My Niece, Up and Coming Supermodel

Quincy's a very intriguing girl. Let's see how she fares in her first public interview.

Q: What's the earliest memory you have of me? (It's OK if you tell me it was when you were 8 months old, and I was babysitting you with my friend and you threw up all over the carpet at the same time that Grandma and Papa called to tell me they got in a car accident. But if you can remember something before that time, then that would probably be better.)

A: My first memory with you is when you came to pick me up at my house and you took me swimming! I can't remember how old I was but all I remember is when I saw you on the porch I ran and gave you a hug and you were wearing that white cover up and you took me swimming. My mom took a picture of us too.

Q: Do you really want to be a cheerleader? And, in your opinion, which color best suits a cheerleading uniform: yellow, white or black? What's your favorite cheer?

A: I really did want to be one this year, but after tryouts were all done and the new cheerleaders were announced I really didn't care that I didn't tryout. But as of right now I want to be a 9th grade cheerleader. I think that Yellow and Black should always be the uniform colors. And I never really learned a cheer but [my friends] taught me the one they learned at tryouts. Here it is: When I say "Go," say, "Go Sunset." Go! Go Sunset. It's not very long but that's all I know! The cheers they say at games are too long for me to memorize. :)

Q: What's the most adventurous thing you have ever done? Do your parents know about this?

A: I don't know what the most adventurous thing I have done is to tell you the truth!!! I will have to keep thinking about that.

Q: I never hear you talk about boys. I was thinking it's either because you're too busy to notice how cute they're not OR because boys are evil. Which one is it?

A: This is a tough one, I just get embarrassed so I just keep thoughts to myself about them. I don't even like to tell Kelsey but I do anyways. But most boys are annoying and immature. But there are some that are nice!

Q: When you're not day-dreaming about flying to Spokane, what's your next favorite thing to do?

A: I had such a fun time in Spokane so I hope I can come back soon. But my favorite thing to do is just hang out at home or with my friends! Shopping is probably one of my favorite things too!

Q: Who's your favorite aunt? Just kidding don't answer this one. Instead, tell me all of your nicknames and which one you like best.

A: I don't have very many nicknames but here are the two I can think of (I bet you could guess them!) Precious and Quince. I don't really have a favorite one though. I like them both!

Q: I know you're a bit young for this one, but if you've thought about it, then tell me how many kids you want to have when you grow up. Girls or boys? Any names picked out?

A: I don't really know how many yet but for sure I want at least one boy and one girl. Some names I think are cute: Olivia and Sophie. I couldn't really think of any boy names though!

Q: It's been said that you should have been twins, so that everyone could be with you more. What should your twin have been named? Do you ever wish you had a twin and that you guys could switch class one day and trick your teachers?

A: I have always thought it would be fun to have a twin, I can't figure out what her name would be. But I think it would be fun to have someone to talk to that was my age and my sister. And I think it would be funny to do that at school but I don't think I could ever do it I would be to scared!

Q: What's your favorite book? Tell me about it.

A: My favorite book is Twilight. It is about a girl named Bella and a vampire named Edward. And Edward falls in love with Bella but he is dangerous since he is a vampire so he has to be careful, but he also saves her from a lot of harm. That's all I want to tell you because I don't want to ruin it for you! You are welcome to borrow all three books because I have them.

Q: Is there anything else you want to share with cyberspace?

A: I love you so much!!!

Thanks for the interview, Quincy! (Isn't she the cutest?!)

There's One Thing I've Learned About a Yard

And it's that every kid needs one.

Scotty's New Milestone

Besides smiling, this has got to be one of my favorites:

Pharmaceutical Companies Overstep Their Bounds

A joint op-ed piece written by my husband and me. (It's not always fun and games around here, you know; we have deep thought exchanges on a regular basis.)

The Ethical Dilemma

For nearly twenty years, pharmaceutical companies have been purchasing physicians’ prescribing data from market intelligence companies (with IMS Health leading the pack).¹ The pharmaceutical companies claim many uses for this expensive information, the most troubling – and ironically the most valuable – of which is the specific identification of physicians and their prescribing practices. On any given day, a pharmaceutical company can log into a database that charts how many scripts have been issued for their drug (and which doctors prescribed them), and also how many scripts have been written for the drug’s competitor.² Hence, it may be accurate to say that a drug company, and consequently its sales representatives, knows more about what a doctor prescribes than the doctor himself. With such data in tow, drug reps entering a physician’s office are placed in a powerful position that enables them to pressure, and at times coerce, a doctor into writing more prescriptions for his drug and less for his competitor.

Abuse of Information

Pharmaceutical companies, according to many physicians, should not be permitted to access specific drug information that is linked to individual doctors. The Gallup Organization released a survey in 2004 that reported that 77 percent of physicians were aware that pharmaceutical companies had access to the physicians’ prescribing data, and 66 percent opposed the release of these data to sales representatives.¹ The reasons that pharmaceutical companies should not possess rights to this confidential information are clear and all related one central theme: they abuse it. Consider the following ways in which physicians’ prescribing information is mishandled:

1. Drug reps are capable of using the data to “hold doctors accountable” for the perks they receive.³ Some of these perks include speaking engagements (which make a résumé shine), research grants, dinner lectures, lunches, CME programs, consulting opportunities, drug company gadgets, and drug samples.⁴
2. Some physicians report feeling like victims of manipulation by drug reps.⁴ Drug reps have been known to be so forceful as to confront a doctor with his prescribing history.¹ Doctors feel especially vulnerable if the rep has a close relationship with the physician, such as being a neighbor, family member, or friend.
3. Coaxing doctors to prescribe the newest (perhaps also more expensive) name-brand drug on the market ultimately drives up the cost of health care. Insurance companies and the government (via Medicare/Medicaid) pick up the tab for these costly scripts.⁴ In addition to the cost, the doctor is placed in a conflict-of-interest position and may prescribe one drug instead of another, not based on the best interests of the patient, but on appeasing a drug rep.

No matter how you spin it, physicians’ prescribing information ultimately belongs to the physician and no one else. For pharmaceutical companies to purchase this data is a violation of privacy.

For the Good of Mankind

Those who favor the release of physicians’ prescribing data argue that the information is used more for research than it is for financial purposes and regulation of physicians’ prescribing habits.⁵ Such research, they claim, greatly benefits society. The pharmaceutical companies purport to use the information in the following ways:

1. To conduct research, monitor side effects, and assess quality control of the drugs being prescribed.⁵
2. To study drug interactions, prescribing trends, and long-term effects of medication.¹
3. To prevent medical errors.¹

Pharmaceutical companies who use this information for research ought to keep the data separate from their sales force. At one point, the AMA issued “best practice guidelines” to encourage the proper use of this information (i.e., keeping it out of the hands of the drug reps). Here are their words: “The use of prescribing data to overtly pressure or coerce physicians to prescribe a particular drug is absolutely an inappropriate use.”¹

An Incomplete Solution

Because of the pharmaceutical companies’ failed attempts at self-policing, the AMA instituted an opt-out program for physicians. This program, officially named the Prescribing Data Restriction Program (PDRP), provides a means for physicians to declare their prescription records off-limits to drug sales representatives.^1,4,5,6 The PDRP voluntary enrollment is effective for three years from the date at which the AMA receives the physician request. Once enrolled in the PDRP program, pharmaceutical employees having direct contact with physicians will be blocked from accessing restricted data on PDRP physicians. This program is designed to prevent part/full-time sales employees, temporary sales employees, contractors, and first line sales managers from accessing the restricted data. The restricted data is defined as any data relating to the prescribing practices of an identifiable physician who has requested to be enrolled in the PDRP. This means that drug reps should no longer be able to view information on the dollar value of a physician’s prescribing habits, nor have the ability to rank, benchmark, or group physicians into particular prescribing habit for a particular product.^1,7

The most notable caveat to the AMA’s program is that this opt-out will be self-policed (once again), and compliance will be gauged by the number of physician complaints.¹ Some states have tried to protect physicians and override the AMA opt-out program by issuing a complete prohibition on the release of physicians’ private information. In 2006, New Hampshire decided to ban the use of prescribing data. Shortly after, Vermont and Maine followed suit. The ban, however, was not able to remain permanent after IMS Health sued New Hampshire to block implementation of the laws, and won at the U.S. district court level. Currently, the New Hampshire law permits IMS Health and other data miners to continue to collect prescription data; however, they cannot use individualized data regarding specific doctors’ prescribing practices for commercial use.³

Perspective

Under no circumstances should pharmaceutical companies have access to a physician’s prescribing history. That information is private, and ought to be protected by the law, not by the honor of one who has a tainted past. As such, market intelligence companies should be legally prohibited from disclosing the names of physicians associated with their data. Pharmaceutical companies ought to be able to reasonably conduct their research with a conglomerate of data, grouped by zip code or other geographic area, not by physician name. This would ensure that pharmaceutical companies’ motives are wholesome and that the relationship between physicians and drug reps are professional and free from any conflict of interest.

References

1. Steinbrook R. For sale: physicians’ prescribing data. The New England Journal of Medicine. 2006; 354(26):2745-2747.
2. PharmaSpy. Should drug reps know every detail of what a physician prescribes? http://peterrost.blogspot.com/search?q=prescription+data+restriction+program. Accessed 5 Apr 2008.
3. Kandylini. The first amendment gone wild: big pharma’s “right” to find out what doctors are prescribing. http://kandylini.wordpress.com/2008/03/18/the-first-amendment-gone-wild-big-pharmas-right-to-find-out-what-doctors-are-prescribing/. Accessed 5 Apr 2008.
4. Saul S. US: Doctors object to gathering of drug data. http://www.corpwatch.org/article.php?id=13539&printsafe=1. Accessed 5 Apr 2008.
5. Brennan Z. D.C. Ban on Rx Data Mining Could Face Legal Battles. http://www.prescriptionproject.org/assets/pdfs/Brennan_ihealthbeat_datamining_1-2-2008.pdf. Accessed 5 Apr 2008.
6. American Medical Association. Physician Data Restriction Program (PDRP). http://www.ama-assn.org/ama/pub/category/print/12054.html. Accessed 10 Apr 2008.
7. PharmExec. AMA MD’s – it’s nearly time to opt out of letting drug reps know what you Rx. http://pharmagossip.blogspot.com/2006/05/ama-mds-its-nearly-time-to-opt-out-of.html . PharmaGossip. Accessed 5 Apr 2008.
   

We're Not in Kansas Anymore, Toto

Three obvious signs we've left Utah (besides the ever-apparent lack of family):

The positive
The air here is so pure. Clean, non-hazy, and crystal clear. I have never seen air like this before. Also, we can see stars from our bedroom window. It's almost like camping, except it's not.

The negative
June is nearly over and we have yet to use the A/C. (And it's not because we're cheap, it's because it's too stinking cold. I'm wearing pants and knee-highs today, and I wore a sweater yesterday. And if you're still not convinced, Clint woke up two days ago and said, "Holy cow, it's cold in here!")

The different
Yesterday, a nun was collecting donations at Wal-mart. Yes, folks, you heard me right -- a nun, habit and all.

The Strangest Thing Clint's Brought Home Since ...

... that story about the lady who forgot to wear underwear.

Clint (and the other residents, too, of course) have several pagers to wear. Let's see if I can remember them all. There's their daily in-hospital pager; there's the home-call pager (maybe); and there's the sick pager (to cover for residents who get sick and can't come into the hospital during their ICU rotation). Not sure if I made those last two up or not, but this one is real for sure: it's the FOOB pager (pronounced /fube/; rhymes with tube ... and something else that I don't feel comfortable writing).

FOOB is the acronym for the Fall-Out-Of-Bed pager. If any patient, from any floor or department falls out of bed, then the person wearing the FOOB pager has to run to that patient and attend to his/her needs. I asked Clint how often this happens, and he replied, "Often enough that they have a pager for it."

The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease

Or in other words, the baby who cries the most/loudest gets Mom (even if it is only for her to tell you to quit whining).

When it comes to squeaking, Scotty has a lot of learning to do ...
This is the third time in as many days that Scotty has been placed on the floor while I work with the other two kids (this time it was for the bath), and later been found fast asleep.

PS: Just wait until you have three kids!

Scooter Accident

Did you ever see that episode of Scrubs where Dr. Dorian gets drunk at a bar and decides he should walk his scooter home on the sidewalk instead of driving it ... and then he gets an S.U.I. (scooting under the influence)? Well, that doesn't really have anything to do with Nicole's scooter accident, except that it also involved a scooter.

Nicole has this cute pink scooter that she got for Christmas in Arizona a couple of years back. It has three wheels -- 1 up front, 2 in the back -- so that kids can ride it. She has loved this scooter. And now Grant loves this scooter, which looks completely ridiculous because it's all girly. The other night, we went on a family walk around our neighborhood, and Grant insisted on taking the scooter, wearing one of Nicole's bead necklaces, and wearing his black bike helmet. It was so embarrassing. Every time he goes cuckoo over an airplane, a bus, a train, or anything with an engine, I breathe a sigh of relief ... Phew! Yep, he's a boy. (Even if he does sneak in Nicole's room when she's not watching and put her glitter nail polish on -- but shh! You didn't hear that from me.)

So Nicole has decided that this scooter, which has served her well, is now for little kids, like Grant. And she's saving up her money (half-way there) to buy a two-wheel scooter -- because "that's what big kids ride." But none of this stopped her from racing the scooter down the sidewalk while Clint and I were chatting with our new neighbor. Somehow the front wheel twisted, causing the bike to fall over and Nicole to trip over the top of it. She broke the fall with her face, and I was sure that she was going to have a broken nose and two or three missing teeth. It was a terrible crash!

Clint cleaned her up, and the total damage amounted to a large scrape on one knee, a small scrape on her hand and forehead, and two fat lips (upper and lower). She limped around for a bit before I made her rest on the couch and watch a movie until bedtime. Just before bed, Nicole said, "Mom, if there's a fire in our house tomorrow, I won't be able to run very fast. So someone will need to carry me, and my emergency backpack also." I assured her that we've got it covered.

Her famous (I say famous because she repeated them at least 100 times) last words tonight were, "I'm never riding that scooter again!"

If that's the case, I'm thinking we either need to get rid of it or paint it blue. Either way, this is the end of the little pink scooter.

It Wouldn't Be a Proper Send-Off Without Guns

Our last big hurrah in Utah ...

Travis turned 6 (Nicole is secretly jealous -- it's all we've heard about since), and decorated his own birthday cake. He didn't get all his candles out in one blow, so his dad, sensitive guy that he is, told him better luck with his wish next year.
Then Travis opened up a Super Soaker from Nicole (and what child can buy a gift like that for her cousin, and not herself?), but Uncle Gary -- always willing to sacrifice, especially when it comes to the children -- offered to test it first, just to make sure it would be safe.

Except he kinda lost focus and started attacking the birthday boy instead.

Finally, the kids got armed with the guns and aimed with no reservations. (Where's Uncle Gary now?)
Grant prefered to shoot solo, not for big game.
Smart boy; he was the only one who managed to stay dry.

And that's how we said good-bye. (So much easier than traditional methods.)

Nicole's Surrogate Umbilical Cord Is Too Soaking Tough

*Editor's Note: For my long-time followers, you'll know that soaking is an all-purpose and very useful word.

When Clint decided to change career paths, we sold our cute little shack and moved in with my parents. Back then, it was Clint, me and the dog (the second one). Baby Nicole was in utero at the time, but since we stayed at my parents' much longer than anticipated (and much longer than invited, I might add), Nicole's first home was my parents' home. This came in very handy because, I -- being a very naive, first-time mom -- had no idea what I was doing. And I didn't buy any books to tell me what to do, either. I just asked the resident expert. I remember one night, say at 2:00 a.m. or so, Nicole woke up, and I can't remember what the emergency was (stuffy nose?), but I remember that I needed advice ... immediately. So I carried Nicole upstairs and woke up my mom. (Remind me to never let my married-with-kids kids live with me.)

My mom continued to help me out like this for more than a year (close your mouth -- I already told you that it was longer than we expected). And sometimes I used to ask my mom, "Do you think Nicole knows which one of us is her mommy?"

"Of course she does!" Mom always replied. But I always thought, deep down inside, that Nicole knew she was blessed to be born with two mommies instead of a mommy and a grandma, like other kids.

Even after we eventually found our own place, Nicole and I spent nearly every day at my parents' while Clint was gone to school/work. By the time we moved to Salt Lake (sooooo far away from Nicole's other "mommy"), Nicole was 3 1/2 years old and thought her life, as she knew it, was over. She begged to go to Grandma's. And when we drove up for a visit, and stayed for several hours, Nicole would cry when we left. Did I say cry? I meant hysterically sob. Sometimes we turned the car around and left her there. And she was good with that. Yep, three years old and didn't even care if she watched Mom and Dad drive away into the sunset without her. She had another mommy who was going to take good care of her. (Actually, it was better care.)

I thought I knew everything about Mom and Nicole's relationship ... until the other night. Clint brought home a lawnmower and Nicole was so excited. (Why? I wondered.) Nicole said, "Mom, that's what I used to do with grandma! She gave me a sippy cup of orange juice and I followed her around the yard." (Still wondering how I never saw this happen.) "Mom, can you give me a sippy cup of orange juice? Please?"

My mom would have been so disappointed in me if I had said no, so ...
I just know that Nicole won't ever forget all of the special time she has spent with her almost-mommy. She's even teaching Grant about it, so he can remember, too.

Nicole's First Recital

Our piano arrived on Tuesday, and Nicole had her first lesson Tuesday afternoon from the coolest piano teacher ever. I mean, who wouldn't like me for a piano teacher? Just kidding. But I do have to say, even if it is bragging, that I must have done something right because Nicole's been practicing nearly nonstop! OK, maybe it has a little less to do with me and a little more to do with the fact that we don't have cable TV. And that's not a principle thing (it's a financial thing). In fact, I am pro-cable TV. And life is very sad without Discovery Health Channel -- and HGTV, too, of course. Not missing non-stop Disney Channel, however. Nope, not missing that at all. Except when Nicole and Grant fight for two hours straight, then I miss it a little.

Regardless of the reason Nicole has been practicing her little fingers to the bone, this is the result.

It's one of the first songs she learned, although today she learned a more familiar song ("Mary Had a Little Lamb"). She keeps begging for me to help her learn new songs. At this rate, she'll surpass my level before we leave Spokane.

It's a Wonderful City

Welcome to Spokane! Midway through unpacking, we decided it was time for a sight-seeing tour of our new town. It's an old town with a vibrant downtown park where you have to scour a parking garage on a weekday and pay an outrageous amount to park your car.

The falls were what we came to see.

But I don't think I'd like this picture as much if it didn't have these two cute girls upfront.
To get a closer view of the falls, we took the gondola ride. Grant was checking it out the whole time we were in line.As for me, I forgot about my acute claustrophobia until the doors locked shut and Clint said, "If this thing drops into the water, we'll all drown." Thanks for the comforting words, Sweetheart. Also, I want you to know that I love you, and that in the event that we actually would have died, I'm glad those were the last words you chose to utter.

Even after we got going, Grant was still studying the contraption. Maybe he was as spooked as I was!
Not Nicole. Always up for adventure, that girl is!
And Scotty, too. Scott started giggling when we teased Grant for being such a sour sport on the trip. Honestly, so ornery these days. My mom says it's cute, but I've been thinking ... she can just take all that cuteness with her back to Utah and bring him back when he's less cute.
Less cute, like he is when he's feeding ducks potato chips.

These ducks were super aggressive, but Grant loved it -- even when one of them (probably this one) got his finger.

We ended the trip with a marathon race against the statues. There were about twenty statues, but we couldn't figure out what they were running from.
On our way back to the car, Nicole said, "Mom, I love Spokane. It's a wonderful city!"

PS: She made her first friend in Spokane at this park. His name is Ethan, he's four, and he rides his scooter to this park every Friday. I wanted to take their picture together, but I was afraid his mom would think I was a child stalker.

Thank Heaven for Ants

Now there's something I never thought I'd say.

This place has lots of creatures. Mosquitoes, gnats, crickets, spiders (all sizes), and even frogs. It's true, I stepped onto the back patio to pick up one of the bikes and nearly stepped on a small frog!

And now ants. The problem with the ants, though, is that they're trying to come in the house! My mom says it's the time of year. And had today been any other day, I would have been mortified, disgusted, repulsed ... But today was one of those bad mom days. A day where the big kids fight over nothing all morning. A day where Grant sprays water from the kitchen sink hose into my brewing pot of hot fudge for cooking club. A day where my patience runs thin. A day where a solo trip to the beauty salon sounds more appealing than anything else.

A day where Grant comes running as fast as he can and says, "Mom!" and shows me an ant on his finger. He wanted to show Nicole also, but he was afraid to knock on her door since his banishment ten minutes earlier. So I knocked; and Nicole loved the ant and wanted to give it a home. And Grant was suddenly de-banished; and he had a newfound popularity.

Then how the kids played.
And how the mom watched the kids play.
And how the mom smiled when they smiled ...
... and worked together to collect all of the ants.
And how the mom thought, "I'm grateful for these ants today!"

But then the mom came to her senses and wrote ant spray on her shopping list.

Bad Karma

If I were a believer, which I'm not, then I would say that this house has bad karma. Before we reached Day 7, we had the following "incidents" (if you can call them that):

• severely burned a bag of microwave popcorn to the point that it made yellow stains on the sides of the microwave, and we can still detect the stench every time we walk past
• spilled red Jell-O on the light tan carpet (FYI, boiling water gets this out completely [would make a cool science experiment for kids]-- thanks for the tip, Mom!)
• spilled liquid White-Out on the carpet (acetone took care of this one -- once again, thanks, Mom!)
• shattered a giant piece of glass on my closet floor and inside the box holding all of our shoes (yippee, hooray, so much fun)
  

No human injuries so far. I think the house is trying to gently tell us to get out. If we don't listen, maybe the consequences will become more severe. I'll let you know if I start seeing ghosts.

Daddy's First Day

Clint was so embarrassed when I asked him to pose on the porch -- like a kindergartner on the first day of school -- and our neighbor stepped out to go to work at the same time. Oh my heck, like, my life is over!
And then, because I like to pretend that I'm a famous photo-journalist, I followed Clint out to the car and continued snapping pictures like a paparazzi. As you can see, Douglas's Truck made the long trip to Spokane, and after I had told Clint that it wasn't trip-worthy. But what does my opinion count? My brother, who is a genius when it comes to cars and an enemy when it comes to pleasing women, told Clint that this truck was a "gold mine" (his exact words) and could easily make it across the entire U.S. and back. Goes to show what I know. So now Douglas's Truck will find a spot among the other prestigious cars in the physicians' parking lot. So cute. Wish I had a picture of that! Oh, and then can you imagine the look on a cardiothoracic surgeon's face when he completes his ten-hour surgery for the day, and steps into the parking garage only to find Douglas's Truck next to his brand new Corvette? I bet he'd take a walk around his car to make sure there weren't any dings or scratches. And then he'd tape a note to Clint's windshield telling him to park somewhere else next time. That'd be a funny picture, too.
Clint wasn't smiling for me in this picture; he didn't even see the camera until it was too late. See what my husband has to put up with?! I'm hoping all this hounding and annoyance will make him appreciate his work more. That's why I do it, you see, so he can have an enjoyable day.

A Preview of Our Home

The owner left a note for our property management gal, which she either forgot, didn't see, or left intentionally for us to see. At the end of the note, written in his best broken English, our owner wrote, "Please give me a good take care of my house." So cute.

Less than one week after move-in, here we are with our first housewarming gift.It was one of the centerpieces from the residents' dinner we attended this week. I'm hoping the flower will last until we move so that I won't have to replace it.

We also have a new system of government in our home: anarchy.In case you can't read Nicole's "kid spelling," here's the translation: No Parents in Nicole's Room. Fortunately, the law hasn't been enforced.

We have unpacked nearly every box, but still can't find Nicole's curtains (one of the only sets that I completed before we moved in). More house pictures to come as the decorating nears completion. Wish me luck!

My One and Only Budget Advertisement

I should get royalties from this picture.
And I guess this could be a combo deal -- Budget and Phillips 66, although neither one gave us any monetary favors. I still think Clint should have dumped a barrel of peanut oil into the tank; we've been hearing rumors about make-shift biofuels; then this could have been an ad for Crisco or Western Family.
Grant rode with Clint and Papa for most of the trip. This time he had cooler sunglasses, though. And a slightly bigger truck, which I think made all three of the men really happy; even if it did max out at 35 mph for three hours in Montana. (Don't ask.) The most important point was that it was fun; or rather, that we made it safely. Whew! Glad that's over!

A Little Doctor Humor

Two doctors and an HMO manager met Peter at the Pearly Gates, and made their case for entering heaven.

The first doctor approached Peter and said, "As a pediatric surgeon, I have saved the lives of thousands of innocent children."

Peter responded, "You may enter."

The second doctor walked up to the gates and said, "As a psychiatrist, I have helped many people have a better quality of life."

Peter responded, "You may enter."

Finally, it was the HMO manager's turn, and he said, "As an HMO manager, I have helped thousands of people receive healthcare."

Peter responded, "You may enter ... but only for three days. Then you have to go to he**."

Read to Me

As soon as we get all of the boxes unpacked, the sheets on the bed, clean clothes on the kids, and food in the fridge, we're taking a trip to town. We live out of town by a few miles, so when we go anywhere, we'll be "going into town." Kind of nostalgic for me, because even though I grew up in a small-size city that had its own movie theater, recreation center and shopping, I remember my mom saying, "Let's go to town," which meant, "Let's go to a town cooler than ours." So anyway, we're going to town to get our library cards.

Before this past school year ended, Nicole's teacher gave me the following tips to keep up/improve Nicole's reading over the summer:

• Don't follow a reading booklist -- let Nicole pick any book she wants (even if it's above her level -- me reading to her is just as important as her reading to me).
• Create 3x5 flashcards for words that are common in Nicole's books. As a rule of thumb, for every word that is new to her or is a word that she has to sound out, there should be five words that she recognizes immediately on sight. That way, she's practicing her established words, boosting confidence in her skills, and learning new words all at the same time.
• Keep a reading journal of our summer books. At the end of each book, ask Nicole to draw a picture (or picture time-line) of the story, and write her own sentences about what she read, or what she liked most from the book.

One Really Bad Reason to Move

No more dress up in Grandma's shoes with Cousin Carly.

Worse Than the Last Day of School

Even though almost every child from Nicole's class is going to a different school or a different grade next year -- and, hence, probably won't run into each other anywhere -- no one shed a tear.

Yet, after her last day of school Nicole played at our playground one last time, and many tears were shed (mostly by me). Our neighbor's family had invited her out to play while Clint and I packed up. When Clint and I finally decided to call it a night, Clint took the boys to the car, and I headed for the playground to pick up Nicole. She was running around with the boys (always playing with boys) and laughing. She was completely unaware that I was watching her, and that I was bawling my eyes out. I stood there for five minutes before I gathered up the courage to tell her "one more time" down the slide.

Obediently, she slid down again, and waved good-bye to her friends. We prompted her to give them a hug, which she eagerly did, and then I carried her away. We don't normally hug our friends when we leave the playground, so that must have clued her in that this time was different. As I carried her, I started crying again, and she asked me what was wrong. When I told her that I was going to miss our friends, she started crying, too, and rhetorically asked, "I'm never going to see them again, am I? I'm sure going to miss them, Mom."

For a year, I have been preparing Nicole for this move; telling her the move was coming, and that it was going to be exciting and new. But I failed to prepare her for the loss of her friends, and to warn her that she would feel sad inside, and that she would miss them terribly. Kids have no reservations when it comes to friends. They will invest their whole selves, even if they know they can only be friends for a short while -- a year, a day, or even an hour. That's why leaving them is more difficult -- because they attach so quickly and so solidly.

Nicole's a resilient little girl, and I know she's going to be OK, but what a sad day.

We Survived Kindergarten

Yesterday was Nicole's last day of kindergarten. I can't believe we made it. All the days I had to wake up Grant and Scott to pick Nicole up at school are over (she's taking the bus next year, which is a win-win for both of us).

Nicole learned a lot, like how to invent silly songs. Our favorite is "Little Peter Rabbit had a flea upon his ear, and he flipped it, and he flopped it, and it flew away." Sometimes we change the words to say, "Little Baby Scotty had a flea ..."
Also, how to have a "listening body." That's what they call it, and Nicole mastered it within 10 seconds on her first day. Her Scottish teacher also frequently said, "Sit on your pockets." Such a funny expression. My kindergarten teacher used to tell us to sit on our fannies, which always sent us into a giggling frenzy -- anti-productive, if you ask me.
She learned how to star in a play. For the end-of-the-year celebration, she played the role of Annie (from the Treehouse series books). And I learned that Nicole doesn't really like acting -- at least not for an audience. She got a small case of stage fright where she just stood around. About half-way through, however, she warmed up to it. She and Gavin acted out the story Ghost Town at Sundown, and for once, the play was better than the book. (I haven't actually read the book, but I bet if I did, I would still like the play better.)

I also learned that I could never be a kindergarten teacher because I could never work in a room that looked like this (even though it's one of the kids' favorite aspects):

(L to R: Rachel, Heidi, Nicole, Mallory, Chalee)

But I could work with her teachers; they were fantabulous. Notice Rachel's Hello Kitty shirt. She was a big fan. That's another thing the kids liked about kindergarten -- well, at least the girls liked it. Don't know that the boys really cared that much. No male teachers this year -- just an observation.

What Nicole and I failed to master was how to tell which brother was which, even though they're fraternal twins.
What a memorable year!

A Sad Story

Together Cousin Carly and Nicole decided that Nicole would spend the night at Carly's house. No mommies or grandmas were consulted prior to Nicole wheeling her suitcase out to Carly's car, which was ready to pull out of the driveway and head home.

I found Nicole one second away from opening the back door, and asked, "What are you doing? Why do you have a suitcase?"

"Mom!" Nicole could tell she wouldn't be going with Carly. She started to cry hysterically, and ran to her bedroom.

Since the suitcase she had with her was also the suitcase I had packed for her and Grant to share earlier, I wondered if she would have taken Grant's clothes with her to Carly's, thus leaving Grant destitute. Later, I found this scene by her room:
The sweet, little thing included provisions for her brother in her plan. I shouldn't have been surprised -- it's not out of character for Nicole to think of others, even when in a hurry. But when I saw his clothes so nicely folded on the floor there, I pictured her carefully removing all of Grant's items, and leaving her own. I felt so sad for Nicole. Luckily, the next night, Carly got to come over for a sleepover, and all was well again in Zion.

At It Again

Yep, more plagiarizing.

You know those movies that say "based on a true story" on the cover? And even though the story is about an airplane crash atop a snow-capped mountain on the other side of the earth where the survivors are forced to eat one another like the Donner Party, you somehow feel compelled to watch this movie. (Just in case you ever get stranded at 20,000 feet with no food, water, jackets or cell phone reception.) Then you'd know what to do. Except the movie is only "based" on the true story, which means that any practical knowledge you may glean during your two-hour crash survival course may, or may not, actually be practical.

OK, so this painting's kinda like those movies. Not cannibalistic, but "based on a real painting." So, here's the inspiration piece:Since I didn't want a red airplane in the boys' monochromatic blue and white spectrum room (I'm branching out here), I changed the plane color to navy. And I wasn't crazy about the turquoise sky, so I made mine pale blue, and I added some clouds for more flair. And lastly, I thought a plane should be shown in its element -- not in a crash-landing position in a field (seriously, where's the runway?), but high in the sky. That being said, here's my liberal reproduction:

Through Thick and Thin

This is me with my friend Nancy. (She looks super-duper cute with her fresh cut'n'color. And just so you know, and not that you really need to, but Nancy is one of those people that stays on top of her cuts. She doesn't let it grow shaggy and then chop it all off. It always has a nice shape.)

Nancy and I have been neighbors for more than two years. Both of our husbands just finished medical school, which means that Nancy and I have a lot in common. We both know what it feels like to be alone with kids for inordinate amounts of time. We were there for each other while our dutiful husbands were studying to secure good board scores. We were also there for each other when our husbands were working 36-hour shifts. (One night, Clint came home and asked me what I had done that day. I must have spent the entire day with Nancy, which was actually a common occurrence, because Clint said, "Sheesh, it's like you're married to Nancy. You see her more than you see me." He was right. I deny nothing.) And we were there for each when we each had a baby during medical school. (And of course we were there for each other for the post-natal trips to the mall; by the way, Nancy is a phenomenal shopping partner -- she's honest, she's quick, and she even babysits while I try on clothes. Can you believe that one time we took the train to two malls with three kids on the same hot summer day because we thought it would be fun?)

Since we live across the hall from each other, and since our apartments are so small, we frequently prop our doors open and let our kids run back and forth between the two apartments. (Our other neighbors really love it when we do this.) Almost feels like a house. I said almost.

When we plan to go somewhere (like card club), and I'm inevitably running late, Nancy comes over and bathes my kids, or changes their diapers, or mixes bottles so we can get going sooner. I've heard lots of other playground mommies comment that they wish they had our sort of relationship with their neighbors.

Nancy is the one who introduced me to Jane Austen. One month, both of our husbands happened to have very demanding schedules (not as coincidental as you might think), and lots of overnight call shifts. After we put the kids in bed, Nancy tiptoed over with her baby monitor and Pride and Prejudice -- the long one. The good one. It took us a month to get through it. Nancy is a true Austen connoisseur, and she paused the movie to explain all of the confusing parts to me. And each time we met for another installment, she gave me a recap before pushing the play button.

Nancy used to bring her ironing board over, or her laundry basket full of clean clothes to fold and we talked while she worked. OK, sometimes I worked and she talked. Like, I'd make cookies and she'd keep me company. But usually she worked and I talked, and every once in a while I would think, Maybe I should go get my laundry, too. And then I kept talking.

When Nancy has a party, she invites me -- even if I don't belong there. One time she hosted the cooking club, and the theme was rice. I didn't make anything. I didn't even know that it was cooking club night. But Nancy insisted I bring my three babies over and that we feast at her party.

We also swap movies, and Nancy always brings me her Kettle Korn when she decides she's going to quit eating it. And I really love it when she does that. Except I really hate it when I eat the whole bag by myself because everyone else in my family says it "tastes weird."

This past year, we've both had our husbands home a bit more, and our babies have gotten older. I suppose that's why we've seen each other a little less. And that explains why I've missed her. (Although we took a recent trip to IKEA, and it kinda felt like old times.)

The thought occurred to me that our friendship is so valuable because we've invested so much into it. You can't just wake up one morning and decide to become best friends. It takes time, and energy, and love, and sacrifice. (And if you're lucky, sugar popcorn and brownies.) And just so you know, and not that you need to, friends like that are hard to replace.

What Is All the Fuss About?

Hey, Sis, whatcha got there?

Wow! A real bug! Can I hold it?

Uh, this thing is ... not as cool as I thought. You can have it back.

My Confession

My name is Lorena, and I play Webkinz.

It started out all innocent. In fact, I was completely opposed to the idea at first. Cousin Carly introduced Nicole to Webkinz. I think she got one for Christmas. Ever since, Nicole has wanted one also. So Nicole saved up her money and convinced her dad to take her to Walmart when I was house-hunting in Spokane. Unfortunately Walmart doesn't sell Webkinz. (Who knew? I thought Walmart carried everything, and at lower prices. False advertising, I say.)

At long last, Nicole finally found a Webkinz puppy and named him Rhino. (Wonder where she came up with that name?) Now, the point in buying a Webkinz is to be able to take care of your pet virtually. You can feed it (good food or junk), put it to bed, and walk it around the house that you build for it. It's all very cute, but very expensive also. The kids earn Webkinz money by playing games on the website. So, if little Rhino's hungry, Nicole has to play a game to get enough money to buy him food at the market. And if she wants Rhino to have a bed, she has to play 20 games (roughly) to earn all the cash it takes to buy him one.

So, as you can see, this is a time-consuming and sometimes difficult process. That's why Nicole solicited my help. I reluctantly agreed to help her one evening after the boys went to bed. Unbeknownst to me, the Webkinz site has all sorts of games, but one of them is similar to Tetris, which happens to be one of my favorite childhood video games (oh yes, from the old-fashioned Nintendo).

Clint says I'm addicted, and while he's usually right when it comes to diagnosing mental illnesses, you have to believe me when I tell you that the only reason I play is to assist my dear, sweet, practically helpless daughter win cash for her puppy. I'm just an altruistic person, and that's all there is to it.

I'm Gonna Miss That Old Hunk-of-Junk

I couldn't believe it when Clint brought home our "new-to-us" camping trailer. It was old, inside and out, and needed lots of work. Plus, camping's not really my thing -- more of a hotel person, if you know what I mean. Never underestimate the comfort of running water, carpet floors, and coin-operated laundry facilities.

Nevertheless, I agreed to help Clint fix it up. I painted the inside and re-upholstered all of the cushions. Clint did lots of things to the outside that I didn't keep track of. Suffice it to say, he made it more usable. We worked hard, and took her out for her maiden voyage with my brother and his kids, and Bruno. We stayed in our camper, and everyone else stayed in a tent. I was grateful when it started raining that we weren't in a tent. I've done that before (yes, I really did; and no, it wasn't fun).

But the ones who loved the camper the most were the kids. Every chance they got, the kids played in the camper. They used it like a treehouse. (Man, I always wanted one of those when I was a kid. My best friend and I used to build make-shift ones out of giant boxes.) This camper was like the ultimate treehouse with a kitchen and a screen door that has a little aluminum sliding peek-a-boo window.For some reason, and now I'm not so sure why, we decided not to take our camper to Spokane. Perhaps because it's such a long way to tow a trailer? Or because Clint won't have enough days off to justify it? Or maybe the best reason is because it wouldn't be as much fun without the cousins.

I never thought I'd say it, but I had fun in that trailer, and I'm kinda sad to see it go.