When a Want Becomes a Need

A couple weeks ago Isaiah and I went to the post office to pick up a package.  We were excited--Isaiah because it takes 30 minutes to walk to the post office, which pretty much guarantees him an hour OUTSIDE; me because who doesn't love getting packages?!

It was snowing.  It was beautiful.  I decided to take a new route to make things a little more interesting.  This was part of the way that I went:

You probably can't tell, but under that snow is nothing but mud.  Did you know that snow and mud make something akin to quicksand?  I know that now.  And there was no sidewalk this direction, which I also know now.

After traversing this miry muck for about 20 minutes, I took a break at a bus stop:

Yeah, Isaiah was just as happy as he could be and laughing at my flushed face.

We trekked on the remaining distance and made it to the post office and picked up our coveted package.  Then we went home the normal way!

Thomas called while I was navigating the stroller over the snow and ice.  "My feet are cold and soaked, but I do have the package!"  

My sweet husband told me to go get new boots...I had been wanting some, so it worked out pretty well, I'd say.

(oh yeah, that last picture is what my socks looked like after I got home and peeled them off my feet)

Love/Hate Relationships

I don't really like that phrase very much, but sometimes I think that I understand what people mean when they say, "I have a love/hate relationships with..." fill in the blank.  I'm sure you've heard it, too.

Anyway, since Isaiah's not eligible for any type of insurance overseas, we are keeping him on MS Medicaid.  Sometimes I really hate that system.  I've had several incredibly, and I mean INCREDIBLY bad experiences with trying to get Isaiah's medical coverage taken care of.  I'll be told that I don't need this special yellow form only to have the worker at the medicaid office call and say, 

"Mrs. Slawson, we need you to bring in that special yellow form."

To which I reply, feeling a little annoyed, 

"Oh, you mean that form that you told me that I didn't need, so you didn't give it to me?"

Apparently completely oblivious medicaid worker,

"Yes, ma'am."

Me, feeling more annoyed that this person doesn't seem to realize that this behavior is not professional,

"Well, if I come in the next 30 minutes, will you be there for me to pick it up?" (remember this conversation took place when we lived in Yazoo City, not in Russia, though there have been a couple of those, too)

Worker,

"Of course, Mrs. Slawson.  I'll be here."

So, I pack up Isaiah and any necessary stuff and drive over to the medicaid office.  Guess who's not there...

I could go on, but I won't because now I'm having a wonderful experience with our new medicaid worker, and I'm going to praise God for her and enjoy this time of organization.  For instance, Ms. A called us before we left the States to inform me that I needed to get doctors to send her records to forward to another agency.  This means that Ms. A actually was on top of things and able to let me know what I needed to do before I called her to check on the status of Isaiah's file!  This has never happened before.

And today, when I called to check and make sure that everything had been sent to her (while I am 5000 miles away), she knew exactly who I was and knew right away the state of Isaiah's file.  I love this woman!  And right now I'm loving medicaid.

And really, if you think about it, my interactions with medicaid have been wonderful preparations for dealing with Russian bureaucracy; so I should be thankful for that.