A Magnificat for Tired Moms

My messy house proclaims the greatness of the Lord

My children’s bellies rejoice in slow cooker, our savior.

For one meal this tired, lowly servant rested.

Henceforth all ages will call me mom or mama or mommy

or some variation thereof.

The dishwasher has done great things for me

And holey be its watery jets.

Naptimes have mercy on all who take them,

For every generation fears mama’s cranky wrath.

Holding babies has shown the strength of my arm,

But nursing has scattered my brain.

Among other things I also clean the porcelain throne.

To do so, I have lifted up the seat.

My bank account was once filled with good things,

But my gas tank, growing children, ballet class, tuition, a family vacation and buying in bulk have rendered it empty.

But God has come to the help of his servant, this tired mom,

For the husband has remembered to throw out the trash and do recycling,

The promise mentioned “between the lines” on our wedding day,

To me and our future family forever.

Glory be to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,

Please God grant me the grace to do this another day,

And don’t strike me dead for writing this.  Amen.

Tired moms, what does your Magnificat say?

A Covered California Nightmare

Do you think that all the negative speculation over how bad California’s new, affordable health insurance exchange, Covered California is, is exaggerated?

If it is anything like how Covered CA’s current call centers are operating then be very, very afraid.

The following is a true story about one woman who did everything the call center operators told her to do.  That woman was me.

It all began on the website.  I clicked that nice, friendly looking, “Start here” button and filled out the application.  When I submitted I got this message:

            “Congratulations!  You qualified for $0 per month in premium assistance.”

Wait.  That meant that I didn’t get any help, right?  So why was I being congratulated again? I double-checked their scale and our income and household size met their criteria, so what was the problem?

Commence call number one, which, of course meant a “higher than average” wait time.  When I got a real person on the phone I asked why I didn’t qualify for assistance when I met the criteria.

            “You need to fax your husband’s paycheck stubs.”

Okay.  So I did.  And didn’t hear from them.

I called back a week later to ask if they received my fax.

            “Our fax machine has been broken. You need to send it to the PO box.”

Okay.  So I did.  And didn’t hear from them.

Call three.  Did they receive the paycheck stubs?

           

“Ma’am we have no way of knowing.  We are a call center in Fresno and that P.O Box is in West Sacramento.  We don’t know if anyone is taking care of that and they aren’t really telling us anything.”

So what should I do?  “Call back.”

Okay.  So I did.

This time though, I got someone who knew what she was doing.  Her name was Lwanda and she was very friendly. 

She said:

“You didn’t need to fax or mail your paycheck stubs in.  That was the old system,” (that ancient system of a couple of weeks ago) “Now we have a new system where you can just scan your stubs in.”  In short, I wasted my time following instructions.

She also educated me on peculiar facts about the application process such as how the plan was linked to the primary tax filer and if I wasn’t listed as the primary (which I am not – my husband is) the system would not allow me to pick a plan.

So Lwanda “fixed” my application so we could proceed.

Except that we didn’t pick a plan during that phone call because poor Lwanda was using a PC and the great state of California has chosen Internet Explorer as their browser, which means that each page takes two minutes to load.  And finally, Lwanda made a great discover on my behalf (drumroll): there was a glitch in the system.   A glitch.  A single technology error that stood between me and a Covered CA plan.  I bet you didn’t see that coming.  Oh wait, yes, you probably did.

The good news: I do actually qualify for aid!  The bad news: I’m going to have to start all over again and submit a new application.

Either that or wait a week for someone at the “help” desk to stumble upon Lwanda’s message about my glitch issue and actually drudge up the energy to do something about it. Yeah.  Not going to happen.

Remind me again how universal healthcare, if it’s run like this, is supposed to help me?  I’m very, very afraid.

What ending befits this story?  Only this: a letter I just received from them today that cheerfully reads (due to the aforementioned glitch):

           

“Congratulations!  You qualify for up to $0 per month premium assistance.”

Wonderful. So congratulate me.  Not only do I not get any tax credit assistance but I also get a Covered California nightmare to go with it.    

And the Mom of the Year Award Goes to..

And the Mom of the Year Award Goes To…

I believe a standing ovation is in order.

One befitting the scenario on that morning. Picture it:  one little girl crossing the threshold into her kindergarten classroom, her mother behind her.

Just as she is turning around to make a scene again, her expressionless mother closes the door on her.

And holds it there. 

Not this time.  Sorry, kid.  It’s time to go to school.

There’s no noise, no wailing or screaming.  (I guess the torture devices are not there that day). After a few moments, the pressure against the other side of the door stops.  

It’s safe.  The same expressionless mom scampers away before girl can run out after her.

“It’s all rainbows and sunshine and unicorns once you are gone.” That’s what the teacher said after last week’s meltdown.  All “rainbows and sunshine and unicorns,” after the flood of tears and the pleadings for mommy not to go.  A completely different girl once I left, apparently.

So no, sir, I don’t feel bad about standing on one side of the door and holding it shut while the girl stood on the other side trying to push it open and run out.

When I pick her up I ask cheerfully, “So, honey, how was your day.”  Bubbly girl replies, “I had fun, mama!”

Of course she did.

But wait!  There’s more! Fast-forward to later that same night. 

Who is that?  Why, it’s my little girl who is volunteering to set the table for the whole family.  And she is singing while she does it.  She’s singing “My Country Tis of Thee” no less, and making up her own lyrics to the tune.

I observe, “Sweetie!  How wonderful of you!  You’re such a big, helpful girl!”

“I am a big girl, mama! I go to school!” she says. 

So I guess the old “caged animal” approach to education does work.  True story.

And the mom of the year award goes to…not me.  But you are now free to give me a standing ovation.  Do you have any “mom of the year” award moments from the past week or month to share?