Jenn's Q&A on the AHCA

There's a lot to cover, so let's get right to our questions.

Who should check out these lists of possible pre-existing conditions that may prevent someone from receiving affordable insurance coverage for health care if the AHCA is implemented*?

Everyone reading this, since nearly everyone who breathes will eventually be slammed with one of these conditions—maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually, unless you inherited Jack Lalanne's genes.

Let's get right to it: Why should I have to cough up extra money for sick people when I could pay lower costs as a healthy person—or not buy insurance at all, if that's my choice?

We could do a deep dive into altruism and the greater good, or the community-based philosophy that similarly drives why people without kids pay school taxes or why non-military families pony up for veterans' benefits, or why the underlying purpose of insurance is to buy it now when you don't need it so you have it when you suddenly and unexpectedly do need it, but those debates are for another time—not because I don't think those things are important and valid (oh yes I do), but just because most people in these crazy times have curled up in a fetal position and are now just wondering: How will all of this affect me? So let's look at this from a purely selfish point of view, and I don't mean "selfish" in a bad way—it's also practical and smart to look out for the needs of yourself and your family. And it's our right as Americans to bitch about where our money goes. I know I do!

The fact is, start saving up the money you think you're going to be saving on premiums and deductibles with the AHCA, or by not buying insurance, and put it in a safe place, because good luck avoiding all of the conditions on the potential pre-existing conditions lists shown above, even if you're young and relatively fit (forget about the rest of us). One of the only guarantees we have in life is that all of us are going to get hurt or sick, in varying degrees, no matter how "good" of a life we live.

But the premiums are going to go down—that's one of the main points of this "repeal and replace" rigamarole.

The estimate on the last AHCA proposal by the CBO and the Joint Committee on Taxation—there's no current one yet, as this bill was rushed through before any thorough independent analysis could be completed—indicates that premiums, on average, would first rise through 2020, then fall. But because of the AHCA's new age-based ratings, those premiums would mainly fall for younger people, as insurers would be able to charge older people five times more than younger people.

Guess what, Class of '88 (those who make up much of my social media circle): By insurable standards (and probably some other ones, too), we're not considered spring chickens anymore—49 is the age when the premium rises I mention will likely start to trend up, per an AARP study. The AHCA is a pennywise/pound-foolish fix you'll likely regret down the road. And that road is more like a short country path leading to the mailbox for many of us, because that magic "49" is right around the corner, if you haven't already hit it.

Insurers are also going to do whatever they can to hike premiums independent of all of this, as insurers are wont to do—especially as they get nervous about losing younger, healthier clients who would no longer have to purchase insurance via the Obamacare mandate. Would those younger people eventually be drawn to purchasing insurance due to the ostensible cost savings to them through gouging older people? The AARP study extrapolates changing the age-rating system would have "only a modest impact on enrollment." 

We'll have to see, I guess (though I hope we don't have to see, because I hope this plan dies a quick death with a DNR in place). 

How much will the premium surcharges run if the AHCA goes through and you have certain pre-existing conditions?

You really don't want to know, but here are some estimates (which would be based on various factors, obviously). If you're cool with possibly having to come up with $5,600 for diabetes treatment, $17,000 for a pregnancy, $26,000 or so for arthritis and autoimmune diseases, and between $28,000 and $140,000 for various types of cancers, then this is the health care act you've been waiting for! (Actually, a bunch of patient advocacy groups say this isn't the health care act you've been waiting for.) 

But they've promised $8 billion extra to help those with pre-existing conditions who will be placed in high-risk pools.

Yes. That $8 billion is included in the Upton amendment, and it's not even close to providing adequate coverage for the American people. While $8 billion seems like a lot of money, it would, in combination with the $130 billion already slotted, help out only a fraction of the people who would need it.

To put more specific numbers on it, in a simplified way (because this is much more complicated than I'm making it sound here): $138 billion would subsidize about 700,000 people in high-risk pools a year. That would leave about 800,000 people in those high-risk pools per year without reasonable access to affordable coverage. When this $8 billion number is thrown out there to assure you everyone will be adequately covered, that is … not true. Plus, more on how high-risk pools have failed in the past to provide adequate coverage here and here.

Well, I have pretty good insurance through my employer, thank God.

Yeah, about that. Check out what the Wall Street Journal calls a "little-noticed provision" that's "part of a last-minute amendment" that, via state waivers, would let insurers opt to dump coverage for 10 essential benefits mandated for coverage under Obamacare—good stuff like all your prescription meds, all your pediatric visits if you have kids, PT and OT, trips to the ER, preventive services if you have a chronic disease, inpatient care (in the hospital) and outpatient care, and maternity and pregnancy care, among others:

Under the AHCA, however, large employers would potentially have the option under those conditions to get rid of annual cost caps in their plans and also set in place lifetime limits—meaning if you have a catastrophic illness or other major health snag, once your quota is reached, you're SOL. It's not a given most employers would do so, but when times get tough and costs need to be cut, the option would be there. I've worked for enough employers to know that, pizza parties and free bagels in the cafeteria aside, my best interests are not always their top priority.

You know, I'm looking back at these potential pre-existing conditions, because I need a break from all of your numbers, and they've got some strange stuff listed. Pregnancy? Postpartum depression? C-sections? It's almost as if women carrying and producing babies that were equally created by their male partners would have to shoulder an unfair share of things on the financial front.

Weird, right?

And what about treatment for sexually transmitted diseases, mental health services, physical therapy, or whatever else a woman may need as a result of sexual assault or domestic violence incidents? Seems odd a woman could see her health care costs spike because someone else committed an act of violence against her**. You could even speculate that women might be reluctant to report such incidents if they feel their health care coverage could be jeopardized.

You could speculate that, yes.

Not to change the subject, but I heard members of Congress are keeping Obamacare provisions for themselves while trying to gut everyone else's. What's up with that?

Actually, an update: While there was an original provision in the bill that provided for this, a separate piece of legislation has since been passed, meaning members of Congress will have to play by the same health care rules as the rest of us, at least in the legal sense. How much better their wallets handle it over most of ours is another story.

So if this is such an eyebrow-raising thing for the American people, why were all those House reps laughing and celebrating with a kegger*** in the Rose Garden after the AHCA vote?

Not sure, especially since the House vote is just the first step in a long process. Maybe because they were excited about the $765 billion tax cut over the next 10 years that will mainly benefit people in their tax brackets and beyond. Or perhaps because they're just horribly tone-deaf people who either have no clue or don't care that millions of people are despondent over this proposal, with some not even sure they'd make it out alive if this goes through.

I'm assuming they don't know my friends who are actually mulling the idea of moving out of the country because they don't know what this would mean for their 13-year-old daughter with cystic fibrosis. They're probably not familiar with my friend who has purchased life insurance for her 10-year-old son because he has Tetralogy of Fallot, or my former co-worker who spends much of her spare time being an advocate for the Crohn's disease she suffers from, or my cousin who has cerebral palsy. Who am I to say what provoked such policy glee?

It can't be because they kept a campaign promise. As I remember it, there were proclamations there would be no cuts to Medicaid (there will be, to the tune of $370 billion over 10 years, at last estimate, shifting the burden to the states, which won't be able to pick up the entire load), nonstop talk of lower premiums and deductibles, plus "insurance for everybody," including those with pre-existing conditions:

Not only does the AHCA not keep these promises, it does pretty much the exact opposite. The only fulfilled promise I'll concede (and only the first step of it) is getting rid of something with "Obama" in its name.

I guess my point to the pols about their very public merrymaking is: Have some decency. Spend a few minutes reading some of the stories on the #IAmAPreexistingCondition hashtag. Actually show up to your town halls and have conversations with your constituents to see how this will affect them. And take it to Paul Ryan's basement in the dead of night the next time you want to whirl your noisemakers over such a "victory." This isn't a victory for everyone—not by a long shot, and you should be cognizant and respectful of that.

So you're saying my concerns are completely invalid, you don't care if I have to pay money I don't want to pay, and Obamacare is perfect?

I never said that; I don't want you to spend any more money than you have to, hence this Q&A; and no, it isn't. Obamacare needs fixes. THIS IS NOT THAT FIX.

OK, sorry, maybe I jumped the gun. But while this rant (whoops, sorry, did it again!) of yours is entertaining, how about some immediately actionable items?

If you agree with what I've said here: This stuff is getting thrown at us fast. Read up on it, as boring as it seems—your future health, and that of your loved ones, depends on it. If you'd like to make your views known to your elected representatives on this week's AHCA vote, plug your zip code into the Town Hall Project to find out when the next town hall near you is happening.

If you don't agree with what I've said here: Same stuff I recommended above. In terms of actionable items, we may be looking for different results, so don't know that I can do any more of the heavy lifting for you here. And it's Friday—I need a beer.

If you're not sure what to think: I don't blame you. This is all overwhelming, for all of us. I hope I didn't make it worse, but I'm hoping to make things better by offering resources that will give you the info you need to ensure a safe, healthy, affordable life for you and your family—no matter what side of the fence you're on.

If you had to pick a favorite quote, what would it be?

I have a few, but let's go with: There but for the grace of God go I.

FYI, I skipped right to the end because I know you just went off on another one of your liberal rants.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯     Good luck with everything—and good health! 

* What specific pre-existing conditions could be endangered if the AHCA bill goes through have not been set in stone. The BlueCross BlueShield site, however, has a banner over its previous list of pre-existing conditions that reads: 

Other potentials mentioned in this post are ones culled from past pre-existing conditions lists from insurers or ones that experts feel could be reasonably anticipated to be dropped onto the list.

** The Washington Post gets more into the nuances of how rape and domestic violence themselves are not the pre-existing conditions that would preclude affordable insurance coverage, which is correct. However, the author, while acknowledging there's a path to significantly increased costs for women seeking treatment for the after-effects of these incidents (e.g., mental health services, STD treatments, physical therapy), glosses over that possibility to make it appear this shouldn't be a real concern, as certain conditions would have to be in place for this to happen. 

The fact is, the path does exist to significantly increase costs (especially if women conceal that they were raped or abused, which is often the case), and it can be further widened with additional changes to the plan down the road. Also, try telling the women it would affect in these so-far limited conditions that this isn't a concern. We just went from "this never can happen" to "this sometimes can happen," and "sometimes" does not mean "rarely," especially in cases of underreported abuse and assault, where state laws would not offer the protections that the WaPo author mentions.

*** The rumor about the beer may have been just that: a rumor.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

Running Through My CD Collection: Day 15

So everyone is probably back to some kind of exercise routine, because...January! I commandeered the workout wagon again in September, when I realized the adventure race I had run three years previously would decimate me now, prompting me to recruit "a guy" to show up on my doorstep twice a week to whip me back into shape. The guy has a name (it's Chris), but my co-workers think it's funny when I have to leave right on time on Wednesdays and Fridays because my "guy" is coming. There are lots of potential guy-themed jokes to be had, and we've had them all.

But if you're starting a workout regimen anew for 2017, here are five no-fail tips that I actually can't offer a guarantee on, but yeah, they're pretty good:

1. Always exercise on Mondays.

2. Treat every day like a new day and a chance to start fresh (even on Tuesday if you didn't follow Rule No. 1 and exercise on Monday).

3. Drink lots of water. Not drinking water can make you tired. Science!

4. Listen to excellent music.

5. Invite "a guy" to come to your house twice a week.

I haven't consistently kept up with the CD/exercise experiment I started a year and a half ago, because I'm lazy and there's work and kids and trying to write other stuff and other stuff in general, but I'm not psyched about what I see looking outward lately, so I'm retreating back to temporary inwardness to hold me over till...whenever.

Now that that's out of the way:

Today's album: Pandora mix, because I cleaned up a lot of crap for holiday guests and can't figure out where I put my CD case, which is enormous, so WTF.

Length: 1 hour

Activity: 45 minutes treadmill, 5 minutes power exercising, 10 minutes stretching

What listening to this album made me think of: I cranked up the "Frankie Goes to Hollywood" channel on Pandora, which gave me enough synthesized fodder to get through the worst of it. It made me think about a bunch of things, because there were a bunch of songs:

• 18-minute remix version of "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood: 
All I could think about was a) when is this remix ending, because even though I like this song I want a different song now, and b) how I was mortified when I found out, at around the age of 14, what "when you want to come" meant.

• "Hold Me Now" by the Thompson Twins: 
This really is a beautiful, if clichéd, song, but I laugh whenever I hear it because my first boyfriend and first real heartbreaker once wrote me an amorous letter and included this at the end: "You say I'm a dreamer, we're two of a kind. Both of us searching for some perfect world we know we'll never find." 

Maybe it was the subterfuge of my Cyrano removing the song-break slashes and swapping in commas and periods, and yeah, it did sound incredibly familiar to me when I first took it all in, and sure, there probably should've been some sort of red flag (I didn't recall any conversation when I had broached his dreamer status). But I was so infatuated that my brain short-circuited and I thought it was the most romantic thing anyone in the history of Planet Earth had ever written to anyone else, a glowy delusion I absorbed into my DNA and that probably kept the relationship going far longer than it was meant to go. It was only a few months after we had broken up and I was seeking closure through old letters when I came across this, suddenly pinpointed the origin, and thought, "Figures."

• "Always Something There to Remind Me" by Naked Eyes:
 This song evoked no emotion.

• "Suicide Blonde" by INXS: 
This is my least favorite INXS song, yet my most favorite INXS song to work out to.

• "Hungry Like the Wolf" by Duran Duran: 
Friends from junior high.

• "Just Like Heaven" by The Cure: 
I've always hated The Cure, a loathing exacerbated by the fact that a girl who lured a college boyfriend from me was a Cure devotee. Hate (even though I don't really hate her/him anymore, just the feeling it dredges up) = running impetus.

• "True Faith" by New Order:
This song led me back to thinking outwardly, which I DO NOT WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW, but luckily it was the last song of the workout.

Review: I liked all of the songs except the Cure song, but I made it work for me because that's how I roll.

How I felt after: Annoyed when my parents showed up at the 40-minute mark and my dad started taking pictures of me on the treadmill. Good otherwise, though still fighting the asthma that has returned over the past couple of months to torture me.

Random fact I learned about these artists/albums: I didn't know "Relax" was banned by the BBC, though not surprising. Nice!

Why I'm doing this: See Day 1. 

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

Movies Movies Movies Movies ... and Moar Movies!

What Ralph Fiennes was like for pretty much all of A Bigger Splash, and what I'm not ashamed to say the day-to-day can feel like.

And so what was once called by a medical professional, to the delight of my closest friends, my "general malaise" has bogged me down and boggled me for 30-plus years, at varying intensity levels, exacerbated and/or salved at different points by the situational, hormonal, and medicinal. 

For the past few years—traced back to just before the Hurricane Sandy maelstrom of late 2012; spurred by the nefarious relentlessness of shaky finances, career insecurity, and marital discord; and culminating in Election 2016—I've especially felt that unmistakable steel-toed concrete boot pressing down on my chest and asphyxiating me whilst a steel vise crushes my brain, makes deals with my sanity, and turns my sometimes brown–sometimes titian tresses a steely gray. All of this steeling/stealing *should* make me feel practically bionic! Instead, it often just renders me incredibly tired, unmotivated, and unable to get out of bed except out of sheer necessity. Not all of the time, and sometimes, thankfully, not for long stretches, but enough that it's irritating.

What helps me most of all during the downturns (and keeps my upswings very much upswingy) are the sweet hugs of my children, a limited regimen of somewhat unhealthy but mostly legal vices, and a more liberal dose of healthier escapism—namely, lots of reading, music, and movies. Lately I've added photography into the mix. It's hard for me to concentrate on words during the spirals, and so the other three have become my recent go-to.

Anyway, as Oscars season approaches, here's my brain dump on the movies part, to be regularly updated. I also have a new Pixies album to obsessively listen to and analyze, and I've been plowing through the entire Arrested Development franchise, so there may be somewhat of a gap between viewings.

A Bigger Splash

This was a Christmas night treat, a movie I'd never even heard of starring Tilda Swinton and my boyfriend Ralph Fiennes and a delightfully sullen Dakota Johnson and a very hot Belgian actor who excels at cunnilingus for the purposes of this film (and perhaps even beyond that, I'm assuming). Ralph exhibited a controlled amount of his typical steely (callback!) staring, a goodly portion of manic joie de vivre, and his usual jealous obsessiveness. He'd better win something for this masterful emotional amalgam.

Tilda did her best David Bowie here, though it was a little weird (maybe genius?) that her character suffered from a vocal malady and didn't speak for most of the movie. Spoiler alert: The first half was deliciously uncomfortable and fantastically unpredictable, the second half was meh. There's also an amazing al fresco dining scene that will make you want to rob a bank so you can rot full time on Pantelleria.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

The Tempestuous

Four years since the storm came

Marked by "a," "n," and "y"

A sudden squall, an upending,

Then abruptly: Goodbye.

 

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

A Very Important Pre-Debate Message From Jenn Gidman

There won't be a single person who will disagree with what I've got to say here.

OK, I've lied already. Of course there will be people who will disagree with what I've got to say. But you're here, aren't you? See how easy it was for me to make a confident, declarative statement that exploited the curiosity gap, manipulating you into clicking through to this opinion piece? Now you're one step closer to falling exactly where I want you, which is listening to even more of my confident, declarative statements and, hopefully, being swayed to my side in the topic of my choosing.

Welcome to the insidious world of politics, and also of lying, which is that chosen topic. I've been watching with interest the back-and-forth on social media between Donald Trump supporters and those who intend to vote for Hillary Clinton. (For the sake of this argument I'm leaving out third-party fans, because I believe that ship has sailed.*) And while the liberal set has failed miserably at coming up with catchy nicknames for Trump ("walking circus peanut" and "Cheeto Jesus" are amusing, but they don't exactly roll off the tongue), cons have done a better job at coming up with shorter, pithier pejoratives. My favorites being "Hitlery," "ILLary" (as an homage to her supposed coughing fits, raging brain tumors, and recent bout with pneumonia), and the ever-popular "HilLIARy." 

It's that last one that most catches my attention every time it floats down my feed, because for everyone planning on voting for Trump who's hyperfocused on the Democratic nominee and her distortions meticulously curated by Fox News, Breitbart, and the like, there's something I'd like to tell you, sotto voce: Your guy is also a liar. In fact, an even bigger, "unprecedented" liar—a pathological one who tells whoppers pretty much every time he opens his mouth, about big things, small things, and things that no one would ever have dreamed up if they hadn't actually happened.

He's a liar who lies so much and so often that an entire cottage industry has sprung up dedicated to compiling the lies he tells weekly, and even daily. One who has earned so many "four-Pinocchio" ratings from the Washington Post that it keeps a running list; he doesn't fare much better on PolitiFact against Clinton. One who averaged about one fabrication every three minutes and 15 seconds over a recent five-hour span, per Politico's stopwatch.

He's a liar who can't help telling untruths to the point that there's a cheat sheet for moderator Lester Holt on the lies that Trump specifically is likely to rattle off during tonight's debate. (To be fair, the Post also alerts viewers to the eyebrow-raisers that Hillary is likely to bring up during the debate, though her list, by comparison, is filled with more exaggerations, overstatements, and head-shaking technicalities than outright "fables" as expected from Trump.)

 
He's a liar who will likely tell those whoppers and more during tonight's debate—and he's been adamant he doesn't want the candidates to be fact-checked during the debate, while the Clinton campaign is all for it. Tomorrow's extensive recaps will lay out how much of what he said was probably complete garbage (though maybe he'll surprise us—he's nothing if not full of surprises!), but that doesn't help when people are watching the debates and absorbing every word he says, and then refusing to read (or believe) the following day's mitigation. He's a liar who said stuff during the debate, live in front of close to 100 million people, about being "smart" for not paying his taxes, and then that same night denied he'd ever said that**.

I'd be inclined to believe the assertion that so many in denial have claimed: that the liberal media is responsible for this subterfuge smear against The Donald. But we've got conservative-leaning newspapers that haven't broken from their GOP presidential endorsements for decades (in some cases, in more than a century) suddenly announcing either third-party endorsements or a thumbs-up for Hillary Clinton; high-ranking Republican leaders and pundits defecting from both Trump in particular and the GOP in general; and even George HW, part of the beloved Bush dynasty, saying he'll not only not vote for Trump, but will vote for a DEMOCRAT—and not only just any Democrat, but the Democrat who's married to the person who beat him out for the presidency. Meanwhile, his wife, Barbara, offers her own incredulous reaction to anyone voting for Trump, especially women.

Guys, something's up. It should, at the very least, give everyone thinking about voting for him some pause without leaning in hard on the liberal-conspiracy trope. It's probably true that not all of these people are fleeing from Trump strictly because of his inability to tell the truth, but it's also probably true it plays a large part. I've heard it said by many that they're voting for Trump because they crave radical change and want to shake up the establishment—and so, therefore, many of these disgruntled GOPers, it's often said, are defecting because they're part of this establishment, resent the brazen interloper who's swooped in to destroy their party, and are now harvesting their sour grapes. In some cases, that may be true; but it's also pretty reasonable to assume, based on "reasons," that they're fleeing from Trump not because he's simply anti-establishment, but because he's also clearly a Lyin' Lunatic.

I guess one could label me a liberal "extremist" (a name that's been hurled at my extremely boring self this election season), but that just shows one doesn't know me very well. I do tend to lean liberal on many issues, but I've pulled the lever for Democratic, Republican (including one Bush), and third-party presidential candidates since I reached voting age.

I've also rarely commented on political matters on social media and went into this election with relative ambivalence toward both of these candidates: I knew very little about Trump's past, and I rather enjoyed watching him on The Apprentice. I'm also more Bernie than Hillary, as I've had my own various issues over the years with her, most notably concerning her reactions toward women who've accused her husband of sexual assault.

But as part of my 9-to-5 this election year, I've had the opportunity to take in an awful lot of information from all sides, and I think I've become pretty skilled at separating the wheat from the conspiracy-theory chaff—and it's unmistakably led me to the same conclusion. I still have reservations about Hillary Clinton (many of my original ones, as well some new ones), but they pale in comparison to what I've learned, read, and witnessed with my own eyes about Donald Trump.

One could respond to my thesis with a whataboutism list of bullet points for every lie Hillary Clinton has ever told, and it won't matter, because my point isn't that Hillary Clinton doesn't lie—I'm sure she does, has, and likely will again, as I believe most politicians do to varying degrees (except for perhaps Jimmy Carter, and I bet even HE had to have told a white fib once in awhile). But everything she's said to have lied about—some true, some maybe true, some already proven to be not so much true—can’t compare with Trump's laundry list. If we're comparing lying apples to apples, and if truth-telling is a large part of what you're basing your vote on (i.e., we're not even getting into policy, general temperament, and overall saneness and humanity), Hillary's basket may have some mighty big apples in there, but Trump's basket is overflowing, and they're all rotten to the core.

Editor's Note A: Has any of this manifesto persuaded you? Will the debate tonight sway anyone? Doubtful on both counts. I fall in the camp mentioned in this Salon article that believes most people's minds are likely already made up for November, and that once beliefs are firmly entrenched in people's minds, even wrong ones, it's extremely difficult to dislodge them. But then again, a recent Reuters/Ipsos poll showed that half of likely voters are going to use the debates as a gauge to help them make their final call. That's where my hope lies—and not in the way that Donald Trump does. (See what I just did there?) 

Editor's Note B: If you skipped right to the end of this to check out my conclusion because tl;dr, just watch this John Oliver clip about the false equivalency of their foundation scandals, you monster.

* In regards to the much-ballyhooed protest vote, which, as previously stated, I usually have no qualms against casting: a) Gary Johnson or another savior candidate isn't happening, people; b) there's no candidate I like well enough to cast my lot behind, even if it were happening; and c) there's nothing morally, ethically, or pragmatically wrong with instead picking a somewhat flawed candidate (as they all are, if you review your American Civ 101 notes) over one who will likely reach for the nuclear football as soon as someone insults him on Twitter—and then, as we pull ourselves out of the ashes, say, in his best Shaggy voice: "Wasn't me."

**Updated Oct. 2, 2016.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.

An Ode to 12

12.

That's how old my child is today, shown here in this photo hanging out in his man cave. Except Jackson isn't quite a man, and he's no longer a child. To me, he's a force of nature, a descriptor I adopted during his first few years, both During- and Post-Womb:

When he dictated what I consumed during pregnancy (OK, that was the gestational diabetes, but still).

When he rammed his tiny, torturous foot into my rib cage for two straight weeks in utero as he sought more comfortable accommodations.

When we shared a tumultuous birthing session. We survived; my coccyx did not.

When he demanded everyone and anyone grab his pudgy, Trumpian hands and constantly walk him around the house (the kid was walking by himself by 9 months).

When I pleaded with him as a toddler—after he was too big for me to lug around in the Baby Bjorn—to zone out in front of Yo Gabba Gabba or Baby Einstein for just 15 minutes so I could get something (anything) done.

When I'd place him in the timeout chair for some preschooler transgression, only to witness him immediately get up out of the chair, look me squarely in the eye, and calmly walk away.

Fast-forward a decade:

When I have to lie down after every disagreement with him because my head is spinning. As soon as I hear "So what you're saying is...," I know there's a lengthy filibuster coming as he seeks out every loophole and hole in my sieve of logic.

When he's up at midnight shooting basketballs into his plastic mini-hoop.

When he's incapable of having a conversation without pacing up and down the length of the room until I have to tell him to please sit down because I'm feeling seasick.

When he informs me he received an in-school suspension because he rebelled against the lunch aide sexism running rampant in the middle school cafeteria (!).

They say you can tell a child's personality right from the start, and while I'm still not sure who "they" is, I now officially believe them.

But even when I'm at my wit's end, I tell myself (sometimes over and over again within the span of a few seconds): "My life is full of Jackson."

And that includes being full of all of the above, as well as full of his insane wit and intelligence; a smile that still lights me up every time I see it; a huge heart that's led him to donate hundreds of dollars of his own money to school charity events and stick up for kids at school he thinks are being unfairly treated; a thoughtful and inquisitive mind that's always analyzing the problems he sees in the world; the envious ability to strike up conversations and friendships with complete strangers; and a confidence, perseverance, and belief in himself that will take him far, among plenty of other qualities that make me proud every day. He's given me so much to laugh and marvel at over the past 12 years—I can't wait to see what the years ahead hold. If I can just get him to make his own breakfast one of these days, we'll be set.

I count just six more summers after this one before he heads off to college. I want to put a spike strip in front of this hot rod that's speeding toward adolescence and young adulthood, but Jackson would simply get out of the car and walk barefoot over the spikes. Instead, I offer lots of hugs and hope the friction of my embrace will slow him down just a little, for my own selfish reasons, before I let him go cruisin' off for good.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.