Missing the point

So the issue du jour is healthcare reform. I watched Obama's press conference, and although I am willing to see what happens, I think the administration, and many others, are missing the point of the whole problem with healthcare.

The problem with healthcare is not healthcare itself. It is with insurance. The problem is not that there are too many people who don't have insurance. The problem is with insurance companies being profit driven entities whose sole concern is the stockholder and nothing more. Take away insurance as an issue, and you will have a solution. What?

Okay, look at it like this. Consider your average doctor who works in his/her own small practice. What's the biggest complaint you'll hear of from those doctors? Malpractice insurance. With increasing costs being passed from the insurance companies (which aren't a true reflection of of what it really costs to pay for healthcare) to doctors, they pay higher costs each year and pass the cost on to the patients.

In addition to those costs, they also have to pay for: staff, supplies, equipment, and unless they are buying the building in which their practice is located, rent for the space. Oh, and if he/she employs a staff (I've never seen a doctor without a nurse, have you?), there's a good chance he/she is paying for them to have medical insurance as well. But the doctor is also paying for the leasing company to also have insurance, and he is also indirectly paying the makers of the medical supplies and equipment to have insurance as well. The result of this, as for everyone else, is increase of cost, with little to gain in the bottom line. The largest beneficiary of this structure is who? The insurance company, its executives, and of course, the stockholders.

On the one hand, one (such as my father) could argue that an insurance company is not a charity, but that they do help people. Right. If we dig back into history a few hundred years, we will see that insurance first began in the New World through the slave trade. Nervous slave traders were losing many of their "properties," and to insure that they did not lose any more money than what they pay through a premium, they took out insurance through most famously Llloyd's of London against their stock, in the event that any slaves were lost. Hardly a benevolent start, eh? It was rooted in an amoral practice and under the guise of helping those in need, has continued to prosper in the past 400 years.

So let's just say we take insurance away. The publicly traded insurance companies are forced into selling off their assets back to the government through a government buyout, which effectively eliminates insurance companies all together. The stockholders trade their stock for T-Bills, and you have one cost offsetting another (in theory, although I'm no expert on this, but it could work).

So in our minds, you ask, so who pays for healthcare? You do, but at a significantly lower price. After all, the most expensive and detrimental variable for this country has been all but destroyed.

So what then? Well, what if you could walk into a doctor and tell them of your symptoms, and they tell you that a strep test costs $10 (even then, it costs even less than that), and the visit to see the doctor or nurse practicioner costs $10. Would you pay $20? If you say no, then it also means that you wouldn't pay a $20 copay, which I'm betting you most gladly would. It's just a changing of the mindset. But this is literally how it is done in other countries.

I've heard the argument that the country is too big for there to be a national healthcare system. But, if applied at the office level, it doesn't matter how big the country is. In this case, the government doesn't have to run the system. If competition in the market is allowed to play out, doctors would be forced to keep their rates lower and government wouldn't have to intervene. They could, perhaps, still provide assistance in the same way that food stamps work for those whose incomes fall below a certain level, but by and large, they wouldn't have to regulate it or pay for the new system.

So as I sat and watched, I grew increasingly frustrated and began to think about this in a little more depth. Until the way we operate is fundamentally changed, removing profit from insurance, or eliminating health insurance companies completely, there will be no real fix, and our country will sink further and further down.

Get the point?

Passion

Back in 2001, I was laid off at my first job, which, in retrospect, was a blessing. At the time, however, my world crumbled. Granted, I didn't enjoy what I did, but I enjoyed the steady paycheck, and the idea that I was at the precipice of financial greatness. In one swift meeting on a Monday afternoon, all of that was taken away from me. And so it was that job hunting became a full time job.

One afternoon, I sat in B's bedroom looking and applying for jobs online. I had Oprah on, and coincidentally, it was about finding your passion in your work. To live a happy life, O asserted, you must follow your passion.

Eventually, within a year, I began the path that led to my passion, and I was lucky. The job I found was not anything I wanted to do as a career, but it was a job that was flexible enough for me to be able to go to grad school and pursue teaching as my career and passion. (I was also able to work on long papers that appeared to be copy, which came in very handy, especially at the end of my program when my final project was due.) I have loved it ever since. There are ups and downs, but they are all tolerable because I love what I do.

My husband, however, does not have passion for what he does. In fact, he's unhappy and wants to quit. We have gone through the troubleshooting sessions where we examine what his boss does, how he reacts, etc, but really, his boss just isn't a good manager, and it makes B very unhappy, which makes me unhappy. What to do?

I want to tell him that he needs to find his passion. But does he really? Have we all been sold this idea that the key to true happiness is a passionate job? Does your passion really have to be your work? And if it is, then sometimes, isn't it even more difficult to find balance in your life when everything in life is about work? I love what I do, but I have been known to work until after 10 on lesson planning and looking for just the right materials for my kids, and no, that is not exactly healthy. But, it's my passion.

I've recently started to think that having passion can be in areas other than in work. It's lucky to love what you do, but is love for what you do totally necessary? Do all successful engineers love their work? Did Neil Armstrong really love what he did, or did he just happen to have this opportunity given to him, and he took it? Does it really matter?

When I was in London, I observed many things. I am an introvert, but I notice many details about people and the way they behave. In particular, of all things, I noticed the janitors on the streets in London.

On Saturday in Trafalgar Square, there was a huge gay pride festival that lasted all day. B and I went to get food a few blocks away from the mayhem. When we left the hotel, the place had been trashed. Wrappers and empty bottles littered the streets and the stench of urine permeated my pregnant senses. I was glad to walk away. But when we returned, something interesting had happened. The whole square was clean. All of the trash was bagged up and swept away, and in the midst of the cleaning were the janitors doing their job on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and they were doing a fantastic job of it. I looked closely at the man nearest to me to see his facial expression. Was he pissed about the trash everywhere? Was he unhappy that his day was taken away from him? No. He appeared to be absolutely fine. He had a job to do, and was doing it, and doing it well. Had this happened in New York, I know he would have been cursing under his breath with a grimace that would make anyone shiver. But what's wrong with this guy? How could he be okay with cleaning up other people's trash and urine? It's surely not his passion, is it? Probably not. But, does it really matter?

Somehow in the past decade or more, we Americans have been sold on the idea that we have to follow our passion when it comes to work. And many of us have bought it and allowed its absence to make us miserable.

Tonight B and I had another long talk about his job. I had no real answers for him, and I confided that I had looked for jobs for him today. I also added a twist to the whole discussion. I looked at him and said, "You know, your job doesn't have to be your passion. You can be passionate about other things in your life, like traveling, food, family..." he said, "I know." I went on to add that he had a new passion coming in January (our child). His eyes lit up and he said, "I know. I just don't want to be unhappy at my job." Well, I can' t fix that, but maybe if we change perspective on this, the job won't matter as much, and maintaining the other passions will.

Because really, life isn't about work. Life is about life, and work simply pays for it. If you happen to love what you do, then great. If not, that's okay too.

The first step of many

Being a teacher in a good area of the city has its advantages, and of course, its drawbacks. The advantages are that you get the inside scoop on many aspects of the area, including good restaurants, and of course good schools. Here, as with any place, what you see is not necessarily what you get, so having inside knowledge of a place, or having good word of mouth, is a good thing. Interestingly, that can have its drawbacks too.

Once my baby turns two, I know where he/she will go to pre-school. There is a school not too far from my work that has an excellent reputation, is NAEYC, and everyone loves it. So for that part of her/his life, I know what I will do, as long as we don't move away.

It's the 3 months to two years that are causing a slight problem for me. Where to send my (okay, our) baby where I will feel as though the staff a) cares, b) is competent, and c) is doing things that are in my child's best interest. I know that that's how a good teacher should be, but I also know that's not always the case.

Not working is not an option. Although B makes a good living, I want to keep working and feeling my own sense of accomplishment. There is empowerment that comes from making your own money, and not having to depend on someone else to say, buy a coffee, if I like. So, I am looking at daycare.

A teacher/friend of mind sends her child to a church across the street. I use the word church lightly, because, in my mind, it is not a church. It's a business. They have staff accountants who make as much as my husband. I just don't picture humble little churches with the ability to pay what they do. In addition, they also have a arena for their church services, large screen TVs for viewing in the wings, in case you can't see anything inside, and oh, a profit-making coffee bar. It makes my 375 year old church look like a shack. This is why I say it's not a church.

There's another problem: despite my grievances about the church itself, the school is actually supposed to be very good. I never wanted to even look at this place because of my opposition to their principles, but upon researching other local daycares, I decided to suck up my principles and pride and make an appointment with them. The girl with whom I spoke sounded very kind and genuine, unlike another lady from another place, who sounded like quite the salesperson.

I never envisioned myself using this "church" for caring for my child, but I do know a few people who have said it's good, so I may just have to bite the bullet and do it. The best part: it's right across the street from where I work, less than a mile away, so if I need to, I can get over there as quickly as possible. Short of actually being able to be at home, I don't think that's too shabby.

Parenthood (as far as I've heard) brings us many opportunities to do many things we never thought we would in a million years, for better or worse. So I just consider this my first step of many where I will have to bite the bullet and suck it up.

Reflections

On Friday, July 10th, B and I arrived safely at home after a 10 day trip overseas. Destinations: London and Paris. Although I have many thoughts on our trip, I will try to keep this first blog brief.

So, what's it like overseas?

Well, it depends on where you are, but wherever you go, it's important to remember that you are on their turf, and the local people are in no way bound to our preferred way of doing things. I think this is where many Americans confuse rudeness with cultural differences.

Case in point: lines.

Now, in Great Britain, the British are very fussy about lining or "queueing" up properly. As B and I stood outside of one of the buildings at the Tower of London to see the crown jewels, a "beefeater" came along and told us to straighten up our messy queue. We all did so accordingly, and everything went along as usual. Would it be this way in France?

France:

Look closely at this picture.

Notice the road leading out to the intersection. What's missing? Well, there are four lanes on each side for the right and left lane, but can you see any lines on the road? You should say "no," because there aren't, at least not until you're supposed to turn. And this epitomizes how the French are.

As soon as B and I were in France, despite the immediacy of our sightseeing, we felt what we did not feel in Great Britain: relaxed. And c'est la vie pour les Francaises.

It didn't come without any adjustment on our part, of course. While viewing all of the works of art and past kings' architectural triumphs, we had to get used to the idea that there really was no order to viewing things in a museum. There really are no lines, unless you are waiting to go into the museum. In all other cases, there is no first or second place. Everyone is in it together, for better or worse. And if others are moving more slowly, so be it. Just go around, and no one thinks the lesser of you for doing it. Here, that's considered impatient.

Here in the states, when looking at art, visitors take special precaution not to interfere with others' views, which can also make getting through a whole museum either a very fast paced visit, or a visit where a feeling of un-fulfillment comes from not getting to see everything as you'd like, with careful consideration and reflection. Thankfully, because of this adjustment, I was able to get up close and personal with some of the world's greatest works of art, including the Mona Lisa.

Speaking of the Mona Lisa. Before I came to the Louvre, I was told about his disappointing the painting it was; how small and simple it really was. So I was fully prepared to see a painting that was literally one foot by one foot. How surprised I was when I actually saw it. Unlike many others, I was captivated by her. She held my gaze and I fully understood the mystery behind her cryptic smile. I would have stood there longer were it not for the others who also were trying to get up close to her, so after a few minutes of examining the famous portrait, I moved on, in a daze. For others, disappointing, but for me, captivating.

Eating in France

Although I was excited to go and see (or as the French say, "watch,") the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, etc, I was mostly excited about the food. B and I knew it would be good, and we were not disappointed.

There was one thing that surprised me, and also dispelled a stereotype that I had often heard, that the French eat more slowly and take their time with their food. Well, after having sat by many local Parisians, I have to say that that is categorically false. They may take more time for the overall dining experience, to sit and relax, BUT, when it comes to actually eating the meal, they are no slower than your typical American, and we ate at a local neighborhood cafe, surrounded by area residents.

In one instance, two men sat down to have burgers (eaten with a knife and fork) and Cokes (no kidding). They WOLFED their food down. I was astounded by the speed and brevity of their meal. In no less than twenty minutes had they had wine, Coke, burgers and paid for their meals. Perhaps they were meeting up with friends, but they most certainly were not about to take their time and enjoy the overall dining experience. Stereotype, shattered. I will say, though, that the older Parisians did eat slower, so perhaps it's a generational change that's come about. I can't imagine that the stereotype appeared out of nowhere.

All in all, I loved France. Life is different over there, but I also think we could learn a few things from how they live. And really, no America does not do it the best. We just do it differently, and there's nothing wrong with either side of the coin.

Just can't wait

My sister and her kids came for a long weekend and they just left. I am sad to see them go, but I am also excited about what lies ahead for me and B.

Over the past few days we took the kids to various beaches in the area. The furthest one was an hour and a half away in the Outer Banks. Although I was not the biggest of hits to the littlest one, who is one and a half and really only wants momma, I can say for sure that B was a big hit with the boys.

He took my middle nephew out into the water and tossed him all around (wish I could, but my doc says no). When the littlest one saw him approaching, he would yell out "Ba ba!" and nothing made me happier to see that he was very well loved by all of the kids. Seeing him with a child perched on his hip just made me even more excited about our future.

To be sure, we heard enough blood curdling screams from the baby and C, and we know it will be hard, but I want it all. I want that, the messes, the joy, the laughs, the growth, everything.

I am now sitting in a quiet house as they make their way out to see some friends before heading back to Northern Virginia. The quiet is nice, but I also enjoy the sound of kids playing and laughing. I don't think anyone enjoys hearing a child cry, so I can't say I will miss that, but I will miss them, my sister included.

I am hoping that we can do this again next summer, only maybe next time we'll just rent a house in the Outer Banks and let everyone come and stay for the week.

One can only hope.

Water

I just thought I would post this in case anyone is reading this.

Please do not buy bottled water.

It's not just because of the plastic that's used, or the landfills that are filled because of them, despite recycling availability. It's because of the companies that are diverting drinking water in countries around the world for bottling water, a natural and free resource. The countries whose people cannot afford water tablets to make their drinking water safe are having their water taken away, and it's happening here in the United States too. Nestle, Coca Cola Co. and PepsiCo are all guilty of these practices. Water cannot be privatized. We need water to survive.

Please watch Flow: For the Love of Water for more information. I am in no way linked to the makers of the documentary, but I think everyone should see it.

Thanks

Nothing ventured

As you know, I am pregnant. What you may not know is that in three days my sister and her three kids are coming in town to stay with me. After she leaves, we are heading off to London and Paris! My dad is house-sitting while we are gone. These all sound good, except for one thing: I need a clean house for them to stay in. Does the pregnant lady want to expend all of her precious energy, which she is trying to store up for the next two weeks, on cleaning the whole house from top to bottom? I think not.

So on Friday I called up a local maid service and scheduled them to come to our house. I initially thought I wouldn't even tell B about it because a) I was going to do it anyway and b) I know how much he dislikes the idea of a maid. Eventually, I changed my mind, and on Sunday I told him.

He was at first in shock, and then he said he was walking away. So a few hours pass and I decide to make dinner (spaghetti carbonara). We sit down to eat, and he says he would like to talk. I agree, thinking that we'll talk about our trip. At first he starts off by asking what the maids will be cleaning. I tell him that they will be cleaning everything from top to bottom. He looks at me and says, "You know I'm not happy about this maid coming to the house." I looked back at him and said, "I know, but I'm doing this for me."

He then goes on to say that having a maid is lazy and pathetic, which then sent me into a dizzying spiral of unhappiness as memories of other people calling me lazy and pathetic crept back into the forefront of my mind. After he said this, I asked him if he was sure he was saying that I was lazy and pathetic. I figure he deserves a chance to take it back. Unfortunately he did not recognize this chance to save himself, and he said, "well, yes, it is lazy and pathetic." So, I got up and told him that my lazy and pathetic ass would be doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen now, if he didn't mind. I then broke into a full-fledged crying fest as I noisily cleaned the dishes.

So, the argument continued after he walked away and I finished up with the kitchen and sat down at the computer, still crying, still upset with him. I know I'm hormonal, but I know I didn't deserve that.

He came into the office where I sat, plopped himself on the sofa and just looked at me, as if he's challenging me to continue. So I ignored him and continued with what I was doing. Eventually I looked back at him and asked him, "Do you have something to say?" He shook his head and said, "I don't know where to go from here." I let him know that his words hurt me. He apologized, and then went on to defend why he disliked the idea of a maid. And it had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with him.

He dislikes the idea because he thinks it reflects poorly on him; that he will be seen as too lazy to clean up his own house. Interestingly enough, the most I can usually get him to do is to vacuum, take out the trash and occasionally help out with dishes. That's it. Once in a while (every six months) he will take it upon himself to clean our impossibly designed shower (did the designers think about how someone would have to clean it at some point?). So really, he was embarrassed at his own shortcomings. I, however, recognize our own faults, am able to look down the road and see that I will need energy for our trip and my family, and work to find a solution. And the solution is embarrassing to him.

We continued on with our discussion, and he continued to tell me how he didn't like it. I informed him that no matter how much he disliked it, I was still doing it, for me, and that it had nothing to do with him.

Granted, it's not exactly respectful to do something that you know someone else hates, but I made the point that while he did not respect my reasons for having a cleaning service, I, in turn did not respect his wish to not have the maid to come at all; therefore, the maids were coming, like it or not. I am paying for it, he is not.

After a while, B finally put his private belongings away in the bedroom and conceded to letting them clean the bedroom.

As I sit here and type, I hear a woman busily scrubbing the kitchen counter and know that when they are all done, my whole house will be sparkling clean, and that will last for a good long while. I am also happy that I held my ground and did not give in.

Some things are just too important to give in on, and yes, my energy and well being are too important right now.

How to know when a kid has too much

Today I saw something that I never, in my wildest imagination, thought I would see at my school. As I left the school I saw a group of blue baseball uniform-clad 8 and 9 year olds standing in front of the school, surrounded by their moms with cameras saving each moment of this day. I could tell they were waiting on something. It was obvious that the moms had driven the kids up to the school as their cars were parked each and every way in the lot.

As I made my way around the kids and parents, I looked down the road and saw what they were waiting for. Its white metal and glistening chrome grill plowed its way down the street and pulled in front of the school. What was this white beast? A Hummer. A stretch Hummer. Those Hummers you see for weddings and proms, and the occasional New Year's party. That is what was picking up the kids to go their Little League tournament. A Hummer.

I wonder: is there any part of the moms involved in this grand scheme that wondered about the audacity and total ridiculousness of this spectacle? What Little League team needs to be picked up in a stretch Hummer? And quite frankly, when those boys are older, what will they do for their prom dates and weddings? Seriously!

Do they realize they are setting the bar impossibly high? It is for reasons such as this that I really don't even feel like trying to get the kids anything nice, because many times it never feels truly appreciated. I mean, come on, I can give gift cards to the kids for reading 15 Newbery novels in 4 months, but that's nothing compared to getting a ride in a stretch Hummer.

And really, that problem is only minor compared to what the parents are actually doing to those kids. Sure, we want kids to be happy and to have what they want, but did any of these kids say, "Mom, I want a stretch Hummer?" No, I doubt it. But did those poor unwitting parents plant the seed that will bear the fruit of ungrateful behavior in the future? You bet.

Here's the other part of this that I see as impossibly stupid: all of the parents drove the kids to the school to get in this Hummer. So not only did they use the gas and CO2 to get to the school, with the kids in tow, they opted to waste a shitload of money on a Hummer, and to use one of the most environmentally offensive vehicles in existence, simply for their own vainglory.

I love where I work, but really, sometimes I feel like I work in la-la-land. And this is a public school!

There's one other thing, too. I was raised in an upper-class family, although I had no idea we were upper class at the time, and my parents made sure we weren't aware of it. Although I pretty much had every toy known to Hasbro packed away in my room, I was also raised not to flaunt or brag about money. My parents never drove imported European cars. They drove Pontiacs because they were friends with a local dealer. To overtly show your money means that you are "new money," and were not raised with any class. Part of my outrage over this also stirs my own upbringing that says that to do such things is tacky and low-class. I also think you don't have to have money to know these things. I think no matter who you are, or how much money you make, flaunting it is tacky.

Am I showing my southernness here? Any southerner knows the difference between a redneck with money and a southerner with money. One is screaming and yelling and driving Hummers while the other has her grandmother's silver tucked away in a pantry for her own children to use in years to come, and hopefully it's all monogrammed (I love monogramming).

So I suppose on many levels, I am simply offended.

Newsie news

It's strange how what wives and husbands choose to communicate can be entirely different, and the timing of what they choose to communicate can be vastly different from one another. 

So I'll share my news because those who are reading this who know me, likely already know. For those of you who don't know me, well, I don't care if you know because I don't know you, and it's not like you're sitting around gossiping about a girl whose picture isn't even posted.

So, yes, I am pregnant! I'm nine weeks along now, and what's funny is that although B told his mom, he hasn't told anyone else on his side yet. Meanwhile, I would say that about 15 people on my side know. The funny part about B is that he wants to tell his best friend first, but here's the problem: his best friend has a 9 month old and they rarely see each other. When we did see each other, he couldn't find the right moment to share this with him. So it's become a running joke with us. How long will it take? Will it be January 6th, my due date, when he finally knows? Ah well, all in good time.

I say this as if I take it all in stride now, but no, I have been annoyed by this. I wish he would just go ahead and say it, hell, text it if he has to. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's that it's not a bad secret that we're keeping, and when B's friend found out they were expecting, he told us almost as soon as he found out, which is when his wife was only 4 weeks along, and that is really early. 

Sometimes B's indecisiveness and procrastination drives me batty, and then when it doesn't, I also know that with him, things just take time. Hopefully by January his friends will know. Ha!

The first ultrasound is on Tuesday. I hope everything is okay. Of course this is every expectant mother's worry, and I do think things are okay, but I hope I don't end up as wrong and mistaken, and having to delete this whole post in embarrassment and shame. 

A Few Thoughts

This morning as I prepared for the day, I went onto CNN and read about Colin Powell's fight with the Republican Party. In this article, Rush Limbaugh is said to have accused Powell of being outdated and out of touch with Republicans, and a has been that was part of the losers of the party. 

Um, am I missing something? Limbaugh has been blowing his pompous, ignorant wind for the last 15 years, at least, and at a time during which his party was in control of Congress, and later went on to nominate W and continue to secure a Republican majority in Congress. Losers? Maybe within the past three years, when the nation was tired of people like Cheney and Limbaugh, but I find it amusing that he is actually forgetting his own history with the party over the past 15 years. Maybe it was all of the prescription drugs he's been addicted to. In any event, someone's memory needs to be checked. Also, outdated and tired? Kettle, you are black as coal.

***

Today Obama nominated a female for the Supreme Court who is also Latina, and has more years of judicial experience than the other justices in the court at the time of nomination. While I read comments about her on the web, I found the following statement to be the most laughable: she's a judicial activist who believes that judges should made policy from the bench. Oh right, judicial activist=bad judge. 

But wait, here's a little secret:

Judges have, and always will, affect US policy. It's how our country works. If judges didn't take on this role, our world would be very different from where it is now. If they didn't, segregation would still exist. If they didn't, there are so many rights that could have been taken away long ago. 

I know many people believe the judicial system doesn't work. Maybe this is my semi-legal background talking, but I believe in the judicial system. Sure, some judges are wrong, but that's why there are so many jurisdictions and levels to move through, which is also why there are 9 judges on the court, and not just one. Thank God there are no juries at that level. Could you imagine a jury trying to decipher constitutional law? The thought frightens me. 

No, judges have a vital role in this country, and they have always been extremely important throughout our history. I want an activist judge because I want a judge who won't be afraid to say no to the president or anyone else. Their decisions should be based on law, and not personal opinions or favoritism. 

In recent years, my favorite case is the one in which the SC ruled that the Bush Administration could not  hold the Gitmo detainees indefinitely without a reason. I believe Scalia was the dissenting opinion (surprise surprise), but in this case, despite the terrible turn our country took, I saw, once again, the the court worked. In light of Bush v. Gore (which is the most laughable case), they redeemed themselves, in my eyes. 

So those are my thoughts for the day.