Icky

Peoples' kids who smell like cigarette smoke make me sad.

Learning Curve

I have been back at work now for almost 2 months, and I am finally starting to feel like a nurse. Which is really neat for me, and also probably a reeeeaaallly good thing for my patients. I feel more confident in what I am doing, and they feel more confidence in me as a result. The weird thing is, I worked for 5 months previously on a Mother/Baby floor and I never had this feeling. I went to work and cared for new moms and their babies, but it never felt like I was accomplishing much. I KNEW about being a Mom, I KNEW about caring for babies, and showing new parents how to swaddle their newborn just wasn't requiring much brain power on my part. Its not what one would call a high-skills area and I certainly didn't feel like I was using my hard-earned 4 year degree to its full potential.

But things on a med/surg/oncology floor are very, very different. In the last two months I have (finally!) learned how to start IVs. I've changed dressings on wounds that were ranging from fresh out of surgery to rotten-full-of-maggots. I've seen all kinds of drains and wound vacs and colostomys and illeostomys and amputations and abrasions and staples and sutures. I've had patients from their early 20s to over 90 in all sizes and shapes and colors.

But the patients who have already found a special place in my heart are our cancer patients. To see them and their families, battling an illness of their body's betrayal at the most fundamental level, alternating between optimism and despair, anger and love, frustation and determination is both inspiring and humbling. A few weeks ago I was caring for this wonderful woman, whos family was always by her side tending to her every need, who in the midst of her own extreme suffering could still crack a joke and make everyone smile. I went in to the medication room to draw up some pain medicine for her and I just started to cry, I was so overwhelmed by her struggle. The cancer was killing her, and the treatment for it was only making her remaining time miserable. But she had no choice, you see, because she has young children. Who need her. Who she has to fight for even if the doctor says the odds aren't good. I had seen her youngest daughter for the first time in the hallway just moments before, and she stopped me in my tracks. "You look JUST like your mother," I said. "Thanks", she said with a big smile, "My mom is beautiful."

My preceptor came in the room behind me and asked me what was wrong. Like a child, all I could manage to get out with my sobs was a very simple "Its just not FAIR." She gave me a big hug and told me "Now I KNOW you are going to be a great nurse, because you care this much." She let me cry for a minute and then she roughly rubbed my shoulders, told me to pull it back together, and go do whatever I could for my patient. And that would have to be good enough.

A few of the patients I have cared for in my short time on this floor have already died. Not through any fault of ours, the cancer just couldn't be beaten. The learning curve here is steep. But I am learning how to cope. Someone asked me yesterday if I though I would "get used to it". I hope I never do. Because I do believe that the only thing I can give these amazing individuals that will make any real difference is my honest compassion and caring.

Why Barack Obama is a Jedi

Tonight was our weekly "Movie Night". Once a week I take the kids to blockbuster, the boys take turns choosing the movie, we order pizza and spend a couple hours together. Tonight it was Jude's turn, and he selected "The Return of the Jedi". This is one of my favorite movies for a lot of reasons, the main one being that Harrison Ford is my favorite actor and he is still smokin' hot in this movie. But that's besides the point.

So we are near the end of the movie, where the rebels are trying to get in to the little outpost to destroy in and bring down the Death Star's energy field(Disclaimer: I promise I am not a nerd, please hear this out) Luke has gone and turned himself in and is now sitting in front of the Emperor being taunted about the fact that his friends are basically walking in to a trap and cannot succeed against the enormous enemy force that will be there to greet them.

At this point my sister in law, Mary, makes a comment that this sort of reminds her of the current Presidential campaign. The large, controlling, evil empire in the hands of a few individuals desperately clinging to power for power's sake at the expense of everyone around them versus the small, seemingly insignificant rebel alliance, facing long odds but willing to take a chance knowing that they are the last hope for freedom and justice in the galaxy.

"Plus," I say, "The Emperor does kinda look like John McCain."

This makes my nine year old laugh hysterically.

So naturally Luke Skywalker becomes Barack Obama. Young, determined, energetic, charismatic (insert any good adjectives here) and possessed with internal strength, natural ability, and desire to do good. All necessary things when one is going about the business of saving the universe. Or in our case, just the United States of America. In this last big scene Skywalker says repeatedly that he does not want to fight, that he believes there is good in everyone, that he will not turn to the dark side. He is not there to destroy anyone, he only wants to bring them along with him in to a better, brighter, more peaceful future. Obama wants to discuss the real issues, not Palin's pregnant daughter. He wants fairness and equality, and a government governed by people who care about those less fortunate then themselves. He wants to promote science, education, advancement and alternatives instead of "same old same old, and who cares if it kills the planet because we will all be dead by then anyways!" policies. He's fighting this fight because he has to, not because he wants to. Which makes him a Jedi in my book. (Ok, now I am a nerd)

Joe Biden then can be our ever favorite Han Solo. Older, with a bit of a chip on his shoulder and street smarts to boot. He's charming and brave with a tendency to put his foot in his mouth. But we love him anyways. Biden, that is. Well, and Han Solo but everyone loves Han Solo so that goes without saying.

Sarah Palin won the dubious distinction of becoming Darth Vader. No, not because I think she is evil. Which she is. (Warning to my Conservative friends: Stop Reading Now. Wait....do I even HAVE conservative friends?) She is Darth Vader for the one simple fact that Vader is the Emperor's ultimate undoing. The difference of course here is that Vader makes a conscious choice to toss the Emperor over the railing in to the blue-fiery-pit-of-death-thing, while Palin on the other hand I think will rather accidentally and slowly nudge McCain over that precipitous ledge with her incoherent speeches. In fact the upcoming VP debate could actually be the defining ledge-tumbling moment.

As seemingly minor characters in this drama we also nominated the Religious Right to be the Storm Troopers. Unable to think outside the box, they can't stray from the pack, but they can blindly follow orders quite well. They are a well organized, well trained force that strikes fear in to the heart of many and then uses that fear to control them. To counter this of course there is a positive force: The Ewoks. Small, furry, feisty, smart. At first glance they certainly don't appear to be any real threat. But they were the one variable the bad guys hadn't seen coming and they tipped the scales allowing the rebels to proceed to victory. We don't have Ewoks in our fine country, but we do have college students. Lots and lots of them. And in this monumental, historical election, in this defining make-or-break moment, they will stand up and demand change. Or at the very least they might hit someone in the head with a sling-shot rock. You know, whatever they gotta do to get their point across. That point is this: Its time for a new generation to be in control. Because I personally do not believe our country can survive 4 more years of this shit.

Oops. (Or: In Case You Didn't Know, Melted Plastic Stinks)

 

I did this.

See, heres what happened. I was trying to be a good mother and boil the tops for Hannah's sippy cups since they had been back and forth to daycare and thus could be declared hazardous objects of biological warfare. I put them in a pan full of water, turned on the stove, and went about my business starting the laundry and other motherly-type duties. Then the phone rang. And it was Dean!! Naturally when Dean calls the rest of the world comes to a screeching halt, I usually go to my room and lay on my bed while we chat.

We had probably been talking ten or fifteen minutes when I very suddenly remembered there was something on the stove.

I ran out to the kitchen only to be greeted by a large cloud of billowing black smoke. The water had all boiled away and the tops were now seconds from bursting in to flames. I grabbed the pan and stuck it in the sink and turned the water on and I think I said something like "Oh shit I almost caught the kitchen on fire!!" All Dean heard was "fire" and he was saying "DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER IS?!?!" Which, I did not. But luckily nothing was actually on fire, there was just tons of smoke. I opened the back door and the window above the sink to let it out, I couldn't use the over-the-stove hood thing because sadly it is approximately 100 years old and doesn't work.

So the major crisis of burning the house down was narrowly averted. Whew. The kitchen still stinks though. Theres nothing quite like the stench of freshly melted plastic. Today I have to go out and buy new sippy cups. And a new pan.

And maybe I should find out where I keep the fire extinguisher.

A Happy Hair Day

Lately, I have become increasingly frustrated with my hair. I'm back at trying to grow it out, but its at that akward point where theres basically nothing to be done with it. And I hate it. And its evil. Which makes me want to chop it all off. However, my very sweet husband is basically begging me not to, and since hes in Afghanistan its the least I can do for him to not cut my hair.

Instead I have begun investing in a series of scarf/headband thingys in an attempt to make my hair at least appear decent. Or if it won't appear decent it will be too covered up for anyone to notice.

Yesterday I had on this sparkly scarf thing and my hair was all messy and cool looking and I was awfully proud of myself so I took a photo. Ta-Da! Happy Hair Day.

!$#%@#$

Ok so this one time, I wrote this really long, funny, clever, witty blog post.

And then my husband called.

And instead of clicking save I accidentally deleted the entire thing.

!@$#%$^!!!!!!!!!

New Views for Jude

 

Today Jude got glasses. And quite frankly, he was beyond thrilled about it.

The last few months I have noticed he seemed to want to sit practically on top of the TV when watching it. He also squinted a lot and complained of headaches on occasion. All big fat clues pointing us straight to the eye doctor, but with everything else going on it got pushed to the back of my mind and the bottom of my to-do list. But, today was Early Release day from school, and I decided to take advantage of it. I got him a same day appointment and right after school off we went. We took Eden to play at Sammy's, which upset Jude quite a bit since he had been made to sit through Eden's eye doctor appointment last year. Its hard to explain to a second born child why their older sibling frequently gets to do things that seem unfair, but I tried my best. "When Eden had to see the eye doctor you were too young to be left at a friend's house." to which he replied "I could've stayed at Sammy's too!" to which I replied "We didn't KNOW Sammy then" to which he replied "But we COULD HAVE known him!" So I gave up and just agreed that it was unfair, but thats how it was going to be anyways.

The eye doctor turned out to be a very young lady with a very big smile who made Jude feel extremely comfortable. She let him push the buttons to make his chair go up and down, and she really explained all the steps of what she was doing as best she could. She was very patient with his wiggly-ness, and very complimentary of his attempts to cooperate. When it was all said and done, the conclusion was that yes in fact he did need glasses, he has astigmatism, and one eye is worse than the other. I'm pretty sure she said the left eye was worse, but it was difficult to hear her at that point because Hannah was yelling at me to get more "wash wash" out of the dispenser on the wall.

Then we went and picked out some frames. This took all of 5 minutes because Jude actually doesn't care much what goes on his face. Unlike Eden who labored over the decision for a good 45 minutes, Jude was fine with any frame I put on him so long as it meant we could go home. It came down to two pairs I liked, and he chose the silver ones over the browner ones. Then in another stroke of good fortune they had the lenses in stock and said it would be a mere 15 minute wait to get the glasses put together! Hooray! Jude was very excited and very proud when he finally got to put on his new glasses. His mouth dropped open and he exclaimed "Oh WOW! Everythings got COLORS!"

He was really happy to get home and use his glasses to watch cartoons. Which he can now see from the couch.

September 1

Its official.

Its September.

This month marks one year since Dean left home to go to Ft. Riley in order to train for this deployment.

One entire Year. And the really funny part is...we aren't even done yet! Oh wait, thats not funny at all. Although I do remember very distinctly last September thinking that THIS September would never come. And now here we are. So that counts for something. Still, its strange to think I haven't lived with my husband for 12 months, and still have 3 to 4 months to go depending on whether or not you count this month since its already started, or if you count December which is when he will be home but probably not to till the end. In my head of course I like to calculate the time whichever way makes it seem shortest. This means I don't count either September (cause its started already) OR December (cause I will see him before that month ends). So that just leaves October and November to really get through. Trust me, in my Army Wife Brain it alllllll makes sense.

Now please excuse me while I go eat a big ol' bowl of Chocolate Trinity ice cream(from Publix! its the best ice cream ever!) to celebrate this milestone of sorts. I made it to September.

Judah Pudah

Jude turned six years old yesterday.

Six.

Thats half way to twelve. Or 1/3 of the way to 18.

Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyy????

Ok. I am calm again.

From the very beginning, and I do mean the VERY beginning, Jude was nothing like his brother. When I was pregnant with Jude I threw up 3 or 4 times a day for the first 12weeks (with Eden I threw up 3 or 4 times TOTAL EVER). With Jude I craved hot wings and ceasar salad (with Eden all I wanted was chocolate anything). As my tummy grew, Jude would most often find a nice spot in my ribs to place his feet. If I tried to push on him to get him to adjust his position he would literally PUSH BACK as hard as he could as if to say "Thanks for the suggestion, Mom, but I am comfortable right where I am."



After he was born, he didn't really do the whole sleeping thing. He cried a lot, he puked even more. I know the term is "spit up" but trust me, if you had seen what came out of that kid's mouth you would call it puke too. And it was projectile puke, capable of traveling several feet across a room or completely saturating my clothing to the point where if it happened and we were out somewhere we just had to go home to change.

Once he started smiling and laughing though he was a total charmer. And most of all he loved to make his big brother laugh. Jude was a very busy baby, and learned to crawl early, mostly so he could chase Eden around the house. Eden used to have to tell me "Mommy, I have to go potty!" and I would have to hold on to Jude and say "Ok, go! Run!" and Eden would run to the bathroom as fast as he could. The second I put Jude down he was off like a shot after him shouting "EEE-DAH!! EEE-DAH!" He would crawl over to the door and put his little tiny hands under the crack, unable to bear the seperation from his favorite person in all the world. He would lie on his tummy with his fingers under the door and say "eeedah, eedah" until Eden came out.



One of my favorite things Jude used to say was when he was around 2 years old. If you asked him to do something, or told him to stop doing something, he would reply as if he didn't understand and say "Whaa you say? Mama, Whaa you say?" Around this same time he also had horrific, full blown tantrums of the lying-kicking-and-screaming-on-the-floor variety. They were quite a scene to behold, and left me completely baffled as Eden had never had a tantrum in his life. In fact, most mornings Jude woke up screaming. The only way to make it stop was to get him a sippy cup of chocolate milk (mixed only by Mommy, unless you wanted to hear screams of "MOMMY DO IT MOMMY DO IT!!!!!), set him on the couch, and put on a cartoon. It became our morning ritual for quite a long time. He also found his own clever ways to try to get out of going to bed, like sticking his leg out between the bars of his crib all the way up to his thigh till it became tightly wedged, and then shouting for help. This was completely intentional, and scared the crap out of me every single time because I was convinced that one day I would not be able to un-wedge his leg. But I knew he was doing it to get attention, so I just had to go in, get him unstuck, lay him back down, and leave again without talking to him. If I said anything it was just "Jude, No." Some nights I would only have to go through this once, but most nights it was three or four times before he finally went to sleep.



But despite all that, he is still at heart just the sweetest, most loving child. In the early weeks of my pregnancy with Hannah, before the boys even knew, I was driving with Jude in the car one day and he was sitting in the back sitting talking quietly to himself. I said "Hey Jude, what are you doing?" and he replied "I'm talkin' to my baby sister." I was so shocked. I said "Well, you don't have a baby sister.." and he said "I'm just PRETENDING, Mommy!" After Hannah was born he was constantly wanting to hug her and hold her and poke her face with his fingers. He is loving, but not really gentle. Even now, with both Eden and Hannah, I have to remind Jude sometimes that hugs shouldn't hurt. But hes just so excited to love people, and to show it with all of his might. To the extreme. Which is really how he does everything.

So here he is now, a big six year old boy. Who always makes everyone smile.

Fortune Cookie Failure

 

This is the ACTUAL fortune I received out of an ACTUAL fortune cookie at dinner last night.

Does this even count as a fortune? It sounds more like a command to me. "GO TO THE GYM! BAAAH!" Thats what it should have said. At least that would have been more interesting. Plus "improving" my exercise routine implies that I already HAVE some sort of excercise routine in place which I could improve upon. This however is not the case. Although a couple of months ago I went to a local gym for a free trial week and seriously considered joining....but, uhm...then I didn't. So, maybe thats what its talking about. Or maybe its just a lame cookie.

Can I get another fortune please?