!
I might be more inclined to update if there was, well, an update. Not much has changed on the house. We had another BPO about a week ago. Today we were told the file is back with the specialist, and that this is a good sign that "we might just be nearing the decisioning process," according to the mitigator doing the back and forth for us. We've heard it before, so I promise you I'm not sitting here turning blue as I anxiously await their response with bated breath.
Otherwise, we are continuing to settle into the new place. Spring is refusing to make an appearance here (it snowed again this morning in the surrounding areas!!!!), but I'm forging ahead without it, planting a few small plants I picked up on a sale a couple of weeks ago. They'll probably die, but it made me feel good to get out and plant them, so if they survive it's all gravy. Yesterday, Mr. Four Walls transplanted the Hydrangeas -my absolute favorite shrub- from the old house to the new, redoing a bit of one of the front flower beds. I'm not sure how they'll fare having been unceremoniously yanked from the ground, but they're replaceable.
The girls, especially Jellybean, are having a harder time at their new school. She's being bullied. Not to the point we need to step in as parents, but just to the point that she's unsure of how to react and is not enthused about dealing with this girl. I try so hard not to helicopter-parent. Kids have to learn how to deal, you know? So often nowadays parents swoop in at the first sign of distress, and what does that really accomplish? A generation of soon-to-be-adults with zero problem-solving abilities, that's what!
(Oh goodness, I'm sounding old. Cue the granny on a rocker, telling all the young-uns how it was done in her day......)
But it's easier said than done, to let them work it out on their own, when it's your little girl crying on your lap. So I did what I do best. I found a book. It's all about bullies and how tween girls can approach the situation. She's read that thing at least twice since Saturday, and she and Miss Florida sat outside in the rare sun breaks over the weekend, reading it aloud to each other. That reminds me, I snapped a few black-mail pictures of their impromptu picnic in the driveway that I need to get uploaded to my computer, but I digress.
Then that evening, I sat down (in my rocker) and told her all about my own experiences being bullied and picked on as a kid. How we dealt with it on our own, but always knew that we had grown-ups that had our backs if we needed help or to talk. And how sometimes the bullies chased us home after school. Through the snow. Uphill. Both ways. With no shoes.
Yep, I'm becoming a geezer, and proud of it.
I might be more inclined to update if there was, well, an update. Not much has changed on the house. We had another BPO about a week ago. Today we were told the file is back with the specialist, and that this is a good sign that "we might just be nearing the decisioning process," according to the mitigator doing the back and forth for us. We've heard it before, so I promise you I'm not sitting here turning blue as I anxiously await their response with bated breath.
Otherwise, we are continuing to settle into the new place. Spring is refusing to make an appearance here (it snowed again this morning in the surrounding areas!!!!), but I'm forging ahead without it, planting a few small plants I picked up on a sale a couple of weeks ago. They'll probably die, but it made me feel good to get out and plant them, so if they survive it's all gravy. Yesterday, Mr. Four Walls transplanted the Hydrangeas -my absolute favorite shrub- from the old house to the new, redoing a bit of one of the front flower beds. I'm not sure how they'll fare having been unceremoniously yanked from the ground, but they're replaceable.
The girls, especially Jellybean, are having a harder time at their new school. She's being bullied. Not to the point we need to step in as parents, but just to the point that she's unsure of how to react and is not enthused about dealing with this girl. I try so hard not to helicopter-parent. Kids have to learn how to deal, you know? So often nowadays parents swoop in at the first sign of distress, and what does that really accomplish? A generation of soon-to-be-adults with zero problem-solving abilities, that's what!
(Oh goodness, I'm sounding old. Cue the granny on a rocker, telling all the young-uns how it was done in her day......)
But it's easier said than done, to let them work it out on their own, when it's your little girl crying on your lap. So I did what I do best. I found a book. It's all about bullies and how tween girls can approach the situation. She's read that thing at least twice since Saturday, and she and Miss Florida sat outside in the rare sun breaks over the weekend, reading it aloud to each other. That reminds me, I snapped a few black-mail pictures of their impromptu picnic in the driveway that I need to get uploaded to my computer, but I digress.
Then that evening, I sat down (in my rocker) and told her all about my own experiences being bullied and picked on as a kid. How we dealt with it on our own, but always knew that we had grown-ups that had our backs if we needed help or to talk. And how sometimes the bullies chased us home after school. Through the snow. Uphill. Both ways. With no shoes.
Yep, I'm becoming a geezer, and proud of it.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Two Steps Forward. One Step Back.
Last week we were expecting to finally have something resembling an answer from the bank. Alas, as in so many other areas of life, expectations in this process are a set-up for disappointments....
Instead of a yes, no, or even a maybe, we were told that instead of evaluating us for a short-sale they are now "required" to evaluate us for a loan modification. The same loan modification that we have been told previously that would not work in our situation. The same loan modification that the bank themselves told us they wouldn't consider us for previously.
It will take them another 30 or so days to work through that process. Once they determine that a modification will not work - and if they can do math at all they will see that it can't - then the file will go back to the decisioning process for the short-sale.
One step back.
Technically, our contract with the buyers expired this week. If they walked, as the previous buyers did, that could have been a giant step back. However, they and their agent requested to extend the closing date to on or before July 23rd! So obviously they are still hanging on. It's not a guarantee that they won't change their minds at some point, of course, but it is a positive move for now.
Two steps forward. Hopefully.
As for the rest of life in general, we're settling in to the rental fairly well. It's pretty cramped, but since it's very similar in square footage and lay-out to the first house Mr. Four Walls and I purchased - the home to which we brought newborns Jellybean and Miss Florida - it's not been too much of a challenge to cram in all five of us. There have been a few trips to Ikea, the storage Mecca, since in small spaces the only way to go is up! Wall shelving, bins, and some do-it-yourself honey-do items for Mr. Four Walls should get us out of the last few remaining boxes soon. We scored on some Ikea shelving in the as-is section for the corner of our bedroom - now referred to as The Office - and Mr. Four Walls is going to build in a customized desk top. Once it's all done I need to post some photos.
The other BIG item on the horizon is that we're coming up on the end of our arrangement with our current sitter. Childcare issues....again. The bane of my existence lately, especially since my heart isn't in it. I don't want to find childcare. I want to be home. Peanut is 18 months old today, if you can believe it. The time has gone so fast, and as I look back on the past year and a half, I remember so little of her teeny days. I can remember so much of Jellybean's and Miss Florida's, almost like it they were yesterday, but the fact of the matter is that I wasn't with Peanut much to make those kind of memories, and that breaks my heart. We're doing some serious soul-searching, budget-crunching, and God-seeking as we try to move towards a decision: find new care for the kids, or quit my job?????
If I do leave my great job - and it is a great job - I will still need to bring in an income. One big option on the table is for me to open a small in-home daycare, and I'm thoroughly researching this option. I can also flip burgers or wait tables every evening and weekend, basically putting me and Mr. Four Walls on opposite schedules. There are pros to cons to both options, so more decisions.
Big Decisions. That seems to be all that our lives are about lately, and as we make them we pray that they're the two-steps forward kind, not the one (or two, or five) step back sort.
Instead of a yes, no, or even a maybe, we were told that instead of evaluating us for a short-sale they are now "required" to evaluate us for a loan modification. The same loan modification that we have been told previously that would not work in our situation. The same loan modification that the bank themselves told us they wouldn't consider us for previously.
It will take them another 30 or so days to work through that process. Once they determine that a modification will not work - and if they can do math at all they will see that it can't - then the file will go back to the decisioning process for the short-sale.
One step back.
Technically, our contract with the buyers expired this week. If they walked, as the previous buyers did, that could have been a giant step back. However, they and their agent requested to extend the closing date to on or before July 23rd! So obviously they are still hanging on. It's not a guarantee that they won't change their minds at some point, of course, but it is a positive move for now.
Two steps forward. Hopefully.
As for the rest of life in general, we're settling in to the rental fairly well. It's pretty cramped, but since it's very similar in square footage and lay-out to the first house Mr. Four Walls and I purchased - the home to which we brought newborns Jellybean and Miss Florida - it's not been too much of a challenge to cram in all five of us. There have been a few trips to Ikea, the storage Mecca, since in small spaces the only way to go is up! Wall shelving, bins, and some do-it-yourself honey-do items for Mr. Four Walls should get us out of the last few remaining boxes soon. We scored on some Ikea shelving in the as-is section for the corner of our bedroom - now referred to as The Office - and Mr. Four Walls is going to build in a customized desk top. Once it's all done I need to post some photos.
The other BIG item on the horizon is that we're coming up on the end of our arrangement with our current sitter. Childcare issues....again. The bane of my existence lately, especially since my heart isn't in it. I don't want to find childcare. I want to be home. Peanut is 18 months old today, if you can believe it. The time has gone so fast, and as I look back on the past year and a half, I remember so little of her teeny days. I can remember so much of Jellybean's and Miss Florida's, almost like it they were yesterday, but the fact of the matter is that I wasn't with Peanut much to make those kind of memories, and that breaks my heart. We're doing some serious soul-searching, budget-crunching, and God-seeking as we try to move towards a decision: find new care for the kids, or quit my job?????
If I do leave my great job - and it is a great job - I will still need to bring in an income. One big option on the table is for me to open a small in-home daycare, and I'm thoroughly researching this option. I can also flip burgers or wait tables every evening and weekend, basically putting me and Mr. Four Walls on opposite schedules. There are pros to cons to both options, so more decisions.
Big Decisions. That seems to be all that our lives are about lately, and as we make them we pray that they're the two-steps forward kind, not the one (or two, or five) step back sort.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Completely Unrelated, But Oh So Important!
As most of you know, I am the mom to a preemie. A beautiful, strong, and very blessed preemie that now, as she nears her seventh birthday, shows no signs of the chaos and anxiety that surrounded her unexpected early birth.
You also probably know that I went on to have a full-term, perfect little girl in late 2009. What you might not know is that to do so, I received weekly hormone injections to help my body regulate and defen...d against the preterm labor that afflicted me with my second daughter (and likely with my first, although we were lucky with her and hindsight is 20-20). I certainly still dealt with the preterm labor, but thanks to these injections, my body was able to sustain the pregnancy all the way to my due date.
Now, this injection - through unneeded government regulation and corporate greed - will become unavailable to a vast majority of women who truly need it. While I know I will not need this drug again (done with babies!) my heart aches for all the other women out there with histories like mine that now have to choose between taking a gamble, paying $30,000 for a course of the drug that currently costs most women $200, or not grow their families at all.
Below are excerpts from a letter written by the doctor of a dear friend of mine on this issue. Please read it and take action on behalf of all of the preemies you know, here on earth or in heaven. If this current course is not altered, the positive outcome I and so many other moms of preemies were able to experience with our subsequent births will become all the more rare.
Thanks for all of your prayers and support through the journey that has brought Mike and me into this "club" of preemie-parents. I hope we can count on your continued support now.
Sincerely,
Nancy
"As many of you have become aware, KV Pharmaceuticals has received FDA approval
to be the exclusive distributor for P17. They are planning to charge $1500 per
injection for a total cost, per pregnancy, of $30,000!!!!
The current cost is $10 per injection, or $200 per pregnancy.
There are several points that I would like to emphasize.
The rationale for a commercial manufacturer is to ensure a standard
concentration. In theory, this can be a problem with compounding pharmacies
although the vast majority of the compounding pharmacies producing this product
that present have extremely exacting standard. The March of Dimes has,
unfortunately, bought into this rationale with absolutely no proof that a
variation in strength is of any clinical significance. By law, once a drug is
commercially available, compounding pharmacies must stop production of that
drug.
We have been using P17 for the past ten years from these compounding pharmacies
with obvious beneficial effect. So where is the rationale for this change?
March of Dimes receives several million dollars a year in support from KV
Pharmaceuticals - I wonder why! This suggests to me that March of Dimes can be
bought. I, personally, have informed the March of Dimes that I am ceasing all
support of their organization, financial and otherwise, until they divorce
themselves from KV Pharmaceuticals and support for Makena. They do not realize
that they are going to cause an increase in the preterm birth rate, not a
decrease. At best, there will be no change other that a massive over-expenditure
of health-care dollars.
You have seen the propaganda stating that no-one will be denied the medication
because of ability to pay. However, what they don't tell you is that they are
going to use very strict criteria. In essence, the only women who will qualify
is those who have had a prior preterm birth before 32 weeks secondary to preterm
labor. To illustrate this more fully, Aetna/US Health care (one of the largest
insurers in the country) covers this therapy when patients meet their strict
criteria. Currently, they are paying for P17 for only 1,000 women nationwide per
year! There are 4.2 million births in the US annually. 10 - 15%, or 420,000 to
610,000 are premature. And Aetna is only going to cover 1,000 of these women.
30% of all prenatal care is covered by Medicaid. An additional 10% is covered by
charity care. KV is going to insist that since this care is not coming out of
the patient's pocket, the cost should be borne by Medicaid and charity care.
Currently, we can provide good prenatal care for about $2,000 per pregnancy. So
for every patient placed on P17, we have to somehow find away to cover an
additional 15 pregnant patients. And who pays the medicaid and charity care bill?
We all do through higher taxes and higher healthcare premiums!
Studies show that approximately 30 women need to be treated with P17 to prevent
one preterm birth. At $200 per patient, this is very cost effective. That is an
expenditure of $6,000 to save the average of $51,000 per preterm delivery. With
current pricing, we will have to spend $9 million dollars in P17 therapy to save
$51,000. Does this make sense? And people want to know why health care costs so
much.
Most of you (greater than 90%) who will be on P17 now will be faced with doing
without or paying $1500 per injection out-of-pocket. If you are currently on
this medication, make sure that your doctors order enough for you right away to
cover the entire pregnancy. You could have as little as one week. If you are
early in pregnancy or planning a pregnancy soon, talk to your doctors about
getting this now to have on hand. Most suppliers warrant the drug to be
effective for one year.
So, what can you do?
Firstly, contact KV Pharmaceutical and voice your displeasure:
Second, notify your local media outlets about this issue.
Third, write or email your congressman and senator.
Fourth, contact the FDA and find out why they elected to give KV exclusivity for
this product. Competition will bring down the price dramatically.
Fifth, write to the president.
Sixth, contact your state Medicaid offices and your insurance carriers. Get them
involved.
Seventh, get as many of your friends, family members, co-workers, etc. as
possible to do the above.
Eighth, feel free to cut/paste/email the above to as many contacts as you can.
Let's make this issue go viral!
If we can get enough of a protest mounted, we stand a chance of averting this
"rape" of the healthcare system that is motivated almost entirely by a profit
motive. Even if KV decides to not manufacture the drug for fear of losing money,
we will be better off than with what they are currently planning.
Thank you."
You also probably know that I went on to have a full-term, perfect little girl in late 2009. What you might not know is that to do so, I received weekly hormone injections to help my body regulate and defen...d against the preterm labor that afflicted me with my second daughter (and likely with my first, although we were lucky with her and hindsight is 20-20). I certainly still dealt with the preterm labor, but thanks to these injections, my body was able to sustain the pregnancy all the way to my due date.
Now, this injection - through unneeded government regulation and corporate greed - will become unavailable to a vast majority of women who truly need it. While I know I will not need this drug again (done with babies!) my heart aches for all the other women out there with histories like mine that now have to choose between taking a gamble, paying $30,000 for a course of the drug that currently costs most women $200, or not grow their families at all.
Below are excerpts from a letter written by the doctor of a dear friend of mine on this issue. Please read it and take action on behalf of all of the preemies you know, here on earth or in heaven. If this current course is not altered, the positive outcome I and so many other moms of preemies were able to experience with our subsequent births will become all the more rare.
Thanks for all of your prayers and support through the journey that has brought Mike and me into this "club" of preemie-parents. I hope we can count on your continued support now.
Sincerely,
Nancy
"As many of you have become aware, KV Pharmaceuticals has received FDA approval
to be the exclusive distributor for P17. They are planning to charge $1500 per
injection for a total cost, per pregnancy, of $30,000!!!!
The current cost is $10 per injection, or $200 per pregnancy.
There are several points that I would like to emphasize.
The rationale for a commercial manufacturer is to ensure a standard
concentration. In theory, this can be a problem with compounding pharmacies
although the vast majority of the compounding pharmacies producing this product
that present have extremely exacting standard. The March of Dimes has,
unfortunately, bought into this rationale with absolutely no proof that a
variation in strength is of any clinical significance. By law, once a drug is
commercially available, compounding pharmacies must stop production of that
drug.
We have been using P17 for the past ten years from these compounding pharmacies
with obvious beneficial effect. So where is the rationale for this change?
March of Dimes receives several million dollars a year in support from KV
Pharmaceuticals - I wonder why! This suggests to me that March of Dimes can be
bought. I, personally, have informed the March of Dimes that I am ceasing all
support of their organization, financial and otherwise, until they divorce
themselves from KV Pharmaceuticals and support for Makena. They do not realize
that they are going to cause an increase in the preterm birth rate, not a
decrease. At best, there will be no change other that a massive over-expenditure
of health-care dollars.
You have seen the propaganda stating that no-one will be denied the medication
because of ability to pay. However, what they don't tell you is that they are
going to use very strict criteria. In essence, the only women who will qualify
is those who have had a prior preterm birth before 32 weeks secondary to preterm
labor. To illustrate this more fully, Aetna/US Health care (one of the largest
insurers in the country) covers this therapy when patients meet their strict
criteria. Currently, they are paying for P17 for only 1,000 women nationwide per
year! There are 4.2 million births in the US annually. 10 - 15%, or 420,000 to
610,000 are premature. And Aetna is only going to cover 1,000 of these women.
30% of all prenatal care is covered by Medicaid. An additional 10% is covered by
charity care. KV is going to insist that since this care is not coming out of
the patient's pocket, the cost should be borne by Medicaid and charity care.
Currently, we can provide good prenatal care for about $2,000 per pregnancy. So
for every patient placed on P17, we have to somehow find away to cover an
additional 15 pregnant patients. And who pays the medicaid and charity care bill?
We all do through higher taxes and higher healthcare premiums!
Studies show that approximately 30 women need to be treated with P17 to prevent
one preterm birth. At $200 per patient, this is very cost effective. That is an
expenditure of $6,000 to save the average of $51,000 per preterm delivery. With
current pricing, we will have to spend $9 million dollars in P17 therapy to save
$51,000. Does this make sense? And people want to know why health care costs so
much.
Most of you (greater than 90%) who will be on P17 now will be faced with doing
without or paying $1500 per injection out-of-pocket. If you are currently on
this medication, make sure that your doctors order enough for you right away to
cover the entire pregnancy. You could have as little as one week. If you are
early in pregnancy or planning a pregnancy soon, talk to your doctors about
getting this now to have on hand. Most suppliers warrant the drug to be
effective for one year.
So, what can you do?
Firstly, contact KV Pharmaceutical and voice your displeasure:
Second, notify your local media outlets about this issue.
Third, write or email your congressman and senator.
Fourth, contact the FDA and find out why they elected to give KV exclusivity for
this product. Competition will bring down the price dramatically.
Fifth, write to the president.
Sixth, contact your state Medicaid offices and your insurance carriers. Get them
involved.
Seventh, get as many of your friends, family members, co-workers, etc. as
possible to do the above.
Eighth, feel free to cut/paste/email the above to as many contacts as you can.
Let's make this issue go viral!
If we can get enough of a protest mounted, we stand a chance of averting this
"rape" of the healthcare system that is motivated almost entirely by a profit
motive. Even if KV decides to not manufacture the drug for fear of losing money,
we will be better off than with what they are currently planning.
Thank you."
Friday, December 24, 2010
I'm Dreaming of a Frozen Christmas
Today is Christmas Eve. I cannot believe it! Where has this year gone? Some days I wish we could freeze time, just for a short while. It all goes too quickly. You know those moments, right?
When you look at your children and realize that, even though you just brought them home from the hospital, they're going to be grown and gone tomorrow.
Freeze.
When your love for someone fills you so fully, there's no other place for it to go except streaming down your face in the form of sticky, salty tears.
Freeze.
When an ending is approaching, and you're not quite ready to say goodbye, to move on to the next beginning that will inevitably follow.
Freeze.
We may not get a white Christmas in our soggy corner of the world, but I hope that you each have a Frozen Christmas, at least for a few moments. Although, don't forget to let those moments thaw, because there are surely many more Freeze-worthy moments to come.
Merry Christmas.
Nancy
When you look at your children and realize that, even though you just brought them home from the hospital, they're going to be grown and gone tomorrow.
Freeze.
When your love for someone fills you so fully, there's no other place for it to go except streaming down your face in the form of sticky, salty tears.
Freeze.
When an ending is approaching, and you're not quite ready to say goodbye, to move on to the next beginning that will inevitably follow.
Freeze.
We may not get a white Christmas in our soggy corner of the world, but I hope that you each have a Frozen Christmas, at least for a few moments. Although, don't forget to let those moments thaw, because there are surely many more Freeze-worthy moments to come.
Merry Christmas.
Nancy
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Separation Anxiety
Our sweet little Peanut has turned one year old. The Four Walls household is now officially leaving the snugly newborn-baby years behind with this momentous mark for our last child, and forging full-speed ahead into toddler-dom one last time. First steps, imitation, and temper tantrums are the on the daily menu at Chez Four Walls, and we love every minute of it. Separation anxiety, on the other hand, not so much. I don't mean it hasn't taken up residence, because believe me, it has. What I mean is that we're not loving this stage. And by we, I mean me.
Peanut is a Daddy's Girl. Mr. Four Walls is her world, and has been pretty much since birth. Even when I was her sole source of sustenance in those first few milky-months, she tolerated me to attend to the task of nourishing herself, and then wanted....Daddy. This is such a turnabout from the older girls who, while they certainly loved and bonded with their Dad, searched me out for all of their needs. It was me they wanted in the middle of the night, and when they were in an unfamiliar place they scanned for me. Neither of them went through a particularly painful phase of getting anxious at my leaving or being out of sight, but they were definitely happier to have me close. Peanut? Not so much.
Don't get me wrong. Her eyes do light up when I come home, and she does seem to enjoy when I swoop her up and breathe her in after a long day apart. That is, unless she knows Mr. Four Walls is home. The child seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when he is present before she can see or hear him, and know matter who or what she was engaged with, when she senses him, she has to have him. Right. Now. God forbid he come into the house and need to use the restroom or wash his hands before he gets to her. Lord help us all if, after greeting her and the rest of the family, he retreats to the shower to clean away the days worth of dirt and grime he usually wears home. After over eight years of fatherhood, he is finally perfecting the art of the ultra-fast shower. Even from the other end of the house, even over the sound of the shower, he can hear her mournful cries of "Da-daaaaa. Da-daaaaa."
She'll settle down a bit for me or whomever is holding her, but unless she's sure he has left for good (and sometimes it'll continue even then) she struggles to hold back the crocodile tears. Periodic, questioning "Da-da"s pass through her sweet, quivering, pouting lips. And I'm jealous.
I'm away from her so much. On a good day I spend 120 waking minutes with her, and many days it's less. Yes, it is wonderful that she has such a strong bond with her Dad, and I would never want anything less for them. And, yes, I know that she and I have just as strong of a bond, even if it's not as visible at this stage of the game. And yes, I know that they go through phases, this too shall pass, and yada, yada, yada. The mature, rational, experienced mother in me gets it and is grateful. However, the slightly selfish, overworked, exhausted, tired-of-being-a-working mother wants her baby to want me as much as she wants her "Da-daaaaa." It hurts when I get home and try to give her a kiss only to have her push me away as she snuggles into Daddy. It hurts when she screams and claws back to him when I try to embrace her. It hurts that my presence and embrace has only 1/16th of the calming effect of simply having her father sitting next to her.
So, I think we're both experiencing a bit of separation anxiety: her from her father, and I from her. I look back at how insanely fast this past year has evaporated, and I'm sad. While working and commuting, I've missed so many precious giggles and smiles, tears and tunny-aches. Yes, it was for a good reason - food and shelter are good reasons, I suppose.
In this period of transition, as we separate ourselves from our once believed-to-be-forever-home, I'm anxious to move forward. Forward toward the day when I get to spend more than 120 rushed minutes with my kids. Forward toward the day when I will be able to answer the always asked question of "So, do you know where you're moving?" Forward toward the day of her maturing enough to recognize that even we she can't see him, her Daddy is there, loving her and protecting her. That's a reminder that I need sometimes, too. Silly Separation Anxiety.
Peanut is a Daddy's Girl. Mr. Four Walls is her world, and has been pretty much since birth. Even when I was her sole source of sustenance in those first few milky-months, she tolerated me to attend to the task of nourishing herself, and then wanted....Daddy. This is such a turnabout from the older girls who, while they certainly loved and bonded with their Dad, searched me out for all of their needs. It was me they wanted in the middle of the night, and when they were in an unfamiliar place they scanned for me. Neither of them went through a particularly painful phase of getting anxious at my leaving or being out of sight, but they were definitely happier to have me close. Peanut? Not so much.
Don't get me wrong. Her eyes do light up when I come home, and she does seem to enjoy when I swoop her up and breathe her in after a long day apart. That is, unless she knows Mr. Four Walls is home. The child seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when he is present before she can see or hear him, and know matter who or what she was engaged with, when she senses him, she has to have him. Right. Now. God forbid he come into the house and need to use the restroom or wash his hands before he gets to her. Lord help us all if, after greeting her and the rest of the family, he retreats to the shower to clean away the days worth of dirt and grime he usually wears home. After over eight years of fatherhood, he is finally perfecting the art of the ultra-fast shower. Even from the other end of the house, even over the sound of the shower, he can hear her mournful cries of "Da-daaaaa. Da-daaaaa."
She'll settle down a bit for me or whomever is holding her, but unless she's sure he has left for good (and sometimes it'll continue even then) she struggles to hold back the crocodile tears. Periodic, questioning "Da-da"s pass through her sweet, quivering, pouting lips. And I'm jealous.
I'm away from her so much. On a good day I spend 120 waking minutes with her, and many days it's less. Yes, it is wonderful that she has such a strong bond with her Dad, and I would never want anything less for them. And, yes, I know that she and I have just as strong of a bond, even if it's not as visible at this stage of the game. And yes, I know that they go through phases, this too shall pass, and yada, yada, yada. The mature, rational, experienced mother in me gets it and is grateful. However, the slightly selfish, overworked, exhausted, tired-of-being-a-working mother wants her baby to want me as much as she wants her "Da-daaaaa." It hurts when I get home and try to give her a kiss only to have her push me away as she snuggles into Daddy. It hurts when she screams and claws back to him when I try to embrace her. It hurts that my presence and embrace has only 1/16th of the calming effect of simply having her father sitting next to her.
So, I think we're both experiencing a bit of separation anxiety: her from her father, and I from her. I look back at how insanely fast this past year has evaporated, and I'm sad. While working and commuting, I've missed so many precious giggles and smiles, tears and tunny-aches. Yes, it was for a good reason - food and shelter are good reasons, I suppose.
In this period of transition, as we separate ourselves from our once believed-to-be-forever-home, I'm anxious to move forward. Forward toward the day when I get to spend more than 120 rushed minutes with my kids. Forward toward the day when I will be able to answer the always asked question of "So, do you know where you're moving?" Forward toward the day of her maturing enough to recognize that even we she can't see him, her Daddy is there, loving her and protecting her. That's a reminder that I need sometimes, too. Silly Separation Anxiety.
The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
-Philippians 4:6 (NIV)
Sunday, August 15, 2010
But Who's Counting?
Stats on the last 48 hours in the Zahn Home:
Diapers changed: About 16... I lost track, though.
Lullabies sang: 6
Stores visited: 8
Stores visited twice: 3
Bags of school clothes, shoes, and supplies emptied on the family room floor for divvying: 5
Returns to be made due to high-maintenance oldest children changing their minds on the the shoes that they "had" to have: 1 (although this is sure to rise, as only 1 child actually got a pair of shoes this weekend....)
Round trips to my mother's: 2
Combined miles driven: 190 (!!!!!)
11th Wedding Anniversary dinner of cheap Chinese takeout...shared with a hot, cranky baby: 1
Loads of laundry washed and dried: 5
Loads of laundry folded: 0
Chapters read from Ramona the Pest: 2
Dried Cheerios scraped from the kitchen floor: only 3, amazingly!
Sweet family dog moved to live with Nana for more nurturing than we can provide: 1
Sad little girls at the realization of above: 2
Degrees in my house at 6 p.m. his evening: 87
Degrees in my house right now at nearly 10 p.m.: 80
Temp reading on my dashboard along I-5 at about 5:00 this afternoon: 100
Temperature difference between today and this day 11 years ago: about 35-40
Number and location of AC units in our house: 1, in my bedroom
Number of children crashed in my bed, relishing in the coolness from said AC unit: 2
Showings on the house: 0
Seconds my blinks are lasting as I try to compose this message: 4.2
Hours until I get to get up and do it all again, plus some: 7
...but who's counting?
Diapers changed: About 16... I lost track, though.
Lullabies sang: 6
Stores visited: 8
Stores visited twice: 3
Bags of school clothes, shoes, and supplies emptied on the family room floor for divvying: 5
Returns to be made due to high-maintenance oldest children changing their minds on the the shoes that they "had" to have: 1 (although this is sure to rise, as only 1 child actually got a pair of shoes this weekend....)
Round trips to my mother's: 2
Combined miles driven: 190 (!!!!!)
11th Wedding Anniversary dinner of cheap Chinese takeout...shared with a hot, cranky baby: 1
Loads of laundry washed and dried: 5
Loads of laundry folded: 0
Chapters read from Ramona the Pest: 2
Dried Cheerios scraped from the kitchen floor: only 3, amazingly!
Sweet family dog moved to live with Nana for more nurturing than we can provide: 1
Sad little girls at the realization of above: 2
Degrees in my house at 6 p.m. his evening: 87
Degrees in my house right now at nearly 10 p.m.: 80
Temp reading on my dashboard along I-5 at about 5:00 this afternoon: 100
Temperature difference between today and this day 11 years ago: about 35-40
Number and location of AC units in our house: 1, in my bedroom
Number of children crashed in my bed, relishing in the coolness from said AC unit: 2
Showings on the house: 0
Seconds my blinks are lasting as I try to compose this message: 4.2
Hours until I get to get up and do it all again, plus some: 7
...but who's counting?
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Unanswered Prayers
After a lot of prayer and discussion with Mr. Four Walls regarding our impending lack of childcare, I asked my boss this week if I could work a "flexible" schedule; I proposed starting earlier, leaving earlier, and working a couple of Saturdays to make up the difference. Mr. Four Walls would handle the mornings, hopefully with the help of a neighbor or college student so he could get out the door at reasonable hours, and I would be home in time to get the older kids off the bus. The baby would still go to daycare (somewhere?), but would have to be there for a shorter period. My proposal didn't go so well, I'm afraid. While I haven't been officially turned down, it's not looking good for my vision of less-chaotic afternoon commutes followed by helping with homework, starting dinner before it should actually be on the table, and maybe - just maybe - getting the girls back into some activities once finances stabilize a bit more.
I suppose this post doesn't actually have to do with the house, on which there has been absolutely zero activity in the last 7 days. However, as the catalyst for me making the request was an effort to reduce childcare expenses so that once we are through this nerve-racking process we might stand a chance of being able to balance our budget, I guess that does have a bit to do with the house. Once I started writing up my proposal for how I saw my alternative schedule working and ways to remedy the potential pit-falls, it became more than a money saving move: it became a mommy-saving move. After 2 1/2 years of being gone nearly 11 hours a day for my commute and work, it's not getting any easier. In fact, adding the baby to the mix (completely unplanned, for those that aren't familiar with that story...another post for another day), this chaotic, Monday through Friday, all day, everyday schedule has about driven me batty.
But for now I have to remember that unanswered prayers are unanswered for a reason.....and accept that the bats in the belfry are getting pretty cozy.
I suppose this post doesn't actually have to do with the house, on which there has been absolutely zero activity in the last 7 days. However, as the catalyst for me making the request was an effort to reduce childcare expenses so that once we are through this nerve-racking process we might stand a chance of being able to balance our budget, I guess that does have a bit to do with the house. Once I started writing up my proposal for how I saw my alternative schedule working and ways to remedy the potential pit-falls, it became more than a money saving move: it became a mommy-saving move. After 2 1/2 years of being gone nearly 11 hours a day for my commute and work, it's not getting any easier. In fact, adding the baby to the mix (completely unplanned, for those that aren't familiar with that story...another post for another day), this chaotic, Monday through Friday, all day, everyday schedule has about driven me batty.
But for now I have to remember that unanswered prayers are unanswered for a reason.....and accept that the bats in the belfry are getting pretty cozy.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I am the Scarecrow! (Confessions of a stressed out, working mom.)
So, I've pretty much determined that my head is full of straw. I am the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz, and I so desperately wish that I had a brain. I used to have a brain, or at least something closely resembling it, rattling around up there, but no more. A working mom (well, all moms really, but working outside the home full-time takes it to another level) seriously has to stretch to meet all of the needs and demands from those around, and sometimes - more than I'd like to admit, I fall so very short. Don't get me wrong, I am not one that has a hard time saying, "No." I don't like to over-commit myself or my children. However, sometimes there isn't much of anything I can take off my plate. I simply have to take a deep breath, dig in, and ask for forgiveness when the peas begin to spill on the floor. Often I can see the peas rolling off the plate, but other times I am so focused on some other portion that I fail to even notice that I've made a mess. Lack of a brain. I'm pulled in so many different directions. Work requires my attention, energy, and focus for 8+ hours a day, plus 30 minutes to eat. My commute takes up another 2 1/2 total, on average, plus another 20-30 minutes picking up the kids at their various afternoon locales. I am not one of those super-powered people that can function well on a lack of sleep, so a solid 7-8 (and more would be nice) hours of sleep is a must, even with the kiddos. This is so true that my wonderful husband has learned that it's better for him to get up in the middle of the night when the baby wakes (thankfully, a rare occurrence now) - happy wife, happy life! It also helps that our youngest actually prefers him to me at night, and has since day one, even when I was still nursing her. (She has him so tight around her little pinky I'm surprised she has any circulation left in that particular appendage.)
...1.5 hours left per working day to spend quality time with God, to spend quality time with the kids, to spend quality time with Mike, to spend quality time with me (!), and not to mention laundry, serious cleaning, meal planning, grocery shopping, visiting with friends and extended family, and shuffling to and from kids' activities (which are nonexistent right now due to the restrictiveness of our budget). Oh, and don't forget exercise - so not happening right now. Is it any wonder that I look around me and always see straw scattered all around!
Confession time: I forgot to send in pictures for Jellybean's Father's Day present she was making at school this week. And I forgot to send in her chips for her class party yesterday. And I wasted nearly 20 minutes of mine and my boss' time yesterday searching for a file that he desperately needed that I had managed to mis-file. And I spent nearly 25% of our grocery budget for the week on pizza last night so I didn't have to cook (and that was after having served Burger King, PB&J sandwiches, frozen pizzas, and I can't even remember what else on various nights this past week). And I was supposed to have a movie night with Mr. Four Walls last night while the older girls had their own movie night on a different T.V., but instead I fell asleep with the baby getting her to sleep. Then when I did wake, I sleepily staggered into my own bed where I promptly went back to sleep for the rest of the night - no goodnight kisses to the other kids, no "Sorry, hon. Can I take a raincheck?" to Mr. Four Walls. All week I stashed the unfolded laundry into the back of our closet instead of folding it, just in case someone came to see the house (which they didn't - sigh). All in all it's been a stellar week, if I may say so - or at least one for the record books, if a record book is kept for mothering ineptitude.
Now I'm off to set the foundation for a better week (and hopefully a restful Father's Day for Mr. Four Walls) around the Four Walls home: laundry folding, kitchen and bathroom scrubbing, HEALTHY meal planning and shopping, etc, etc, etc. I apologize to my friends and family if it has been your "pea" that has rolled from my plate, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart if you have helped me contain any of the scrumptious, green vegetables that I let roll away. I also apologize in advance to my friends and family if they find any of my brain matter in their food or in their homes. At least it's only straw and can be easily discarded - or fed to the neighbor's horses.
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