New Car

Occasionally I see half of my twenties going down Gallatin Road in East Nashville. Now the other half of my twenties is probably in a used car lot somewhere.

I am no longer a Volkswagen owner.

I now own a mini-minivan.



We sold the Rabbit last year after it sat in our driveway for months and refused to start. I occasionally see the new owner driving it around town. I smile when I see that old car.

The Golf, however, continued to serve us well. But this month we knew it was time.
 

I was so ready for the change. Our little Golf could only hold our little family. No carpooling with friends. Always taking separate cars when doing dinner with the grandparents. And the wingspan of the doors was a cause for heart attack every time Ian tried to open a door in a crowded parking lot.


Our new Mazda5 is great. The first night we had it we piled six people into it to run to dinner. The sliding doors help me avoid parking lot panic attacks. I finally can fit a jogging stroller AND the kids in the car at the same time.


But things are different this time. When we were saving to buy our VW Golf, I had a picture of it on my desktop at work. When we finally made the purchase, I was so excited to be initiated into the cult of Volkswagen drivers. (They had a ceremony with humming.) (No, they didn't.) (But they did give us hats.) I remember being tempted to wave at other VW drivers. I probably did a few times.

When we were at the Mazda dealership a few weeks ago, Paul asked if I wanted to look at the shirts and hats.

"No," I replied wearily.

After we bought the car, I felt a bit blue. Where was the excitement? Why was I not reading the manual front-to-back and exploring every bit of the car? WHY DID I NOT WANT A HAT?

I like seeing other Mazda drivers on the road. Somehow I feel solidarity with them. We made a sound, reasonable choice. But I'm not planning to wave at them. It's not a club.

Somehow, saying goodbye to my VW has been another way of saying goodbye to young adulthood and welcoming the coming of middle age. At first I felt sad and disoriented, but once the initial shock wore off I found beauty. Contentment. Gratitude. I don't want to go back. This new place is so precious. What a journey I took to get here.


Between you and me, though, I do miss that 40 mpg on my old VW. So let's meet in the middle, my friends. I'll savor driving my mini-minivan, taking the kids to school and playdates. But I'll also keep pursuing life, dreams, and the perfect jeans. And you, auto-makers? See if you can get me a six-passenger vehicle that gets over 40 mpg. And maybe give it German engineering. Let's meet in another seven years and see what we can work out.

Letting Go of Perfection

A few months ago, Real Simple sponsored an essay contest asking readers to share how they achieved balance in their lives. I didn't enter the contest, but the essay wrote itself in my head anyway.

I have to remind myself daily, hourly, of how I can achieve balance in my life.

I've given up on perfection.

Perfectionism has chased me through life. It's often the root of my procrastination and punctuality issues. It's definitely a source of the severe anxiety that crops up occasionally.

I remember terrible stage fright at childhood recitals, not worried that my musical skills would fail me, but concerned that I wouldn't be the best. And trying to write term papers.....heavens. My fear of mediocrity meant that I depended on sugar rushes and TV escapism to get me through my assignments.

Photo by Paul Nicholson.

When I realized the havoc that perfection wreaked on my life, I became ready to let it go. Not that I could totally change my personality, mind you. But today I can make better choices, especially with the help of friends and a Power Greater Than Myself.

I am much better at cleaning house now than I was five years ago. In the past I could never find time to clean the house, because I couldn't figure out how to set aside eight hours to get my house spotless. And if the bathroom grout still looked gross after scrubbing, then what was the point?

These days, I can do a quick sweep and wipe of the kitchen and think, "Meh, good enough." And you know what? It is. Taking 5 or 10 minutes a day to get a room in my house sorta clean is way healthier than taking 8 hours twice a year to get my house totally clean. (And guess what? In a further acknowledgement of my imperfections, I now have a professional housecleaner help me out once a month. Asking for help -- another key to giving perfectionism the boot.)

There are a couple of slogans I've read that help me get through life these days -- "Anything worth doing is worth doing so-so," and "Done is better than perfect."

I'm learning to apply this joyful mediocrity even to friendships and motherhood. Sometimes my fear of relational mistakes has me keep people at arm's length, but I'm learning that the risk of imperfection is worth the joy of presence and relationship.

I definitely still struggle with perfectionism. My determination to make this post a fantastically written piece of soul searching means that it has stayed an idea and not come to fruition until I felt brave enough to hammer out some words and release them into the internet wild. But I'm finding that a life lived imperfectly leaves so much room for grace and joy in my life. I never want to go back.

Team Play

I'm not very good at playing.

Work, that I can do. I love to work. I love crossing tasks off of To Do lists.

But play? I get a little confused with that one.

I like to watch my kids play. I especially like to watch them play while I work....watch them play chase while I do the laundry, watch them pretend to cook while I do the dishes....

Photo taken by Ian.

But when they want me to play with them, sometimes I have a hard time focusing just on the fun and letting go of my never-ending queue of activities.

Which is why I am so glad I don't have to do this parenting thing alone.

Paul is great at playing. He can be silly and fun while showing the boys how to do new things. He can play a favorite game over and over with amazing patience and kindness. When he's upstairs with the boys, I hear thuds and giggles and cheering, and I know they are all having a blast.

Sometimes I envy Paul's play ability. I wish I had that. I wish it weren't a struggle for me to set aside my work.

But often I'm inspired. Often I hear the laughter and feel the strength I need to focus on my two beautiful sons and just play.

Not enough. Not yet. But it's a start.

Birth, Death, and Being a Hipster Snob

A high school friend's husband died Saturday night. It stinks.

I didn't know him well, and I'd only seen my friend a few times in the last ten years.

They'd been married for three months.

And it just stinks.

That is such an inadequate word, but I don't know what else to say.

This week I had nightmares about friends dying.

I went to the visitation last night. It was good to see my friend, to see that she is surviving despite the senseless tragedy that has entered her life. The nightmares stopped.

Photo courtesy of Paul Nicholson

And I got to see a baby. Another friend had a baby a month ago, and she and her baby were at the visitation as well. She joked that she was the encore receiving line.....nothing like a peaceful, sleeping baby at a visitation.

I saw some other high school friends there. One told me about her job as a television reporter. When I asked for whom she reported, she named some local affiliates.

My reply? "Oh! I'm sorry, I don't watch TV."

Yes, friends, I was THAT person, that hipster snob who "doesn't watch TV."

What I really meant was, "I can't believe I didn't know that! I am uninformed politically and kinda scattered right now, so I tend to miss obvious facts."

But I'm worried I worded that the wrong way.

Sigh.

So it's been a weird week. And before I could come here and talk about baby carriers or boots, I needed to write about this. Because sometimes terrible, crazy things happen, and I just don't understand.

Waiting

I feel like "Waiting" is the theme of my life these years, perhaps the theme of God's carvings in my soul.

I'm learning -- slowly -- to accept my powerlessness in certain situations and learning (still slowly) to surrender those situations to the One who is really in control.

Waiting.  A bed rest portrait by Paul Nicholson.
I feel like the Lady of Shalott here.

The lesson started with bed rest. Oh, what waiting in five months of bed rest. Starting in week 17 of my pregnancy -- will my baby live? Will he be in the NICU? What will happen? Things I could not control. A time of waiting and hoping and praying. And once I passed about 32 weeks, pretty much just waiting.

Then of course while I was on bed rest, my house was for sale. Would it sell? Could we buy the dream house we had found? Would someone without a contingency buy the house on which we had a contract? No control. Nothing I could do. Just lay there. And wait. And see.

And you know what? My baby lived. He didn't need the NICU. I got to wait five months in bed to bring a beautiful full-term baby into the world. And guess what else? My house sold. I got to move into an amazing house with room for my new little boy.

And you know what else? I'm still waiting.

This summer it was waiting for school. Ian was unhappy in one school, and he was on the waiting list for another. Would he get into his new school in time for the fall semester? Should I look for other options? Should I take him out of school entirely?

And just when I had relaxed my grasp on the situation and started to trust a bit more in God's plan, we got the call. Ian had gotten into the new school. He loves it. It's a good fit.

And now I'm in another season of waiting. It's a bit complicated to explain here, and I'm not sure that the solution is just around the corner, wrapped up with a neat little bow. This one feels like it has more learning for me......maybe this is a long-haul situation that God is using to make me a bit more like Christ. Hurray? I mean, I want to be like Christ, but gee this is.....uncomfortable. Maybe I'll keep these dragon scales on me a little while longer.

I had some encouragement this week from a friend who was telling me about Habakkuk and how hundreds of years passed before the justice for which he pleaded came to pass. And that made me think about Abraham, who saw what was promised from a distance but did not receive it during his life here on Earth.

So....here I am.....learning again to live with the waiting.

Myopic

Blah-blah-blah, me-me-blah! Blah-blah, blah-blah, me-me-me!
(A little Finding Nemo humor for ya there.)
Photo courtesy of Paul Nicholson.

I've been struggling lately with how self-centered I feel on this blog.

I mean, it's a blog...it's an online diary. It's going to be fairly focused on me, I suppose.

I think to some extent I'm just grumpy and restless because I've been sick off and on for a week. Paul and I had a stomach virus last week. While most of the symptoms only lasted a few hours, I find I'm still battling unusual fatigue. Add to that playing catch-up with housework and taking a quick weekend trip to Chattanooga.....whoo. I'm a tired girl.

Generally I go ino Ecclesiastes mode (everything is meaningless!) after a few days of being sick, so perhaps that is where I am today.

Crazy Little Thing Called.....Um...Not Sure

I hate feelings.

I was a good emotion-bottler for years. But once that stopped working (resulting in, you know, depression and anxiety), I actually had to DEAL with the things.

So for the past few years, I've been really good at analyzing my feelings.

"Let's label this one fear, and put it in that box on the third shelf of the left bookcase."

"Hmm, this one needs some extra work......I think I'm feeling this way because of that thing I read this afternoon...."

People will tell me how "self-aware" I am, but of course I know that it's a coping mechanism. If I can name the emotion and determine the reason for it, I feel in control again.

Tonight I had some unwelcome emotions that really interfered with my evening plans. Out of nowhere I suddenly spiraled into a little bit of crazy. Maybe I just had a long day, or maybe it was hormones. But really, I had no idea. I couldn't name the exact feeling. I didn't know why I was feeling that way.

So I decided that since I couldn't box away the feelings and stack them on a shelf, I would just feel them. So I just sat there. I prayed for peace. I felt what I felt.

And ya know what? I survived. Best of all, I didn't add to my pile of feelings on the bookshelf. I really don't need anything else to take to Goodwill, anyway.

First World Problems?

I'm getting my hair cut later this week. I keep thinking I'll just get a trim.....I like having long-ish hair so I can do all the trendy hairstyles like side braids and sock buns. But then I see my friend S, who has short, wavy hair that looks fabulous, and I think how easy short hair would be.....with short hair, I could just run my fingers through my hair each morning and be ready to go.

Then I think about how slowly my hair grows, how it would take me a year to grow my hair back to shoulder length.....

And then I read this beautiful post from Wild and Precious...perfectly timed for my week.

I urge you to check it out, too, and find out how Blair is using her lovely locks to help rescue women from the sex industry.

That Perfect Decision May Not Be

I tend to get a little obsessed with making good decisions.

When I need to buy something, I research. I look for coupons. I try to find the perfect combination of best product, lowest price, and fastest shipping. I might spend hours trying to figure out which sunscreen to order from which site.

And heavens....if I have more than one item to buy? Especially if I need to buy clothes? That process usually involves spreadsheets.

You see, I fear regrets. I fear not doing the right thing. I fear making a "bad" decision...
Read more »

Fine Lines

I always told myself I would age gracefully. I imagined myself in the future as Helen Mirren or Colleen Dewhurst, content in my wrinkly skin and aware that beauty isn't dependent upon age. Yet increasingly I find myself uncomfortable with the fine lines and blotches appearing on my skin. Being a mom to two boys means less sleep and more sun exposure.

So far I'm okay with my body aging, probably because a rigorous-ish exercise routine means I'm in my best shape since high school. Sure, I have a lovely C-section scar along with some stylish stretch marks, but in general I feel blessed that I have good metabolism and the means to go to the Y.

My face, however.....I guess I just wasn't prepared for the way 32 would look on me. I'm trying to remember my sunscreen and drink more water. I've thought about getting a facial, but some part of me has a fear that professional skin treatments become a slippery slope that ends in Botox (that's the same part of me that's convinced I'll become a hoarder if I don't clean my house every week).

SO, now that you are privy to my secret vanity of the month, tell me -- what is the hardest part of aging for you?

I Can't Protect Him

I haven't wanted to blog much lately, mostly because sitting with my back propped against pillows is no longer comfortable, and thus typing is no longer comfortable.

However, Nancy wrote this beautiful blog post that motivated me to respond and share. Today, November 17, is Prematurity Awareness Day, and Nancy details some of her emotions about having a micropreemie.

Nancy also touched on a topic that has been on my mind for several weeks, one that she and I discussed a little while ago.

I can't protect my child completely.

I can forbid as many activities as I want. Require seatbelts, prohibit riding on ATVs, serve only organic food. I can make tons of rules, reasonable and unreasonable, and I can try to do everything "right," but I can never fully protect my child.

Nancy posits that many parents live in a state of denial about this, thinking that nothing could ever happen to their child. But having a premature baby often makes parents "really, deeply, soul-rendingly aware" of how much is out of our control.

The complications I've been experiencing with this pregnancy definitely started me down this path of awareness, although I won't claim to have the same experience as parents who have watched their babies struggle in the NICU. A recent accident involving a little boy who is a year older than Ian moved me further down the path.... I obsessed about the incident for several days as I struggled with the fact that loving, attentive parents who took their family out for a day of fun had their lives turned upside down.

As a parent, my vulnerability and powerlessness are absolutely terrifying. I mean, that's scary stuff when it just involves me, but once my kid is involved....woah. Thinking about these things truly is heart-rending. The joy and the pain of parenthood combines to make me an absolute mess.

I don't really have a conclusion here for this one. Just observations. And I guess my final observation is that I'm really not in charge. And overall, that's a good thing. I want to take good care of my child, but I'm not supposed to be his Savior, anyway. That position has been filled.

So I guess I'll let him play hockey. But only with pads, a helmet, and a mouthguard. And a full face shield. And only on a cushy, foam surface....

Is the UPS Nightmare Over?

Thanks to some wonderful, responsive UPS employees, I think the issues have been resolved. EvanAtUPS contacted me shortly after my blog post, and a wonderful person named Keyshauna in Accounts Receivable tracked down the problem and emailed the collections agency to let them know I don't owe anything.

I would still be a little wary recommending UPS to any small business considering the time and effort it took for this situation to be resolved. In fact, the resolution this week took several extra days due to an error with their email system [forehead slap]. I was starting to feel like I would never settle this.

However, I will continue occasionally to use UPS for my personal shipping needs, thanks to the diligence of Evan and Keyshauna. You guys have my permission to do so as well.  ;-)

My last lingering fear is that the collection agency won't let this go, even though I saw an email from someone at the agency confirming that the account is now closed. Just to be on the safe side, I am going to send them a letter letting them know UPS and I have settled our differences.

Many thanks to all of you who offered advice and encouragement via Twitter and Facebook. Your support helped me pursue this thing to the end(?).


Case closed? We shall see.

UPS: Bad for Small Business?

During the 2 years I had a small business, I never used UPS for shipping. But somehow, a year after I closed my business, they are giving me a headache.

I opened a UPS account when I first started my retail website, thinking I would use them for shipping. It turned out to be easier for me to just set my website up with the United States Postal Service, so I decided to stick with them and look at adding UPS later. After the birth of my first child, I decided to close my business before I got to the point of expanding shipping options.

I never thought to cancel my UPS account....I just figured it would go inactive eventually, since I never used it. (Christy's Mistake #1).

On May 8, 2010, I received an invoice charging me $55 for shipping, when my business had been closed for 5 months. When I received the invoice, I called UPS to dispute the charge. The shipping document lists a sender in Arizona a receiver in Oregon. I'm in Tennessee. Presumably, one of these other companies should have been charged the shipping costs. I called UPS on May 14, 2010, and spoke to a representative, who told me that she took the charge off of my bill and sent it to the correct customer. She mentioned that it looked like the charge had already been paid, presumably by the correct account.

I received another invoice dated June 19, 2010, with an additional charge of $10.00. Apparently, the shipping cost had been charged to my business debit card. I closed by business bank account in 2009 when I closed my business, so the charge was declined, and I was billed an extra $10 by UPS. I called the UPS customer service number again, and this time I was referred to Accounts Receivable. I spoke to a gentleman in Accounts Receivable who said that the representative to whom I had spoken previously had credited my account for $55.78 but had not applied it to an invoice. The A/R guy said that he would apply the credit to my account and ask that the $10.00 fee be waived. He also said that he would request that my account be canceled, since my business was no longer in operation.

I received a Past Due notice from UPS dated June 29, 2010. The notice listed my account balance as $65.78, so apparently previous attempts to remove this incorrect charge had failed. This time the representative suggested that I fax a letter of authorization to this number, asking that the incorrect charge be billed to another account. The representative also said she would try to fix my account from her end.

I faxed my letter explaining to situation to UPS on July 19. I received a phone call a week or so later from someone at UPS saying they were going to refund the amount to my debit card. Unfortunately, I was shopping with my toddler in Whole Foods at the time, so I found it hard to carry on a conversation. I explained to the UPS representative that my card no longer existed because the business was closed and the account was closed. Thus, they could not refund any charge on my card -- in fact, they never charged my card at all; that's why they added the extra $10 fee! The representative said okay and hung up. I figured if they were wanting to refund my account, everything must be resolved.

And here I must point out Christy's mistakes #2 and #3. I wish, wish, wish, that I had asked the representative if I could call her back at a better time when I could take notes. I wish I had asked UPS to send me a letter stating that my account was clear.

Actually, that brings me to Christy's Mistake #4. I let the whole situation slip from my mind. Of course, that's because in early August I started having pregnancy complications and had to go into the hospital, and then on home bed rest. I was a little distracted. Hope you'll forgive that one.

So imagine my surprise last Thursday when I received a bill from a collections agency for my UPS account. A collections agency? What?! 

I called UPS on Thursday and left a message, and I called again on Friday when I didn't hear anything. The person in Accounts Receivable to whom I spoke said she would have the person who handled the dispute call me back in an hour. I never heard anything.

Today, I called UPS again. The representative to whom I spoke said the person with whom I had that conversation in Whole Foods noted that the card had been refunded and belonged to an ex-employee. The rep today said that I needed to go after the ex-employee who owned that card. Um, no, I was the only employee of my business, and the card was destroyed! The account is closed! I never shipped anything with UPS!.

"Oh, you never shipped anything with UPS? Well, let me check with the people who refunded your card and get back to you tomorrow."

Sigh. Right. Tomorrow.

Just in case, I called my bank to confirm that UPS could not, indeed, refund money to a closed account. They confirmed that UPS tried to do something to my account, but neither a charge nor a refund would be able to take effect on a closed account. 

I've also been trying to call the collections agency to let them know I am disputing this charge, but they aren't particularly apt to answer the phone. I assume they would rather me just pay the charge and leave them alone.

I only have a few more days' patience with UPS. This already has been a five-month journey. I don't know. I guess I should call the Better Business Bureau?

At any rate, I don't recommend UPS for any small business owner. Don't even open an account. You may come to regret it. 

P.S. -- Advice welcome! How do I get UPS to set things right?

Emotionally Needy Kids Toys

A few months ago, my son was playing with a new toy when I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

"I love you!" exclaimed the toy.

Excuse me? This inanimate object claims it loves my son? I don't think so. No, toy, you do not love my son. (Picture Woody from Toy Story - "YOU ARE A TOOOOYYYYY!!!!!!!")

Of course, that's nothing compared to the toy that whimpers when my son doesn't play with it. When the toy is first nudged, it plays some cheerful music. If no further play ensues, the toy yells at my son, "Come here and play!"

And if my son still is uninterested? The toy whimpers. Like a sad puppy.

Eventually, the toy surrenders and mutters, "Good bye." Yes, folks, I seem to have a toy that goes through the stages of grief.

A friend whose child has a different toy from the same company says that their toy mournfully intones, "I'm lonely...."

What gives, toy manufacturers? By creating toys that seem to rely on our children for "happiness," are you transforming our kids into codependent caretakers before they are out of diapers?

What about you guys? Do you have any emotionally needy toys at your house?

Um......

I totally ran out of things to post.

Doh.

Maybe I can't think due to lack of sleep. Right now I'm on meds that I have to take every 6 hours, so I end up being awake at weird times during the night.

I thought about following my "Bedrest Fashion" post with a "Bedrest Beauty" post, but then I realized I really haven't figured out any beauty help yet. My skin is breaking out, my hair is in a permanent state of frizz, and I don't bother to put on makeup most days. Ugh.

I'm pretty sure the answers to my beauty dilemmas are to have my hairstylist from Cognito stop by every few days and straighten my hair, and then get a facial from Magnolia Spa once a week. Totally doable.

Interesting thoughts -- this post from Suburban Turmoil about what kids should call adults. I had this same conversation with Ariana the other day. She and I both grew up calling adults "Miss First Name" until we were school age. However, our husbands think that is an odd hybrid of manners, and prefer "Mrs. Last Name" or just "First Name" with no prefix. But that feels so rude to me! The way culture and upbringing affect ideas of manners are so amusing sometimes.

My dear sisters-in-law kept me busy chatting on Skype today, and that was lovely.

I'm almost done crocheting the blanket for Ian that I started over a year ago, and soon I'll start on a blanket for his little brother. I guess there are a few good things about bed rest.....

Bits & Pieces

-When growing tomatoes, I highly recommend pruning the plants throughout the summer rather than waiting until the end of the summer to do battle with monster tomato plants. Just, ya know, in case you were wondering.

-I'm testing two more products as a BzzAgent. One is Got2B's Smooth Operator hair smoothing serum. I have grown into quite a fan of this product; it is a great 30-second quick fix to smooth my frizzies. I have run out of the sample product, and I think I might have to buy some more. I'm also trying CoverGirl's LashBlast Mascara, and I have been pleasantly surprised! It doesn't run or smudge or flake off, which is saying something considering I'm an emotional pregnant woman dealing with 90-degree heat. I still prefer my Clinique Lash Power since it comes off with warm water, while the LashBlast needs makeup remover. (Disclosure: I received free products and coupons from CoverGirl and Got2B for reviewing their products. And if you want some coupons, let me know in the comments and I'll try to send them to you.)

-(Warning: kinda sad bullet point) I was reading an article about a woman's childbirth experience and came across a quote referring to a group of home birth extremists think that a baby who cannot be born at home should instead die since he or she would not be evolutionarily strong. I may be a little biased, considering my background, but that makes me unspeakably angry.

-And now that I have informed you of that dreadfulness, here is a much happier thing to brighten your day. This video is the best thing on the internet.

It's Time to Move On

I'm so sad about the Gulf Coast right now.

Throughout much of my childhood my family made yearly trips to beaches along the Alabama and Florida coasts, and it tears at my heart to hear that globs of oil are now washing up on those same beaches. At the time, I took those seaside excursions for granted, but now I am realizing how much they meant to me. I can't imagine the heartache experienced by my friends who grew up along those shores.

I've mostly been avoiding news coverage about the oil spill, preferring to remain in a state of denial about the scope of this thing. All those dying animals, the lost jobs, the marred water....not to mention the human lives lost in the initial explosion....it's just too much to take in.

Today I did succumb to looking at the pictures of oil-covered pelicans (warning: not for the tender-hearted). I was grousing to Paul about BP and their evil-ness, and he remarked that he is surprised at all the blame levelled strictly at BP. Why are we boycotting BP stations when this spill could have happened to any of the companies? I mean, yes, BP is handling this terribly as far as I can tell, but need we look at them alone?

Paul's point was that a disaster of this magnitude might cause us to reflect again on our oil dependence and seek ways to free ourselves from it. Instead of boycotting BP stations (and the hard-working, independent owners who run them), why are we not encouraging each other to drive less? Yes, we can send a message to BP, but what about sending a message to the oil industry -- hey, to the whole country -- that it is time to move ahead. It's time to move to a different type of energy.

Now I don't mean to demonize the oil industry here. I have family members who have worked hard for oil companies for decades, and I appreciate the contributions that oil has made to our society and economy. Like it or not, big oil has made the U.S. a prosperous nation. But it's time to move on.

For our part, Paul and I have started discussing whether we want to convert our diesel cars into "greasel" (able to run on peanut/soybean/canola oil). We're also talking about buying an alternatively-powered car like a Nissan Leaf for our next vehicle (whenever we can save up for one -- um, 10 years?). No, it's not a perfect solution - for one thing, to be oil-independent we would need to make sure the electricty powering the car was generated by wind power or some other clean happiness. But this is a step we can take to start moving in a better direction for the future.

One of my strongest feelings about this disaster is powerlessness. Honestly, that's what most of my anger boils down to. Sure, it seems like BP has been twiddling their thumbs and pointing fingers and in general being useless. I think they should be working day and night to find a solution to this while also cleaning the water and rescuing the critters trapped in this mess. (I'm pretty sure the guys who saved Apollo 13 would have solved this by now.) But for all I know, BP could be doing all of those things and just have an ineffective PR department to tell us about them. I don't know.

So for my part, I can pray for the beautiful Gulf Coast, support the groups taking action to help, and look for ways to reduce my own dependence on oil. I don't want this to happen again. I sure hope that one day soon I can head to Gulf Shores and take Paul and Ian on one of those dolphin-sighting cruises that I loved so much as a child. But the odds aren't looking good.

Ugh

Does anybody remember All Summer in A Day by Ray Bradbury?

I feel like the little girl who was locked in a closet and missed the only day of sun. Except, instead of being locked in a closet by my classmates, I was imprisoned by my own busy-ness.

We had that beautiful weekend of sunshine a couple of weeks ago, but I was too busy with grocery shopping and housework to get outside and enjoy the light. I caught about 10 minutes of the gorgeous weather when I took Cameron for a walk on Sunday at dusk, but that was it.

And the gray, rainy, icky days that have followed seem relentless. My mood is slowly turning gray and brooding to match the weather.

I am ready for spring, for the earth and for my heart! I know God has dominion over both of those, so I wait for His grace....

Perspective

Just read a humbling statistic in this article from The Tennessean.

17.5% of Nashville's population lives below the federal poverty line. That means an income of less than $21,834 for a family four.

Stunning.

I spend a considerable amount of mental power figuring out ways our little family of three can save money, and we are privileged to have an income much, much higher than the poverty line.

These thoughts bring to mind several questions for me.

1) How on earth do people make ends meet with an income of less than $21,000? I know that all too often the answer is that the ends just never meet. A lot of these families can't afford basic food and clothing.

2) Where on earth am I spending all of my money? Sometimes I think my mind is in a permanent state of "there will never be enough," when really I am richer than I can possibly imagine.

3) What can I/should I do about this? Do I need to examine my own spending habits? How can I help others in my area?

I am really grateful for the perspective this article has given me. Sometimes I pride myself on frugality, gloating that I clip coupons and choose not to subscribe to cable TV. In truth, I'm not particularly frugal, I just prioritize my luxuries. I can't imagine the daily decisions my fellow Nashvillians must face in trying to provide for their families.

Diving into the Healthcare Debate

So the U.S. healthcare system has some issues. Something needs to change. But what?

I'm pretty lucky as far as insurance and health issues go. I've always had great insurance policies through work or parents or husband, and I don't have any major health issues.

The whole system seems crazy and crooked to an uninitiated person like me, though. For instance, a couple of months ago my insurance company sent me an explanation of benefits regarding my hospital stay around Ian's birth. The hospital sent the insurance company a bill for $20,000 in "hospital incidentals." That's all the EOB said. Hospital incidentals. The insurance company agreed to pay $6,000, and apparently the hospital was satisfied with that.

Wait, what? The hospital took $14,000 less than what they requested? If someone didn't have insurance, would they have had to pay the whole $20,000, since they wouldn't have the bargaining power of the insurance company? Or did the hospital just inflate the numbers to make sure they got the money they wanted, in some sort of paperwork version of a flea market negotiation?

And then there's the fact that so many of my friends have limited insurance options due to pre-existing conditions. A diagnosis of a chronic illness means that these people quake at the thought of a job loss, which would mean loss of insurance coverage or a COBRA policy that costs hundreds (if not thousands) of dollars.

If you want to have a baby? Don't even think about it unless you have a nice, cozy group insurance policy. Well, you can eventually, as long as you sit out the year waiting period. They made it a year in case you decide to let the baby gestate longer JUST TO SWINDLE THE INSURANCE COMPANY.

Plus there's the folks who don't bother with insurance or can't afford it and end up at the emergency room because a) it's the only place that will treat them or b) they let a small problem go untreated and now it's a big problem. I don't care if it's their fault and they should have had insurance and blah blah blah -- as humans, they still deserve treatment, and taxpayers still pay for it.

So things need to be fixed. And I have no idea what needs to happen. Universal health care? Mandatory health care that we can choose, like car insurance? (Although the choice to live isn't exactly like the choice to drive.) More competition among insurance companies? The libertarian Christian in me says the church should be providing health care to those who can't afford it, but that's not particularly realistic. The bleeding heart socialist in me says we should pay for everything for everybody!!!!111!!! (I'm a very confused girl.)

So what do you think? Do you know the solution? Leave me thoughts and links in the comments, but PLEASE play nice. I know this is an emotional topic for some of you.

Oh, and here's thoughts from some other friends:
-Nancy at Life with Our Itty Bitty Baby Girl
-Kat at Just Another Pretty Farce -- Kat has several posts on healthcare, so just browse her blog
-Sarah linked to this article on Facebook, so she gets included