Two!

Maximilian turned two & started owning his "nope!" real good, and flinging himself toward certain danger at every chance, and howling when parental hands pull him back.

I remember this stage from my last kid--but back then I cried that I must be a bad mama when my friends sighed "kids today," and waiters sneered, and acquaintances hummed "no child of mine would ever..."

Now I just wish them and their imaginary well-behaved children well.

I know there are probably a hundred and one ways to be a better mama than me, but I have been thinking about it for a long time and haven't come up with many of them.

So I guess I'm just going to be me.

Thinking about my Gammie Evelyn...

How cute is she?! - I just came across this clipping from the LA Times - January 13, 1939... The weird thing is that she looks roughly the same in the photo below - 70 years later - right? - We imagine we change so much - and what changes, really?

Big Red

I am sad this morning because my Gammie Evelyn died. Here's a picture from when she came to Portland last month for her 91st birthday. (with Maria, Shannon Wheeler, my mom & lil' tuxedo Max)... And an incomplete story I wrote a few months ago...



Big Red

My Gammie Evelyn drives a big red Cadillac. She calls it Big Red and it smells like Coco Chanel.

We speed all over Orange County because Big Red can handle the speed bumps and the police never stop my Gammie when she’s driving Big Red. It’s summertime, of course. It’s always summertime in Orange County because I’m on break from school and the sun is shining. It might be summer break or Thanksgiving break or winter break or spring break. It doesn’t matter. It’s summertime when she picks me up at John Wayne Airport and my Gammie says, “You’re beautiful, Ariel, but you’ve got to be kidding with that hair. Can’t you put it up? I mean, honestly.”

“You’re marvelous of course,” she says. "Do you have a beau?”

“No,” I tell my Gammie. I don’t have a beau.

And she says, “Well, not now, but soon the fellows will want to take you out and just remember, you don’t pay. When a fellow takes you out, he pays the bill."

I am 12 years old and I listen intently because my Gammie is beautiful and she wears red lipstick and she paints her long fingernails red and she wears her hair in a bun tied with a bright red scarf as she speeds down the Pacific Coast Highway in Big Red.

My Gammie Evelyn's house is painted coral orange.

Inside, there is soft, plush coral carpet, and in the guest bedroom soft, plush yellow monogrammed towels.

How are her towels always so soft?

On the low black coffee table in the living room there's a big crystal bowl full of mint and chocolate candy.

How is the candy never stale?

I sit on the plush carpet in front of the coffee table and I eat and I eat and I wonder how my grandmother keeps the bowl full, how she keeps herself from eating it all when she gets up in the middle of the night to pour herself a glass of milk and bourbon.

Gammie Evelyn's advice

Evelyn Mae Lewis
1918 - 2009


Here is Gammie Evelyn's advice to Leslie (and everyone...)

"No one will ever be pretty enough, but anyone can have style."

"Turned on women can't afford to look cheap!"

"Marry a man you know will cheat so he can't say anything when you do."

"Keep it even. This is more important than communication."

Gratitude and thank-you notes to grandmas everywhere.

I Am Your Healthcare Reform

(Letter from an old-school hip mama mama)

I'm writing this today not because I'm out to change anyone's mind, or because I see myself as a political activist, but because our daughter lives with an on-going, critical need for healthcare, and because I want everyone to be able to put a face to the idea of healthcare reform. And what better face than our goofy, gorgeous, brave baby girl's?

Most of you know Sophie, and my guess is that if you know her, you love her. She's just about the most lovable and kind person ever born. But many of you probably don't know about the struggles that Sophie has faced, nor those that we have faced as a family because of her chronic condition. We're pretty private about a lot of this stuff, because, well, it isn't really anyone's business but our own, but I feel like this is an important time for honesty.

We moved from Colorado to Tulsa in Spring, 2003. At that time Sophie was two years old, and was the healthiest kid that you had ever met. In the two years she lived in Colorado, she had one stomach virus and two colds. Within a month of moving to Tulsa, Sophie developed pneumonia. And then weeks after that, she had it again. And then weeks after that, she had it again. This was a frustrating time, but we weren't too worried yet. We just kept going back to the doctor and getting more antibiotics and more steroids.

In fall of 2005, we decided to switch from our private, self-employment insurance that we had used for years to Blue Cross. There was a week long gap between the policies--something that we didn't think anything of, because we simply did not know better. Just as our Blue Cross plan was set to start, we received a notice from them stating that they considered Sophie to have a pre-existing pulmonary problem (due to the amount of doctor's visits for pneumonia), and that while they would cover her in general, they wouldn't cover any pulmonary/respiratory issues until she had gone two years without needing medication or problems.

Our reaction: OMG. Actually I believe it was OMFG.

All of a sudden, Sophie was without coverage for pulmonary problems. This was absolutely terrifying. What if she got sick?! What if she needed to be hospitalized?! We spent the next couple of months researching every insurance company that we could, begging them to take Sophie.

It wasn't going to happen.

And then our biggest fear came true: Sophie got very, very sick. And I'm ashamed to say that although we knew that she was incredibly ill, we actually considered keeping her home from the doctor's office, as we knew that this would be yet another strike against her getting insurance. Luckily we pulled our heads out of our asses and took her to the doctor anyway, and it's good that we did, because Sophie was so critically ill that she was sent straight from the doctor's office to ICU. She was so sick that we couldn't even wait for an ambulance; they helped me throw our limp, blue daughter into our car, and I drove like hell to get her to the hospital next door.

Let me state that very clearly one more time: we almost didn't take our baby girl, who was in severe respiratory distress, to the doctor because we knew that it would hurt her chances of getting insurance.

I realize that your reality of living in the U.S. and of health insurance is likely very different than this. But I'm going to ask you to sit for a moment and imagine being in our shoes in that situation. Imagine the shame and guilt of almost keeping your child home from the hospital until it was too late, and then imagine the horror of seeing your child naked in ICU, hooked to many different machines. There is no way to describe how this felt.

One night in ICU? $10,000, not covered by insurance.

After this hospitalization, we were approached by a hospital social worker, who suggested we apply for SoonerCare. SoonerCare is Oklahoma's Medicaid program for kids. Luckily I'm a social worker who was working for a non-profit at the time, so we had no problems meeting financial criteria. SoonerCare does NOT exclude kids for pre-existing conditions, and it covers Sophie's medications and treatment 100%.

Since that horrible October in 2005, Sophie has needed hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of treatments, hospitalizations, surgeries, medications, testing, and interventions in order to stay strong and healthy, and in some instances, to stay alive.

Since SoonerCare is the only insurance that will accept Sophie, we have to meet their financial criteria, which means living at or below the poverty level. I have had to quit wonderful jobs because I made too much money to qualify for SoonerCare. At this point I can only work either part-time, or for a very small salary, because we CANNOT afford to lose Sophie's healthcare coverage. It's the most important thing in our lives. We structure every single financial and professional decision we make around staying eligible for SoonerCare.

And while we'll gladly continue to live at the poverty level in order to provide our daughter with the healthcare that keeps her alive, we SHOULDN'T HAVE TO. We would happily pay outrageous premiums and co-pays, and do whatever else it took to get Sophie covered by regular health insurance. But you know what they all tell us?
She has to go two years with no pulmonary medications and no doctor's visits because of respiratory problems before anyone will accept her. Sophie can't go two DAYS without her medications, let alone two years.

As I mentioned earlier, I am not out to change anyone's opinion on what the government should do with healthcare. I simply want people to stop for a moment and realize that this issue strongly affects a little girl that they may love, a little girl who didn't ask for any of this, who didn't "bring it on herself", and who would give anything to get to live like a normal, healthy kid.
This problem is not going away for our family, or for the other families who are struggling terribly. It is only going to get more complicated.

Mt. Hood Haiku

Maria and I made these for a Bark project,



But I think we missed the deadline.

Hell-yeah!

Check it out--recent college graduate Trina Thompson is suing her alma mater for $72,000--the full cost of her tuition and then some--because she can't find a job.

I'm sure this sounds nutty to anyone who hasn't been to college recently, and I've never been pitched by this specific college (Munroe College in New York where Thompson got a degree in business administration), but I visited plenty of colleges with my daughter and, for real--every school we went promised work.

I still owe nearly $100,000 for my own higher education, but the colleges I went to--Mills and U.C. Berkeley--never promised me work. They touted education for education's sake. They suggested that degrees would help me find meaningful work, but the admissions folks didn't come anywhere near promising it.

That was more than 15 years ago.

Now, tuitions are off the map.

And every school I visited with my daughter (who started college two years ago) all but promised her a job upon graduation. They even specified salaries. THEY SPECIFIED SALARIES. And that's how they justified their $25,000+ annual tuitions.

And my kid was looking at art schools.

I can only imagine the pitch you get from business schools.

It's about time someone bring it back home. Yep. Sue them. Where is the job, o-expensive-alma-mater?

If education is valuable in its own right, which I think it is, let's start advertising it as such. And let's start charging the amount of money that it's worth (something relative to a professor's salaries, say?)

It's repulsive that schools charge a $25,000+ tuition, pay their professors the equivalent of one or two students' tuition, lie to kids about their futures, and then shrug it all off.

In the mean time, go Trina Thompson. Folks are going to give you a hard time. But I totally feel you.