it is oddly satisfying to pick off all those crusty eye-boogers from your baby in the morning when their eyes are glued shut?
Or am I just weird?
Don't answer that, actually. . .I think my worst fears will be confirmed.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
An "Ahhhhhh!" Mom-moment
Gee, it's really beautiful today! One of those early spring days that you've been waiting so long to arrive that you are actually excited to go outside and work in the yard.
As we were outside I set Reed on the tramp surrounded by blocks and other baby-treasures. It was black and a little bit warmer than the dry ground, so I thought it was an okay bet. And he was fine and dandy for quite some time, UNTIL Roger came hauling across the yard and launched himself on the tramp. He then exlaimed, "Mommy, Reed do a backfwip!" and started laughing with glee. I turned around and found my poor little baby on his back in the process of doing one of those huge intake breaths before a big scream.
This is why the American Academy of Pediatrics highly recomends the safety of an at-home tramp (can you hear me drooling with sarcasm).
Prognosis of the 8-month old: He's fine, thank goodness. I, however, am rethinking the wisdom of last year's purchase. . . . .
As we were outside I set Reed on the tramp surrounded by blocks and other baby-treasures. It was black and a little bit warmer than the dry ground, so I thought it was an okay bet. And he was fine and dandy for quite some time, UNTIL Roger came hauling across the yard and launched himself on the tramp. He then exlaimed, "Mommy, Reed do a backfwip!" and started laughing with glee. I turned around and found my poor little baby on his back in the process of doing one of those huge intake breaths before a big scream.
This is why the American Academy of Pediatrics highly recomends the safety of an at-home tramp (can you hear me drooling with sarcasm).
Prognosis of the 8-month old: He's fine, thank goodness. I, however, am rethinking the wisdom of last year's purchase. . . . .
Sunday, March 14, 2010
On Daylight Savings Time
I've four little children who watch for the moon
to tell them that bedtime is coming quite soon.
But now that we're charting an hour ahead
Those children will just not settle to bed!
Late bedtime is bad, something is possibly worse. . . .
We're sleeping so late that we're missing on Church!
9:00 A.M. comes so quickly for us,
there's no time to do hair, and breakfast, and fuss.
They say we are helping the environment out,
I still can't help but feel I just want to pout!
"DOWN WITH DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME" will be my bold cheer
Please join me in this-- maybe they'll forget it next year?
I wrote this poem a few years ago. . . it seems very appropriate today, doesn't it? (especially since Roger just got out of bed a few minutes ago (it is a 9:45-- oh boy, tomorrow morning is going to be a doozy)
to tell them that bedtime is coming quite soon.
But now that we're charting an hour ahead
Those children will just not settle to bed!
Late bedtime is bad, something is possibly worse. . . .
We're sleeping so late that we're missing on Church!
9:00 A.M. comes so quickly for us,
there's no time to do hair, and breakfast, and fuss.
They say we are helping the environment out,
I still can't help but feel I just want to pout!
"DOWN WITH DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME" will be my bold cheer
Please join me in this-- maybe they'll forget it next year?
I wrote this poem a few years ago. . . it seems very appropriate today, doesn't it? (especially since Roger just got out of bed a few minutes ago (it is a 9:45-- oh boy, tomorrow morning is going to be a doozy)
A kid's perspective on homes
We've told the kids often that when they are 10 years old (in 3 years) we will likely be moving because Dad will be done with residency. This week, Davis got a serious look in his eyes and said, "Dad, I don't want to move in three years. I like it here."
"But, Davis, wouldn't you like a bigger house so you can have your own room?"
"No, this house is big enough. I don't mind sharing."
To top it off, when we got home from church today, Davis opened up the door and said, "Home, sweet home."
I guess I need to take a page out of his book and stop complaining about my rickety, old garage, and tiny closets, and . . . . .wait, I am supposed to stop complaining.
"But, Davis, wouldn't you like a bigger house so you can have your own room?"
"No, this house is big enough. I don't mind sharing."
To top it off, when we got home from church today, Davis opened up the door and said, "Home, sweet home."
I guess I need to take a page out of his book and stop complaining about my rickety, old garage, and tiny closets, and . . . . .wait, I am supposed to stop complaining.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Non-census
Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail from the 2010 U.S. Census. It was a letter to inform me that in a few days, I would be receiving a census in the mail and it was very important that I fill it out.
If this letter was sent out to every one of the estimated 113,567,967 households in America, times a 44 cent stamp, then our government just spent $49,969,905.48 (almost 50 million dollars) to tell us to watch our mail. Go Government. . . . How many people's insurance could have been covered this year with that money???
Just sayin'.
If this letter was sent out to every one of the estimated 113,567,967 households in America, times a 44 cent stamp, then our government just spent $49,969,905.48 (almost 50 million dollars) to tell us to watch our mail. Go Government. . . . How many people's insurance could have been covered this year with that money???
Just sayin'.
Mom of a little boy
Isn't it funny that no matter how many little Hot Wheels cars you've got--at our house it is like 50,000 or so-- you can still recognize one that doesn't belong to you??? "This isn't our car. . .which friend left it at the house?"
That would be an example of mom-stinct. The other example is the 'cheerio-crushing reflex'. As you become older and more experienced, this instinct becomes better. As you walk barefoot in the kitchen (who am I kidding? Any room in the house) the crushing-reflex kicks in just as you are about to obliterate a tiny piece of cereal. I still crush about 50% of the innocent breakfast bites. I expect to be at 90%+ by the time my kids hit high school.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The conundrum of Dr. McDeedles
I think most of us have caught an episode of E.R. or Grey's Anatomy. My husband is truly in the exact same shoes as the resident's on Grey's Anatomy. General Surgery Resident, extraordinaire (I added the extraordinaire, of course). In case you were wondering he is a cross between Izzy and Cristina Yang-- all the sweet and all the saucy (okay he's not really saucy, but he's an intelligent, hard worker).
Although these medical shows often get a jeer from us for their crazy plotlines, there is one thing about residency that is ABSOLUTELY true. You can never win with the attendings. Even if you're right, you're wrong. They sit and fling crap at you about what a silly decision you've made even when you were told by the on-call attending the previous night to do just what you did. Can you defend yourself and say you were just doing what was suggested to you? Nope. Because if you did, it shows up on your evaluation at the end of the month that you are not taking responsibility for your decisions! Seriously, I think the whole process of evaluations are what keeps the residents (who do the lion's-share of work (with the lamb's pay)) from exploding every day at the silly and unfair treatment they are given by their egomaniacal attendings.
Example: Last night D took a trauma in the afternoon. It was a 20-something man who had a TON of medical problems. He had spina-bifida, was a parapalegic with chronic extremity wounds (bed-sores), and also had his legs amputated. He showed up to the E.R. with weakness and some clearly infected wounds. D consulted on the man in the E.R., and decided his symptoms were indicative of an infection. Thinking he would be courteous to the attending who had operated on this man MANY times in the past (i.e. THE ATTENDING'S patient), he called him to let him know he was admitting the man. Instead of a,"thanks for letting me know what was up," he was asked, "Why are you calling me? You shouldn't have called me until you did a full work-up and can tell me exactly what his problem was." By now D's "on-call" shift was over-WAY OVER, and he was getting ready to scrub into a gunshot wound surgery. "You need to man-up and make decisions as a Doctor instead of reporting to me." So, that was a 'no thanks,' for keeping me in the loop.
Fast forward to tonight. It is 5:50 P.M. D's "on-call"status ends at 6:00 P.M. He gets a call that there is a level-2 trauma in the bay. He goes down to the bay. No attending shows up. He's been told that some attendings don't show up for level 2's. So he runs the trauma himself. Turns out the guy has passed out after inhaling gold spray-paint. He hit his head. D orders a head CT. There is blood in the cranium. He calls Neurosurgery and passes the patient on to them. He tidies things up in the computer (by now it is 7:30) and calls the attending (the same guy that chewed him out last night). Instead of a,"Okay. Good job," he is chewed out again, "Why are you still in the hospital?"
"The trauma came in while I was still on-call."
"Well, your shift ended at 6:00. You should let the on-call handle it. . . . . Why didn't you call me?"
D's reply, "Because I was told by other residents that some attendings don't show up for level 2's." (AND last night you told me to be a man-doctor and handle things on my own) "I also figured if you wanted to be there, you would've been there." (dude has a pager that beeps for trauma's just like D).
And that, folks, is a typical day at the office for my hubby. How does he handle it, I don't know. He should be the raging alcoholic, don't you think?
Although these medical shows often get a jeer from us for their crazy plotlines, there is one thing about residency that is ABSOLUTELY true. You can never win with the attendings. Even if you're right, you're wrong. They sit and fling crap at you about what a silly decision you've made even when you were told by the on-call attending the previous night to do just what you did. Can you defend yourself and say you were just doing what was suggested to you? Nope. Because if you did, it shows up on your evaluation at the end of the month that you are not taking responsibility for your decisions! Seriously, I think the whole process of evaluations are what keeps the residents (who do the lion's-share of work (with the lamb's pay)) from exploding every day at the silly and unfair treatment they are given by their egomaniacal attendings.
Example: Last night D took a trauma in the afternoon. It was a 20-something man who had a TON of medical problems. He had spina-bifida, was a parapalegic with chronic extremity wounds (bed-sores), and also had his legs amputated. He showed up to the E.R. with weakness and some clearly infected wounds. D consulted on the man in the E.R., and decided his symptoms were indicative of an infection. Thinking he would be courteous to the attending who had operated on this man MANY times in the past (i.e. THE ATTENDING'S patient), he called him to let him know he was admitting the man. Instead of a,"thanks for letting me know what was up," he was asked, "Why are you calling me? You shouldn't have called me until you did a full work-up and can tell me exactly what his problem was." By now D's "on-call" shift was over-WAY OVER, and he was getting ready to scrub into a gunshot wound surgery. "You need to man-up and make decisions as a Doctor instead of reporting to me." So, that was a 'no thanks,' for keeping me in the loop.
Fast forward to tonight. It is 5:50 P.M. D's "on-call"status ends at 6:00 P.M. He gets a call that there is a level-2 trauma in the bay. He goes down to the bay. No attending shows up. He's been told that some attendings don't show up for level 2's. So he runs the trauma himself. Turns out the guy has passed out after inhaling gold spray-paint. He hit his head. D orders a head CT. There is blood in the cranium. He calls Neurosurgery and passes the patient on to them. He tidies things up in the computer (by now it is 7:30) and calls the attending (the same guy that chewed him out last night). Instead of a,"Okay. Good job," he is chewed out again, "Why are you still in the hospital?"
"The trauma came in while I was still on-call."
"Well, your shift ended at 6:00. You should let the on-call handle it. . . . . Why didn't you call me?"
D's reply, "Because I was told by other residents that some attendings don't show up for level 2's." (AND last night you told me to be a man-doctor and handle things on my own) "I also figured if you wanted to be there, you would've been there." (dude has a pager that beeps for trauma's just like D).
And that, folks, is a typical day at the office for my hubby. How does he handle it, I don't know. He should be the raging alcoholic, don't you think?
In case you wanted to know
(probably not, but you get this anyway), I am swearing off sodas.(I've done a week without). Watch the tear trickle down my cheek. I am tired of spending my money on something that I can substitute water for, and I don't think the word 'moderation' is in my vocabulary. It's a good thing I have no desire to drink, cause I'm pretty sure I'd be a raging alcoholic by now if I did.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Fabulous Work from the Suzee
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The complexities of girlhood
Somewhere between getting dressed on her own, having a total freak-out meltdown because the jeans she wanted to wear were wrinkled, playing peek-a-boo with Reed, and yelling at me because her pigtails were too tight, Eliza made my bed this morning.
Seriously, the crazy mood swings really start young.
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