We've moved

Since this blog was active, we moved overseas and back again. Now you can read about the boogers' latest adventures at www.boogersabroad.com.

Monday, November 29, 2010

What makes having a sick kid even harder?

Answer: The fights with your insurance carrier bound to follow.

Sorry, I'm not into ranting and bellyaching, but I just got a phone call that made me throw my hands in the air and yell, "Not again!"

Mo got hurt recently and needed staples in his head. We were out of town and are now dealing with out-of-network insurance charges and an unfamiliar provider.

What was the phone call? The provider telling me they'd charged our credit card twice for the ER bill. They're working to fix it.

OK, fine, I understand one mistake. But this provider also sent me a notice last week saying my son was uninsured, so they've notified groups that will help us get him insurance or possibly government assistance. Well, hmmm, you'd think they'd know he's insured considering they've already billed and received payment from our insurance! So now I'm getting calls from solicitors, who love to ring during Curly's nap time, offering to help us find medical insurance for Mo.

When I was complaining to Dad about this particular provider, he reminded me that our own wasn't any better. We recalled our experiences so far:
  • Two bills for routine visits ($260 and $420) just this year, which are, in fact, covered in full by our plan.
  • The time we took Curly in for surgery, and they wouldn't start his IV or NG tube because they said the procedure wasn't pre-approved by our insurance. Turned out to be a miscommunication.
  • When Curly was still in the NICU, we got a bill for $80,000. The next day we got one for $11,000. And they kept coming. When I stormed the hospital billing office, they told me it was because Curly didn't have an insurance card yet. He was four-days-old at the time of his first surgery. Once his card was issued, they recognized his insurance and nearly all was covered.

We're lucky. We have very good insurance. But dealing with all the mistakes and poor service is the last thing a parent should have to worry about when they have a sick child.

OK. Rant over.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Basketball or something like it

This morning Mo had his first, uh, "basketball," uh, "game." He's five. I'm sorry but that's just too young. I started playing in second grade, and even that was pretty darn young.

It was basically a bunch of kids running back and forth - with two refs and four coaches right on the court herding them so they knew which direction to run. Except for a couple truly gifted kids, most of them were clueless about what was happening.

For Mo, this was his first team sport adventure. Since I wanted to make sure he understood the concept of defense, we've been talking about that a lot this week. My big message was, "Arms up!"

Well, I should have spent some time explaining offense. Because no matter what - even if his teammate was trying to throw him a pass - Mo just stood there with his hands in the air. He didn't know who had the ball, but boy were his arms up!

Afterwards I asked him what his favorite part was. He said, "Sitting on the bench."

Sunday, November 14, 2010

A relatively good weekend

It used to be that a "good" weekend meant nice meals in restaurants, maybe a fun party or good time at the bars. Perhaps a beautiful day enjoying a bike ride, ski trip, round of golf or sunset boat ride.

Oh, how my standards have changed.

I would call this weekend "good." It was cold and rainy and otherwise blissfully uneventful.

However, for the first time in a long time, this weekend:
1. Nobody vomited.
2. We didn't have to rush anyone to the ER.
3. My number of laundry loads remained in the single-digits.
4. None of us is running a fever.
5. Plus - bonus - I got to nap. Twice! Woo hoo! (I never imagined I'd get so happy over an extra hour or two of sleep...)

Monday, November 8, 2010

Dancing Mama

I don't know what we were watching - probably Backyardigans - when I was inspired to get up and dance around the living room.

Both boys started yelling, "No! No! No!"

I chided them to get up and dance with me, like old times. We used to have a dance party in the living room every night!

But they kept at it.

"Stop Mom!" Curly yelled.

"Please Mom! Quit it!" Mo scolded.

I stopped and looked Mo in the eye. "Come on. Can't I even dance in my own house?"

He thought about it for a minute, nodded and said, "Yes Mom. You can dance in your own house. Just please go somewhere we can't see you."

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Really, that's a bad word?

We were at a friend's house the other night, and one of the kids reported that Mo said a bad word. Mo, of course, vehemently denied it.

On the car ride home, he brought it up again, complaining that he'd been tattled on unjustly.

So I asked him what he said.

He tells me, matter-of-factly, "All I said was, 'What the f#@k?'"