Halloween is awesome..I love it, really I do. I more so love the days leading up to it, but as for right now, at this stage in my life, it is a little ridiculous. I don't enjoy passing out candy to other children and I also don't like taking my kids to more than one house to get candy, it bores me a little. I know I sound like a lot of fun, I'm working in it...the following are examples as to why I sucked at Halloween again this year..
1) When children show up to my door, ranging in age from 14-16, I get a little annoyed..."Um, what are you supposed to be dressed up as?"...kids look at me, shrug their shoulders and say, "Yeah, I don't really know hehe." Zip your lip Sarah, do you want your babies' house to get egged?? apprently so.."Wow, that's pretty dumb, maybe you shouldn't be out trick or treating with little kids then, maybe you're past that stage."...really, let it go and give them the crappy candy you don't want to snarf down and move on....so I did, eventually..
2) Mommy wanted to look cute on Halloween for no good reason. So I wore jeggings, even typing that word "jeggings" makes me feel stupid, and boots up to my knees, with a large heel on them. Oh I had a sweater on too, Good Lord, wouldn't want to really scare the kids away going topless, yikes...Well, Ted, actually got tired of taking the kids around the neighborhood trolling for candy, so he asked/forced me to take them out for a run. grrr...not interested in navigating down the street by myself, but I told myself to stop being so chubby and crabby and take the kids for a few more houses...The hooker boots were a bad choice for that, mumbling cuss words under my breath while waddling down the block is not cute, I apologize neighbor peeps. So a few blocks away from home, Coco hands me something, which I thought was candy she had tried eating from her bucket..oh to be that lucky...please Lord, make it be an unwrapped tootsie roll!! No such luck for me...It was a large piece of wet, nasty, dog poop Coco wanted to pass on to me..awesome! So I hobbled/ran/tripped, in my jegging/hooker boot ensemble back to my house, with Coco on my hip and Lindsey being dragged behind..It was one of those precious moments I will scrap book about later, if I ever decide to upload and print any of the pictures I have taken of my children..
Next year I hope to not be such a witch..
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Church Lady
I recently started a new job, which is cool..However, I never really know how to act in front of new people. Like most people, I tend to act differently in my professional like than in my social life. Although, I'm pretty sure the majority of my nursing co-workers would say I am a straight up nut job all around, but I guess it's only after you get to know me..Back to the new job situation, so I have been on my most "professional" behavior possible, and it makes me die a little bit on the inside every day..yeah, ok, that's an exaggeration, however, it is truly uncomfortable to keep about 80% of my self proclaimed witty thoughts, to myself.
After a week of having ridiculous thoughts bottled up in my head, I tend to slip and forget to put my filter on in, what should be, more conservative situations..example: When sitting with a small group of parents during the Sunday School hour, there are things I should NOT say. Let me preface this by explaining I do NOT do drugs, for real...
other parent at table: "Wow, "Rhonda", is such a great teacher to the kids at Sunday school!"
me: "I know, she is so awesome. She has so much energy." (In my head I kept saying, ok, stop there, that is appropriate, but no, I must defy myself.)..."I almost want to bottle up whatever she is taking and drink it, or smoke it!"
Awkward silence.....prolonged silence.....In which I go grab more animal crackers from the snack table..
Great, so now I am the crack head mom at Church. Sweet...Seriously, I need to be monitored at all times and electrically shocked when stupid things enter my brain...oh well, at least I haven't ruined myself at the new job yet, give it a few days though..I will be sure to alienate and offend just about everyone..look forward to that :-)
After a week of having ridiculous thoughts bottled up in my head, I tend to slip and forget to put my filter on in, what should be, more conservative situations..example: When sitting with a small group of parents during the Sunday School hour, there are things I should NOT say. Let me preface this by explaining I do NOT do drugs, for real...
other parent at table: "Wow, "Rhonda", is such a great teacher to the kids at Sunday school!"
me: "I know, she is so awesome. She has so much energy." (In my head I kept saying, ok, stop there, that is appropriate, but no, I must defy myself.)..."I almost want to bottle up whatever she is taking and drink it, or smoke it!"
Awkward silence.....prolonged silence.....In which I go grab more animal crackers from the snack table..
Great, so now I am the crack head mom at Church. Sweet...Seriously, I need to be monitored at all times and electrically shocked when stupid things enter my brain...oh well, at least I haven't ruined myself at the new job yet, give it a few days though..I will be sure to alienate and offend just about everyone..look forward to that :-)
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
16 and What?
Oh my poor baby blog..I never use you anymore, much like my razor blade, curling iron, and hair dryer..and why is that? Oh yeah, cause I have a job, a husband, 3 kids, and and a house to keep somewhat together..which leads me to my next rant..
So I might have bragged several weeks ago about having a cure for teen pregnancy..I think I am on to something, I am just waiting for the MTV producers to get back to me. I'm sure many of you know of the show, "16 and Pregnant," which is running non-stop on MTV and it's affiliates. I admit, I might have some episodes on my DVR. I was very into it when it first began. I really thought they (MTV) was on to something, as far as showing how difficult it is having a baby and actually raising it, or making the decision to give the child up for adoption. That thought quickly faded as the seasons continued..The show now revolves around the drama these young and, for the most part, extremely ignorant, teenagers endure outside of the lives of their children. What was once probably a show to deter the average teenager from getting pregnant, has now turned in to how famous these kids can become if they know how to work it..
Therefore, being the old lady that I am, I have some ideas as to how teenagers could truly benefit from a reality show on MTV. As an ante partum and post partum nurse I feel I have some credentials in this area, and as a chick who has birthed two, and currently attempting to raise three little nuggets. I'm not sure if MTV is just deciding how much money they would like to pay me or if there are a lot of legal things that need to transpire in order for these series to be produced, but whatever, they know how to reach me. Listed below are a few of the episodes/series, that I feel should be shown to the teenage population so that they have a "better understanding" of what life will be/can be like, after having a child...
"16 and possibly incontinent for the rest of my life"
"16 and "Snap! Those food stamps only amount to $50 a month for me and my baby."
"15 and ouch, chapped/blistered nipples hurt worse than nipple piercings."
"17 and Whoa, I didn't know snorting coke would make me deliver a preemie!"
"19 and I'll will be spending the next 18 years staying in every weekend it seems."
Now, these are just a few suggestions I threw out there, but as you can see, the topics are endless. But maybe, just maybe, a teenager, a child, whose really only worry should be what they are going to wear out Saturday night, would possibly realize, pregnancy and raising a child can be beautiful yes, but can definitely wait!!!!!
just a thought ya'll..
So I might have bragged several weeks ago about having a cure for teen pregnancy..I think I am on to something, I am just waiting for the MTV producers to get back to me. I'm sure many of you know of the show, "16 and Pregnant," which is running non-stop on MTV and it's affiliates. I admit, I might have some episodes on my DVR. I was very into it when it first began. I really thought they (MTV) was on to something, as far as showing how difficult it is having a baby and actually raising it, or making the decision to give the child up for adoption. That thought quickly faded as the seasons continued..The show now revolves around the drama these young and, for the most part, extremely ignorant, teenagers endure outside of the lives of their children. What was once probably a show to deter the average teenager from getting pregnant, has now turned in to how famous these kids can become if they know how to work it..
Therefore, being the old lady that I am, I have some ideas as to how teenagers could truly benefit from a reality show on MTV. As an ante partum and post partum nurse I feel I have some credentials in this area, and as a chick who has birthed two, and currently attempting to raise three little nuggets. I'm not sure if MTV is just deciding how much money they would like to pay me or if there are a lot of legal things that need to transpire in order for these series to be produced, but whatever, they know how to reach me. Listed below are a few of the episodes/series, that I feel should be shown to the teenage population so that they have a "better understanding" of what life will be/can be like, after having a child...
"16 and possibly incontinent for the rest of my life"
"16 and "Snap! Those food stamps only amount to $50 a month for me and my baby."
"15 and ouch, chapped/blistered nipples hurt worse than nipple piercings."
"17 and Whoa, I didn't know snorting coke would make me deliver a preemie!"
"19 and I'll will be spending the next 18 years staying in every weekend it seems."
Now, these are just a few suggestions I threw out there, but as you can see, the topics are endless. But maybe, just maybe, a teenager, a child, whose really only worry should be what they are going to wear out Saturday night, would possibly realize, pregnancy and raising a child can be beautiful yes, but can definitely wait!!!!!
just a thought ya'll..
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Top 5 Peculiar Things I have to do at work
1) Initiate patients on using a breast pump- I have no qualms about this, but generally my patient and her significant other look at me like I am enforcing some type of barbaric punishment upon them. At these times I find myself saying ridiculous things like, "really, pretty soon you'll be doing this while you're talking to your father-in-law, or making dinner." Really Sarah? People don't want to hear that..
2) Peri-care- This in itself is just plain crazy, but it is a known fact that women do not remember how to clean their southern hemi-spheres after giving birth. I mean that in the most sincere way possible, I do, for real this time. They literally look at me like, "Now what am I supposed to do?" So I give them a peri-bottle (spray bottle) and instruct them on how to properly use such a tool to clean up in the bathroom. Usually they are still confused and I have to spray the patient the first time, and this is when I imagine that I am playing a game in some sort of carnival, and I will win some sort of prize for getting this done as quickly as possible, maybe even win a gold fish.
3) Talk to patients about their bowel habits, at great lengths, tiring lengths....I have pregnant patients and patients who have just delivered babies, and this is on the forefront of their minds. I get it, can't say I have experienced it myself, but in my almost 10 years of nursing, I can say I have had this conversation with hundreds of women..I hear all kinds of things that would make my brothers blush, but no big deal to me, just saying...
4) Have to run defense for the annoying friends and family members, sometimes even the significant others. " You all are going to have to step out for what could be several hours, as I have to talk with your loved one about nipple care, I apologize." And now my patient can finally take a freaking nap...
5) Counsel patients on naming their children.."Please don't name your twins anything that rhyme with each other....do not spell a normal name backwards to make it unique for your child...I know you have to use a family name, but it can just be on the birth certificate, let's think of some others...and yes, for real, your baby should have a name before it leaves the hospital, you have had some time to think about this, and calling it "it" is just plain embarrassing for everyone involved.
2) Peri-care- This in itself is just plain crazy, but it is a known fact that women do not remember how to clean their southern hemi-spheres after giving birth. I mean that in the most sincere way possible, I do, for real this time. They literally look at me like, "Now what am I supposed to do?" So I give them a peri-bottle (spray bottle) and instruct them on how to properly use such a tool to clean up in the bathroom. Usually they are still confused and I have to spray the patient the first time, and this is when I imagine that I am playing a game in some sort of carnival, and I will win some sort of prize for getting this done as quickly as possible, maybe even win a gold fish.
3) Talk to patients about their bowel habits, at great lengths, tiring lengths....I have pregnant patients and patients who have just delivered babies, and this is on the forefront of their minds. I get it, can't say I have experienced it myself, but in my almost 10 years of nursing, I can say I have had this conversation with hundreds of women..I hear all kinds of things that would make my brothers blush, but no big deal to me, just saying...
4) Have to run defense for the annoying friends and family members, sometimes even the significant others. " You all are going to have to step out for what could be several hours, as I have to talk with your loved one about nipple care, I apologize." And now my patient can finally take a freaking nap...
5) Counsel patients on naming their children.."Please don't name your twins anything that rhyme with each other....do not spell a normal name backwards to make it unique for your child...I know you have to use a family name, but it can just be on the birth certificate, let's think of some others...and yes, for real, your baby should have a name before it leaves the hospital, you have had some time to think about this, and calling it "it" is just plain embarrassing for everyone involved.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Double Vision
A few weeks ago it came to our attention that LL would be needing glasses..I really didn't think she would, since she is perfect and everything, but the eye doctor confirmed it last week..Not gonna lie, I started crying when Ted told me the news. See, had I known, I would have been the one at the doctor's office with her, being the control freak I am. But I sent Ted, cause I figured it was going to be a quick appointment..Ted also had the good sense to call and ask if I wanted to be the one to help her pick out her frames, he is finally getting me..I declined, knowing very well that Ted would not want his daughter to look like a fool, so he could handle it, and besides, I was crying. Seems kind of silly to get upset over something like that, I know. Millions of children come down with incurable diseases, have to live with forms of autism, and many other much more difficult issues, and here I am, a hot mess..It didn't take long for me to figure out why I was really crying. I was able to Freud myself a little bit and realize what was so upsetting..See, Lindsey is pumped about these glasses, she thinks they are cute, kids will be jealous at first, and it will only draw more attention to her beautiful blue eyes. I know I wanted glasses badly..in Second grade my eye doctor said my vision was borderline and I didn't really need them. But oh no, I wanted those bad boys..and I wanted the super cool case that held those ugly blue frames. This is also the same girl that was jealous of those who wore retainers and would fashion her own, using chewed bubble gum and unbent paper clips..wow, typing that makes me feel even more cool, amazing. So back to sad sad me..My heart began to ache because I felt like glasses were just going to be the beginning for her/me...soon would come the awkward years of possible bad skin, pudginess, maybe being a tom boy, although hard to conceive that thought now, and all the other unfortunate traits she might inherit from awesome me... I just didn't want her to ever feel any twang of pain...ever. This was a reminder that a lot of those things are out of my control as a parent. All I can do is give her the tools to deal with the pain when it comes her way. So that it is my focus now..no sadness for imperfection, but reinforcing the positive. As she was getting dressed for her Parent Night at school this evening, she said to me, "Mom, everyone will think I am so beautiful because of this dress." Normally I would nod and agree, but tonight I looked into those sweet baby blues and made sure she listened to me and said, "You were so beautiful before you even put on that dress sweet girl."
Sunday, March 20, 2011
March 20th
I promise this is the last not-so-funny post for awhile..But I think I get a free pass today. As most of you know, today is a very difficult day for me and my family, celebrating my father's passing....But I have some random thoughts I wanted to share, you take from them what you want..I just wanted to write, it's all I can do sometimes..
Last night I had a dream that we lost Coco..We were in a very large church and she slipped away out of sight, and no one could find her. I was inconsolable, I kept searching for her and she had simply disappeared. Everyone kept trying to console me, but I wouldn't have it. It was almost as if people wanted me to get over it, accept it, move on, she was gone..I kept explaining that they didn't understand, she was my whole world, if she was really gone, I was done..But, in my dream, I decided, that just looking under benches and in closets, wasn't enough, I would have to scream her name at the top of my lungs...So I did, and she skipped out of nowhere, looking at me like, "Mommy, I'm right here, why are you so upset?" After thinking about my dream today, it kind of hit me that I tend to do that in life..I feel like I am searching everywhere for things, and if I would just ask for help or call out a name, the answer would be right in front of my face..
That revelation leads me to my next thought....The day my dad died, I sang a song to him while he was in his hospital bed. It was a song he wrote called, "One in a Hundred." A song about the parable Jesus told, describing a Shepherd and His lost sheep. The song was fitting at the time, because it was a song I could remember all the words to, and it captured the moment..My dad was my Shepherd, and my dad was also one of God's sheep...I hoped it would bring him comfort in his time of suffering..It was difficult to sing, because of the strong emotions at the time, but I did it..Not to plug his music, cause that seems a little weird, but the song is available on itunes, the composer is listed as Concordia Publishing :-)
And a final random note..I was putting Lindsey to bed tonight, saying her prayers, and then she interrupted me with a couple of questions about Jesus.."Mama, where is Jesus?" "Where is Heaven?" So I tried to explain them the best I could, to a 3.5 year old..alluding to the skies yet acknowledging that He is all around us as well..She mentioned Papa John, without any prompting, and I mentioned that he was with Jesus now..Lindsey wanted to know how Papa John got up to heaven? I didn't have an answer...but luckily she answered her own question, "Jesus carried him there, didn't He?" Thank God she is more versed in theology than me..."Yes Baby, Jesus carried him there.." She then smiled and rested her head on her pillow....a few minutes later she asked, "Can Jesus carry dinosaurs up there?" I answered, "Of course He can, because he is just crazy strong like that." Lindsey Lane then fell fast asleep...She was able to comfort me as well tonight, and that's why she is a precious gift..
Good Night....
Last night I had a dream that we lost Coco..We were in a very large church and she slipped away out of sight, and no one could find her. I was inconsolable, I kept searching for her and she had simply disappeared. Everyone kept trying to console me, but I wouldn't have it. It was almost as if people wanted me to get over it, accept it, move on, she was gone..I kept explaining that they didn't understand, she was my whole world, if she was really gone, I was done..But, in my dream, I decided, that just looking under benches and in closets, wasn't enough, I would have to scream her name at the top of my lungs...So I did, and she skipped out of nowhere, looking at me like, "Mommy, I'm right here, why are you so upset?" After thinking about my dream today, it kind of hit me that I tend to do that in life..I feel like I am searching everywhere for things, and if I would just ask for help or call out a name, the answer would be right in front of my face..
That revelation leads me to my next thought....The day my dad died, I sang a song to him while he was in his hospital bed. It was a song he wrote called, "One in a Hundred." A song about the parable Jesus told, describing a Shepherd and His lost sheep. The song was fitting at the time, because it was a song I could remember all the words to, and it captured the moment..My dad was my Shepherd, and my dad was also one of God's sheep...I hoped it would bring him comfort in his time of suffering..It was difficult to sing, because of the strong emotions at the time, but I did it..Not to plug his music, cause that seems a little weird, but the song is available on itunes, the composer is listed as Concordia Publishing :-)
And a final random note..I was putting Lindsey to bed tonight, saying her prayers, and then she interrupted me with a couple of questions about Jesus.."Mama, where is Jesus?" "Where is Heaven?" So I tried to explain them the best I could, to a 3.5 year old..alluding to the skies yet acknowledging that He is all around us as well..She mentioned Papa John, without any prompting, and I mentioned that he was with Jesus now..Lindsey wanted to know how Papa John got up to heaven? I didn't have an answer...but luckily she answered her own question, "Jesus carried him there, didn't He?" Thank God she is more versed in theology than me..."Yes Baby, Jesus carried him there.." She then smiled and rested her head on her pillow....a few minutes later she asked, "Can Jesus carry dinosaurs up there?" I answered, "Of course He can, because he is just crazy strong like that." Lindsey Lane then fell fast asleep...She was able to comfort me as well tonight, and that's why she is a precious gift..
Good Night....
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Things I think about when I can't sleep
I was slightly disappointed when the birth control patch was taken off of the market, not because I took it, but I knew of it's potential importance in my future..Last night was a perfect example as to why this patch could serve some purpose in this household..
So, just some minor background, for filler...The windows in our house are giving us a hard time right now...lots of leaking and moisture build up around the seal of these cheap windows = hot mess in our house..Windows are super expensive, in case you didn't know, so this is gonna be a really fun purchase. Anyhow, we had a fine young man come into our home last night to give us an estimate for replacing all of our windows...He was very nice, very polite, and even tolerated Ted's interrogations and bouts of laughter when he showed us the final estimated cost of the replacement windows ($52, 000). Ted made me write that for vindication purposes.
Someone else in my house thought he was very sweet and smoothe as well. Therefore, when it was time for Lindsey to give hugs and kisses before she headed up to bed, she whispered to me, "I kind of want to give him a kiss goodnight too." (pointing toward the window guy). I paused, shut my eyes, and said, "Honey, I don't think he would be ok with that, and I am actually kind of not ok with that either." She nodded, and I carried her up the stairs..I was hoping we were done.
Little girlfriend proceeded to cup my face and stare into my eyes and say, "Mom, he was very cute. I really like him." Um, what? Was she mesmerized by his knowledge of vinyl trim and his 100% satisfaction guarantee? Cause I kinda was, but I didn't want to ask him out on a date or anything. Then she says, "Is he sleeping here tonight?" Thoughts were racing through my head more rapidly than usual...."No baby, he is going home and sleeping in his bed." She was disappointed, but not nearly as much as I was...Damn you Ortho Patch, you were gonna be my answer..
My plan has always been, since I carried these little girls in my belly, that before they headed off to high school in the morning, I would just hug them, and then place the patch on their back, all sly like. I'm not gonna be a grandma before I'm 50, sorry about it. Might not be ethical or FDA recommended, but I stopped caring about stuff like that awhile ago..
So this brings me to what I was thinking about last night...So I could always slip her the birth control pill in her cereal, or grind it up and put it in her chocolate milk..I thought about the Depo shot..But I'm thinking she would be on to me , by the 3rd or 4th shot..I would lunge toward her with the syringe, she would scream out something like how I was crazy, and it could just get really ugly..So I don't know what I'm going to do, of course I will give her the female anatomy talk, the no sex talk, the safe sex talk, and show her terrible pictures of herpes and all the usual things mothers talk about..I will also show her a picture of my abdomen, before I had a baby, and afterwards..If that isn't enough to scare her into abstinence, then guess I will just have to break out the "Best Grandma Ever" sweatshirt...
Sweet dreams ya'll..
So, just some minor background, for filler...The windows in our house are giving us a hard time right now...lots of leaking and moisture build up around the seal of these cheap windows = hot mess in our house..Windows are super expensive, in case you didn't know, so this is gonna be a really fun purchase. Anyhow, we had a fine young man come into our home last night to give us an estimate for replacing all of our windows...He was very nice, very polite, and even tolerated Ted's interrogations and bouts of laughter when he showed us the final estimated cost of the replacement windows ($52, 000). Ted made me write that for vindication purposes.
Someone else in my house thought he was very sweet and smoothe as well. Therefore, when it was time for Lindsey to give hugs and kisses before she headed up to bed, she whispered to me, "I kind of want to give him a kiss goodnight too." (pointing toward the window guy). I paused, shut my eyes, and said, "Honey, I don't think he would be ok with that, and I am actually kind of not ok with that either." She nodded, and I carried her up the stairs..I was hoping we were done.
Little girlfriend proceeded to cup my face and stare into my eyes and say, "Mom, he was very cute. I really like him." Um, what? Was she mesmerized by his knowledge of vinyl trim and his 100% satisfaction guarantee? Cause I kinda was, but I didn't want to ask him out on a date or anything. Then she says, "Is he sleeping here tonight?" Thoughts were racing through my head more rapidly than usual...."No baby, he is going home and sleeping in his bed." She was disappointed, but not nearly as much as I was...Damn you Ortho Patch, you were gonna be my answer..
My plan has always been, since I carried these little girls in my belly, that before they headed off to high school in the morning, I would just hug them, and then place the patch on their back, all sly like. I'm not gonna be a grandma before I'm 50, sorry about it. Might not be ethical or FDA recommended, but I stopped caring about stuff like that awhile ago..
So this brings me to what I was thinking about last night...So I could always slip her the birth control pill in her cereal, or grind it up and put it in her chocolate milk..I thought about the Depo shot..But I'm thinking she would be on to me , by the 3rd or 4th shot..I would lunge toward her with the syringe, she would scream out something like how I was crazy, and it could just get really ugly..So I don't know what I'm going to do, of course I will give her the female anatomy talk, the no sex talk, the safe sex talk, and show her terrible pictures of herpes and all the usual things mothers talk about..I will also show her a picture of my abdomen, before I had a baby, and afterwards..If that isn't enough to scare her into abstinence, then guess I will just have to break out the "Best Grandma Ever" sweatshirt...
Sweet dreams ya'll..
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The time I thought I could fly
When I was a child I did some super stupid stuff..This habit has continued nicely into adulthood. I was reminded of this story while I was jogging tonight. I have to mention I was jogging, only because that is pretty funny in itself. I am attempting to do the Couch to 5k program for the umpteenth time..what better reason to start that nonsense up then Ash Wednesday? I have this vision of God looking down on me, doing the sarcastic clap, you know, the one that you do when someone talks about something they did which they are seeking some type of praise for, but really they should be doing that shit anyways? The important part of the clap, is the pause in between the claps..I digress, as usual...So God is looking down at me "clapping," thinking really?? I sent my Son to die on the cross, and you running/walking fast/dry heaving on the tread mill, is the closest thing you can do to show a sacrifice? Not to say that you kids shouldn't give up sugar, coffee, facebook, or carbonation for Lent, but one does have to kind of laugh when comparing the two. And oh geez, not interested in people complaining to me about what they are giving up for Lent and why it is amazing..of course, I should be prepared for all comments, if I do get any for this one..
So jogging, right...My dad was an avid runner while we were kids. Mostly ran in the early evenings...On this particular fateful night, my mom was somewhere like Jazzercise, God bless the 80's, and my dad was on his jog...Therefore, my two older brothers were left to watch my pestering little self. While the Rents were out doing their thing, my brothers took to the help of the TV, and we started watching some awesome show like "Fraggle Rock" or something. I was bored easily, and starting screwing around with the living room furniture..
Trying to think back as to what was going on in my disproportionately large head at the time.. it must have been something along the lines of..."hmm, that rocking chair looks super bored over there just like me, maybe I should go flip that bad boy upside down." This Hulk like maneuver received no reaction from my brothers.."so now what do I do?"..."oh I should probably climb on top of the upside down rocking chair." Still no reaction from the brothers...."Now I should probably sail off of the rocking chair like an eagle." Bad move little girl, especially when your eyes lack proper depth perception. The next thing I remember was being laid out on the bathroom floor, with my brothers mummifying me with toilet paper..
Apparently my graceful descend from the rocker ended with me smashing my head onto the corner of the piano bench in the living room..Whoopsie..So my brothers probably crapped their pants and ran me into the bathroom and started wrapping my head with the toilet paper..My dad came home moments later, probably crapped his pants as well, and drove me to the ER. Oddly enough, no stitches were needed, but I'm pretty sure my brothers took the pain even harder for me over that incident. Little did they know, that would just be the beginning of learning to put me back to together after my falls.
So jogging, right...My dad was an avid runner while we were kids. Mostly ran in the early evenings...On this particular fateful night, my mom was somewhere like Jazzercise, God bless the 80's, and my dad was on his jog...Therefore, my two older brothers were left to watch my pestering little self. While the Rents were out doing their thing, my brothers took to the help of the TV, and we started watching some awesome show like "Fraggle Rock" or something. I was bored easily, and starting screwing around with the living room furniture..
Trying to think back as to what was going on in my disproportionately large head at the time.. it must have been something along the lines of..."hmm, that rocking chair looks super bored over there just like me, maybe I should go flip that bad boy upside down." This Hulk like maneuver received no reaction from my brothers.."so now what do I do?"..."oh I should probably climb on top of the upside down rocking chair." Still no reaction from the brothers...."Now I should probably sail off of the rocking chair like an eagle." Bad move little girl, especially when your eyes lack proper depth perception. The next thing I remember was being laid out on the bathroom floor, with my brothers mummifying me with toilet paper..
Apparently my graceful descend from the rocker ended with me smashing my head onto the corner of the piano bench in the living room..Whoopsie..So my brothers probably crapped their pants and ran me into the bathroom and started wrapping my head with the toilet paper..My dad came home moments later, probably crapped his pants as well, and drove me to the ER. Oddly enough, no stitches were needed, but I'm pretty sure my brothers took the pain even harder for me over that incident. Little did they know, that would just be the beginning of learning to put me back to together after my falls.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Bittersweet March
This one has been a long time coming..I've kind of felt like a liar to the tens of follwers I have. I love cracking jokes and telling what I think are funny stories, but it has been difficult to write more than a one liner on facebook these days..So I will give you a fair warning, that this entry is more for me than for you, but maybe for you, if you want to better understand me I guess..but it is about grieving and living, and how difficult the two are when brought together.
Not sure where to start because I don't know where the beginning of this sadness starts..I will try, and appropriately, my father will be looking down at me from heaven shaking his head, irritated that I still don't know how to use a comma, colon, semi-colon, or proper English in general..I know, I know, Dad, bout time you let go of that stuff :-)
This could be chapters long, but it doesn't need to be. Because it is about unconditional love between a father and daughter, that began the day I was born, and I know still carries on..
Always being a Daddy's girl, it was very difficult when my father was diagnosed as an alcoholic. Somehow, the one person that I thought was flawless, was not. He was my hero, and it was hard to have a hero, whom at the time was broken..Our family endured his struggle with alcohol for many years, mainly with love, but sometimes with resentment and anger...but always just wanted him to know that he was loved and was worth being here. His talents with music and spiritual teaching were boundless, so creative, and so magnetic..So it was difficult to watch this artist suffer, knowing we all thought the world of him, and if only he thought the same of himself, maybe the drinking would end. And it did..Through the help of an amazing doctor and some medication, my dad became 100% sober. This sobriety began shortly after I announced our pregnancy with my first daughter, Lindsey Lane..He wouldn't tell us of this sobriety until almost 6 months later, eventhough we had sensed a change, he hadn't wanted to give us false hope.
He was an amazing person..but once he became completely sober, he was a beyond amazing father, husband, and grandpa. Speaking of being a grandpa, he really did have a special bond with my little LL, I know I am biased, but it is true, and I will touch more on that later.
He was sober almost two years before he was diagnosed with stage 4 Esophageal Cancer..and those two years were so awesome for all of us. We had our dad back, our kids had their grandpa back. It was like he wore a cape and was out to save us...all before he had to be taken away..
I remember sitting in the hospital as we were waiting for test results to come back, regarding the diagnosis..My brother, Aaron, mentioned that it felt like our dad must have made some bargain with God, pleading that if could become sober, he would give all he could in what would be the short time he had left. The brutal diganosis, giving someone anywhere from 4 weeks to 6 months to live, is terrible. Add to that tradgedy, the fact that me and my sister-in-law were pregnant at the time. We looked down at our bellies throughout his illness, always wondering if these babies would get to meet their number one admirer, it was awful..
Even thoughout his brief illness, he didn't like the focus to be on him...All he wanted was to be able to get out of the fucking hospital so he could go play the organ in church and spend time with his family. Pardon my language, it is the grief talking....
During the time of his illness, I was living in Indiana, so we made frequent trips back to the suburbs to see him..When I did come into town, and he was in the hospital, I knew it gave him a sense of relief. Eventhough oncology is not my area, I still knew a good thing or two about patient care..Therefore, the night that he was left to press a button in order to receive pain medication, and was unable to use his hands due to pain, therefore unable to give himself the much needed medication...you can bet your ass that the nurse manger, hospital administrator, and anyone else who would take the time to answer my call, was chewed out to the extreme..My dad's good friend said later that day, "I know Sarah was here cause I can still see the trail of smoke from her burning up the place." I took that as a compliment..I also took it as a compliement when my brother, Michael, informed the nurses on the unit, shortly before my arrival one day, "My sister is gonna be here soon, she is a nurse, she is due to give birth any day now, and she is gonna tear your ass apart if you don't start answering the call light." That was all I could do, cause I could not save the one person who guided me through my whole life, it is all I had left to do...
One week before my scheduled c-section date, I asked my OB doctor to strip my membranes at my appointment, to possibly start the process of labor..in the few days prior to that we had placed my dad in Hospice at the hospital..I knew his time was limited and I was desperate for him to meet my unborn child..When we got home from that appointment, we were immediately informed that my father was ailing at rapid speed. So we packed up as much as we could, and left for Chicago. Not knowing if I would need to be delivered while seeing my dad, I made calls to line up where I would go if I went into labor, since we were away from our home..I packed clothes for all of us, and sobbed as I picked out black dresses for me and my litttle LL. But it wasn't time to grieve yet. We made it to see him and visit him in the hospital for a few days..
I can't imagine how he felt, looking at me, ready to have a baby any minute, and knowing he wasn't going to physically be there for me..The thought makes me sick to this very day. LL got to hop onto his hospital bed and snuggle for a few minutes on that very sad Friday. My brother, at the same time of all this chaos, was in the hospital with his wife, awaiting the arrival of his baby boy..On that very sad Friday, I left in the late afternoon to grab dinner with my husband and LL, and went back to my friend's house to collect myself and head back for what I thought would be a long night of watching my father suffer..the suffering he endured, is the other issue I struggle with on a daily basis, it seemed so unneccesary, to have the amount of pain and difficulty breathing...I remember looking at my family members thinking, so who is going to put him out of this misery? I can't handle it, and he shouldn't have to either..it was unbearable to watch..it wasn't like the movies, it was not peaceful, it was not quiet, it was loud and ugly..and I wasn't there when it ended..I thought I had more time.
My brother, Aaron, called in the late afternoon of that very sad Friday, March 20th, 2009, to let my dad know that sweet and healthy, John Michael Folkening, was born. They held the phone up to my father's ear, and within 15 minutes, my father passed away..It sounds Hollywood, sounds possibly beautiful, but at the time, and to this day, it is so ugly and unbearable...
My brother Michael called me to tell me about baby John and my dad...I then called my brother Aaron, he hadn't gotten the call yet about my father's passing, he thought I was just calling to congratulate him..the phone went silent and was then filled with sounds of weeping...I vividly, remember crumpling at the table in Joanna's dining room, surrounded by my husband, and my best friends for life, Adam and Becky...
I stayed pregnant somehow, through all of that..the day after my father's funeral, I arrived to my scheduled c-section..it's a blur really..how was I able to walk, shower, anything? I don't know..But Sloane was born March 25th, and was immediately sent to the NICU...and remained there for a week. I really thought my world was ending..but I think I was so numb that I almost didn't care..but we survived, Sloane "Coco" , was brought home on April 1st..healthy and smiling. Her name, Sloane, means strong warrior, and that is who she is, thank God..I always refer to her as, "My angel baby, sent from heaven," and I mean it...but more on that some other time..Anyhow, that is a taste of my grief, I apologize, it won't happen often here...but I do finally feel like I can exhale a little bit..which feels good, so thanks for reading...
Not sure where to start because I don't know where the beginning of this sadness starts..I will try, and appropriately, my father will be looking down at me from heaven shaking his head, irritated that I still don't know how to use a comma, colon, semi-colon, or proper English in general..I know, I know, Dad, bout time you let go of that stuff :-)
This could be chapters long, but it doesn't need to be. Because it is about unconditional love between a father and daughter, that began the day I was born, and I know still carries on..
Always being a Daddy's girl, it was very difficult when my father was diagnosed as an alcoholic. Somehow, the one person that I thought was flawless, was not. He was my hero, and it was hard to have a hero, whom at the time was broken..Our family endured his struggle with alcohol for many years, mainly with love, but sometimes with resentment and anger...but always just wanted him to know that he was loved and was worth being here. His talents with music and spiritual teaching were boundless, so creative, and so magnetic..So it was difficult to watch this artist suffer, knowing we all thought the world of him, and if only he thought the same of himself, maybe the drinking would end. And it did..Through the help of an amazing doctor and some medication, my dad became 100% sober. This sobriety began shortly after I announced our pregnancy with my first daughter, Lindsey Lane..He wouldn't tell us of this sobriety until almost 6 months later, eventhough we had sensed a change, he hadn't wanted to give us false hope.
He was an amazing person..but once he became completely sober, he was a beyond amazing father, husband, and grandpa. Speaking of being a grandpa, he really did have a special bond with my little LL, I know I am biased, but it is true, and I will touch more on that later.
He was sober almost two years before he was diagnosed with stage 4 Esophageal Cancer..and those two years were so awesome for all of us. We had our dad back, our kids had their grandpa back. It was like he wore a cape and was out to save us...all before he had to be taken away..
I remember sitting in the hospital as we were waiting for test results to come back, regarding the diagnosis..My brother, Aaron, mentioned that it felt like our dad must have made some bargain with God, pleading that if could become sober, he would give all he could in what would be the short time he had left. The brutal diganosis, giving someone anywhere from 4 weeks to 6 months to live, is terrible. Add to that tradgedy, the fact that me and my sister-in-law were pregnant at the time. We looked down at our bellies throughout his illness, always wondering if these babies would get to meet their number one admirer, it was awful..
Even thoughout his brief illness, he didn't like the focus to be on him...All he wanted was to be able to get out of the fucking hospital so he could go play the organ in church and spend time with his family. Pardon my language, it is the grief talking....
During the time of his illness, I was living in Indiana, so we made frequent trips back to the suburbs to see him..When I did come into town, and he was in the hospital, I knew it gave him a sense of relief. Eventhough oncology is not my area, I still knew a good thing or two about patient care..Therefore, the night that he was left to press a button in order to receive pain medication, and was unable to use his hands due to pain, therefore unable to give himself the much needed medication...you can bet your ass that the nurse manger, hospital administrator, and anyone else who would take the time to answer my call, was chewed out to the extreme..My dad's good friend said later that day, "I know Sarah was here cause I can still see the trail of smoke from her burning up the place." I took that as a compliment..I also took it as a compliement when my brother, Michael, informed the nurses on the unit, shortly before my arrival one day, "My sister is gonna be here soon, she is a nurse, she is due to give birth any day now, and she is gonna tear your ass apart if you don't start answering the call light." That was all I could do, cause I could not save the one person who guided me through my whole life, it is all I had left to do...
One week before my scheduled c-section date, I asked my OB doctor to strip my membranes at my appointment, to possibly start the process of labor..in the few days prior to that we had placed my dad in Hospice at the hospital..I knew his time was limited and I was desperate for him to meet my unborn child..When we got home from that appointment, we were immediately informed that my father was ailing at rapid speed. So we packed up as much as we could, and left for Chicago. Not knowing if I would need to be delivered while seeing my dad, I made calls to line up where I would go if I went into labor, since we were away from our home..I packed clothes for all of us, and sobbed as I picked out black dresses for me and my litttle LL. But it wasn't time to grieve yet. We made it to see him and visit him in the hospital for a few days..
I can't imagine how he felt, looking at me, ready to have a baby any minute, and knowing he wasn't going to physically be there for me..The thought makes me sick to this very day. LL got to hop onto his hospital bed and snuggle for a few minutes on that very sad Friday. My brother, at the same time of all this chaos, was in the hospital with his wife, awaiting the arrival of his baby boy..On that very sad Friday, I left in the late afternoon to grab dinner with my husband and LL, and went back to my friend's house to collect myself and head back for what I thought would be a long night of watching my father suffer..the suffering he endured, is the other issue I struggle with on a daily basis, it seemed so unneccesary, to have the amount of pain and difficulty breathing...I remember looking at my family members thinking, so who is going to put him out of this misery? I can't handle it, and he shouldn't have to either..it was unbearable to watch..it wasn't like the movies, it was not peaceful, it was not quiet, it was loud and ugly..and I wasn't there when it ended..I thought I had more time.
My brother, Aaron, called in the late afternoon of that very sad Friday, March 20th, 2009, to let my dad know that sweet and healthy, John Michael Folkening, was born. They held the phone up to my father's ear, and within 15 minutes, my father passed away..It sounds Hollywood, sounds possibly beautiful, but at the time, and to this day, it is so ugly and unbearable...
My brother Michael called me to tell me about baby John and my dad...I then called my brother Aaron, he hadn't gotten the call yet about my father's passing, he thought I was just calling to congratulate him..the phone went silent and was then filled with sounds of weeping...I vividly, remember crumpling at the table in Joanna's dining room, surrounded by my husband, and my best friends for life, Adam and Becky...
I stayed pregnant somehow, through all of that..the day after my father's funeral, I arrived to my scheduled c-section..it's a blur really..how was I able to walk, shower, anything? I don't know..But Sloane was born March 25th, and was immediately sent to the NICU...and remained there for a week. I really thought my world was ending..but I think I was so numb that I almost didn't care..but we survived, Sloane "Coco" , was brought home on April 1st..healthy and smiling. Her name, Sloane, means strong warrior, and that is who she is, thank God..I always refer to her as, "My angel baby, sent from heaven," and I mean it...but more on that some other time..Anyhow, that is a taste of my grief, I apologize, it won't happen often here...but I do finally feel like I can exhale a little bit..which feels good, so thanks for reading...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The first time I was ran over by a mode of transportation
Lately I have been having a lot of childhood flashbacks. I know I had a good childhood, but I tend to only remember the times where I was somehow injured...This story, I believe, is what I would like to use as the reason I am not a runner...I try usually once year to make this the year that I am gonna become an athlete of some sort, I fail every time...
Third Grade was awesome, I was in the best shape of my life, had one of the best bowl haircuts of my life, which transitioned nicely into a mullet by 4th grade. Our Third grade teacher was a cool cat, he played his guitar for us, managed our kickball teams, and just made school fun for once. Anyhow, he was also an avid runner. He started a running team at our grade school, more of a cross country team for kiddos. I was game for it. I wanted the t-shirt with the Bible verse on the back, I wanted the bad ass generic running shoes, I was all over it..
One fall day, I was running after school with the team, in my bright yellow sweat suit. My bowl cut was flopping in the wind, life was good..At some point 50 yards from our destination point, I realized my shoe laces had come undone on one of my awesome shoes..Not wanting to get in the way of the other kids, I ducked behind a tree to pull the rainbow laces back together...When out of the blue, I felt like my ass was literally being torn apart!! Oh maybe because it was!! One of the other teacher's kids was riding his bike with the herd of runners, didn't see me and ran up the length of my little buns and back with his dirt bike! Yowza!!!!!!! ouchies!!!
My teacher picked me up and ran me inside..Another teacher came to my aide to assess the damage..My beautiful yellow sweatpants had ripped up my crack, and also shredded my underwear..I was beyond mortified, and in a great deal of pain.
The thing about my parents were that they weren't always the most sympathetic to my injuries as a child, maybe because I was such a hot mess always getting hurt or running into a wall that jumped into my path. Therefore, it came to no surprise, that the evening of the "the parting of the ass crack, " I was made to go to my piano lesson!!! Really?? You're gonna make a kid, who literally, just got a dirt bike up her butt, sit and practice her scales??? Yes, yes, you are..Cause that's how you crazy German Lutherans roll...
P.S. I should note, that the kid who scarred me for life and who ended what was to be a promising running career for myself, still apologizes to me to this day whenever we meet at friend or family functions...He is a good guy, but he did get in the way of my Olympic dreams, and I do blame him for my chubby thighs..
Third Grade was awesome, I was in the best shape of my life, had one of the best bowl haircuts of my life, which transitioned nicely into a mullet by 4th grade. Our Third grade teacher was a cool cat, he played his guitar for us, managed our kickball teams, and just made school fun for once. Anyhow, he was also an avid runner. He started a running team at our grade school, more of a cross country team for kiddos. I was game for it. I wanted the t-shirt with the Bible verse on the back, I wanted the bad ass generic running shoes, I was all over it..
One fall day, I was running after school with the team, in my bright yellow sweat suit. My bowl cut was flopping in the wind, life was good..At some point 50 yards from our destination point, I realized my shoe laces had come undone on one of my awesome shoes..Not wanting to get in the way of the other kids, I ducked behind a tree to pull the rainbow laces back together...When out of the blue, I felt like my ass was literally being torn apart!! Oh maybe because it was!! One of the other teacher's kids was riding his bike with the herd of runners, didn't see me and ran up the length of my little buns and back with his dirt bike! Yowza!!!!!!! ouchies!!!
My teacher picked me up and ran me inside..Another teacher came to my aide to assess the damage..My beautiful yellow sweatpants had ripped up my crack, and also shredded my underwear..I was beyond mortified, and in a great deal of pain.
The thing about my parents were that they weren't always the most sympathetic to my injuries as a child, maybe because I was such a hot mess always getting hurt or running into a wall that jumped into my path. Therefore, it came to no surprise, that the evening of the "the parting of the ass crack, " I was made to go to my piano lesson!!! Really?? You're gonna make a kid, who literally, just got a dirt bike up her butt, sit and practice her scales??? Yes, yes, you are..Cause that's how you crazy German Lutherans roll...
P.S. I should note, that the kid who scarred me for life and who ended what was to be a promising running career for myself, still apologizes to me to this day whenever we meet at friend or family functions...He is a good guy, but he did get in the way of my Olympic dreams, and I do blame him for my chubby thighs..
Saturday, February 5, 2011
the banana seat adventure
When I was 6 years old, my best friend, Joanna, and I would ride bikes and play all summer long. It was a typical summer day when Joanna came over for lunch and a play date. Even at an early age I had the ability to inhale my food much quicker than everyone else at the table. At this particular meal, I got extremely impatient with Joanna. "Jay, you need to finish your grilled cheese...finish your carrots too!" Poor thing, I was such a a beast. Literally, I was twice her size, I still tower over the little Italian lady. When I finally couldn't take it any longer, I practically shoved dessert, an orange Popsicle, down her throat. Does anyone see a theme in this meal? Maybe my parents were hoping all the orange foods would give me some type of pigment..anyhow..after a fabulous lunch, we were off to ride our bikes.
Back then nobody wore helmets or anything like that, I think they just started making us wear seat belts in the back seat of cars at that point..And yet why was I still sleeping on the car floor during our family road trips? Hmmm..I will remember to get mad about that one later. So Joanna and I took off on our bike ride through the lovely countryside of north Maywood, sounds like a nightmare these days..Thank the Lord noone ever shanked us or pulled out their glocks, begeezus!
Oh, I must point out, that although Joanna rode her own bike over to my house, we thought it best to ride uncomfortably together on my banana seat bike. Cause why be uncomfortable by yourself? Throw your best friend behind you as well!! Not two minutes into the ride, I heard a large belch. I was terrified, it sounded like something only my older brothers could produce. My life spun in slow motion as I turned to see Joanna had puked all over my back! I did what any good friend would do, I dropped the bike, left her in her own vomit, and ran back to my house.
Upon arrival to my house, I screamed at my Dad, "Joanna barfed all over me!"" My dad, was terrified as well, "Well, where is she?" I pointed down the block. Then my dad did what any dad would do. He took the garden hose and sprayed me down on the front porch. "Dad, what are you doing?!!"" "I'm getting you clean Sarah!!" he yelled.
After I was drenched from the garden hose, I ran inside and changed my clothes. My dad brought Joanna back to the house. I was fuming at her, it was my favorite outfit she just ralphed all over!! My dad, God bless him, asked Joanna if she wanted him to drive her back home? "No, I feel much better now, " she said sweetly. Needless to say, I was super pissed.
I usually bring up this story at least once a year to her, to remind her how she ruined my favorite outfit...ahhh, I can laugh about it now, almost...
Back then nobody wore helmets or anything like that, I think they just started making us wear seat belts in the back seat of cars at that point..And yet why was I still sleeping on the car floor during our family road trips? Hmmm..I will remember to get mad about that one later. So Joanna and I took off on our bike ride through the lovely countryside of north Maywood, sounds like a nightmare these days..Thank the Lord noone ever shanked us or pulled out their glocks, begeezus!
Oh, I must point out, that although Joanna rode her own bike over to my house, we thought it best to ride uncomfortably together on my banana seat bike. Cause why be uncomfortable by yourself? Throw your best friend behind you as well!! Not two minutes into the ride, I heard a large belch. I was terrified, it sounded like something only my older brothers could produce. My life spun in slow motion as I turned to see Joanna had puked all over my back! I did what any good friend would do, I dropped the bike, left her in her own vomit, and ran back to my house.
Upon arrival to my house, I screamed at my Dad, "Joanna barfed all over me!"" My dad, was terrified as well, "Well, where is she?" I pointed down the block. Then my dad did what any dad would do. He took the garden hose and sprayed me down on the front porch. "Dad, what are you doing?!!"" "I'm getting you clean Sarah!!" he yelled.
After I was drenched from the garden hose, I ran inside and changed my clothes. My dad brought Joanna back to the house. I was fuming at her, it was my favorite outfit she just ralphed all over!! My dad, God bless him, asked Joanna if she wanted him to drive her back home? "No, I feel much better now, " she said sweetly. Needless to say, I was super pissed.
I usually bring up this story at least once a year to her, to remind her how she ruined my favorite outfit...ahhh, I can laugh about it now, almost...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The time I almost beat up my patient's husband
Sorry, this one is graphic, crap, my whole life is kinda graphic, get over it....
I often deal with many a baby daddy throughout my work day. I bite my tongue 90% of the time I hear an ignorant comment or some ridiculous statement made toward the pregnant significant other or new mom, and the other 10% of the time I usually say something. When I do say something, I can be pretty mature about it, and phrase it in a way that the father doesn't know I am making him look like an ass. Sometimes, however, I just kinda speak my mind...
This particular patient, was a sweet lady...She rolled up to the floor with the new baby in her arms, smiling, but I could tell she was in pain. After giving my typical speech about how the call light works and what to expect during her stay, I assessed her pain. "What would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?" I asked. She was hesitant, looked at her husband, and said, "Maybe a 6 or so?" "Wow, OK, let me get you some pain medicine, I want you to be as comfortable as you can, " I assured her. As I was about to walk out the door, her husband interjects, "Babe, there is no way your pain could be a 6, I mean when you were pushing downstairs you were rating it a 3, so come on."
Hmm..self control, it's a virtue. I work on it every day. At that point in my life I had yet to birth a child, but I still new enough as a nurse to think, um, no he didn't just say that!? So I turned to the new father and asked, "Do you know what a 3rd degree tear is?" The man was slightly taken aback..."Uh, no, why?" he questioned. "Well, sir, let me draw you a little picture." A side note, I cannot draw for the life of me, luckily that was not necessary for that particular diagram. So I grabbed a marker and drew on the white board..."See this is would be your wife's vaginal opening, and this would be her anus. The tear from the baby coming out at warp speed caused her to tear 3 out of 4 degrees..pointing to the estimated spot where the tear ended. So, if your wife says her pain is a 6, it's a 6 OK? I'll be right back in with her medication."
The husband didn't make eye contact with me for the rest of my shift, but I was OK with that. not that many men read my blog, but a helpful hint, DO NOT throw your 2 cents in about ANYTHING after your lady just birthed your baby, or some other guy's baby....
I often deal with many a baby daddy throughout my work day. I bite my tongue 90% of the time I hear an ignorant comment or some ridiculous statement made toward the pregnant significant other or new mom, and the other 10% of the time I usually say something. When I do say something, I can be pretty mature about it, and phrase it in a way that the father doesn't know I am making him look like an ass. Sometimes, however, I just kinda speak my mind...
This particular patient, was a sweet lady...She rolled up to the floor with the new baby in her arms, smiling, but I could tell she was in pain. After giving my typical speech about how the call light works and what to expect during her stay, I assessed her pain. "What would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?" I asked. She was hesitant, looked at her husband, and said, "Maybe a 6 or so?" "Wow, OK, let me get you some pain medicine, I want you to be as comfortable as you can, " I assured her. As I was about to walk out the door, her husband interjects, "Babe, there is no way your pain could be a 6, I mean when you were pushing downstairs you were rating it a 3, so come on."
Hmm..self control, it's a virtue. I work on it every day. At that point in my life I had yet to birth a child, but I still new enough as a nurse to think, um, no he didn't just say that!? So I turned to the new father and asked, "Do you know what a 3rd degree tear is?" The man was slightly taken aback..."Uh, no, why?" he questioned. "Well, sir, let me draw you a little picture." A side note, I cannot draw for the life of me, luckily that was not necessary for that particular diagram. So I grabbed a marker and drew on the white board..."See this is would be your wife's vaginal opening, and this would be her anus. The tear from the baby coming out at warp speed caused her to tear 3 out of 4 degrees..pointing to the estimated spot where the tear ended. So, if your wife says her pain is a 6, it's a 6 OK? I'll be right back in with her medication."
The husband didn't make eye contact with me for the rest of my shift, but I was OK with that. not that many men read my blog, but a helpful hint, DO NOT throw your 2 cents in about ANYTHING after your lady just birthed your baby, or some other guy's baby....
Thursday, January 27, 2011
An Open Letter to the writers of Dora the Explorer
Dear Writers,
First, I must thank you for taking care of my children for several hours out of the day, every day, you're always there..That is where my gratitude stops, and my questions begin.
Did you really just have an episode where Dora had to go through the "nutty forest" so that she could find the red bush? As funny as it was to watch Dora dodge nuts, I couldn't help but wonder what impact this would have on my daughters. I know I am a juvenile, but really? Have I also seen an episode where Boots, the monkey, talks about his two blue balls? Yes, yes I have.. I don't know if you guys are tipping back Coronas when you are writing these episodes, but I am onto you.
Can we just try to keep things clean for my kids until they are at least 5 or so? Don't even get me started on Diego, I know what he does with his binoculars.
Your Friend,
Sarah
First, I must thank you for taking care of my children for several hours out of the day, every day, you're always there..That is where my gratitude stops, and my questions begin.
Did you really just have an episode where Dora had to go through the "nutty forest" so that she could find the red bush? As funny as it was to watch Dora dodge nuts, I couldn't help but wonder what impact this would have on my daughters. I know I am a juvenile, but really? Have I also seen an episode where Boots, the monkey, talks about his two blue balls? Yes, yes I have.. I don't know if you guys are tipping back Coronas when you are writing these episodes, but I am onto you.
Can we just try to keep things clean for my kids until they are at least 5 or so? Don't even get me started on Diego, I know what he does with his binoculars.
Your Friend,
Sarah
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Just another day..
This post is not meant for the squeamish. Being a nurse, I can handle most things, bodily fluids, that is, and not have a problem. As an ICU nurse mentor once told me, "Sarah, you will get to the point where you can wipe an ass with one hand, and eat a sandwich with the other." Yup..she was right. However, sometimes I even have to dry heave a bit with the ridiculous things my children do with their diapers, or in the bathroom in general..Moving right along...
I was anxiously awaiting a visit from our plumber yesterday. We have a pump that runs in our basement, every once in awhile for about 20 minutes at a time, loud as can be, and it usually occurs when we have guests over. So, after a year and a half of putting it off, we finally decided to call an expert in to assess the situation. We have had terrible luck with our plumbing in almost every home we lived in, which is 4 to be exact, and we have only been married for 4.5 years and together for a little over 6, you do the math...We have been blessed with having several bathrooms in each house, but we generally have one toilet that doesn't flush or overflows after any male uses it..So we broke the upstairs toilet in our current house, fairly early on in our stay here, just to keep the streak alive..Bottom line, we were gonna keep this poor guy busy while he was here..
Back to my anxiety, so I am scrambling to clear a path for the plumber to forge from our front door to the basement. Just prior to that, I had heard Coco clanging around in her kitchen, in the basement. I was happy she was playing independently for once, not needing to have her fingers dug into me while doing something. After a few minutes, she came upstairs to check out what Lindsey and I were doing. I looked down at the floor, and with her pants still on, her diaper was resting right beside her. Cool, I thought, she can take her diaper off..just what I need. I think it had actually shimmied it's way down her legs cause the diaper was a little big, and I might have put it on her while she was in motion..it happens..So I sniff her, smells like pee, soaked her pants and socks. But diaper was just wet, ok, I can handle that. So within a few minutes I have changed her clothes and duct taped a new diaper on her.
The plumber walks through the door and my daughters embrace him as if they haven't seen a soul in months, and thankfully someone was finally here to rescue them from their insane mother.."Sorry sir, they really like everyone, it's kinda weird." He was cool, didn't seem bothered, and I quickly showed him to the basement. As I walked down the steps, a foul odor hit me! I show the plumber to the bathroom and quickly survey the scene. Luckily, my sidekick, Lindsey, was also there to say, "Mom, it smells like Coco's butt!" "Lindsey, shhhh!!" I whispered, but the kid was right, she usually is. No chance though, I just changed her diaper. Then I spotted what looked like a pile of guacamole on the basement floor. I thought, I can't remember the last time we had guacamole...so I did what any sensible person would do, no I didn't grab a chip and give it a taste, I stepped on it. Yep, makes a lot of sense I agree. You know how when you step on dog poop it smells worse than it when it was just sitting there, oddly enough, the same thing happens with baby poop. Broccoli!! That's it!! I remember what she had for dinner last night. Coco is like a magician with pooping, there was no evidence in her diaper! Luckily, I was wearing Ted's slippers, so I set them in the corner, and then scurried over to the plumber. I was praying to God there was not another pile of guacamole in the bathroom, cause she would have the comedic sense to drop another pile in front of the toilet. I took a quick glance, I was in the clear. No I just had to cover up the fact that I was cleaning up baby poop and searching for more piles, while talking to the plumber...So I grabbed some paper towels and a candle, very subtle, I agree..I was able to wipe up the mess, find two more piles, and clean up all that I could, without the plumber asking me what type of corpse might be decomposing in my basement. Sarah, for the wine...I mean, Sarah for the win!!
Plumber then proceeds to tackle our upstairs toilet, while Lindsey observes, and throws out her two cents to him on what the problem might be. He joked, "I think there might be a dolly stuck in the tank." Really dude, you're gonna tell my kid one of her dolls might be in the tank? Now I know where will be looking for toys for the next five years..Luckily, she called his bullshit on that.
After all plumbing repairs were finished, and he is explaining to me what he did, which is like trying to understand Calculus for someone like me, he gets his coat on to leave. My kids, sad that he is leaving, run up and hug the poor guy. Then, as any farewell should proceed, Lindsey stands with her hand on his crotch trying to play with his tool belt. I, most likely, was full blown blushing at this point, just smiled and thanked him for his services...
I love my life..
I was anxiously awaiting a visit from our plumber yesterday. We have a pump that runs in our basement, every once in awhile for about 20 minutes at a time, loud as can be, and it usually occurs when we have guests over. So, after a year and a half of putting it off, we finally decided to call an expert in to assess the situation. We have had terrible luck with our plumbing in almost every home we lived in, which is 4 to be exact, and we have only been married for 4.5 years and together for a little over 6, you do the math...We have been blessed with having several bathrooms in each house, but we generally have one toilet that doesn't flush or overflows after any male uses it..So we broke the upstairs toilet in our current house, fairly early on in our stay here, just to keep the streak alive..Bottom line, we were gonna keep this poor guy busy while he was here..
Back to my anxiety, so I am scrambling to clear a path for the plumber to forge from our front door to the basement. Just prior to that, I had heard Coco clanging around in her kitchen, in the basement. I was happy she was playing independently for once, not needing to have her fingers dug into me while doing something. After a few minutes, she came upstairs to check out what Lindsey and I were doing. I looked down at the floor, and with her pants still on, her diaper was resting right beside her. Cool, I thought, she can take her diaper off..just what I need. I think it had actually shimmied it's way down her legs cause the diaper was a little big, and I might have put it on her while she was in motion..it happens..So I sniff her, smells like pee, soaked her pants and socks. But diaper was just wet, ok, I can handle that. So within a few minutes I have changed her clothes and duct taped a new diaper on her.
The plumber walks through the door and my daughters embrace him as if they haven't seen a soul in months, and thankfully someone was finally here to rescue them from their insane mother.."Sorry sir, they really like everyone, it's kinda weird." He was cool, didn't seem bothered, and I quickly showed him to the basement. As I walked down the steps, a foul odor hit me! I show the plumber to the bathroom and quickly survey the scene. Luckily, my sidekick, Lindsey, was also there to say, "Mom, it smells like Coco's butt!" "Lindsey, shhhh!!" I whispered, but the kid was right, she usually is. No chance though, I just changed her diaper. Then I spotted what looked like a pile of guacamole on the basement floor. I thought, I can't remember the last time we had guacamole...so I did what any sensible person would do, no I didn't grab a chip and give it a taste, I stepped on it. Yep, makes a lot of sense I agree. You know how when you step on dog poop it smells worse than it when it was just sitting there, oddly enough, the same thing happens with baby poop. Broccoli!! That's it!! I remember what she had for dinner last night. Coco is like a magician with pooping, there was no evidence in her diaper! Luckily, I was wearing Ted's slippers, so I set them in the corner, and then scurried over to the plumber. I was praying to God there was not another pile of guacamole in the bathroom, cause she would have the comedic sense to drop another pile in front of the toilet. I took a quick glance, I was in the clear. No I just had to cover up the fact that I was cleaning up baby poop and searching for more piles, while talking to the plumber...So I grabbed some paper towels and a candle, very subtle, I agree..I was able to wipe up the mess, find two more piles, and clean up all that I could, without the plumber asking me what type of corpse might be decomposing in my basement. Sarah, for the wine...I mean, Sarah for the win!!
Plumber then proceeds to tackle our upstairs toilet, while Lindsey observes, and throws out her two cents to him on what the problem might be. He joked, "I think there might be a dolly stuck in the tank." Really dude, you're gonna tell my kid one of her dolls might be in the tank? Now I know where will be looking for toys for the next five years..Luckily, she called his bullshit on that.
After all plumbing repairs were finished, and he is explaining to me what he did, which is like trying to understand Calculus for someone like me, he gets his coat on to leave. My kids, sad that he is leaving, run up and hug the poor guy. Then, as any farewell should proceed, Lindsey stands with her hand on his crotch trying to play with his tool belt. I, most likely, was full blown blushing at this point, just smiled and thanked him for his services...
I love my life..
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Girl Who Can't Say No
Many people have difficulty saying "no." But generally, it is for good things..such as volunteering too much, over committing at work or school., working out more than they should.....I have this problem as well, although for nothing really useful except for the benefit of random sales people..I could go on and on with examples, but I will narrow them down to a few instances in which I was a complete jack ass.. My husband Ted, often refers to these moments as "Did you buy a second chicken Sarah?"
1) Boston Market 2005- I decided to pick up dinner for Ted and Keegan on my way home from work. I could probably eat more than them combined, which is nothing to brag about, but helps explain the dumbness of myself. So I order some basic "Family Meal" chicken, sides, drinks, whatever..It was near closing time, and the voice over the drive-thru asks me if I would like an extra chicken for $5? Um yeah I would, sounds amazing...No Sarah, you don't want 2 greasy ass chickens, you really don't even want the one you intended to buy..and really, how many people live in your house? So, before I thought all that through, I brought the chickens home, only to have Ted look at me and shake his head..and we threw the second chicken away, but it only cost $5.
2) Harlem Furniture 2002- My first big purchase after college was a cherry wood bedroom set. I paid for it on my own, shopped for it on my own, negotiated ALL the details on my own, cause I was a big girl now. So when handing over the credit card and asking if I wanted the "refinishing plan,"for only $100, how could I refuse? I imagined some hot carpenter smoothing away all the imperfections I would accumulate over time..Yeah, not so much. When you don't ask for more details, the salesman then hands you a really nice set of furniture sharpie type markers, to fix the furniture scratches yourself..oh awesome, markers, I love to draw...
3) The next few stores are examples of where I monthly, weekly, sometimes daily, get taken advantage of and I run back for more abuse. "Mam, if you buy six anti-bacterial soaps, you get 2 free." Well, hell yeah, the kids love to wash their hands (Bath & Body Works). "Your air filter looks awful, you should use fancier oil for that Honda, and we can rotate your tires." Well, you know best, geez. Thanks (Jiffy Lube). "If you buy just $20 dollars more worth of merchandise, you can get $5 off your next purchase." Well, the girls do need ridiculous barrettes to match those outfits. You win (Gymboree).
4) This might be where I am the most gullible...door to door kids selling me stuff. I can just imagine them crying or not making "their goal," all because I didn't purchase their coupon book/pizzas/cookies/magazines..therefore, we have lots of those. Just tonight I wrote a check to two teenage boys so that they could get some savings bonds. I felt proud that I actually asked them what they were going to do with the money. "Community College." Amazing, I think. "Then what?" I ask.."Mam, I don't really know, real estate or some shit like that." Cool, I am empowering our youth, and it feels really good.
1) Boston Market 2005- I decided to pick up dinner for Ted and Keegan on my way home from work. I could probably eat more than them combined, which is nothing to brag about, but helps explain the dumbness of myself. So I order some basic "Family Meal" chicken, sides, drinks, whatever..It was near closing time, and the voice over the drive-thru asks me if I would like an extra chicken for $5? Um yeah I would, sounds amazing...No Sarah, you don't want 2 greasy ass chickens, you really don't even want the one you intended to buy..and really, how many people live in your house? So, before I thought all that through, I brought the chickens home, only to have Ted look at me and shake his head..and we threw the second chicken away, but it only cost $5.
2) Harlem Furniture 2002- My first big purchase after college was a cherry wood bedroom set. I paid for it on my own, shopped for it on my own, negotiated ALL the details on my own, cause I was a big girl now. So when handing over the credit card and asking if I wanted the "refinishing plan,"for only $100, how could I refuse? I imagined some hot carpenter smoothing away all the imperfections I would accumulate over time..Yeah, not so much. When you don't ask for more details, the salesman then hands you a really nice set of furniture sharpie type markers, to fix the furniture scratches yourself..oh awesome, markers, I love to draw...
3) The next few stores are examples of where I monthly, weekly, sometimes daily, get taken advantage of and I run back for more abuse. "Mam, if you buy six anti-bacterial soaps, you get 2 free." Well, hell yeah, the kids love to wash their hands (Bath & Body Works). "Your air filter looks awful, you should use fancier oil for that Honda, and we can rotate your tires." Well, you know best, geez. Thanks (Jiffy Lube). "If you buy just $20 dollars more worth of merchandise, you can get $5 off your next purchase." Well, the girls do need ridiculous barrettes to match those outfits. You win (Gymboree).
4) This might be where I am the most gullible...door to door kids selling me stuff. I can just imagine them crying or not making "their goal," all because I didn't purchase their coupon book/pizzas/cookies/magazines..therefore, we have lots of those. Just tonight I wrote a check to two teenage boys so that they could get some savings bonds. I felt proud that I actually asked them what they were going to do with the money. "Community College." Amazing, I think. "Then what?" I ask.."Mam, I don't really know, real estate or some shit like that." Cool, I am empowering our youth, and it feels really good.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Anatomy 101 with a 3 year old
I no longer get to shower by myself, sounds super hot..but really it's because my little girls like to bang on the glass door while I am trying to cleanse myself from dried macaroni and slobber. Sometimes it's funny sometimes it's horrifying, especially when I don't seem them coming. Those situations I can handle, and recover from quickly. Sunday's incident, is still playing over and over in my mind..
As usual, I am drying off after taking a shower, Linds and Coco are in and out of the bathroom, making sure I don't have a moment to myself, as to not spoil me. Lindsey skips over to me and plants her hands on my boobs, this however, is not the shocking part of the story, I am somewhat used to being fondled. She then steps back and says, "Why are you always wearing those? They are too big." me...somewhat confused, "My boobs? Why am I always wearing them? Cause they are attached, sweetie." Lindsey, not satisfied with the response, says, "Yeah, I don't have those cause I have a belly button." I'm liking her train of thought, I wish I could have this option in life, like I don't have big thighs because I have big boobs, but life hasn't worked out that way. "Lindsey I have a belly button too." Shock and dismay covered her face..she thought she was in the clear for a life of being flat chested. Just to drive the point home I told her, as I pointed to my chest, "and you're gonna have these too, probably just as big." Impressed, she was not..I wanted to follow it up with the fact that the doctor thinks she will only be five feet tall, so she will most likely tip over a lot from the weight of her chest, but I thought I would wait to share that little gem until she turns 4 or so..
As usual, I am drying off after taking a shower, Linds and Coco are in and out of the bathroom, making sure I don't have a moment to myself, as to not spoil me. Lindsey skips over to me and plants her hands on my boobs, this however, is not the shocking part of the story, I am somewhat used to being fondled. She then steps back and says, "Why are you always wearing those? They are too big." me...somewhat confused, "My boobs? Why am I always wearing them? Cause they are attached, sweetie." Lindsey, not satisfied with the response, says, "Yeah, I don't have those cause I have a belly button." I'm liking her train of thought, I wish I could have this option in life, like I don't have big thighs because I have big boobs, but life hasn't worked out that way. "Lindsey I have a belly button too." Shock and dismay covered her face..she thought she was in the clear for a life of being flat chested. Just to drive the point home I told her, as I pointed to my chest, "and you're gonna have these too, probably just as big." Impressed, she was not..I wanted to follow it up with the fact that the doctor thinks she will only be five feet tall, so she will most likely tip over a lot from the weight of her chest, but I thought I would wait to share that little gem until she turns 4 or so..
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