Mimes v. Puppeteers

So, my daughter has a book called "Coke or Pepsi" it's an entire book of quizzes... basically things like Would you rather be stuck in a traffic jam or listen to 3 hours of your parents music,do you like stinky cheese, etc. One of the questions I found very interesting...

Would you rather spend the rest of your life as a mime or a puppeteer?

For me, this isn't difficult. I love to talk. Since not talking is a pretty important job requirement I would not be a very good mime..The whole charades bit 24/7 would not be very good to my mental stability. But, I got to thinking.... what would life be like as a puppeteer?

Of course, the whole walking around with marionette strings tied to your fingers all the time would be very aggravating. So, let's say you could be a "mind puppeteer". Does this mean you are the mastermind behind all of the actions around you, having control over people as if they are puppets on a string? If so, this would be a fantastical super power to have.

A real life Michael Corleone, only you can't use your powers for evil. Imagine all the sticky situations you could get yourself out of. And, you'd never have to do housework again because with the mere power of suggestion the kids/spouse would gladly do it!

All kidding aside, isn't that already part of the job description of a parent? You already are a puppeteer in some form. You have to pull the strings to try to make your kids make the right decisions. Sometimes it's not so fun guiding them through homework, using your mind powers to try to force them to do the right thing - sometimes we fail at this, but it makes both us and our "puppets" stronger. We are all already puppeteers in some form, but we have to take the good shows with the bad.

Super Beth

Do you ever wonder what goes through people's minds? Apparently among my many superpowers, I have the ability to have the same child on two different days in two different states delivered by two different doctors. Amazing! I wonder if that would get me in the Guinness Book of World Records?

I received a bill a couple months ago from my former OB in Arkansas. I called, said the date of service they had couldn't be right, and that I had documentation saying my last visit with them paid my account in full. I moved across the country. New doctor, new billing, everything's paid. Baby came in October, he was born in CO and was delivered by new doctor.

Enter lunatic office manager in AR. I've been talking with their billing office for a couple months. Stating over and over that I do not live there. Hello, how could I have used their services from so far away? One doesn't have "virtual obstetrics". This isn't like online banking, where your account can be halfway around the world from you and you are still capable of making a purchase. We're talking about the business of human life.

At our last conversation she informed me she would "investigate" my case. Really? And just how do you plan on doing that? She is claiming that by some miracle they delivered a baby boy in September at a hospital in Little Rock. Yes, that would have been my hospital of choice HAD I LIVED THERE. And, yes, I did have a baby boy - A THOUSAND MILES FROM THERE!

Now, I have tried to figure out every possible explanation for this error. To show you the weird innerworkings of my brain I'll list what I've come up with (in the order they appeared):

1. I am an unknowing character on "Big Love." The hubs has a second wife, who is weird enough to go to the same OB as me, and she had a baby last September. I ran this theory by him. He seems to think me and my three kids are enough of a headache, why would he double his pain and agony? Funny.

2. I have amazing superpowers and am able to somehow have a child in AR, somehow put him back in and then two weeks later had the same child in a different hospital in CO. The government hasn't figured out my superpower, because they only issued one birth certificate and one social security number. But that would be an interesting concept. I wonder how much money Lifetime would pay me for the rights to my story? Or maybe I'll be a permanent exhibit in Ripley's. Do you think the bearded yak lady would let me share a tent with her at the circus?

3. A clerk somewhere transposed some numbers and the billing went to me instead of the woman who he actually worked with on that date. Our accounts were a couple digits off, maybe her last name started with the same couple letters as mine (I know she couldn't have the same last name because we were literally the only people with that spelling in the whole state, I've checked). Who knows? Maybe our socials are even close in digits. But the bottom line is, whoever entered the billing made a mistake. And I'm not responsible for that.

So there you have it, my new tale of weirdness. It's a little cloud that follows me around. Somedays the cloud lifts and it's sunshine and rainbows, other days (like today) it hovers and pelts me in the head with licorice and tapioca pudding - yuck. In the meantime, I'm looking for my gold cuff bracelets, lariat of truth, knee high boots, and invisible plane.