Friday, November 14, 2014
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
skool
My oldest daughter will be turning four at the end of the summer (insert cheesy sentiment about my baby growing up here), so in the fall I have her registered for preschool. In Florida they offer VPK (voluntary preschool...wait, what does the 'K' stand for?) for all four years olds which is paid for by the state. In order to be eligible for the VPK program, the child has to be four by September 1st. Sadie is an August birthday, which would make her the youngest in her class. Warren and I have talked about keeping her in preschool for two years so she will start kindergarten at six rather than five.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Memorial Day Was Over a Week Ago (but we did stuff)
It seems I only blog when I am on a deadline with something else, but haven't quite procrastinated enough to put me into a state of skin scratching panic. I finally decided to apply to finish the last year of my Master's degree (seven years later) and I have less than one week to get my application processed and my admissions essays written, so now is clearly a great time for an update. I started the MSW program at BYU, then social work started to freak me out, then I got married mid-semester in another country, and well, stuff happened and I never finished. Now my credits are about to expire, so it's pee or get off the pot time. All this application doodie has me bewildered as to how on earth I ever had the attention span to apply for college in the first place, much less graduate (with 191 credits thankyouverymuch) and go on to graduate school. I doubt I've done anything but stare at the computer screen and hum for the past six hours, and most of this application is just my name and address.
Pbtpbtpbtpbptpbptpbpt.
Pbt.
Moving on, last week was probably Memorial Day. The chance of rain was something like 80%, so the hubs and I decided to risk it and spend the entire day outside at the zoo, because what's life without risks?
Pbtpbtpbtpbptpbptpbpt.
Pbt.
Moving on, last week was probably Memorial Day. The chance of rain was something like 80%, so the hubs and I decided to risk it and spend the entire day outside at the zoo, because what's life without risks?
This is the part of the day when we took cover under one poncho.
The thing about Florida rain is that it dumps. Always with the dumping. I grew up in Oregon where rain is your constant companion, but not in a pushy, in-your-face way like the rain in Florida. Florida Rain is all, "Hi! What's your name? Do you like bicycles? I have a frog. Do you have a frog? Hey! Let's hold hands. Do you have a best friend? My doll's name is Horse because I like horses. PAY ATTENTION TO ME. PSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH! PSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH! CRACK! BOOM!" And then after everyone is soaked, the just-jumped-in-a-river type of soaked, Florida Rain is like, "Peace out, beeoches."
This is the part of the day when Sadie realized the zoo smells like crap.
And here's how the rest of the day went down.
First item on the agenda was feeding the giraffe a $3 piece of lettuce.
And Sadie celebrated keeping all her extremities intact.
Next, the penguins had one-on-one coaching sessions on How To Be Gangsta.
And then onto the seahorses where we evil laughed at the pregnant males.
We visited the Loch Ness exhibit to talk to Sadie about what happens to little children who throw tantrums.
We learned the proper way to store dead butterflies inside a drawer.
Bailey grieved.
Bailey saved a starving bird's life, who thanked her by biting her finger. But Bailey didn't care because she's like the honey badger.
Joining up with fellow engineers, the girls evaluated cracks in the wall of Australia.
And possible flood risks.
Ultimately, it was decided the safest place was on top of a sewer grate, which was especially disappointing given Sadie's sensitivity to foul smells.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Bitches be Trippin'
I never blogged about the stress over health insurance coverage when I was pregnant with the B. This was during the time I wasn't blogging at all because of my pregnancy laziness. But also because of my general laziness. Typing is So. Hard.
To make a loooooong, so, so very long story short, and to avoid further offending anyone with more swear words, finding coverage for my pregnancy sucked $&%. I had major medical coverage pre-pregnancy, but it was one of those jerk-faced private plans that carried zero maternity coverage. You know, the type of plan you want to steal lunch money from and shove into a locker. When I found out I was pregnant with baby B, I purchased one of those hospital indemnity plans. It didn't cover much, but it did cover something, and it gave me a discount on doctor visits and lab work. This is where I leave out the frustrating parts of when this tiny policy was almost yanked out from underneath me two weeks before my due date because there was a change in underwriters, but I won't bore you with details that don't add anything of value to this particular complain fest.
Fast forward to delivery. I had a baby. She was big and cute and I loved her. Then the hospital bills started piling in (still loved my baby!) and I had to fight with this hospital plan-type insurance to pay what they said they were going to pay. It was a lot of stress and I had to yell at a lot of people. Some people more than once. (I often daydream about how many angry notes were written about me and saved forever in their call records. ahhhh, forever.) I had to call the hospital, the Miracle Doctor (i.e. Super Epidural Man), and the OBGYN separately to collect all the bills needed to submit, find out how much was to be paid to each of them, and make sure there were no billing errors, because do you have any idea how many errors can be found on ONE hospital bill? Oh, the things I have learned about hospital billing. All parties mailed me bills, except my OBGYN. I had my babe in January, bills started coming in February. The last time I had an appointment with my doctor was February 27. I called multiple times in March for a statement and left several messages. I spoke with a few billing agents who told me they had to go through my insurance company first before they could send me a bill because they couldn't tell me what the final amount owed would be. I called in April to request my statement and was told the same answer. I called through the end of April and left several voice mails. No one returned my calls. By this point I had spent so much time and emotional energy fighting for claims to be paid by the insurance company, for corrections in my hospital bills to be made, and to receive statements from the OBGYN that I finally decided if the doctor wanted to be paid, they would call me back. Apart from showing up at their office wearing nothing but Saran Wrap with the words, "Where's my bill?" shaved into my head, I had done everything I felt was my responsibility.
2011 came and went with not a word from the OBGYN. No bill, no Explanation of Benefits, no phone call, silence. Silly me, but I figured since they told me they were working directly with my insurance company, and since they neglected to involve me in the process, or return my calls, that the claim was paid. Oh, no, no, no. Twas' not the case. You see, today, sixteen months after my daughter was born I received a call that I owe $2800.
Here's the run down. The billing lady (whom I will call Cindy because that's her real name) told me she has been working with the insurance company allllll this time, but was told TODAY (only today after sixteen months) that they will not pay the claim because my insurance was canceled as of January 1, 2011 (babe was born last week of January). But my insurance was NOT canceled until February 28th, and if it had been canceled, as she claimed, they would not have paid out on every other claim submitted to them. I followed up with the insurance company who told me that they never received a claim from my doctor's office for the delivery. The last time they had received a claim, or even a phone call, from that office was in November 2010.
UGH.
When I confronted Cindy, she not only claimed to have "proof" that a claim was submitted, but THEN told me she called the hospital about their delivery bill to me and, I'm not kidding, told me that they had informed her that the claim that was paid was then refunded back to the insurance company in the amount of $6600 because my policy had been canceled.
Let's break that down, shall we?
Although I am sure there may be some privacy concerns involved with Cindy calling the hospital to inquire about a bill of mine that had nothing to do with the OBGYN bill, I was more caught up in the intriguing story Cindy tried to pitch me. A story where the hospital submitted a claim to my insurance company, who then accepted the claim, processed the claim, PAID the claim, and then, THEN contacted the hospital months later to say they had made a mistake and could the hospital please refund them $6600, which was $1350 MORE than the company even paid to the hospital in the first place. Oh the romance! The mystery! This is best-seller material. All Cindy needs is one pale, incandescent, abusive vampire and a gentle touch of auto thesaurus, and BAM! Instant success.
Unfortunately, I find much of my validation in crushing the dreams of budding crap young adult novelists and let her in on my little secret. I had spent HOURS and HOURS on the phone at one time in my life learning those hospital bills inside and out and I knew exactly what had been paid and what had been reimbursed. And suddenly Cindy forgot all about her fancy story line and let it slip that she knew the amount refunded back to the insurance company was, in fact, just under $400. But not because my policy had been canceled, as she hoped I would believe, but because my insurance company OVERPAID the hospital this amount. Wasn't that so nice of my insurance company to pay above and beyond on a canceled policy? I take back all the nasty things I've said about health insurance company CEOs. I feel like we should hug out our differences. Or maybe a 90 minute snuggle through the documentary Sicko.
By the end of the day Cindy had spoken to my insurance company and told them she had tried to send them a claim. (Except that her "tried to" means sending it to a wrong address. Never mind that the correct claims address was in my records, but who reads those?)
As it stands now, the insurance company told Cindy to re-submit the claim along with proof that she did try to send in the claim once before. Then it goes through an appeals process where they will determined if, IF, they will pay the claim since it's been over a year since the date of service. When I asked Cindy what happens if the appeal doesn't go through due to the fact that this was not processed in time, she told me, "Then the full bill is your responsibility."
It kind-of seems to me like they dropped the ball big time and don't want to own up to it. Had they submitted the bill to the correct address in the first place, this would have been mostly paid by the hospital indemnity/insurance-like company. But they didn't, and now they want ME to pay the consequences of their mistake.
I don't think so.
I am looking forward to this. It. Is. ON.
To make a loooooong, so, so very long story short, and to avoid further offending anyone with more swear words, finding coverage for my pregnancy sucked $&%. I had major medical coverage pre-pregnancy, but it was one of those jerk-faced private plans that carried zero maternity coverage. You know, the type of plan you want to steal lunch money from and shove into a locker. When I found out I was pregnant with baby B, I purchased one of those hospital indemnity plans. It didn't cover much, but it did cover something, and it gave me a discount on doctor visits and lab work. This is where I leave out the frustrating parts of when this tiny policy was almost yanked out from underneath me two weeks before my due date because there was a change in underwriters, but I won't bore you with details that don't add anything of value to this particular complain fest.
Fast forward to delivery. I had a baby. She was big and cute and I loved her. Then the hospital bills started piling in (still loved my baby!) and I had to fight with this hospital plan-type insurance to pay what they said they were going to pay. It was a lot of stress and I had to yell at a lot of people. Some people more than once. (I often daydream about how many angry notes were written about me and saved forever in their call records. ahhhh, forever.) I had to call the hospital, the Miracle Doctor (i.e. Super Epidural Man), and the OBGYN separately to collect all the bills needed to submit, find out how much was to be paid to each of them, and make sure there were no billing errors, because do you have any idea how many errors can be found on ONE hospital bill? Oh, the things I have learned about hospital billing. All parties mailed me bills, except my OBGYN. I had my babe in January, bills started coming in February. The last time I had an appointment with my doctor was February 27. I called multiple times in March for a statement and left several messages. I spoke with a few billing agents who told me they had to go through my insurance company first before they could send me a bill because they couldn't tell me what the final amount owed would be. I called in April to request my statement and was told the same answer. I called through the end of April and left several voice mails. No one returned my calls. By this point I had spent so much time and emotional energy fighting for claims to be paid by the insurance company, for corrections in my hospital bills to be made, and to receive statements from the OBGYN that I finally decided if the doctor wanted to be paid, they would call me back. Apart from showing up at their office wearing nothing but Saran Wrap with the words, "Where's my bill?" shaved into my head, I had done everything I felt was my responsibility.
2011 came and went with not a word from the OBGYN. No bill, no Explanation of Benefits, no phone call, silence. Silly me, but I figured since they told me they were working directly with my insurance company, and since they neglected to involve me in the process, or return my calls, that the claim was paid. Oh, no, no, no. Twas' not the case. You see, today, sixteen months after my daughter was born I received a call that I owe $2800.
Here's the run down. The billing lady (whom I will call Cindy because that's her real name) told me she has been working with the insurance company allllll this time, but was told TODAY (only today after sixteen months) that they will not pay the claim because my insurance was canceled as of January 1, 2011 (babe was born last week of January). But my insurance was NOT canceled until February 28th, and if it had been canceled, as she claimed, they would not have paid out on every other claim submitted to them. I followed up with the insurance company who told me that they never received a claim from my doctor's office for the delivery. The last time they had received a claim, or even a phone call, from that office was in November 2010.
UGH.
When I confronted Cindy, she not only claimed to have "proof" that a claim was submitted, but THEN told me she called the hospital about their delivery bill to me and, I'm not kidding, told me that they had informed her that the claim that was paid was then refunded back to the insurance company in the amount of $6600 because my policy had been canceled.
Let's break that down, shall we?
Although I am sure there may be some privacy concerns involved with Cindy calling the hospital to inquire about a bill of mine that had nothing to do with the OBGYN bill, I was more caught up in the intriguing story Cindy tried to pitch me. A story where the hospital submitted a claim to my insurance company, who then accepted the claim, processed the claim, PAID the claim, and then, THEN contacted the hospital months later to say they had made a mistake and could the hospital please refund them $6600, which was $1350 MORE than the company even paid to the hospital in the first place. Oh the romance! The mystery! This is best-seller material. All Cindy needs is one pale, incandescent, abusive vampire and a gentle touch of auto thesaurus, and BAM! Instant success.
Unfortunately, I find much of my validation in crushing the dreams of budding crap young adult novelists and let her in on my little secret. I had spent HOURS and HOURS on the phone at one time in my life learning those hospital bills inside and out and I knew exactly what had been paid and what had been reimbursed. And suddenly Cindy forgot all about her fancy story line and let it slip that she knew the amount refunded back to the insurance company was, in fact, just under $400. But not because my policy had been canceled, as she hoped I would believe, but because my insurance company OVERPAID the hospital this amount. Wasn't that so nice of my insurance company to pay above and beyond on a canceled policy? I take back all the nasty things I've said about health insurance company CEOs. I feel like we should hug out our differences. Or maybe a 90 minute snuggle through the documentary Sicko.
By the end of the day Cindy had spoken to my insurance company and told them she had tried to send them a claim. (Except that her "tried to" means sending it to a wrong address. Never mind that the correct claims address was in my records, but who reads those?)
As it stands now, the insurance company told Cindy to re-submit the claim along with proof that she did try to send in the claim once before. Then it goes through an appeals process where they will determined if, IF, they will pay the claim since it's been over a year since the date of service. When I asked Cindy what happens if the appeal doesn't go through due to the fact that this was not processed in time, she told me, "Then the full bill is your responsibility."
It kind-of seems to me like they dropped the ball big time and don't want to own up to it. Had they submitted the bill to the correct address in the first place, this would have been mostly paid by the hospital indemnity/insurance-like company. But they didn't, and now they want ME to pay the consequences of their mistake.
I don't think so.
I am looking forward to this. It. Is. ON.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Neglect Works!
Somtimes (a little more than sometimes) I get a tad preoccupied cleaning my house, which is silly because my house is rarely clean and mostly sticky. What does a clean kitchen floor even look like? It's been so long since I didn't have crumbs all over and some pink substance next to the refridgerator that I have to jump over or else risk getting my feet stuck in for hours. Maybe even days. I've never taken that chance. This afternoon as I was unloading the dishwasher and staring at the cupcake mess all over my kitchen table, willing it to wipe itself clean, I watched my sixteen month old open the pantry cupboard, pull out the box of fishy crackers, walk over to the cupboard where I keep all the kid plates and bowls, take out a little orange IKEA cup, pour herself a desired amount of crackers from the box into the orange cup and confidently walk into the play room with cup in hand to eat her snack. This kid waits for no one.
Now that I am aware of the extent of this kid's independence, I will focus my energies this week on teaching her how to: change her own diaper, wash her own hair, scrub toilets, prepare a delicious chicken teriyaki, and build herself a highly marketable and impressive resume.
But that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now I need to rescue said sixteen month old from the top of the kitchen table where I see she has climbed up and is helping herself to the frosting off of all Sister's princess cupcakes.
Sister is going to be soooooo pissed.
Lesson I learned: If there is ever a nuclear apocalypse and my children are somehow the lone survivers, now I know they can fend for themselves. That's one less thing to worry about, anyway.
HUZZAH.
P.S. When I look at the stats of my blog, I notice there are some perverted lurkers doing their lurking. Does anyone else have this problem? Without going private, is there a way to stop this?
Now that I am aware of the extent of this kid's independence, I will focus my energies this week on teaching her how to: change her own diaper, wash her own hair, scrub toilets, prepare a delicious chicken teriyaki, and build herself a highly marketable and impressive resume.
But that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now I need to rescue said sixteen month old from the top of the kitchen table where I see she has climbed up and is helping herself to the frosting off of all Sister's princess cupcakes.
Sister is going to be soooooo pissed.
Lesson I learned: If there is ever a nuclear apocalypse and my children are somehow the lone survivers, now I know they can fend for themselves. That's one less thing to worry about, anyway.
HUZZAH.
P.S. When I look at the stats of my blog, I notice there are some perverted lurkers doing their lurking. Does anyone else have this problem? Without going private, is there a way to stop this?
Sunday, May 27, 2012
I have a list of posts I've written and have yet to publish. I probably never will. None of them are any good. I haven't felt much inspired lately. When I sit down to write about our days or muse about my children, the words fail me. So I write for myself and let the posts stay saved, never to be published. I am ashamed to admit that most of the time I feel like writing, it's because I'm bothered about something. And no one wants to read constant complaining posts. I won't ramble on now about how homesick I am , or how much I dislike the area we live in, or all the small things that have annoyed me over the years. I think I've hinted enough the few times I have blogged about how I've struggled to be happy since we moved, and how desperately I've longed for home. I've let a lot of small things, I mean a LOT of small things, get under my skin. Things that, honestly, are not important.
Then I recieved some news that brought everything into perspective. Bad news that isn't mine to share. And suddenly those little annoyances that yesterday were the Most. Offensive. Things. Ever. are not a big deal. I see people whom I love dearly struggle with loss, sickness, separation, lonliness. I've spent a lot of time lately remembering when my life and the lives of my friends was carefree, and everyone was, for the most part, happy. Then we all grew up and the other side of life happened. Tragedy, lonliness, terrible news-- crap that sucks happened. When that real crap creeps into life,
Then I recieved some news that brought everything into perspective. Bad news that isn't mine to share. And suddenly those little annoyances that yesterday were the Most. Offensive. Things. Ever. are not a big deal. I see people whom I love dearly struggle with loss, sickness, separation, lonliness. I've spent a lot of time lately remembering when my life and the lives of my friends was carefree, and everyone was, for the most part, happy. Then we all grew up and the other side of life happened. Tragedy, lonliness, terrible news-- crap that sucks happened. When that real crap creeps into life,
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