I hope everyone survived their holidays. Well I really hope people actually enjoyed their holidays, but I find this time more than a little stressful, so sometimes, just getting through them emotionally/psychologically intact makes them enjoyable. I not only got through adult 1 without winding up in the local psychiatric hospital (no small feat there given this fall) but I got high honors to boot. I don't like to toot my own horn but given the past few months I've had I'm very happy that I got through. A quarter of my class wound up with a D or worse, which means they have to retake the course again, and my heart breaks for them. Maybe it shouldn't, maybe they're not so upset, but I find this whole nursing school experience so unbelievably stressful, rewarding too, but man it really takes you to the brink in terms of seeing what you can handle. Let's see good things that have happened this past term. I had one horrible clinical instructor and two wonderful ones, one of whom I got along with especially well (when I started talking about how the computer system at the hospital drives me crazy the instructor was like 'I'm so jealous you're going to get one of those jobs in nursing with computers. Please take me with you if you do.' And as I look into nursing informatics, I don't know, it's like it would combine all the apparent dead ends in my life career wise and it would make sense and if that could work and I could get paid well and make a difference, oh my I would jump up and down with joy every day. Seriously.) I sort of collect, in my heart and head, these instructors who nurture me, because I need those good feelings to look back on during the very tough times. One charge nurse took me aside at the hospital one day, my stomach instantly dropped and I was trying to recount what I might have fucked up on, but she said that Mrs. G's students are always very good on the floor (medically complex floor) but she wanted to let me know that I was going to be paid very well and make an excellent nurse. That I was very gentle with the patients, asked questions of the staff in an assertive but gracious way and was quietly confident, she stressed that my not being loud was something her floor greatly appreciated and, unfortunately, I know what she means because I've heard other loud nursing students. I kept saying thank you and I swear I was close to crying what she said made me feel so good. Of course the next day my patient had altered mental status and insulted me most of the day, she didn't know better, but after my father yelling at me the day before he died, it cut a little too close to home. Then my instructor got upset because I was trying to fill out a pain reassessment (to document how the patient has responded to pain medication) and I didn't know what to put because she was so out of it she thought I was talking about paint not pain. And my instructor was mad at my dithering and I just burst into tears, not my finest moment. I'm telling you nursing school is like this emotional roller coaster but I made it through this term. I just need to think of Dory in Finding Nemo 'just keep swimming' and sort of maintain that attitude through the next 38 weeks of school. This term will probably be my toughest because it's the critical care term, so I'll be spending my clinical days in the ICU for the most part. God help me. I have clinical nightmares, where I forget to give medication or do the wrong thing, make horrible mistakes and feel so bad and guilty. I wish there was a drug I could take that could eliminate those bad dreams from my subconscious and put confidence boosting ones in their place. Anyhow I had such a long 'things to do' list that I wanted to cross my way through over my two and a half weeks off. I didn't cross off nearly as much as I would have liked to but I did read Freedom, which I highly highly recommend (I had to put the NPR link because he makes so many hysterical comments about NPR listeners in the book). I saw Black Swan which was good and The Fighter, which was better. I got some things done around the house but the stuff that needs to be done around here is like an avalanche I'm always running three feet in front of. I so look forward to the day when I no longer feel like there's an avalance behind me.

My resolutions for the New Year are
1. to wean my coffee intake to one large cup a day and drink water for the remainder of the day, eat more fruit and vegetables, limit my sugar and try to cut down on the processed food. yes i make this resolution every damn year but hopefully one of these days it will happen.

2. hula hoop everyday for fifteen minutes in addition to my usual gym routine. do not underestimate the enjoyable exercise that is the hula hoop.

3. try to get more friends locally, because I really have next to no social life in Pittsburgh (pathetic I know, but I'm really shy in person) and sure school is busy but it would be nice to go out for coffee or a movie or breakfast with someone aside from myself, my mom or my kids.

4. post more on this blog, even if it's just random photos.

5. do more creative stuff while in school, it's hard to carve out that time but I think it might be critical for my mental health to avoid becoming totally consumed with being a nursing student and only measuring myself through that lens. (wow! and I thought the mom lens was a particularly self critical one, nursing student is right up there with it).

To the few who read this I truly wish you all the very best. My old friends that I've loved for years and had wonderful experiences with and the new friend I met through the blogworld who I've never seen face to face but who fits right in with those I've known forever. Happy 2011!


christmas booty. the tree is topped with a fleece kitty that my kids got me for my birthday, oona said it was for me to sleep with when they aren't at my house. she's very sweet about worrying about me sleeping alone and will put her stuffed animals in my bed to keep me company. the tree ornaments are incredibly kid friendly thanks to my aunt joy sending me new ornaments every year.

oona never met a pattern she didn't like, or one that didn't go with another. i think if you asked her her favorite color it would be some pattern.

see that lavender tower in back, in the living room? the elves must have been drunk making that, at least that's what I told the kids, between muttered curses trying to snap the not quite right plastic parts into one another. what a flipping nightmare.

this picture cracks me up because owen sort of looks like those photos of politicians in the middle of making some crucial point about how they're right.

my kids love washing the dishes. the gloves are comically large on oona.

pictures of the highland park reservoir. for some reason this last one looks almost like it was taken with a fish eye lens to me. and it sort of looks austere and a bit melancholy

For close to three years now I've had a secret crush on this man that goes to the same gym as me. He looks a bit like Tim Roth and Eddie Munster. Oh, how desirable you say. Well he's like 95% Tim Roth and 5% Eddie Munster but I just can't deny that 5 %, although I'm sure he would. If I were ever to talk to him say. Yes this is someone I see pretty regularly, before school started almost daily. And in those three years I've maybe had three conversations with him. Two painfully awkward ones, in the presence of my children, in the elevator and one equally maladroit attempt at chatting when I saw him by myself. Oh and two and half years ago he smiled at me in the parking lot, I had driven back to retrieve my gym bag which I had left in the parking lot. So what do I do? Smile back? Hell no. I made this strangled gasp, grabbed my bag and ran around my car in a circle (it was like a chinese fire drill with myself) . Honestly it would have been harder to look more laughable. I mean he's married with two children, so there's no reason for me to be such an idiot around him, he's not even available. But I don't know what it is, some people just turn my insides to mush (brain included) and I become this middle aged infatuated moron. How attractive. On one hand I realize that if I were to talk to him, at length, like get to know him, this whole crush might be dispelled because he could very well be dull or dumb or close-minded or not funny, so in some incredibly bizarre masochistic sense it's good that I don't talk to him. And honestly what's the likelihood that I could talk to him without potent pharmaceutical intervention? But this way he forever maintains the status of being the man at the gym that makes me weak in the knees.

so with school and my avalanche of stressors (situational and self induced) which shows no signs of slowing i don't get much quality time with the kids so i'm going to start taking either owen or oona for a few hours on saturdays so i can just have fun time with them and reconnect because i'm feeling really lost from them since school started and it's a horrible feeling. yesterday i took owen biking (that's zoo traffic in the background, don't even get me started on that since the easiest way to my home is taking the same street zoo parking is on.) and then we had hot chocolate and brownies together and it was really nice and such a welcome break from my life of late.

has anyone seen a tree with these type of thorny growths on it before?

owen and i kept talking about how nasty looking it was and he was saying if the womping willow in harry potter had these type of thorns on the ends of it it would be even nastier a tree than it already is and no amount of pumpking juice could heal the wounds such a tree might mete out.

here's owen poking at one of the more benign thorn growths.

owen's making a peace sign which you can see on the large version of this picture, probably not so clear scaled down this much.

setting the bar low

Well, lower. I've gone from needing to be the top student in my class, to needing to get high honors this term, to maybe honors is enough, to why don't I just try to get through the term where I only visit WPIC (the psychiatric rotation in our clinical term) as a student observing and not as an actual patient being admitted. I know I am setting the bar real low here but i'm sort of crossing my fingers, hoping I can do it. I have a midterm on monday which I'll be studying for in every spare minute over the next three days (when i'm not procrastinating by writing or cleaning) because the tests this term are kicking my ass! Of course, it would help matters if my heart would comply with my body when I try to relax and focus but no. Thank you very much for the support in my previous post, you don't know how much that helps right now.

american beauty

I have wanted to write for so many weeks but I don't even know where to begin. I feel so raw from everything I've been going through for the past month. My father died on September 18th. I'm thankful that I was able to see him before he died and my children got to see him too. Owen was sensitive, as usual, and frightened by my father's appearance that had become horribly distorted from the cancer and medications. Oona was unfazed and ran up to hug him then twirl through the room. I spoke with my Dad on a Monday and he was fine. By Tuesday he couldn't talk clearly to me, the cancer took over his brain that quickly. Of course it also attacked his liver so the toxins in his body just went up to the brain, adding insult to injury. Death is not tidy. I just wanted to say goodbye to him and tell him not to worry, that I loved him and I would be okay, that he didn't need to worry about me. He yelled at me when I tried to feed him lunch the day we left. I know, intellectually, that it wasn't him. He was out of it cognitively, even when he yelled it was that he didn't want that medication that he thought I was giving him. But I bawled. It was the one time his eyes were open, bright blue and seemingly clear even though what he was shouting about made no sense. It was horrible. And I don't want that to be what I remember. And his siblings keep telling me not to worry about the 'cross words I had with my dad at the end' which isn't even accurate and that I was his pride and how much he loved me and it just feels so empty. And is it just bitchy of me to feel that way? Oh and to top it off, the last day we were in Cleveland I discovered that my children were completely infested with lice. I'd wanted to stay until Saturday, which is the day my father died, but I couldn't see how I could do that with the lice in a hotel. I was overwhelmed. I came home to start the nitpicking and laundry (which took on Fantasia proportions). My first test in school was that Monday. I'm phoning it in with school, I mean I'm trying but I get these waves where I'm just crushed with how bad I feel. I have trouble eating (so I look horrible!) the past month I've been feeling like my body is in a state of a permanent panic attack. Oh and did I mention that the bulk of my student loan went towards paying for my father's cremation? I just want to sleep, if my racing heart will let me. But actually I really need to study because I've got another test tomorrow and a midterm next Monday, nursing school doesn't stop and I'm not supposed to either.

So... I started writing poetry.. Because isn't that what everybody does at a point of crisis in their lives? Someone I love gave me this book over the summer and I loved it and it made me want to write again. Even if it winds up being the poor man's version of this book. I can just write my poetry memoir, minus the anorexia, plus the bulimia and with a lot more alcohol consumption (and boyfriends!) and file it away and not have those memories gnawing at me. This poem isn't breaking properly on the blog but I can't figure out how to make that work right now. I'm just happy I was able to type a somewhat coherent post at this point.


American Beauty

My dress for prom was shiny satin, sweetheart neckline, the color
a deep fuschia. The lady at the store wore a corsage of pins on her wrist
that she plucked from to take in my waist
She deemed it amercian beauty rose through lips pressed tight
over the steel petals in her mouth. I fell for the fancier name.
My shoes were dyed to match. Junior prom and I was bringing him.
But I had on the necklace you gave me, a synthetic stone hung
from the thinnest gold chain. I never found it pretty.
But it was enough to remember the smile on your face when I opened the box
that was enough to make me happy. So Christina borrowed my pearls
and they looked lovely on her. And I became cozy with regret.
Slipped away from his hand as it climbed higher along the back
of my satin thigh as we stood under an arbor weighted
with fake roses waiting for the flash to go off.
It wasn’t fair. I’d had no shame about making out
in front of the group that shared our limo. The badness I’d been so intent on
erasing was becoming a bigger, darker mess. My handiwork
only made things worse. I realized too late that I was in
over my head. I laughed it off when he told me
once the best time in his life had come and gone
he was going to start taking chances. I couldn’t truly respond, fear
took my voice away. Later as I drove him home he wouldn’t stop.
Kissing my face, my neck, buried his face in my shoulder
to nibble at a clavicle. I took my hand off the stick, pushed him back
and chided you can’t do that or we’ll get ourselves killed. Undeterred
he continued up to my ear whispering but wouldn’t it be a great way to die.

first day of school

For owen that is. i have to wait until next wednesday for Oona's first day of kindergarten. But Owen was very excited about his first day and his new 'snazzy' pants for his first day of school. Another couple of weeks and those snazzy pants of his are going to be snazzy floods what with the way he's growing. I call him cricket and hopper lately, when I look at his long slender sticks for legs, he weighs in at 60 pounds after eating a very large meal. And the slick shoes that were dressier than his usual run of the mill velcro sneakers. Owen is a boy who likes to dress up for the occasion, whatever it is. He's actually talked about owning a tux in some not to distant future in his 8 year old head. Of course I've also come into his room, waaay past his bed time, to find him bawling worried about college, getting a job, affording a house. Yes the boy clearly takes after me with respect to spiralling out of control with catastrophic, crippling anxiety at inappropriate times (although I'm not sure if there ever is a truly appropriate time). But I don't know where the dandyisms comes from, although, now that I think of it, my Dad, his Grandpa Boo, was a bit of a clotheshorse. The man had bespoke shirts, suits and coats when he was traveling to the Far East every six weeks for work, back when I was in middle school. Those were the days.

Maybe it's just me but i think Owen's belly button bears more than a passing resemblance to a yin yang symbol. That and being born on August 8th (8/8) I think Owen would be very appreciated if he took a trip to China and, you know, went around flashing his navel and shouting out his birthday. Apparently in Chinese numerology 8 is a very auspicious number, one reason why the beijing olympics started on 8/8/08, and yes they carried the 8 to the limit with the official starting time having been 8 seconds and 8 minutes past 8 pm. I also just learned (thank you wikipedia!) that 88 is bears a visual resemblance (when you look at chinese characters) to 'double joy' which is a popular decorative design for joy or happiness. But that belly button, if you can look past the bit in the middle which makes even me, his own mom, squeamish at the resemblance to brain, the outer part looks like a yin yang.

august

Owen turned 8 last sunday, on 8/8 no less. If i had my shit together a little better I might have posted something earlier but this past week I had my final in school and was sort of overwhelmed with the whole nursing school shebang. Oh, by the way, many posts ago I bemoaned the state of my hair, or lack thereof. Well I had a scalp biopsy and it turns out I have telogen effluvium which is a condition that can be brought on by stress and usually winds up correcting itself once the stressor is removed. I'm just hoping that nursing school isn't the stressor otherwise I might be profusely shedding for the next couple of years, since I'm assuming my first year on the job might be a wee bit stressful too.

But back to Owen, his birthday and that enviable torso with nary an ounce of fat on it. I had custody of Owen for his official birthday. Just writing that sentence is so sad and let me tell you if you beat yourself up or question your parenting as a stay at home mom being a single parent kicks the parental self flagellation to a whole other level. Well I got Owen and his friend E saturday evening to take them to see Sorcerer's Apprentice. Originally E was going to sleep over at our house and go to the wave pool in the morning with us but he was a little nervous about the sleep over idea so we dropped him at home and picked him up in the morning. It was a really nice birthday with Owen and his friend. They get along swimmingly and they were so cute to watch in the wave pool, bobbing and plugging their noses against oncoming waves and, my word, how did my son get so big overnight? It was nice to spend the day with just Owen and his friend. That's the hardest thing for me with single parenting. I miss out on the one on one time you can have with your children when there's another partner in parenting. It's especially hard because Owen and Oona will fight for my attention and then I yell at them to stop the fighting and my time with them has changed so radically in the past year and a half as it is. And now being in school, I love learning all the new things about medicine but the time taken away from my kids. It kills me in a very soul sucking at any remnants of self esteem I might possess sort of way. But I need to think positive. Owen and E really enjoyed themselves at the wave pool and after dropping E off in the late afternoon we came back home and played Operation. Owen was most impressed with my surgical skills. I think he thought I did so well due to being in nursing school. I got Owen a bike because he still doesn't know how to ride a bicycle, little knife of parental guilt with that admission. He's a bit nervous about the idea of falling but, well I got Oona a bike too, because she's braver and I thought that might help with Owen's nervousness. I'm hoping to get them riding by the time school rolls around for all of us. I'm also hoping that this idea isn't a recipe for disaster between the three of us; frustration, fear, new skill and easily overwhelmed parent... I'll keep you posted.

fledgling

Awesome clinical week. I got to put in a catheter on a patient yesterday, smoothly and successfully, of which I'm eternally grateful for. My patient had a significant change in mental status from tuesday to wednesday and someone I was working with ignored my repeated concerns about this. Being the lowly nursing student it is very easy to be blown off. Fortunately my instructor listened to my concerns. She got involved, a request for consult from a doctor or nurse practitioner was put in. I overheard the nurse practitioner on the phone after meeting with my patient, she didn't see a significant problem but was ordering additional blood work. When she got off the phone I mentioned that I was the student working with said patient and that there was a marked difference in mental status from tuesday to wednesday. It turns out I was very right about being concerned with my patient's altered mental status. Based on the lab results, which I looked over today, I'm pretty sure the link in the previous sentence is what afflicted my patient. They wound up transferring my patient to another unit (a step below ICU but a step above where the patient had been). I hated to see a patient's condition deteriorate but I am very happy that my assessment skills were accurate and that it resulted in helping my patient. Being so new at this I doubt almost everything I hear, see or think on the floor. I want to go with my gut but I frequently feel like I'm too inexperienced to go with the gut since I don't know what I'm doing. It's on the job training in the most terrifying sense when it's the health of people on the line. But I was right! To make a difference for the better by using my nursing skills, is infinitely better than acing any test. Plus I got to hear an amazing heart sound with my patient both days. A swishing sound, which made me question my hearing but after researching my patient's chart more and looking (and listening) to stuff online I was right with what I had heard. It's amazing to develop these skills. Well, back to reality I've got a killer test and diabetes presentation to study for.

I've been remiss. Actually I've been sucked into the quicksand that is nursing school. It's affecting my dreams, or I should say nightmares, because I have many a nightmare where I'm working in some completely unsanitary hospital trying to load and administer a heparin shot and I just can't get it right. Oh my. And I thought it was bad when I had nightmares about waitressing when I worked at a diner during my summer's home from college. I'm buoyed on by the fact I still love medicine, the more I learn the more I love it, it's endlessly fascinating to me. My patients are so wonderful. I don't really consider myself a people person because I'm sorta introverted by nature and can get painfully awkward trying to make small talk with people. On a side note someone I see all the time at my gym but never talk to given my shyness was in this small computer room with me just last week and I wanted to disappear that's how bad my shyness is, especially when this guy sees me sweat profusely in clothes that leave little to the imagination. But he actually came up and introduced himself and was really nice, which restored my faith in physicians. I being an idiot and caffeine deprived (never good to go from 5 am to 11 am without coffee) asked him nothing about himself and wound up kicking myself for being such a social idiot as soon as he left. But back to my patients. The patients I've had reaffirm my belief that most people are inherently good and kind and that they reaffirm this belief in me while they are in a position of physical vulnerability, I am indebted to them for what they teach me. My favorite patient so far, I had her a couple of weeks ago. She had a name as inspirational as her outlook on life. This woman had been through a medical nightmare and yet she was so well adjusted and emotionally sound it was dumbfounding to me. She was a retired teacher though and it came through in the how kind she was with me. At one point she commented on my photo ID being a nice picture of me (remember the drama I went through for that picture) and then she's like, 'It looks like you've lost weight.' I started saying no but I guess I have, the stress is wrecking havoc on my body, my hair, my face (I'm aiming for fixing my face with graduation, passing NCLEX and a job in hand). She was funny and smart and gentle and when I work with patients like her I'm so grateful for this career I'm choosing. I just tend to get very hard on myself for any mistake I make because, well peoples lives are on the line. But this woman told me as I was finishing my shift that I was going to make a heck of a nurse and I felt like the grinch when his heart swelled to three sizes to big. It made me feel like all the hair off my head and on the floor might be worth it in the long run.

So yeah, these pictures have nothing to do with nursing. I had the kids on sunday and wanted to take them to a wave pool but got horribly lost for an hour and a half, wound up bawling and settled for Beechwood farms which I know how to get to. It was a pretty day though and I got to take some pictures of them, it's been too long.

I'm in love with my daughter's profile

okay I've got to admit I get very neurotic when I see feathers in kids hands, especially my kids hands, when I think of where that feather has been, like on the avian ass of a carrier of a potential killer strain of influenza. Lots of speculative ofs in that sentence. Even if that's not the case it was probably lying in goose scat moments before.


I don't know what has happened to the bottom half of my face but I want it to stop NOW. I tried to crop myself out of the picture, because Owen and Oona look so cute in it, but it looked too odd cropped.



This picture was a happy accident but I liked how it looked like evening when it was the reflection in the water.

just a little pinch

I gave my first shot today. Subcutaneous heparin in the abdomen for DVT prophylaxis, since surgery can put you at risk for DVT and my patient just had a gastric bypass. She's nice as could be, doing remarkably well for her first day postop. And when I gave the shot I didn't hesitate and I didn't hurt her, aside from the pesky pinch. Thank you God! I get to do another tomorrow. Subcutaneous shots seem relatively easy. Honestly if I can do it, and I worry about everything, then they're relatively easy to do. The real challenge will come with intramuscular injections, which are your immunizations and flu shots. Longer needle, a little bit trickier in terms of the areas you inject in and apparently some nurses and nurses in training have hit bone. The person receiving the shot never realizes this because the bone has no nerves on the exterior. But for the person giving the shot, it's a feeling they never forget (one student said it's like putting your needle into a rock). Our instructor said she could always tell who hit bone during flu clinic by the look on the students face, they get wide-eyed real quick. So I've removed an IV, removed 2 foley catheters, given the subQ shot, emptied a Jackson Pratt drain and flushed an NG (nasogastric) tube. Oh and I started passing oral meds last week. It's hard to believe I'm doing all this stuff four months into school! And I've been up since 5 this morning and have to wake up at 5 tomorrow so I better stop blogging and start winding down for bed. Hope you all are well and that no one needs a catheter anytime soon.

Oh my. That seems to be the phrase that best sums up my life right now, at least the best profanity free phrase. So in this picture to the left I look like my normal self, aside from being a little glum, since stress seems to be a permanent state that I'm in lately, and a little bit skinny, side effect from all that stress. You might have thought I was joking with the losing my hair post. I have complained about my baby fine hair quite a few times before. But what I would give to have that baby fine hair of two years ago. I went to the dermatologist on friday and had a messload of blood drawn to see if there is a medical reason for my hair loss. In the past month my hair has become so thin that I spend most of my weekends crying about it. Yeah, I probably should buy a few scarves and get out more. But I cannot stress to you just how devastating this is. I mean I never had nice hair, aside from when I was a child, but at least I had hair that covered my head.

In the two weeks since my last hair rant post I've lost enough hair that you can now see my scalp pretty clearly. And if I push the hair to the other side, well it's just as obvious. It's thinning everywhere. Never before have I prayed so hard that there is something seriously medically wrong with me. Hyperthyroidism, lupus, brain tumor. I don't care how bad it is, as long as it can be treated and this hair loss can stop. I keep thinking, it would be one thing if this was happening to me but the rest of my life was not in the crap maelstrom it currently is. Okay, I know I'm not dying. But I don't have a husband or boyfriend that loves me no matter what and really how much more difficult is being bald gonna make it to find that. What the fuck did I do in a previous life (or this one for that matter) to deserve this kick in the ass of the little self confidence I possessed. I'm embarrassed to even go out. I only go to school and the gym. And I'm starting to worry about how to cover up my scalp. I so don't want to be the person people gawk at because of the way I look. Okay and on an aside, because you know I've become an alopecia expert in the month I've noticed this problem, it seems unfair that there are programs to give woman undergoing chemo wigs but nothing for people who lose hair due to other conditions. Locks of love helps children who lose hair for the many different medical conditions but there doesn't seem to be an adult equivalent of locks of love and let me tell you some of the high quality wigs can get really, crazy expensive. There are laser treatments for hair loss too, and some that get really fancy where you can add your own plasma rich protein to the laser treatment but I'm pretty sure that's waaay outside of my price range. When I think of all the expenses around this house that I can't afford how the hell will I manage to get a decent looking wig? If it gets really bad I'm just gonna shave my head and charge a really nice wig to my credit card. I'm not asking for Rapunzel locks I just want hair that covers my head.

clinical inexperience

I keep hoping that I'm eventually going to feel more comfortable during my clinical days, but so far it has yet to happen. Fortunately I actually got a good night's sleep last night, went to bed at 9:30 for my 5 am, it was dreamless, deep and blissful. But as soon as I set foot on the hospital floor this morning my body is in a constant state that I can only liken to a panic attack. But prolonged, like 7 hours prolonged. I actually did better last week when my patient was rather needy and I had to help her pretty much my whole day. I didn't realize my panic then, the day was just a blur of brief and bed changes. But this week I have a very easy patient and I'm losing my mind. How do I look busy when I have nothing to do or don't know what to do? I ask other students if they need help or else look stuff up on my patient, trying to figure out the various lab tests, burrow in my chair. I just want to disappear. I can't emphasize how dumb and out of place I feel and it's a horrible feeling to have, which it looks like I'll be having for at least another year and a half. I practically jumped up at the end of the day to help a student clean his patient, who had an episode of urinary and bowel incontinence, apparently she didn't feel right have a male student nurse clean her up. I was happy to help, after last week that's something I now have plenty of experience at. The past couple of weeks I've even seen my primary care doctor on the same unit as me but I won't even say 'hi' because 1. I've only seen him 3 times before and don't think he recognizes me and 2. In my heightened perpetual panic state I don't think I'd make the best impression. I swear they're gonna wind up calling a code on me because I'll probably drop dead of a stress related heart attack. Maybe I'm going through perimenopause right now and that's what's giving me the insane level of anxiety with this? I just keep praying that something is going to reveal itself to me, in terms of a clinical experience that I actually feel comfortable in. Keeping my fingers crossed that it's psychiatry or the OR rotation. My God what am I going to do if I get through all of nursing school and have yet to find my niche and still feel the same as I do now? I wish I could write more about my experiences but I'd be violating patient confidentiality, can't break HIPAA privacy. Well, keep your fingers crossed for me that I get a good night's sleep tonight.

Comments that I don't find all that helpful

'Don't be so nervous.'
'Don't worry.'
'You need to be more confident.'
'You look tired.'

I have spent the weekend looking up hair loss treatments instead of studying for my test tomorrow. My hair, which has always been thin, is now anorexic. The one part of my body that I've never wanted to be thin. When I put my hair up in front I'm able to see my scalp more than I used to. If my hair gets any thinner it's gonna disappear that's how thin it is. Not a lot of sure fire options, aside from wearing a wig and I think that might be problematic with the amount I sweat at the gym. Although with a wig I might finally be able to have hair past my shoulders.

Oh God. Honestly, I don't need this on top of everything else. My mom, in trying to help me out, said that you can lose your hair from an emotionally stressful event, although the hair loss usually occurs 3 - 4 months after the event. If that's true I'm gonna be hairless by fall. If I looked like a young Sinead O'Connor I could totally rock that look. But I don't and that look only works in certain circles, not good for middle aged nurse.

Okay I'm going to really make an attempt at studying now.

since i've been gone

It has been months and I've wanted to write, had so many ideas flitting through my head but, life has sort of kicked me in the ass of late. So... to update you.

Three days before my final in Basic 1 (which was back in mid-april) I learned that my father was in the hospital. My aunt Maren called me on Sunday to let me know that on Friday my dad had told her he thought he was having a stroke. So she called an ambulance and when they arrived my dad had a seizure. And I get called a couple days later. I love my father but he is an alcoholic (and a chain smoker of 46 years) and our relationship is somewhat dysfunctional, so when I got the call I was angry, upset, guilty (why do I always feel so guilty?) and very 'why couldn't my dad wait until I was done with my final to have this happen to him.' Totally irrational I know. They found a growth in his lung and brain, which they suspected was cancer but the bronchosopy was inconclusive. They needed to remove the tumor from my dad's brain because it was close to his motor center and giving him a lot of problems with his right side. That part of his body wouldn't 'listen' to his brain. So he had a craniotomy and they learned that he did, indeed, have cancer and that it's stage 4. I talked with his oncologist and found out his prognosis was 4 - 10 months. I went up to visit him while on my two week break in school and it was hard. Not only because he's dying and there are so many loose ends in our relationship that I know will never be resolved. But also because everyone in my father's circle in Cleveland is an alcoholic; my aunt, all his friends that visited him. I don't mean to be judgmental but it makes me sad to see the potential in my father, because he's so so smart and has a really engaging, charismatic personality. What demons in his head have tormented him that he chose to self medicate to the extent that it has wound up being his death sentence? And when I saw the one bedroom apartment that my father and aunt have been sharing for the past 7 1/2 years. It was shocking. I went to visit my dad for a few hours at the hospital, stopped at a grocery store and bought $30 worth of cleaning supplies and then went back to the apartment and spent close to FIVE HOURS cleaning, and I only tackled the bathroom in all that time. It was squalor. I had planned on sleeping there but wound up getting a room at the Days Inn down the street. My aunt was mortified that I was cleaning. I didn't mean to make her feel bad in any way but, I don't live in Cleveland, I'm thinking 'how can I help my dad?' and the one thing I know I can do well is clean. My aunt is a very smart, very kind woman. She offered her apartment to her younger brother and he came and took her bedroom! I love my dad but he's such an asshole in so many ways. His poor sister has been sleeping on a fucking twenty year old sorry shape couch! For seven and a half years! He didn't even offer her the bedroom when she had shingles. What the fuck?!

The next day I went to see my dad and we played scrabble a couple of times, for someone who just had brain surgery he did amazingly well. I went back to his apartment and spent the rest of that day cleaning his bedroom. There were clothes with dust piling up on them. And so many bills that he doesn't even bother to open. Back in November of 2001 when I went to visit my dad for thanksgiving I found a sheet detailing the extent of his debts, to the IRS, friends, his boss, various doctors and dentists, Indian Valley country club. $492,757.07. And let me tell you that number has grown higher since he moved to Cleveland. I tried to sort through his bills, thinning out mutiple notices of the same bill. I mean I'd think it would make you feel better, psychologically, to see just one bill from Cleveland Cardiology Associates for close to $700 than six notices of that amount. Sunday morning I went to visit my dad before I left to go back home. It was so cold and grey and all I could think was that I just wanted to get home and go to the gym (because my body has become addicted to that physical stress release).

My dad is currently in a long term care/short term rehab facility while he undergoes radiation on his brain. They moved him there because he is to weak physically to manage getting to the radiation appointments on his own. A social worker from the facility called me last because she wanted to try to talk to my dad about his full code status (which means taking all measures to keep him alive) because given his cardiomyopathy and the cancer, he's doing very poorly physically and emotionally. Apparently the radiation is taking a horrible toll on him, they bring him to his radiation treatments in an ambulette by stretcher because he is so weak. He is so weak he can't go by wheelchair anymore. When I talked with the social worker it sounded like he probably won't last for four months. She wanted to talk to him about hospice or having him sign a DNR which would be more realistic than the full code status given his health, or lack thereof. Toby very generously offered to drive the kids out to Cleveland this weekend to see my dad. I've got my first big test to study for and plan on going out to see him next week.

So school started up again on May 3rd and it was full speed ahead. Two full clinical days at the hospital and we stop over the afternoon before we start the clinicals to meet with our patient and start our paperwork. You have no idea the extent of the paperwork we have to do and hand in at the end of clinical on wednesday and after two days of waking up at 5 a.m., putting the full 7 - 3 shift in, post conference, completing two care plans, and a medical surgical database and the blue card and the pathophysiology -I can barely function. Oh and during my first week my patient got transferred at the end of my first clinical day so I got a new patient and had additional paperwork to do. I went back to the school to access the medical charts and got a text from a man I've been seeing and the message he sent was not good. Yeah, I've been in a romantic relationship of six months that no one but Elise, my mom and my therapist have known about. So I was already close to tears after talking to him on the phone. Hell, I was close to tears when I found out I was getting a new patient. But then I went to the computer lab and there was a problem accessing my new patient. I went to get the woman who deals with the computers and as we were walking back to the computer lab together I just started bawling. It was more than I could handle at that point. That night I was so strung out on nerves I didn't get to sleep until 3 a.m. and yes I had to get up two hours later.


So back to the bunny I pulled out of the hat, the clandestine relationship. I'll spare you the dramatic, dysfunctional details but basically a rubicon (his word not mine, I didn't even know what it meant until he said it and I looked it up to make sure I was inferring correctly) presented itself and he failed to act on it. And I told him I couldn't be with him anymore. But not without a week's worth of protracted roller coaster emotional emails and texts that culminated in a two hour phone call at three in the morning two days ago that ended in my heart breaking, which I didn't think a possibility at my age. Oh my. I had to take a test the first day of nursing school, where they look at your critical thinking skills (they have you retake the test at the end of school to see your progression). I aced the analysis, explanation and self-regulation. I got the highest score you could get in these areas. Why, oh why, can I not apply those skills when it comes to matters of the heart? I fell so fully, utterly, completely in love with this person and it's not that he wasn't worth it, he was more than worth it, but my love was so misplaced.

So from that break up I went to clinicals, on four hours sleep. I cannot tell you how close I was to just dropping out of the program that morning. It isn't enough that I'm overwhelmed with the clinicals on 8 hours sleep, with half that I was fried. I get so nervous with these clinical experiences, knowing I'm so inexperienced with all of this. I can't find pulses to save my life, the radial is easy but posterior tibial? dorsalis pedal? popliteal? It's maddening how hard they are for me to find, which just makes me nervous, which just makes it that much harder. It's a vicious cycle. When I came home that night I was beyond tired and beyond sad. I've cried more in the past three weeks than I would have thought possible. I am so spent. But when lying in bed praying that sleep would come, I prayed for God to help me (yes, I am agnostic and I talk to God a lot in my head but it's rare I pray out loud). But I actually got a good night's sleep that night and the next day I was a bit calmer. That morning I chatted with my patient's physical therapist, at lunch I talked more with the other students, sometimes it's hard for me because I'm at least ten years older than most of them. But the thing that really saved me that day was a conversation I had with my instructor. We talked about a lot things, being a single parent, my dad's dying. She really connected with me and took the time to help me out so much emotionally and in terms of supporting me when I voiced my concerns about whether I'm even cut out for nursing. There were a couple times when I was about to cry and I still get teary thinking about it. Now she might have just read my face (it is transparent), realized how depressed I was and thought, she had to do a psychosocial care plan on me that day. But I really felt my prayers were answered with her reaching out to me. I don't know what my concept of God is, I like to think it is the goodness inherent in everyone. I still get butterflies just thinking about clinicals but I just have to push through it and have faith that I will get better at this. There's a place for me somewhere out there in the field of nursing. Hopefully.

So I'll try to write more when I can. And I need to change that banner to spring before summer rolls along. I can take a picture of my backyard after I have mowed it with push blade reel mower, it is comical how much it resembles a bad buzz cut, what with the weeds that refuse to be cut down.

yikes

I'm into my second day of nursing school and already have a headache, but I think this is more due to the pillow I slept on last night. Trying to adjust to the new routine, up early, drop the kids off, in school a really long time (oh those lectures are killing me to sit still that long, I'm jiggling my legs constantly and I'm right up front. the teachers must want to kill me, the mature student acting like a teenager) Yes, that's right, I'm 99% sure that I'm the oldest student in the class. But I don't know that my age brings any wisdom and I'm probably more insecure than half the students there, I constantly overanalyze and doubt myself. Well I'm going to be so busy that might fall by the wayside due to sheer exhaustion. I should also take a picture of myself now and at graduation to see just how gray my hair goes in the next 18 months. Well, I'm not going to be able to write as many posts but I'm going to bring my camera with me and try to put pictures up, it will force me to get outside and walk which I really need to do during those brief breaks in lecture. Still I'm really excited about learning all this information I'm such a geek when it comes to medicine and learn the skills necessary for nursing (I just hope I'm one of those nurses that can give shots and put IVs in without hurting the patient, we all know those nurses that can leave you battered and bruised from a simple blood test. Please God let that not be me!) Wish me luck, say a prayer, send a good vibe my way. I can use all the help I can get.

snowgate

I haven't taken any pictures of this epic week of snow. I think it's my way of trying to make it all go away but fat flakes continue to fall. Yesterday it snowed in every state but Hawaii, if that isn't a sign that the end of days are near what is. I guess another sign might be replaying the tragic video footage of the Georgian luger, Nodar Kumaritashvili, again and again and again on the news. I find the constant replay of footage like this and other visually disturbing images so horrific. It seems to remove the humanity from the victim. That is someone's child, brother, boyfriend, friend. Who'd want to see a loved ones death replayed ad nauseam in some sensational attempt to what, inure the public by the constant repetition of tragedy?

But I digress from my whole point of this post, to whine about the weather and having children home from school all week and to complain about facebook comments. There should be some sort of unspoken etiquette that if you don't really talk to a 'friend' all that often, or even email them for that matter, you should probably refrain from leaving sanctimonious comments to someone's post. I don't even go on facebook that much anymore, aside from noting the statuses of the other parents of my kids school or to see if anyone is planning sledding or something like that. So... I put a comment down about being so sad to see snow continuing to fall because Pittsburgh's handling of all this snow has been horrible at best, thus the snowgate title which I'd like to trademark. Our young mayor totally dropped the ball, it took forever to get the city streets to a point where they were drivable while people in the suburbs were able to get around without a problem. I understand that it's difficult; city streets can be narrow and people park their cars on the street instead of in a driveway or garage but the mayor really bungled the whole handling of this snowmaggedon event. But I'm getting off track again... so I put the comment about being upset with the snow continuing to fall because some days it was too cold to take the kids outside and damn I just find it hard to think of entertaining things to do when cooped up in a house so long. But a 'friend' whom I haven't talked to in years and haven't even emailed for months writes 'it's snow, it will melt. take the kids sledding.' How is that helpful? And because this friend is a man, this will seem terribly sexist, but it annoys me even more. He is not a stay at home Dad so I don't think he gets it. And then that gets me thinking how it drives me crazy when you come across parents who are so outwardly demonstrative about how much they love parenting and spending time with their children but, ironically, these are usually the types that spend very little time with their children. I don't know, maybe it's the schism between working parents and those who stay at home. Maybe the comments are perpetuated by guilt that they don't get to spend enough time with their children. Or maybe the truly feel that way since the time with their children is so short they focus on making the best of it. Maybe I'm just a reactionary to this 'every moment is a joy' sunshine and rainbows type of parenting. I mean you can be happy about parenting, don't get me wrong, but when all you do is say positive things and never complain or admit that it can also be really hard I just wind up thinking you're either full of shit or a Stepford parent. Gosh, it would probably be easier to just admit that I can be an outright judgmental shrew at times, no?

So I'll leave you with pictures of Oona's room, three pillows, bedspread and curtain down. Just two more square pillows to finish and I might get another long rectangular one too.
the room has a red glow when you draw the curtain, perhaps not the best thing for a high spirited girl but the curtain is usually only drawn at night.

she has a verrrry small room. she's got the bare minimum in this room. the curtain fabric is hard to see. it's two prints, for the front and back, of tiny flowers that matches the bolder prints on the pillows, very cute and spirited, like Oona.

I got her the indian style banner(?) to hang above her bed back in the fall, gave it to her for christmas and finally got around to hanging it up today. progress!

Lucky me! Water seeping in and yet more cracks in oona's ceiling thanks to all the snow. So it looks like I'll be dipping into my home line of credit yet again to fix this come spring.

Close up of the bedspread, with flannel on one side and the pink dotted velour scrumptiousness on the other it's a tactile wonder of a bedspread.

cabin fever

Oh my. Well anyone between Chicago and New York, Boston to DC knows of the hellacious week that has been snowmaggedon. Now I am very fortunate in that I do have power in my home, when over 37,000 in Pittsburgh don't and haven't had electricity since Saturday! I'm also incredibly fortunate in that I don't need to be somewhere workwise, like I'm not losing income because I bartend, like my neighbor, or waitress or do anything else where my income is dependent upon being someplace during the past 4 days. But it is insane that this city, I know it's small compared to some but it is a city, seems to have completely botched cleaning the streets, especially given that more snow is falling now and by thursday we're supposed to have another 6 inches. I'm 95% certain the Owen and Oona will not be going to school at all this week. And if I am trapped at home much longer I'll be crazy, stupid and, most likely, psychotic.

Today I had the kids do a scavenger hunt up in their bedrooms, which quickly devolved into tears and screaming from both which led me to holler upstairs that I'd never orchestrate another scavenger hunt again. They stuck a bunch of oona's barrettes in my hair and had me do a fashion show for them. Then they both did a fashion show (the catwalk being the completely toy cluttered path from the kitchen to the living room) for me where they dressed up like cowboys, which consisted of using my cloth napkins for bandanas and my sun hats for cowboy hats. Let's see, a lot of tv watching and eating of junk food has occurred throughout the day, well really since this snow all started, but what can I do? Please, other snowbound moms, tell me you're doing the same. We do go outside, to play or walk to the Rite Aid (what would Morningside do without this store, which has been a beacon in this awful weather even if they totally price gouge when it comes to cat food) but there have been times when I've asked the kids to go out and they both protest saying it's too cold and they want to stay inside.

At least my house is thankful for my being snowbound. I have done an awful lot of those projects that I had lying around the house for months. Lots of sewing projects, which I always put off since it's such a pain in the ass to spread everything out to measure and pin. Sewing doesn't take much time but the prep work before sewing is very tedious. So now Oona has a proper bedspread, curtains and I'm going to whip up a bunch of pillows for her after this post is written (photos to follow). With her antique bed frame there is a large gap between her matress and the wall, which has been stuffed with a queen sized comforter rolled up and wedged in the gap. I've only been meaning to do something prettier for about a year now. But, in my defense, I've only had the fabric since September.

Owen takes himself so seriously with these fashion shows. I love his earnestness even if I laugh at it, essentially it's like laughing at myself because I'm just like him when it comes to trying too hard and being earnest.
I can't resist the sweetness of a knock kneed girl. The little legs kill me.

patternmania

Yes, I let Oona dress herself and the girl has a mad sense of style. This pattern resplendent outfit is her go to top choice for dress down days at school. One would think it hard to add any more pattern to this ensemble but she does top it off with a camoflauge bomber hat. I'm wondering if all the colors and pulsating flowers could trigger a seizure in an at risk individual. Even when she has to put on her uniform she adds her own special panache to it. Last week she put on her madeline-esque blue dress uniform with pink leggings (covered in different colored polka dots) and a ruffled pink mini skirt with plaid stripes in white and purple. The skirt was a bit like a petticoat, bumping out the lower half of her dress and giving a slight peek at the pink ruffles underneath. I'm so in awe of her utter fearlessness with the way she approaches sartorial choices and life for that matter. Oona's motto could be I'm a girly girl, I love pink, hear me roar, quite literally with the roar part. The other day she told me she wants to be a tyrannosaurus rex if she could choose to be any dinosaur, because that way, in her words, she could run around roaring all the time. But she told me not to worry, that she would put me on her back when she ran around roaring and scaring people. That she would protect me because that's the kind of person she is.

Fierce as she can be she'll give a loved one whatever they want, toy, food, last piece of candy, without a second thought and she gets very upset if anyone she loves gets hurt or even appears to be getting hurt, she burrowed her head in my arm very upset when I had to get blood drawn for a life insurance policy. Don't even get me started, oh it's too late, I've started...they're charging me a lot (standard rate instead or premium elite) because I take medication, for my anxiety, which god knows how bad I'd be if I didn't take it given my propensity for words like, cry, breakdown, stress, fear, worry... It is completely insane given my overall health, my cholesterol is so good the good cholesterol is out of range it's so high and the bad one is out of range it's so low. my triglycerides are 37 and if a doctor hears that they're amazed. I think the only way I could have a heart attack is if I get scared to death, which if I haven't already what with my worrying I think I'm in the clear. It seems rather discriminatory given that a lot of the nervousness is about doing the right thing or hoping that people like me. Meanwhile many people choose to ignore their mental health issues and instead self medicate with alcohol, and lie about how much they consume and they probably pay half of what I've had to pay - grrrrrrrrr. I need to go sick Oona on some of these insurance underwriters.

in the pink

You might not have known this but my son fancies himself a pirate, as many a seven year old is wont to do. Thing is he puts on Oona's one clip on earring, a gift from Abbey (now known to Oona as 'Nice Abbey') who so sweetly played dress up with Oona when we went to her house for Thanksgiving. Now I don't know how well you can see the clip on earring but it's a hot pink faux jewel, not really what you'd find on Jack Sparrow. But this doesn't deter Owen and he wears it most days as soon as he gets home from school. I'm wondering if he was inspired by this boy who's a few years older that goes to Owen's school, he actually might be in middle school now. Very cute boy. Sort of like an older, possibly european?, version of Owen. He had a pierced ear and wore various earrings that appeared to be lego heads. So I found Owen with the earring on before bed the other night and had him strike a couple fierce poses for me. This one was by far the fiercest.

and so it goes

Owen's entered a new developmental stage where I am now capable of disappointing him in a very real, adult way. I'm used to his whining, pouting and occasional tantrums but just recently he's learned how to give me a very grown up sigh, heavy with all the accusations left unsaid. So what precipitated this seminal event? That bracelet that you see, dangling from my rear view mirror. The school my kids go to has the annual hoiday shop full of schlock to try and raise money for the school and I gave each of them money to buy something for each other, themselves, and their dad. But Owen, being Owen, which makes me love him all the more and worry for him daily, well he also had to get me something (there was a reason I left myself off that list) and had to have me open it immediately, no I couldn't wait until Christmas. So I opened the filmy bag and saw the cheaply made bracelet and my heart broke a little, it was so sweet of him and so flipping tacky. And the bracelet remained on the computer table for weeks until Owen asked me if I didn't like his present he got me because he knows I didn't want him to get me a present but he got one that was really cheap just because of that reason. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we just went around being completely transparent like that always. I told him I loved the present and that it meant so much to me that he thought of me but that I don't really wear jewelry (which is true). I even make jewelry but don't wear it. Aside from 'fancy' occasions where I might go out to dinner and, (gasp!) wear a skirt, lipstick and possibly a ring and a necklace, the only thing I used to wear consistently was my wedding band, which was the thinnest sliver of gold. But I felt really bad disappointing my seven year old son so I tried it on after he went to bed. It was too large for me so I was wondering how else I could use it - key fob perhaps? Then I thought of the rear view mirror dangly thingy ,which seemed perfect because I could look at it all the time and Owen could also see the present he gave me, we all could appreciate the bracelet in it's base metal glory. But when I pointed it out to Owen before karate the other day he just sighed. I am so used to disappointing adults but not my children, not like that. I asked him what was wrong and he said 'it's fine mom' in a tone that let me know it was not fine at all. And then, to add insult to injury, I asked him to go into karate by himself for twenty minutes because Oona was passed out in her car seat and I wanted to let her sleep for a little bit. So I sat in the car my heart doing a ping pong between Owen's disappointment and Oona's need to sleep (you know the sleeping cerberus in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone? That's what waking up Oona can be like). But wanting Owen to be okay trumped Oona's nap, so I woke her up and brought her into class only to have to carry her back out two minutes later because she started screaming and writhing all over the place. I reasoned with her in the car and she calmed down enough that we were able to watch the last five minutes of class. It's amazing how that tiny hour of interrelations between my children can be so emotionally and physically draining, I just ready to pass out afterwards. But then it was dinner, baths, story time and bed. By the next morning Owen hopped into the car leaned forward to fondle the bracelet then plopped into his seat smiling, the disappointment of yesterday completely forgotten.

on vanity

Today I had to go the hospital to have blood drawn, pee for drug testing and get my photo id taken before school starts. Now I have taken many a bad photo in my lifetime but the photo id I got today was a new low. To be fair to myself. I was standing against a white wall while the woman put a camera within a foot of my face, then took a picture without letting me know she was about to take it and headed right over to the computer to put my pertinent information in and spit out the photo id card, all without letting me look at the picture or her even seeming to look at it. I mean even at the DMV they let you look at the photo and retake it if you'd like, and yes I consistently need it to be retaken. I don't understand how a picture could manage to simultaneously age me 10 years, shave 40 points off my IQ and give me a substance abuse problem (I must have been about to close my eyes which made me look like a meth addict). I was puffy yet haggard, blotchy yet pale, sullen yet scared, the horrible list of dichotomies could go on. It made me wonder if the woman at human resources had a talent for taking a portrait that truly revealed the depths of just how physically unattractive a person could be. I have a hard time posing for pictures at all. I am incredibly self conscious which causes the muscles in my face to suddenly feel funny and unnatural. I have a friend who collects my bad photos, delighting in laughing at them and given her beauty, well, let's just say it does nothing to boost my confidence about my looks. But today's picture was bad enough to make me cry in the parking lot and question whether I truly saw myself physically the way other people did. Realistically, I know I'm not a great beauty but I'd like to think I'm at least halfway decent and I guess getting older can make those bad photos sting all the more. I drove out to Ikea to get some curtains and picture frames and get my mind off the id but I kept taking it to look at, it was like picking at a scab. How could I go through a year and a half of school with this photo clipped to my uniform? I would die a little death every time I looked at it, it was honestly that bad. On a scale of 1 to 10 I would be a 2. I kept thinking, well, I can go back when I have my arm checked for the TB results and then maybe I can have another photo taken but the more I thought about it the worse I felt waiting three days before resolving this photo id issue. So I drove back over straight from Ikea hoping I'd get a different woman from HR but no such luck it was the same woman. I sucked it up said I'd just been there earlier to get my id taken and was there any chance I could please get retaken because I looked like a drug addict. I even offered to pay for a replacement because I'd noticed the sign earlier mentioning the replacing photo ids was $10. She looked up at me and smiled a smile that was not happy at all, I've been receiving a lot of those lately, but she got up and took me back to the room for a redo. This time she mentioned that my head was tilted to the side and she asked me if I wanted to smile (while smiling at me through clenched teeth) which I did. And then she let me look at the photo before heading over to the computer. There was no hiding my baby fine hair or, um, prominent nose but it didn't matter, I looked reasonably intelligent, my smile looked genuine, I'd gone up to a 5 out of a 10. It was infinitely better than the drug addict photo. I looked like I should be working at a hospital and not be incarcerated. I thanked her for doing that for me and tried to explain that I wanted to start school on the right foot to which she gave me the forced smile and said nothing. Why is it when I think of HR departments I think of the secretary from Brazil? Well, nothing like an ego leveling bad picture to humble a person.

rattled

Yes, I've felt a bit like a pinball lately. I fear that if I had some program to highlight the text in my blog and typed in 'panic, worry, fear, guilt' that most of the blog would come back highlighted. I blame that damn mirror for breaking. No, right now I'm going to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of raging pms that makes me mental in a way I always seem to forget the sting of the other 20 or so days. I'm sure that it doesn't help that I've been eating a lot of donuts, hot chocolate and coke. I ate more vegetables today (a yummy antipasti) than I probably have in the past month. But I was late picking up Oona from pre-k today. Really late, like twenty minutes late, which I couldn't really do anything about. I was stuck in the middle of a tunnel, traffic had slowed to a standstill and I couldn't get my cell phone to work, it died on me twenty feet into the tunnel as I was on the phone with a friend trying to get her to pick up Oona early for me. That didn't work out and I showed up to find her teacher and teacher's assistant with the pained smiles of the deeply annoyed. I was close to tears walking in and apologized profusely saying I was stuck in traffic, you know literally stuck in a tunnel. They weren't moved and I walked out with Oona shaking my head to stop myself from crying while Oona asked what was wrong. I'm sure it didn't help matters that I was at least ten minutes late just two days earlier but, once again, I have a good excuse for that in that I saw my neighbor (who has had a number of health issues of late) precariously standing outside the Rite Aid (where I stopped for a pre-gym Coke). She was about to fall over and I helped her to her car and stayed with her until she felt a bit better. I'd like to feel a bit better. I feel like I've fucked up my daughter's future because I asked her teacher about the kindergarten enrollment process, she's born 27 days after the school deadline so it's a bit tricky. Okay her future might not be completely fucked but I don't want her in pre-k three years. She's academically ready and if she waits an extra year I just fear (there's that highlight ready word) she'll try to coast through academically (I know it sounds insane at the kindergarten stage, just bear with me) and might be a bit of a discipline problem because she'll be bored. I'd rather she be challenged, well as challenged as she can be at kindergarten. Her pre-k teacher has been aware of my concerns about getting her into kindergarten ever since she started school. But I wound up being given the wrong information, by her, and missed applying by a month. So yes, after dropping the kids off at school tomorrow, I'll be going to the magnet office tomorrow to hand in my daughter's born after the deadline month late magnet application. Wish me luck! Then I went to the gym and committed a cardinal sin in asking a woman who wasn't pregnant if she was expecting. I felt so horrible. She didn't look overweight at all I just thought I noticed a bump, it must of been the way her shirt was, but then I had to explain myself and I was mortified! My word, how do you take something like that back? I still cringe just thinking about it. And last night I wound up bawling while on the phone with my Mom because I felt so bad that I've been so mean to her lately when she's going through a really difficult time (broke up with the man she was living with, which is really a good thing because he wasn't the right man for her, but it's tough and now she's moving out here, which is wonderful for me but, uh, a bit stressful too because, you know, if it's not one thing it's your mother). She needed me to help her out with finding a place to live and I wasn't at all helpful I was bitchy and mean and I deeply regret it, fortunately she is a wonderfully understanding mother and told me not to even worry about it (in an entirely sincere deeply selfless way). Clearly I need to get my period and become a little more even keeled! Anyhow, I'll leave you with two links to articles that I thought were very funny and humane and struck a chord with me given the year I've had, hopefully you might like them too.

Let's Call the Whole Thing Off (the author is ending her marriage. Isn't it time you did the same?) and On Being a Bad Mother

work in progress

The kitchen it's come a long way since it's before incarnation, although it still has a ways to go. I'm currently in the delightful, deleterious process of removing the linoleum and mastic (how I love stripping mastic!) from the kitchen floor. But I am truly amazed at what a difference raising the roof (well ceiling) and a new color paint made in brightening the kitchen and making it appear much larger. Still on the 'to do' list
1. put down new linoleum floor squares
2. distress paint existing cabinets and get more cabinetry (or work with existing ones currently hanging out on my back porch and basement, maybe switch doors and also distress paint) to go above stove and frig wall.
3. put open shelves above sink wall
4. trim for windows and new baseboard trim
5. new appliances and
6. when i have enough money turn sink parallel to stove frig wall to set up galley style kitchen are and add dishwasher and countertop seating.

Big plans I have but right now I'm still hung over from the one two punch of 1. needing to give my brickpointer the rest of the money I owed him 2. having my furnace die on me yesterday (it got down to 41 degrees in my house, aside from my bedroom where me and the kids burrowed under many a blanket and had additional warmth from an electric heater) and just shelled out a couple grand to replace that. I'm telling you I shouldn't have broke that damn mirror on new year's day! Now where's that bag of ten thousand that I'm waiting for? You know, the one I need to drop out of the sky and land at my feet.

snow

This week in a nutshell: one delay and one snow day, frigid weather all week, sledding , hot chocolate and one dramatically major meltdown from oona at my favorite indian restaurant.