The Longest 2 Days EVER!

I don't often do things just because I want to. I usually have a reason. Something to gain. It usually has a purpose. I spend much of my time working. At work, at home, sometimes even Jack is work. It's easy to lose yourself in the daily grind.

I also have many regrets in my 33 years. Things I wished I'd done. I don't want to keep accumulating them.

Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted to go to NYC. I remember playing with my Day & Night Barbie and imagining I was her. I would live in the city and be a business lady by day and turn my skirt around and party by night. I have not done that. In fact, I have never even been to New York.

But that is about to change.

My awesome sister-in-law is the founder of the Triple W Forum. It's a working woman's workshop that helps women going through life changes to integrate work with their home lives and to identify and achieve their goals. She recently launched her first workshop here in Chicago this past fall and it was HUGELY successful. Having just had Jack I was unable to go and I was very disappointed, but I told her that I would try to go to the next one. Well, the next one is in New York! With my surgery and the complications and crap I wasn't sure if I should go. I mean, it's expensive. I would have to take a day off work and I used up all my PTO with medical stuff. There were a million reasons not to go.

Basically, I talked myself out of going. Last Sunday after having a totally craptastic week at work I decided to call my sister-in-law. "Is it too late to sign up?" I asked her. She said no. I then talked to Spiderman and he said if I wanted to I should just do it. He encouraged me to book it right then before I changed my mind.

So I did.

This Thursday evening, after I get off work, I am flying to New York. I CAN HARDLY STAND IT!!!!! The workshop is going to be Awesome. I'm going to meet some fabulous women and hopefully learn some things from them. Plus? I'm going to get the chance to do some sight-seeing before I come home on Sunday. While I'm going to miss my boys terribly I have to admit this is going to be Wonderful! To want to do something and just do it? It feels so decadent!

So my question is: If you were going to New York for the first time what would you HAVE to see?

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Lately the peanut has been moving around SO much. He kicks me all the time. Spiderman says it's because he's starting his Ninja training. This past weekend Spiderman and I went to register for Ninja Baby's shower.

I thought it would be fun. I can't believe how wrong I was. It was completely overwhelming to realize how much crap something so little can need. And I realized that I had NO idea what we'd need. We spent an hour and a half looking baby stuff. Strollers, high chairs, diaper bags. We argued most of the time because Spiderman wanted to scan most of the store. He even scanned every single Baby Einstein video ever made because he wants Ninja Baby to be smart. Yeah. I know.

After I couldn't take any more of it, we went to lunch. The section we sat down in had several children in it. There was a little girl about three sitting in her booster chair quietly eating her fries and chicken strips. Then there were the little boys. Two brothers were running up and down the aisle fighting and shouting and one of them even shoved me as I was coming back from the bathroom. Another little boy spent the entire time either laying on the floor or across his mother's lap screaming like a siren. There was another set of brothers closest to us, one in a high chair and the other about 7 yrs old. The older brother spent the entire time poking, and bothering his little brother causing him to giggle and screech.

I looked from the little girl to the rowdy boys. That was when I realized that not only were we seated in the bad little boy section, but that I was going to be having one.

A rowdy boy.

Oh. My. God.

What am I going to do? Is it inevitable? Am I deluding myself in thinking that he will ever sit and play with his cars quietly? Maybe I'm just freaking out, but this thought terrifies me.

All you mothers of little boys out there, help me out. Tell me I can handle it.

Please.

Freaky Friday

****Update**** I looked on snopes.com and it mentioned that the following story was probably crap. But it would have been freaky if it were true.

At work today a coworker shared a story with us. It completely freaked me out.
Last weekend she was at a party with some friends and one of them told this story about their aunt.
The aunt had a pet ball python (why I don't know). She treated this python almost like a dog. Fed it, let it wander around the house and sleep in her bed. If a snake isn't kept in a cage or confined space, it can grow to be rather large. Especially a python. Hers was about the diameter of a pie plate. (and she let it sleep in her bed???) A little while ago she noticed that the snake had quit eating. It had been about three weeks and the aunt was starting to get worried. Like any good pet owner, she called the vet. The vet asked a few questions.
Was the snake confined, or did she let it wander free? She told him that she let it wander free.
Did the snake sleep coiled up or stretched out? She told him that it usually slept coiled up, but recently she noticed it was sleeping stretched out lengthwise. About the same time it had quit eating.
The vet told her to kill the snake.
It was planning to eat her.
That's why it was sleeping lengthwise. To measure how long she was.
That's why it hadn't eaten in 3 weeks. It was storing up for a feast.

How freaked out are you by this story?

Me too.

Drumroll Please....My 1st Story

Okay, here it is.....the first story I wrote for my creative writing class.  

The room was quiet but for the soft hum of machines.  The quiet whoosh of the respirator giving breaths is a peaceful sound.  So is the steady beeping of the monitor….the steady beating of a heart.  In my many years as a respiratory therapist I had become almost immune to these noises.  I hardly heard them anymore and the hum filled me with calm.  Things were good when the sounds were peaceful and steady.  The early morning sun is creeping through the blinds indicating the freshness of a new day.  I buttoned the front of my lab coat shutting out the cold blast from the room’s air conditioner.  Hospitals tend to be kept cold for several reasons.  It cuts down on bacteria growth as well as makes it easier for people to breathe.  I think the cool temperatures lend to the calming effect.  It reminds me of the quiet peacefulness after the first snow of the year.   In the early mornings like these I feel that there is order to the universe and I am in control.  I love this about my job.  It’s the one place that I feel capable.  I feel in control.  

A voice startled me out of my calm.  I turned my head to see Mrs. Roberts, the wife of my patient, hope apparent in her eyes.  She’d asked how her husband was doing.  I told her that he was stable.  No better no worse.  This was the part I hated.  I couldn't bear to either crush her hopes or give her false ones.  She’d been coming to sit with her husband every day since the accident that put him here in my ICU.  She would sit by his side and read quietly, her presence a comfort only to her for as far as I could tell her husband hadn’t opened his eyes since being brought into the emergency room.  There had been a terrible car accident.  It had been lightly raining that morning as her husband had been driving to work.  A large truck was trying to beat the stoplight and with the roads being slick couldn’t stop in time.  He barreled into Mr. Roberts’ sedan.  He had literally been hit by a Mack truck.  The entire driver’s side had been smashed in and he’d needed to be cut out of the car.  He’d been rushed here where it was discovered that he had a fractured pelvis, several broken ribs, and a severe head injury resulting in brain damage.  With most of his injuries being internal, he looked pretty good.  Only a few lacerations and bruises were visible.  One would never guess how grave the situation really was.  To his wife and family, it probably looked like he was merely sleeping.  Well, sleeping with several tubes connected to him.  Only I, along with the doctor and nurse, knew better.  The doctors and nurses had spent the last several days trying to convince the family just how irreversible the damage really was.  There was no brain activity.  The doctors wanted to withdraw the respirator.  The family refused.  They still didn’t understand.  You see, they were still hoping for a miracle.  I was kind of hoping for one myself. 

He was a young man, only in his forty’s.  It is always heartbreaking to see injuries this severe in younger people.  It never seems fair.  Yesterday his wife brought in their children.  Their daughter was twelve years old.  She was curious about the machines and threw questions at anyone who came into the room…a nurse in the making.  Occasionally she would squeeze her mother’s hand reassuringly, as if the roles had been reversed and she was the parent.  Her brother, a much younger version of his father, stood wide eyed and silent at the foot of the bed.  At eight years old, I couldn’t tell if he truly understood all that was happening.  All I knew was that their lives would never be the same.  I couldn’t imagine losing a parent that early in life.  It would completely change their lives.

The end of my shift was nearing.  My rounds were finished.  Each patient was taken care of and comfortable in their room preparing for the arrival of their bad hospital food.  While nutritious, hospital food is usually far from gourmet.  I myself was thinking about my upcoming dinner and what I would be preparing once I got home.  I was sitting at a computer just outside the ICU’s doors finishing up my day’s charting, but my mind was wandering.  I was trying to visualize the contents of my refrigerator and hopefully come up with something creative and edible.  Suddenly I heard the noise that all therapists dread…especially at the end of their shift.  Code Blue ICU.   I rushed into the ICU and into Mr. Roberts’ room.  His heart had finally stopped.  The calm was shattered.  The room was filled with frantic voices.  The loud ding of the monitor alarms indicating asystole had everyone moving rapidly and efficiently.  Everyone here had done this many times before.  I heard the loud clang of the crash cart being shoved into the room and rummaged through.  At the head of the bed another therapist had taken him off the respirator and was pushing air into his lungs with an ambu bag.  I began chest compressions.  I felt the cracking of already fragile ribs beneath my hands.  The muscles in my arms screamed as I tried to force his heart to beat again.  The nurses pushed injections of life saving medications through the IV‘s.  I continued to pump away, beads of sweat gathering on my forehead from both the exertion and the body heat of the many people surrounding the bed.  I tried to regain the control that had so easily slipped away.  With all that we could to in medicine, we should be able to save more people.  For some, their time is simply up no matter what we do.  In this job I’ve come to believe in a higher power.  There was a higher power at work today.  Mr. Robert’s heart started to beat again.  His blood pressure was extremely low and without a doubt he would code again and soon.  But this time his family would have a chance to say their goodbyes.  I placed him back on the respirator.  Calm was once again restored to the room.

Mrs. Roberts and the children came in from the waiting room.  Their red rimmed eyes told me that the doctor had finally managed to convince them of the gravity of the situation.  She had finally signed the Do Not Resuscitate orders.  The children, led by their grandmother, solemnly told their father that they loved him and said their tearful goodbyes.  They left the room, their quiet sobs tearing at my heart.  Mrs. Roberts stayed at her husband’s side.  She sat in the chair next to his bed and held his hand.   “It’s okay to go” she whispered in his ear.   In order to give them more privacy, I left the room.  Shortly after, so did he.

Day After The Storm

We had a huge storm pass through here last night. I spent quite a while freaking out and sitting in my closet with a mag light, book, and my kitties. We had tornado warnings and a wicked thunder storm. In case you're new to this blog...I am TERRIFIED of tornado's. I'm a freak. Any other storm I don't mind. I enjoy watching a good lightning storm. As soon as the winds pick up and it looks like potential tornado weather, I freak out. I cannot sleep if we are currently under a watch...and especially if there's a warning. During this storm, Spiderman was all consumed with worry over his grill. Would the hail ruin it? Cuz he's got priorities. He moved it closer to the house to protect it from the hail and 75mph winds. Our neighbor's tree cracked in half and one of my routes to work this morning was blocked by fallen trees and high waters.
Again, it was a wicked storm.
I did, however, get to spend some time reading my new book Breaking Dawn. I'm enjoying it so far, but I am having issue with one thing. **Spoiler** The main character, Bella, is pregnant. As if I wasn't already surrounded by a million pregnant women already. And the media is currently saturated with bump watches and all things baby. Maybe I'm being oversensitive because of my personal difficulties getting pregnant, but COME ON! Even Bella's pregnant. By.A.Vampire. WTF? I already feel as though I'm broken. I don't need this.
At least I have a Dr's appointment tomorrow. Hopefully he can figure out where to go next because I'm done with my first round of Clomid with no success.
Wish me luck.

An Unwanted Tenant

OMG! I almost forgot! Today it has been one whole year that Spiderman and I have been in our house. Apparently now we have an unwanted tenant on the premises. So here's my question: Who lives in these holes? Do they look like snake holes to you? Remember, if it IS a snake I might NEVER SET FOOT IN MY BACKYARD AGAIN! Which would be sad. Maybe I could get a pet mongoose....like Rikki Tikki Tavi.

Or maybe it's a chipmunk. I sure hope it is.

Decisions...

I have to register soon for school and I'm having a rough time.
I have several problems:

1. I can't decide if I want to take ONE class or TWO classes. If I take two classes, I'll be that much closer to being done. On the other hand, with my new position at work I would have to finish work at 3pm and take classes from 4-6pm mon-thurs. After eating and showering, when do I study?
2. If I DO take two classes, the one's I want to take will both be challenging for me. I want to take Children's literature (which I heard is a B*tch) and that involves lots of reading and writing papers. I also want to take Writing Fiction....which I would imagine involves a lot of writing. I want to do well in my classes, but I don't think the schedule problems mentioned in #1 would allow for this.
3. If I decide to take ONE class. Which one? I've been wanting to take Children's Lit for several years now and I know I'll enjoy it. But I've always enjoyed writing, and would really enjoy the fiction class. It scares me a little. I'm afraid I won't be any good at it. But this semester the same teacher that I had for Intro to Fiction will be teaching it and I Loved him!

So there you have it folks. My dilemma. Could you help a sister out? What would you do?

Fear

I was a shy, fearful child. Very unlike my sister who would jump right into the deep end of a pool at 2 years old with no water wings. I was afraid of snakes, large dogs, tornados...many of the things I am still afraid of today. Add to that the adult fears of my husband's sudden death (every time he's late I assume he's dead somewhere), never being able to have children and filing bancrupcy and losing our house. I'm afraid that one day my sweet tooth combined with the fact that I loathe exercise will result in me weighing 300lbs.
I know that most of these things I can control. It doesn't make me fear them any less.
I think my biggest fear in life has been of making mistakes. Maybe it comes from being the eldest child. Maybe it's from being raised by a single mom who wanted the world for us. Maybe it's because I'm a huge people pleaser and cannot help myself. My mother says that I've done everything "right". Graduated high school, went to college, got a job, paid off student loans, bought a condo, got married, bought a house. Sounds pretty normal, right? Sometimes I wish I had made a few mistakes in between there somewhere. It is through our mistakes that we learn greater lessons and I wish I had taken more chances. I haven't made mistakes, but I also haven't done a lot of things that I really wanted. I would have found a job that I had a passion for and not one that I feel lukewarm about. I would have moved for a time to a big city...I LOVE going into Chicago now.
I am happy with the path that led me to my life now. I like my life now. I just have to remember to be brave in the future.