Last week my two older boys were in a daily morning summer camp so it was just my three year old, Rhett and me on the town.

On Wednesday we were meeting some friends at the park so we went a little early with a large bag of old bread to feed the ducks before play commenced.

Quite honestly I was pretty proud of myself for getting us to the park early and not forgetting the bread.

Rhett started tossing the bread to the ducks.

The ducks looked in our direction.

The ducks examined our offering.

The ducks deemed it not good enough.

The ducks walked away.

Great, ducks with an attitude.

Rhett ran around trying to force-feed them for awhile much to their disgust and I ended up taking a nearly full bag of bread back to the car.

The next day after we dropped the older boys off at camp again I looked down on the minivan floor and saw the bread.  I decided we would go to a different park with different ducks that  might be hungrier…and more appreciative.

On the way to park #2 I was driving on a six lane divided road which came to a complete stop.

What?

Make way for ducklings…a mother duck and two ducklings stopped traffic on both sides of the road to cross to the other side.

*insert modified chicken joke here*

Well, to clarify, there was a lady who risked her life to get those ducks across the street.

It was a impromptu duck parade right through the middle of my home town.

So, we get to the second park and the ducks RAN TO THE CAR TO GREET US.

Finally, some grateful ducks.

Rhett was delighted.  He tore small pieces off of pieces of bread, hot dog buns and old toast.

He threw them high.

He threw them low.

He giggled when he hit the duck beak target.

And then the duck mood changed…

What?

The ducks turned and started running AWAY from us.

The ducks were running away from us.

The ducks were running toward a lady who had come to the park with corn kernels.

And we were left holding a nearly empty bag of bread.

Ingrates.

by Texasholly

The boys are running away tomorrow.

It will certainly be quiet around here.

Their plan was initially to be implemented today, but they realized they would miss robotic camp in the morning if they were gone.

They have carefully packed:  a bucket full of Easter candy, two large bags of chips, a wooden spoon, a sign, a Butterfinger bar…

They started to take water and sodas out of the fridge, but I mentioned that they might get warm by tomorrow afternoon.

They have located a fire engine sleeping bag, a snoopy sleeping bag and several connecting tunnels that will be their shelter.  They are sure to need the blue and white blanket, Teddy, elephant, a folded blanket and an unfolded blanket – both green.

They are running away in protest of harsh living conditions.

And to eat candy.

All the candy we want!

At first it was going to be only the two older boys.

Camping isn’t for babies!

But then I hinted that they might encounter bugs while camping.

Rhett can come too!

They are going to stay up all night.

They are going to do whatever they want.

They are going to eat lots of candy.

The boys are running away tomorrow.

It certainly will be quiet around here…

By Texasholly

We are into week 42 of summer in my head.  In real life it is closer to week 5.

BUT because I am an extremely attentive mother or thrive on cheap and easy entertainment the boys all do about 45 minutes of “schoolwork” prior to any DS, TV or Wii.

It is cruel and unusual around here.

I think of it as my own Mommy Bootcamp.

Ryan(8) is working on reading.  Reid(6) has to catch up on Kindergarten.  Rhett(3)…well, Rhett just needs to be busy so he isn’t launching himself off the top of the fridge testing the theories of flight.

Ryan has protested and protested and protested and protested.  Have I mentioned his gift of perseverance?

Reid floats through his workbooks copying the illustrations and adding his own.  In his world he isn’t bound to proper sequence or completion.

Rhett demands to be treated equally.  Who am I not to comply?

Last time I was at the homeschool store I picked up an early education handwriting book that looked like more fun than work.  He has been working through it alongside his brothers.  He calls the activities “mazes” and tries to negotiate his pencil through the alphabet by staying between the lines.

It occurred to me this morning that I should mention to him WHAT LETTER HE WAS WRITING so that he could learn the alphabet as well.

I am quick like that.

He was working fervently on the letter “P”.

Making a straight line.

Making a half circle.

Rhett, do you know what letter that is?

No.

It is a “P”.

Oh.

Do you know what sound it makes?

POOP!

I couldn’t have been more proud…

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by Texasholly

Today we are in for a treat.

I have arranged an interview with world famous architect, Rhett.

Rhett is a 3 year old architect out of North Texas. His formal training was in other areas (potty training, pedaling a tricycle and book procurement for story time) and is predominantly self-taught in the field of architecture.

His previous architectural achievements have included unique structures created out of non-traditional building materials such as Legos, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and wooden blocks. He is a master at mixed media and demonstrates a creative streak that is unsurpassed.

Thank you Rhett for joining us today.

Hi.

Rhett, can you please show us your latest work?

Here. Look. It is by couch. DON’T KNOCK IT DOWN!

Inspired! What a unconventional take on a modern town. I am impressed with the traffic flow and advanced planning for population congregation.

No. This is family. Here is mom, dad, Ryan, Reid, Rhett (me), Grandma, Grandpa, Mimi, Bampa, Abby (dog), Scooter (cat), Lauren and Baby Benjamin.

Oh! How unexpected. So this one is your mom?

Yes. Mom.

The tall structure with the wide hips?

Yes. Mommy is big.

And the shorter, skinny structure behind it is your dad?

Yes. Mommy LARGE. Daddy MEDIUM. Rhett SMALL.

I am hoping that you are referring to SMALL, MEDIUM and LARGE in a metaphorical sense of their spectrum of influence…

Huh?

This interview is over.

Holly has been doing a lot of thinking. Holly has been doing extensive investigating. Holly finds that the best solution to her problem may be installing one of these:

Holly has decided that a porta-potty, johnnie-on-the-spot, porta-john may be her only option.

She has even decided on a location for her new purchase:

Why would Holly who lives in a lovely suburban neighborhood in a house that could (but doesn’t) have a white picket fence with complete indoor plumbing choose to install a porta-potty?

It might have something to do with the plunger that is permanently attached to Holly’s left arm. Holly’s left arm is tired of plunging. Holly has noticed that she is starting to choose outfits in the morning based on whether they match the plunger attached permanently to her left arm.

Holly is wearing green hoping that her green-wearing karma will overcome her low-flow toilet hating soul.

Holly’s low-flow toilet hating soul is dark, very dark.

Holly’s low-flow toilet hating soul is deep, very deep.

Holly’s low-flow toilet hating soul is attached to a body sporting a plunger as a permanent fixture.

Holly’s low-flow toilets seem to have something against the act of flushing.

Hey low-flow toilets…why are you so anti-flush?

Holly also wonders what is the point of low-flow toilets if she has to attempt flushing them three kazillion times with intermittent plunging. Ironically Coincidentally, that is the exact same decibel (three kazillion) Holly’s voice hits when she hears, “Mommy! The toilet isn’t working!”

So, until Al Gore dedicates his life to plunging Holly’s low-flow toilets or suitable alternatives in the United States of Low-Flow Toilets (US of LF T) are legal, Holly is planning this drastic action.

Holly will no longer allow people to use the INDOOR toilets. Holly will lead them to the OUTDOOR toilet which never needs plunging despite the level of crap.

Holly can only hope that the proximity to the patio of the new porta-potty could encourage its use by a certain Holly’s dog…

by Texasholly

Recently President Obama met with a bunch of super important people from all areas of medicine.  President Obama presented his plan to decrease health care costs by 1.5% per year for the next 10 years.  All the super important people from all areas of medicine smiled and nodded their head.

“No problem!” said the super important people from all areas of medicine.

“We can be more efficient!”  said the super important people from all areas of medicine.

“We can standardize!” said the super important people from all areas of medicine.

“We can focus on quality!” said the super important people from all areas of medicine.

Then there might have been some hugging.

*Holly just shakes her head and tries to get the tune of Kumbaya out of her head*

First off, let’s take a look at efficiency.

I love efficiency!

Being efficient is great.

I am PRO-efficiency.

When you say the word efficient with the words health care it sounds super snazzy.  In fact, it makes me think of empty waiting rooms and smiling receptionists ushering happy patients quickly into curtained rooms filled with medical personnel poised to diagnose and treat.  On your mark, get set…

Hey wait! They aren’t talking about the efficiency of patient care.  They are talking about the efficiency of delivering that care.

Ooops! That image is a little different.  In fact, I have personal experience with this image.  I used to practice Physical Therapy in a clinic that shared a waiting room with a group of physicians.  Most of the doctors saw between 25 and 30 patients a day.  One of the physicians was super-efficient and saw in excess of 80 patients a day.  I remember one day of extreme-efficiency-proficiency where he saw 103! 

Now that is efficient.

The days always started out well.  But if he took an extra minute with one patient it started a domino-effect in the waiting room.  By 11:00 am patients were getting restless, by 1:00 they were getting hungry, by 3:00 they were getting mad and by 5:00 they were in need of waiting room rage intervention.  I seriously considered that I could improve my thriving PT clinic by adding a snack bar and providing anger management seminars.

But MY doctor would never consider seeing 103 patients in a day! Yep.  You are right.  Most physicians would never consider a schedule that extreme, yet they have found themselves in a world of ever-reducing-reimbursements.  Over the last few years they have had to work more and more to make less and less.   For years they have exploited efficiency as a manner of survival.

Oh, you mean they know about efficiency?

Crap!

Maybe someone should tell President Obama and all the super important people from all areas of medicine.

“Hey!  Even without efficiency, we still have quality and standardization!  The savings from those areas should be MORE than enough to cover 1.5% per year for the next 10 years!” yell President Obama and all the super important people from all areas of medicine at Holly.

Huh?

Let’s get something straight.  There are two ways to cut health care costs:

1.  Reduce what is paid to health care providers.

2.  Limit patient access to health care patients.

Ewww!  I don’t like either of those choices, but if I have to choose then I pick #1.

And this is where it is a good idea to go find a doctor that will see 103 patients a day because it is getting to the point where physicians who are not maximizing their extreme-efficiency-potential are throwing in the towel.  They are throwing away 7-13 YEARS of a post-graduate educational investment because it is not worth the trouble.  It is not worth the trouble to incur the overwhelming workload, the stress and liability of seeing more patients, doing more paperwork and interacting with an increasing number of super important people from all areas of medicine who don’t have a clue.

Which is how choice #1 turns into choice #2…

If there is LESS availability of health care, there is LESS access to it.

Oh!  and here is the super cool part.  If there if there is no doctor to do what YOU need done, then no one has to say NO.

President Obama and the super important people from all areas of medicine don’t like to say NO!

No is such an ugly word.

Let’s hug. ]]> http://smartgirlnation.com/2009/05/health-care-kumbaya-2/feed/ 0 http://smartgirlnation.com/2009/05/mr-potatocroc/ http://smartgirlnation.com/2009/05/mr-potatocroc/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 01:28:55 +0000 TexasHolly http://smartgirlnation.com/?p=1558 by Texasholly

For some reason, probably due to a lack of distractions, the minivan has become the place for conversation. My three boys feel free to express opinions and pelt me with questions whenever we are in the car.

Often they carry on conversations between themselves and when I try to interject something it is met with a trio of “MOM! We are talking!” It is super cute and I might admit to tormenting them just a little because they deserve it.

They have been a little obsessed with the whole boy-girl thing. We have had discussions about why girls don’t spend the night at our house. We have had further discussions as to the girls exempt from this rule, i.e. cousins, mommies, grandmas, aunts, babysitters, etc. And even further discussions revolving around what happens in families that have SISTERS.

SISTERS has been a hot topic in the van with many questions revolving around who has sisters, what sisters are like and how weird it would be to have one. The boys are in the ewww-y girl stage so usually this conversation degrades into one of them calling the other one a girl and defensive screaming ensues in stereo.

Reid (5): Mommy, can a boy have a sister?

Me: Of course, many families have both brothers and sisters.

Can a boy marry his sister?

No honey, brothers and sisters can’t marry.

Why not?

It is complicated, but it is better to find a wife you are not related to…

Ryan (7), interrupting: It is because they are from the same family and have the same germs.

They have the same germs.

I don’t know why I interject my opinion. They figure these things out pretty well on their own.

Over the last few weeks I have had the pleasure of watching a genius of marketing in action.

This marketing wizard has taken something that was unwanted, unnoticed and shunned and through grassroots advertising vaulted it into a must have in mere days.

A must have.

In mere days.

Because I have three kids I usually have things lined up 1, 2, 3. For instance, at the table they sit in descending age order.

They are easier to organize this way.

Lunches, drinks, baths, books, desserts, snacks, car position, sleeping position, laundry, haircuts, etc., etc., etc. all are arranged by age so I can remember who belongs to what.

Simple system.

Effective system.

I occasionally have to deal with the “I want to be first!” or “I want to be last!” but for the most part we just go 1, 2, 3. The end.

Well, not really the end because about a week ago my youngest, Rhett(3) decided he wanted to have the middle drink when I was pouring milk at breakfast.

Let’s review that he is #3. He should be last and occasionally first.

Then he wanted the middle drink at lunch.

Then he wanted to sit in the middle in the tub.

And now he is in full press mode for the middle of anything, anywhere, anyhow.

The middle is the best.

He will only settle for the middle.

Well, boys 1 and 2 have been watching this. And guess what?

The middle is now where it is at.

I pour milk to choruses of “I want the middle one!”

Everyone is jockeying for the middle of anything, anywhere, anyhow.

And I am in the middle of the war.

Stuck in the middle.

I guess the next step is obvious. I am going to enlist his help in marketing vegetables, homework and clean rooms to the other two.

And after that you might just see him on TV selling the Sham-Wow…

I am a people watcher. I love sitting in a public place and observing others. One of my favorite observations is how people protect their personal space.

For instance, in an elevator everyone stands equidistant from each other:

Sometimes I like to mess with the elevator people a bit by shifting my position ever so slightly as to create imbalance and watch the subconscious chaos ensue.

Obviously karma has been watching my shenanigans (Wow, I don’t think I have ever used that word before. Kinda wacky.) because my off-spring have an entirely different take on the elevator scene.

Let me state right now that I don’t let my children ride elevators by themselves so this is purely hypothetical:

I have noticed this phenomenon at home.

Where ever I am the room is completely imbalanced.

Where ever I walk it is crowded.

Where ever I pee it is accompanied.

What a huge waste of square footage.

I am selling the house and moving into the minivan.

At least there they are strapped in an equidistant formation…