Just wanted to update you on the job. I got it. As of May 6th, I am, once again, the Shift Specialty Coordinator for night shift. That's just a fancy way of saying "Charge Nurse." Leave it to my employer to come up with these names.
So, how do I feel? Well, I have 13 extra hours on the clock for this paycheck. That's overtime. That's bittersweet, my friend, bittersweet. I'm tired, but 13 hours richer...and spent 13 hours less with my family. But I am thankful for what God has given me and am anxious to see what His plans are.
Thanks, dear Husband, for putting up with my mood swings for the past month while I was going through this process. Mood swings are bad.
Showing posts with label Thoughts and Happenings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts and Happenings. Show all posts
Friday, May 18, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
Traumatized...A Nursing Post
Recently I mentioned in a post about my recent daunting job interview that has been invading and occupying the back of my mind for the past two weeks. (And if you count the weeks before it happened it would be more like a month!) I have heard nothing. Not even an acknowledgement that I interviewed at all. Even though everyone tells me not to worry, that I've done the job before, that I'm excellently qualified; I can't help feeling that it's taking so long because I'm going to hear bad news. And of course with any rejection comes questions of whether I should be doing what I'm doing. I can't help it...it's just what naturally comes next in my mind. The position is for a permenant charge nurse role. A role I once had for about 6 years but had to leave about a year ago when I changed to night shift.
When I'm in the car driving to work, almost always I spend the time praying. It's usually a similar prayer. "Work through me, Lord, make be helpful and effective to my patients," or, "Give me the wisdom and endurance that I need to get through this shift." But lately I often pray, "Lord, please don't give us more than we can handle tonight," which, when I think about it, is silly because He's already promised that He won't ever let that happen. So, I guess my prayer is more like a reminder to myself, to muster my confidence. He has always come through with that promise.
But the night before last, I had one of the worst nights of my nursing career. It may go down as the 2nd worst of all time (the 1st of which I posted in my labor blog.) I was the charge nurse working with, thank the Lord, some of the strongest nurses, staff, and docs on our team. In the course of 12 hours, we had to call the police to remove a threatening family, we crash sectioned a patient who was 15 weeks too early because she was bleeding to death internally, we had to turn away ambulances because we had no beds, we had to section a woman with a BMI of 55 (obese is 30, people...not easy!), we did 3 c-sections and 4 other vaginal deliveries.
You know it's not good when you have to stay late...after staying late...to write a police report. (And it's never good when you call security, and security has to call the police because even they can't deescalate the situation.) I have to say in the midst of all that I said to God, "Lord! What about your promise?!"
If you asked me that morning, I would have opted out of that job.
I couldn't get the words those people said to me...the ones we had to remove by force...whose daughter was getting excellent care for a routine labor. They used the word incompetent. Incompetent? Then I think of that woman with the baby in the NICU, and herself in the ICU. And her family was so grateful for everything we did.
Incompetent? I've never been called that before.
Well, I know its not true, I'm quite competent. And their daughter was well taken care of. The mother in the NICU will be fine and the baby was doing better than expected. And I realize that God did keep His promise. We made it. We even soared through it...even though it was a little traumatizing. And I am better because of that night. I gained confidence, and experience, and grew in my faith. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary...and ultimately a blessing. (And honestly, it feels kind of good that God trusted me with it.)
Perhaps this post would be more appropriate on my labor blog, but for some reason I'd rather post it here. I think because the audience for that blog has a little different "agenda." My family and friends read THIS blog. And sometimes it's hard to come home and talk about my work...so most of the time I don't. Most of the time I need to leave work...at work. That's probably why I haven't written in my labor blog for 9 months. But for some reason...and I don't know why...I wanted to share it...and I wanted to share it here. So thanks for reading.
When I'm in the car driving to work, almost always I spend the time praying. It's usually a similar prayer. "Work through me, Lord, make be helpful and effective to my patients," or, "Give me the wisdom and endurance that I need to get through this shift." But lately I often pray, "Lord, please don't give us more than we can handle tonight," which, when I think about it, is silly because He's already promised that He won't ever let that happen. So, I guess my prayer is more like a reminder to myself, to muster my confidence. He has always come through with that promise.
But the night before last, I had one of the worst nights of my nursing career. It may go down as the 2nd worst of all time (the 1st of which I posted in my labor blog.) I was the charge nurse working with, thank the Lord, some of the strongest nurses, staff, and docs on our team. In the course of 12 hours, we had to call the police to remove a threatening family, we crash sectioned a patient who was 15 weeks too early because she was bleeding to death internally, we had to turn away ambulances because we had no beds, we had to section a woman with a BMI of 55 (obese is 30, people...not easy!), we did 3 c-sections and 4 other vaginal deliveries.
You know it's not good when you have to stay late...after staying late...to write a police report. (And it's never good when you call security, and security has to call the police because even they can't deescalate the situation.) I have to say in the midst of all that I said to God, "Lord! What about your promise?!"
If you asked me that morning, I would have opted out of that job.
I couldn't get the words those people said to me...the ones we had to remove by force...whose daughter was getting excellent care for a routine labor. They used the word incompetent. Incompetent? Then I think of that woman with the baby in the NICU, and herself in the ICU. And her family was so grateful for everything we did.
Incompetent? I've never been called that before.
Well, I know its not true, I'm quite competent. And their daughter was well taken care of. The mother in the NICU will be fine and the baby was doing better than expected. And I realize that God did keep His promise. We made it. We even soared through it...even though it was a little traumatizing. And I am better because of that night. I gained confidence, and experience, and grew in my faith. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary...and ultimately a blessing. (And honestly, it feels kind of good that God trusted me with it.)
Perhaps this post would be more appropriate on my labor blog, but for some reason I'd rather post it here. I think because the audience for that blog has a little different "agenda." My family and friends read THIS blog. And sometimes it's hard to come home and talk about my work...so most of the time I don't. Most of the time I need to leave work...at work. That's probably why I haven't written in my labor blog for 9 months. But for some reason...and I don't know why...I wanted to share it...and I wanted to share it here. So thanks for reading.
Friday, April 20, 2012
More Spring
Ahhh Spring. Warm conditions this year has made it spectacular. I love pink. And white...
...and lilacs are my favorite flower...so I'm in heaven. Yes, my yard in heaven will contain lilacs. And they will never stop blooming...
How could anyone NOT like lilacs?
I put bouquets of lilacs in mason jars around the house...
I love mason jars.
My daughter thinks its summer...
And she took up tree climbing...understandably...I'd want to climb that beautiful tree too...
I've been spending a lot of time at the library. Why? Because on the second floor, there are fluffy chairs facing windows that overlook this:
Yes, this was taken with my iPhone right through the glass of the window... I love Colorado...and the Flatirons. Another post for another day.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
The Power In Spring
Yesterday was a big day for me. I had the most daunting job interview of my life. It was for a job I already had for years, but I had to step down to accommodate some needs of my family. Now the opportunity arose for me to get it back. It was a job that I loved. But I had to go through the interview process all over again. I sat in front of 11 of my colleagues and answered some of the most difficult and drilling questions I've ever had to answer. It was scary. I'm still waiting to hear.
In all my nervousness and waiting for the time to go through the interview, I went through the worst anxiety that I've had in my adult life. It was debilitating really. So I took my iPhone outside and started taking pictures of all the things outside that made me smile. All the little lovelies of spring that I have in my yard. And the peace of God started to replace all the worries in my mind. Here are some of the things I saw:
It's a beautiful spring this year in Colorado thanks to our incredibly unseasonably warm weather. The flowering trees are spectacular...way too early! But thank goodness they are.
In the first chapter of Max Lucado's book, He Chose The Nails, there is a poem that is very appropriate for what happened to me yesterday in my yard. I think Max Lucado wrote it because there is no siting to show otherwise. Here it is:
He splashed orange in the sunrise
and cast the sky in blue.
And if you love to see geese as they gather,
chances are you'll see that too.
Did have to make the squirrel's tail furry?
Was he obliged to make the birds sing?
And the funny way that chickens scurry
or the majesty of thunder when it rings?
Why give a flower fragrance? Why give food its taste?
Could it be
he loves to see
that look upon your face?
Yes, I'm sure my face reflected my awe at what God creates in my humble little yard. And the same Power that makes all these things beautiful and thriving is the same Power that takes care of me. I think I'll be OK.
In all my nervousness and waiting for the time to go through the interview, I went through the worst anxiety that I've had in my adult life. It was debilitating really. So I took my iPhone outside and started taking pictures of all the things outside that made me smile. All the little lovelies of spring that I have in my yard. And the peace of God started to replace all the worries in my mind. Here are some of the things I saw:
It's a beautiful spring this year in Colorado thanks to our incredibly unseasonably warm weather. The flowering trees are spectacular...way too early! But thank goodness they are.
In the first chapter of Max Lucado's book, He Chose The Nails, there is a poem that is very appropriate for what happened to me yesterday in my yard. I think Max Lucado wrote it because there is no siting to show otherwise. Here it is:
He splashed orange in the sunrise
and cast the sky in blue.
And if you love to see geese as they gather,
chances are you'll see that too.
Did have to make the squirrel's tail furry?
Was he obliged to make the birds sing?
And the funny way that chickens scurry
or the majesty of thunder when it rings?
Why give a flower fragrance? Why give food its taste?
Could it be
he loves to see
that look upon your face?
Yes, I'm sure my face reflected my awe at what God creates in my humble little yard. And the same Power that makes all these things beautiful and thriving is the same Power that takes care of me. I think I'll be OK.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
My Dear Son's Big Week
This week has been a whopper for my dear son #2.
For a lot of you who don't know him, he's a shy one...well sort of...except when he is happy...which lately is all the time. He told me last night that in preschool he never spoke to another kid...ever. You wouldn't know it now. How would I describe him now? He pretty much acts the way he wants to. In fact, the saying, "I really don't care what you think of me. I don't think about you at all," describes how he feels about people who disapprove of him. (I think that quote came from Coco Chanel. Correct me if I'm wrong.) I wish I could be more like him.
Here's him being happy
He's the one on the top. Pretty typical. (That's his twin brother on the bottom...another post for another day.)
Here he is being "cool."
Or rather this...
Isn't he handsome? (Both of the above pics he took of himself. Love him.)
Well, after saying he wanted to play the drums for most of his early years, naturally, the first day of band he came home and said without a doubt, "Mom, I want to play the trumpet."
So he does...very well. He practices every day without fail with no prompting from Mom and Dad.
(My dog Maverick doesn't seem to mind loud, obnoxious, blaring, blasting noises. Hmmm...)
He plays so well, in fact, that he was invited into the Honor Band for his school; an honor only 2 6th graders were worthy of (no, I don't like to brag at all.) The other honoree was his best friend who plays the flute. (Apparently a new trend for boys since the Beboping Flautist came along.)
Anyhoo, two days ago, we went to an event I've only been waiting for since the day he was born...or soon after...his very first band concert. Honor Band no less...
That's him in the 3rd row to the left of the middle...yes, you can hardly see the dear boy. He's playing Silver Bells. (I had to restrain myself very hard from shouting out, "Play to me, Son! Play to me!" He has no idea how lucky he is.) When he came home he said to me, "Did you hear me Mom? I was playing really loud just for you." (Aw...I guess I didn't need to shout it after all.)
And then there was yesterday. I had the distinct pleasure of attending his school assembly where they recognized my son as being a student of high academic achievement. (Yes, he's on the Honor Roll.) So proud. Here he is getting his award.
Yes, he's the smaller boy...small, but HUGE in personality and talent you better believe!
And what was his award do you ask? Well, let's just say that I finally have one of these:
Thanks son!
Congratulations! And I love you!
For a lot of you who don't know him, he's a shy one...well sort of...except when he is happy...which lately is all the time. He told me last night that in preschool he never spoke to another kid...ever. You wouldn't know it now. How would I describe him now? He pretty much acts the way he wants to. In fact, the saying, "I really don't care what you think of me. I don't think about you at all," describes how he feels about people who disapprove of him. (I think that quote came from Coco Chanel. Correct me if I'm wrong.) I wish I could be more like him.
Here's him being happy
Here he is being "cool."
Isn't he handsome? (Both of the above pics he took of himself. Love him.)
Well, after saying he wanted to play the drums for most of his early years, naturally, the first day of band he came home and said without a doubt, "Mom, I want to play the trumpet."
So he does...very well. He practices every day without fail with no prompting from Mom and Dad.
(My dog Maverick doesn't seem to mind loud, obnoxious, blaring, blasting noises. Hmmm...)
He plays so well, in fact, that he was invited into the Honor Band for his school; an honor only 2 6th graders were worthy of (no, I don't like to brag at all.) The other honoree was his best friend who plays the flute. (Apparently a new trend for boys since the Beboping Flautist came along.)
Anyhoo, two days ago, we went to an event I've only been waiting for since the day he was born...or soon after...his very first band concert. Honor Band no less...
That's him in the 3rd row to the left of the middle...yes, you can hardly see the dear boy. He's playing Silver Bells. (I had to restrain myself very hard from shouting out, "Play to me, Son! Play to me!" He has no idea how lucky he is.) When he came home he said to me, "Did you hear me Mom? I was playing really loud just for you." (Aw...I guess I didn't need to shout it after all.)
And then there was yesterday. I had the distinct pleasure of attending his school assembly where they recognized my son as being a student of high academic achievement. (Yes, he's on the Honor Roll.) So proud. Here he is getting his award.
Yes, he's the smaller boy...small, but HUGE in personality and talent you better believe!
And what was his award do you ask? Well, let's just say that I finally have one of these:
Thanks son!
Congratulations! And I love you!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Jaguars 2011
These boys probably are the toughest boys on the face of the earth.
Were they the champions? No. Were they the biggest? Definately not. In fact, some of the other players were at least a couple of heads taller and 50 or more pounds heavier.
I am 38 years old and never in my life have I had the integrity nor gumption...or heart...to go through what these boys went through all season long. I watched these boys come home from school and leave half hour later to practice for 2 or more hours three to four times a week...only to get beat up, yelled at, pummeled, throttled and stripped of any spirit or vigor left. They went home, did their homework, ate a late dinner, and went to bed. They kept up their grades. They spent time with families, and always came back for more. They were frustrated, they were brought to tears; but at the same time they grew. They grew stronger, of course physically; but within their hearts emerged endurance, loyalty, heart, gumption. They never quit. All for the love of football.
They didn't get to the playoffs...but I have more respect for these kids than most other so called accomplished folk I've ever met in my modest 38 years.
Congratulations Boys. You're better men than me!
(My sons are the two blond ones in the front. I love them so much!)
(My sons are the two blond ones in the front. I love them so much!)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
A Little "Garten" Visiter
garter snake...until I asked if I could hold it. "But you're a girl!"
my son told me. That's my hand in the picture. I have to admit that
I got a little creeped out when I felt it slithering in my hand...but
I didn't let my sons know that.
Friday, September 17, 2010
7 Sacks!
8 assists as linebacker on his team of super tough 10 and 11-year-
olds. Final score: 42-7 Dolphins! Go #18! So proud of you, son!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
An Update: The Applesauce That Never Was
Oh, the trauma!
I recently wrote a post about my garden that mentioned my abundance of apples, and my ambitious plans for applesauce. Here's what happened.
My son picked a paper bag full of beautiful apples from our backyard tree. He brought them to me as I was reading Gone With The Wind in my bed. With his eyes looking wide and proud, he showed me the bag of apples and said, "Can you make me some applesauce, Mom? I picked these for you off of our tree. They're really good, see?" And he took a big juicy bite out of one of them.
I smiled with the pride of a mother who's heart was full of the fulfillment that comes from a son who wants her to cook for him.
"Sure, honey. We'll do it tomorrow."
So the next day, I made the proper preparations. I found a recipe in my Ball Complete Guide to Home Preserving, and prepared the apples for cooking.
Small, but beautiful.
As I cut into the first few, they were crisp and juicy. I was gaining excitement with every peeling, with every slice. Then, I cut into another one...full of insect eggs! Something burrowed into the core, hollowed it out and made it into a huge insect nursery...for hundreds of babies! Really, hundreds.
"OK," I thought. "That happens, no big deal." With a bit of hesitency, I picked up another, this time inspecting it for holes and other signs of "home-making." It was perfectly intact. I peeled it and cut into it...right through a worm...that wriggled in tortured mutillated agony!
I jumped, yelped, and dropped it.
"What's wrong?" my son asked from the next room.
"Oh, nothing..." I said, trying not to blemish his expectations.
I cut into another. It was OK. Another...perfect. I was beginning to shake it off.
And then, I cut into another, a perfect unblemished specimen. As I cut it in half, there was a dark place near the bottom of the core. Was it a bruised spot, or just a bad spot? I brought it to my face to look closer, and a fat white worm popped up at me like, "BOO!"
That was it...I couldn't do it any more...especially since I threw it and was dancing around the kitchen and waving my hands in hysterics, "I can't do this! Nope! That's it! I can't!"
You know, the produce at the grocery store is really great this time of year.
I recently wrote a post about my garden that mentioned my abundance of apples, and my ambitious plans for applesauce. Here's what happened.
My son picked a paper bag full of beautiful apples from our backyard tree. He brought them to me as I was reading Gone With The Wind in my bed. With his eyes looking wide and proud, he showed me the bag of apples and said, "Can you make me some applesauce, Mom? I picked these for you off of our tree. They're really good, see?" And he took a big juicy bite out of one of them.
I smiled with the pride of a mother who's heart was full of the fulfillment that comes from a son who wants her to cook for him.
"Sure, honey. We'll do it tomorrow."
So the next day, I made the proper preparations. I found a recipe in my Ball Complete Guide to Home Preserving, and prepared the apples for cooking.
Aren't they beautiful?
Small, but beautiful.
As I cut into the first few, they were crisp and juicy. I was gaining excitement with every peeling, with every slice. Then, I cut into another one...full of insect eggs! Something burrowed into the core, hollowed it out and made it into a huge insect nursery...for hundreds of babies! Really, hundreds.
"OK," I thought. "That happens, no big deal." With a bit of hesitency, I picked up another, this time inspecting it for holes and other signs of "home-making." It was perfectly intact. I peeled it and cut into it...right through a worm...that wriggled in tortured mutillated agony!
I jumped, yelped, and dropped it.
"What's wrong?" my son asked from the next room.
"Oh, nothing..." I said, trying not to blemish his expectations.
I cut into another. It was OK. Another...perfect. I was beginning to shake it off.
And then, I cut into another, a perfect unblemished specimen. As I cut it in half, there was a dark place near the bottom of the core. Was it a bruised spot, or just a bad spot? I brought it to my face to look closer, and a fat white worm popped up at me like, "BOO!"
That was it...I couldn't do it any more...especially since I threw it and was dancing around the kitchen and waving my hands in hysterics, "I can't do this! Nope! That's it! I can't!"
You know, the produce at the grocery store is really great this time of year.
Monday, August 23, 2010
She Finally Got It!
After many long years of quietly wishing, my 67 year old, very hip mother got her ultimate dream: a cherry red Mustang convertible. Congratulations Mom. You deserve it.
See the fullsize version at: http://s987.photobucket.com/albums/ae353/janilong1/?action=view¤t=db4e491f.jpg&evt=user_media_share
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, August 16, 2010
Awesome Time At Frontier Days
It's the Daddy Of Them All! This is what they call the huge rodeo otherwise known as Cheyenne Frontier Days. I took the kids up the weekend of July 24th to visit my folks and we enjoyed some of the festivities. It was a blast. Here's a slideshow of some of the sights, a lot of them are from the parade...manure and all!
Andrew was all ready for the occasion!
Andrew was all ready for the occasion!
Yee Haw!!!!
We drove up to Cheyenne after my call shift on Friday night, spent the night and enjoyed a breakfast made by cousin Brian before heading out to the Parade.
My Mom is recovering from major back surgery and really hung in there. Here's us waiting for the parade to start.
Mom had to wear her back brace. (BTW, this is really how my stylish, fabulous Dad dresses now days. Isn't he handsome?)
We went to the parade, saw the indian dancers, shopped in the indian village, and high-tailed it to the rodeo. I loved every single moment of the rodeo! That was good enough excitement for the day. Rachel bought a pretty little beaded necklace as a souvenier. The boys? Typical boys. Andrew a coyote skin (just the face...eeww) and Adam got a wooden toy crossbow (that really works). Ahh, the joys of bringing up boys!
Here's some cool stuff we saw.
 |
| She's the princess of what? Hmmm... Well, congrats to her. |
 |
| This is Miss Frontier. Rachel was so excited that there were "Queens" in this parade, and even more fired up that this young lady waved at her. |
On Sunday we went to hear my Dad preach and enjoyed his church family at Sonrise Church of the Nazarene. And took some time to celebrate the boys' 11th birthday before heading home.
Love you guys!
Anyway, thanks Mom and Dad. We all had a great time.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Happy 4th
My kids and I have a little running joke. We have those "what else is going to happen!" days. When we have bad days, it seems it lasts ALL day...it keeps going and going... Unfortunately, the 4th of July was looking as if it was turning out to be one of those days.
It started off OK. I got up and made coffee...which always makes for a proper start of the day. I heard my husband grumble because the ice cubes were watery. Oh, one of the kids left the freezer door open, darn it.
We were excited because our neighborhood has a little bike parade for the kids. Everybody meets up at the end of our Circle with their bikes, wagons, strollers...anything with wheels...all decked out in Ole' Glory colors to show their American pride. Then they all ride to the end of the street, about 1/4 mile, to the park where we serve cookies and lemonade. It's cute. Perfect opportunity to fire up the ol' John Philip Sousa marching tunes billowing from my bay window as people walked up to line up at the end of the street. (And people liked it I might add.) (Thanks Daddy, for making me love John Philip Sousa.) (And yes, it is a station on my list for Pandora.com.)
So we spent some time getting ready.
And as you can see, my kids take this very seriously.
The morning was overcast. Not many people out. Maybe they're all at church (like we should be.) And there's a politician who made a booth at the park. That's certainly a first. And my dog jumped up on his wife. (snicker snicker)
Well, it was time to start the food. I came home, happily excusing myself from my very talkative new friend at the park, and went to take out the hamburger. The very warm and leaky, bloody hamburger. My fridge was not just left open. It was fried...and had been. The light was on, the motor running, so nobody noticed that it wasn't working. All my food was thawed, warm, and decomposing. Dripping meat leaked out over the condiments, even my homemade peach jam. There was very little salvageable. We lost almost all our food.
And lunch was going to come out of a can, I guess.
We were OK. We're strong. We're still going to have a great day. Don't let the kids see you sweat! I pulled together lunch with some canned beans, creamed corn, and scraped together borrowed burgers and hoped that Ketchup doesn't have to be refridgerated because I can't have a burger without Ketchup.
We did it!
Yeah!
And then I went and looked at my flowers...
...because Petunias always make me happy. Especially these.
And then it rained.
And rained.
And rained.
And then the sky turned grayer, and it rained, and then the wind blew, and it rained, and all our decorations blew down...
...and it rained.
I decided I better see if the city would cancel the fireworks show tonight. The news said click the website, the website said call the number, and the number was busy. For hours. The show was scheduled to start at 9:15, so at 8:15 I called again for about the 50th time, still busy.
"So are we going?" Andrew came to ask me as I sat on my chair on the front porch sadly. I was so excited to take my kids to the live fireworks show. They've never been at the actual place where they shoot them off.
"Honey, I don't think they will have it in this weather." My daughter started crying. Then I started crying because I couldn't stand seeing her so disappointed.
"Well," my husband suggested, "we can drive over there and just see." We started gathering our sweatshirts and blankets and getting ready, just in case.
But then my husband says, "I think I hear mortars...yeah...I think they're firing them off."
We went up to the upstairs window, and sure enough, the city was firing off the fireworks 45 minutes early! Without us! How was anyone supposed to know that they were going to be early! We couldn't get through to the information sources! Ooooo I was so upset. So, yes, I cried. And everyone was sad.
But this couldn't be the end of our holiday. No. We all jumped in the car and headed down to the park we were at this morning, where we could glimps the fireworks between two houses obtructing a full view. Dave and I sat in the car while the kids stood out in the pouring rain...and we watched the beautiful fireworks together.
And when it was done, we all had smiles on our faces, and satisfied celebratory appetites. And it was OK.
So we headed to the store, bought stuff for root beer floats, and came home and played games. Apples to Apples, Junior. Very cool.
So as I write this, the neighborhood boys are all out on the street lighting off fireworks that they couldn't light off last night. Its the one day of the year where their boyhood yearnings are fulfilled and they are allowed to play with fire.
And I contemplate, when life gives you lemons, make root beer floats...or something like that.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Day Shift Is Not All That Easy Either
Boy, I'll tell you what...since I made the switch to day shift from nights back in January, I have come to understand just how much free time I DON'T have.
When I worked nights, I was seldom able to sleep until very early in the morning, even on my days off.. So what did I do? I worked on my writing projects. Studied the stars with my cool iPhone app. Went grocery shopping (which by the way, about 5:00 in the morning is the perfect time to go...no crowds and all the stocking is done. Same with going to Walmart.) I did my movie-watching, watched my recorded TV shows, folded laundry, cleaned my house as much as I could without making a lot of noise. And my favorite...I read A LOT of books.
Now, I don't so much have all that time anymore...especially now that it's summer. I get up with the kids most of the time and they are with me from that time until bedtime and usually I go to bed too. No alone time whatsoever.
Now, now...don't get me wrong. (And I know you are probably saying, "Yeah, welcome to life. That's what Mom's do!) I'm not regretting my decision to come to the day shift at all! In fact, this is what I wanted! This is what I missed! Life! I love it! I love that my kids are attached to me morning and night. I should have been there for them when they were toddlers, babies! (Unfortunately, I was sleeping.) I wouldn't miss a moment of this and I'm drinking it in like a refreshing cold drink in the hot summer sun. It's completely soul-filling...for me AND them.
It just takes me forever to read a book these days.
When I worked nights, I was seldom able to sleep until very early in the morning, even on my days off.. So what did I do? I worked on my writing projects. Studied the stars with my cool iPhone app. Went grocery shopping (which by the way, about 5:00 in the morning is the perfect time to go...no crowds and all the stocking is done. Same with going to Walmart.) I did my movie-watching, watched my recorded TV shows, folded laundry, cleaned my house as much as I could without making a lot of noise. And my favorite...I read A LOT of books.
Now, I don't so much have all that time anymore...especially now that it's summer. I get up with the kids most of the time and they are with me from that time until bedtime and usually I go to bed too. No alone time whatsoever.
Now, now...don't get me wrong. (And I know you are probably saying, "Yeah, welcome to life. That's what Mom's do!) I'm not regretting my decision to come to the day shift at all! In fact, this is what I wanted! This is what I missed! Life! I love it! I love that my kids are attached to me morning and night. I should have been there for them when they were toddlers, babies! (Unfortunately, I was sleeping.) I wouldn't miss a moment of this and I'm drinking it in like a refreshing cold drink in the hot summer sun. It's completely soul-filling...for me AND them.
It just takes me forever to read a book these days.
Monday, June 21, 2010
I'm Back, New and Improved
Well hello! Did you think I was never coming back? Well, for a while there I didn't know if I was going to continue to blog. You know how it goes sometimes...life gets a little crazy. I had some trouble juggling everything, and blogging took a back seat.
But no longer!
I enjoy these little times I have to get close and personal with my computer. And I found some inspiration from some other talented ladies' websites like The Pioneer Woman, and The Farm Chicks, and the beautiful website over at Bakerella. These were all started by women like me...just normal Joes...or Janes. I just want to know why my family laughed when I wanted to rename my blog, "The Frontier Lady." What about "Mountain Mama?" "Colorado Kitten?" What do you think? No? ...I'll keep thinking. (I was sort of serious about the first one anyway.)
Anyway, I've redesigned the looks of my blog and I must say that I'm quite happy with it. Thanks to Blogger and their new Designer functions. I'm happy to be back and I'll be writing again soon with some fun stuff!
But no longer!
I enjoy these little times I have to get close and personal with my computer. And I found some inspiration from some other talented ladies' websites like The Pioneer Woman, and The Farm Chicks, and the beautiful website over at Bakerella. These were all started by women like me...just normal Joes...or Janes. I just want to know why my family laughed when I wanted to rename my blog, "The Frontier Lady." What about "Mountain Mama?" "Colorado Kitten?" What do you think? No? ...I'll keep thinking. (I was sort of serious about the first one anyway.)
Anyway, I've redesigned the looks of my blog and I must say that I'm quite happy with it. Thanks to Blogger and their new Designer functions. I'm happy to be back and I'll be writing again soon with some fun stuff!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I'm Published! (Sort Of)
I'm so excited to have one of my short stories published on about.com Fiction Writing's website! I responded to a writing challenge that gave us the task of coming up with a 2000 word max story based on the phrase, "The wedding cake in the middle of the road." I submitted a story yesterday and today it is posted on their site! Please check it out HERE!
Update: On March 5, the site's administrator referred to my story as an example of developing a sense of place. Read her comments HERE.
Update: On March 5, the site's administrator referred to my story as an example of developing a sense of place. Read her comments HERE.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
5 Pounds
Well, I’ve lost my first 5 pounds on Weight Watchers. Yes, its been slow. One pound a week. That is slower than I’ve ever gone before with losing weight! But wait a minute! What am I saying? That obviously means that this isn’t my first time trying to accomplish this feat. No. Many times I have endeavored! Many! What has it gotten me? A lot of yoyo dieting and I ended up being heavier than I’ve ever been! It stops here!
For years I’ve been trying to lose weight, just hopping on the latest bandwagon diet. I loved the ones where I could see a lot of weight lost right away! Those were my favorites! But I’d quickly hop off once the weight loss slowed down. After all, I need instant gratification if I’m going around denying myself of the one thing I love more than life…food.
Wow, more than life? Let’s think about that for a minute.
Here’s my life fat: Tired. Ashamed. Introverted. Boring. Sick. Yeah, nice life. That’s not what I want for myself! That’s not what my family deserves of me either! What my kids must think of their mother! No! I don’t love food more than life! I want it all: energy, confidence, health, strength, amazing self-esteem! How could I be fooled into thinking that I would love food more than that, and settle for the fat life just so I could have my vanilla cake (and milkshake to go with it?) Really? How ashamed I am of myself! That’s not God’s plan for me!
So, slow progress. OK. That’s OK! I didn’t get this size in a couple of months and I shouldn’t expect it to just fall off of me either! I gained that weight because of the choices I made over time, and I’m going to have to lose it with different choices over time again. I can’t change my life in a day! One step at a time, my dear! That’s the way it’s going to have to go! And it will go! Even if I have to fight tooth and nail for every pound I lose every day from now until I reach my goal, that’s what I’ll do. I want my life back.
So: 5 pounds! I feel incredible!
For years I’ve been trying to lose weight, just hopping on the latest bandwagon diet. I loved the ones where I could see a lot of weight lost right away! Those were my favorites! But I’d quickly hop off once the weight loss slowed down. After all, I need instant gratification if I’m going around denying myself of the one thing I love more than life…food.
Wow, more than life? Let’s think about that for a minute.
Here’s my life fat: Tired. Ashamed. Introverted. Boring. Sick. Yeah, nice life. That’s not what I want for myself! That’s not what my family deserves of me either! What my kids must think of their mother! No! I don’t love food more than life! I want it all: energy, confidence, health, strength, amazing self-esteem! How could I be fooled into thinking that I would love food more than that, and settle for the fat life just so I could have my vanilla cake (and milkshake to go with it?) Really? How ashamed I am of myself! That’s not God’s plan for me!
So, slow progress. OK. That’s OK! I didn’t get this size in a couple of months and I shouldn’t expect it to just fall off of me either! I gained that weight because of the choices I made over time, and I’m going to have to lose it with different choices over time again. I can’t change my life in a day! One step at a time, my dear! That’s the way it’s going to have to go! And it will go! Even if I have to fight tooth and nail for every pound I lose every day from now until I reach my goal, that’s what I’ll do. I want my life back.
So: 5 pounds! I feel incredible!
Monday, December 14, 2009
What Did He Just Say!!??
This will be a very difficult post to write. Not because I have sad news or anything. Just because I have to come to terms with something…and I thought that writing it down might make it more concrete for me. After all, the first step in a recovery program is admitting your problem, right? (Don’t worry, I’m not an alcoholic.)
Let me start by telling a little story. The night I was admitted to the hospital with my asthma attack, the on-call hospitalist came in to see me. He called from behind the curtain in his thick German or Scandinavian accent, “How are you do-eenk? Is eet OK for me to come in?” A short, stout, jolly man came peeking through the curtain. “Yes.” I gasped out.
He examined me and talked to me about my present condition, listened to my lungs, and asked me about my health history. That was all to be expected. Then it happened.
“Vat iss your BMI?” he asked as he scratched notes on his lap.
“I don’t know.” I answered shaking my head. Why in the world would I know my BMI off the top of my head? What a weird question. Especially since it was obvious I couldn’t breathe. Is that really a priority at this moment?
“I guess I vill haf to compute it myself,” he said under his breath. “How tall are you?...Vat iss your veight?” I begrudgingly answered him. He scratched more on his pad and poked at his pocket calculator. “Ah, yesss! You are obese.” And he left the room.
“Excuse me? What did he just call me?” I thought, quite put out. “Obese? That’s rediculous! I’m not obese!!! Not even close!” and then I thought about it more. “Oh Lord, how could this happen?...I’m…obese?”
I won’t exhaust you by telling about what happened next. You can read about it from my previous post. But when I got home I looked it up, calculated it myself, and looked it up again. Sure enough, it’s true. I’m in the obese category…according to somebody who made up this chart! OK…it’s time for me to be honest with myself.
I’m unhealthy! That’s probably the underlying reason I got sick! I’m “obese,” I don’t get enough sleep, I don’t eat very well, I don’t exercise, I’m stressed out…and now, I got sick because of it all. Something has to be done! My kids and my husband don’t deserve this from me. I don’t deserve this from me! This is not God’s will for me!
OK, so I have to make some changes. I have…(gulp)…to go on a diet. Weight Watchers (www.weightwatchers.com) is a good one, I guess. But I have to ask, and mourn a little bit: how will I…someone who loves cooking and baking as much as I do…give up wonderful, delicious food…which I believe is one of the many gifts God gave us to enjoy! This will take a lot of prayer.
So, I will keep you updated. My goal is to lose at least a pound per week until I’m in the middle of the “normal weight” category (a weight which I haven’t weighed since highschool.) I have been successful so far since I was discharged from the hospital, (even more than that) but the first few pounds are the easiest. If anyone has any encouragement or suggestions for me, please post comments! (Because I doubt I'm the only one who has this problem! I think a lot of my readers could benefit.)
So, here I go!... It will be a learning process.
Let me start by telling a little story. The night I was admitted to the hospital with my asthma attack, the on-call hospitalist came in to see me. He called from behind the curtain in his thick German or Scandinavian accent, “How are you do-eenk? Is eet OK for me to come in?” A short, stout, jolly man came peeking through the curtain. “Yes.” I gasped out.
He examined me and talked to me about my present condition, listened to my lungs, and asked me about my health history. That was all to be expected. Then it happened.
“Vat iss your BMI?” he asked as he scratched notes on his lap.
“I don’t know.” I answered shaking my head. Why in the world would I know my BMI off the top of my head? What a weird question. Especially since it was obvious I couldn’t breathe. Is that really a priority at this moment?
“I guess I vill haf to compute it myself,” he said under his breath. “How tall are you?...Vat iss your veight?” I begrudgingly answered him. He scratched more on his pad and poked at his pocket calculator. “Ah, yesss! You are obese.” And he left the room.
“Excuse me? What did he just call me?” I thought, quite put out. “Obese? That’s rediculous! I’m not obese!!! Not even close!” and then I thought about it more. “Oh Lord, how could this happen?...I’m…obese?”
I won’t exhaust you by telling about what happened next. You can read about it from my previous post. But when I got home I looked it up, calculated it myself, and looked it up again. Sure enough, it’s true. I’m in the obese category…according to somebody who made up this chart! OK…it’s time for me to be honest with myself.
I’m unhealthy! That’s probably the underlying reason I got sick! I’m “obese,” I don’t get enough sleep, I don’t eat very well, I don’t exercise, I’m stressed out…and now, I got sick because of it all. Something has to be done! My kids and my husband don’t deserve this from me. I don’t deserve this from me! This is not God’s will for me!
OK, so I have to make some changes. I have…(gulp)…to go on a diet. Weight Watchers (www.weightwatchers.com) is a good one, I guess. But I have to ask, and mourn a little bit: how will I…someone who loves cooking and baking as much as I do…give up wonderful, delicious food…which I believe is one of the many gifts God gave us to enjoy! This will take a lot of prayer.
So, I will keep you updated. My goal is to lose at least a pound per week until I’m in the middle of the “normal weight” category (a weight which I haven’t weighed since highschool.) I have been successful so far since I was discharged from the hospital, (even more than that) but the first few pounds are the easiest. If anyone has any encouragement or suggestions for me, please post comments! (Because I doubt I'm the only one who has this problem! I think a lot of my readers could benefit.)
So, here I go!... It will be a learning process.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thank You
My friends and family amaze me.
Over the past few weeks I have really come to experience the graciousness and goodness of people. I have been humbled. I thought that my husband and I were generally giving and thoughtful, but the things that people have done for us out of the goodness of their hearts recently have been nothing less than direct gifts from the hands of God to us. I have always tried to see what I can do to help when someone is going through something. Even at work I try to make it a habit to ask my coworkers what they need. What amazes me about the things that have been done for me is simply that these people didn't wait to ask what we needed. They just looked and saw what needed done, and did it. What a difference that is.
We have had neighbors and friends come and take the kids for some special time out. We've had people show up at our door with meals all ready for the oven or freezer...whatever we needed. We've had phone calls of encouragement from both people that we're close to as well as people we haven't talked to in years. We've recieved gifts to help with groceries so we wouldn't have to figure all that out. Not to mention the cards, flowers, and people visiting me in the hospital. I'm overwhelmed by what everybody has done.
My son said to me, "Wow Mom! A lot of people care about you!" That was what I was thinking to myself exactly. I will never forget this. Thank you to you all!
Now I have some Thank You notes to write. Seems so small of a gesture in comparison. I pray that God will bless you all for what you have given.
Over the past few weeks I have really come to experience the graciousness and goodness of people. I have been humbled. I thought that my husband and I were generally giving and thoughtful, but the things that people have done for us out of the goodness of their hearts recently have been nothing less than direct gifts from the hands of God to us. I have always tried to see what I can do to help when someone is going through something. Even at work I try to make it a habit to ask my coworkers what they need. What amazes me about the things that have been done for me is simply that these people didn't wait to ask what we needed. They just looked and saw what needed done, and did it. What a difference that is.
We have had neighbors and friends come and take the kids for some special time out. We've had people show up at our door with meals all ready for the oven or freezer...whatever we needed. We've had phone calls of encouragement from both people that we're close to as well as people we haven't talked to in years. We've recieved gifts to help with groceries so we wouldn't have to figure all that out. Not to mention the cards, flowers, and people visiting me in the hospital. I'm overwhelmed by what everybody has done.
My son said to me, "Wow Mom! A lot of people care about you!" That was what I was thinking to myself exactly. I will never forget this. Thank you to you all!
Now I have some Thank You notes to write. Seems so small of a gesture in comparison. I pray that God will bless you all for what you have given.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Flu Gone WAY Wrong?
I daresay a touch of drama thrown into my life over the past weeks was necessary…especially to give me blog-writing material…but mostly to throw a blatant detour into what I thought was the rut of my life. Holy cow! Have I come to some awakenings! Many of my friends have graciously come to my aid, and have asked for an explanation of what happened to me so I’ll try to sum it up.
On October 8, I suddenly came down with a very high fever...which was not so uncommon in the middle of a mass-media exposed frenzied flu season with everyone believing that one cough is a sign of doom from dreaded H1N1. It’s the flu, right? It’s all just the flu, just like any other season. So we’ll just get over it. And I did. Sort of. The fever lasted a couple of days, and then I had an annoying cough…that wouldn’t go away. But again, typical for the flu. I was working and carrying out my responsibilities just fine…but the cough persisted and was getting worse. My husband told me to go to the doctor. My friends at work were no doubt annoyed by my hacking all the time. But, any day I expected to wake up and find myself well. I have an immune system of steel. I even got the H1N1 vaccine after the fact (even though I really wasn’t feeling very well. Probably not the best of plans.)
Finally, October 27, the cough got bad enough that I heeded my husband’s word, threw in the towel, and went to see Dr. Zoglo. “You look a little short of breath,” he noted. “Yes,” I agreed, really coming to that admission only just that instant. “You’re really wheezy…even in the front,” he noted as he listened to my lungs. OK….so antibiotics and an inhaler. Done. Get on with life. Unfortunately, it persisted, and I found myself counting the minutes until I could use the inhaler again, and again. I got a lot of comments like: “Janette are you OK?” “Janette you sound horrible!” I would have violent coughing fits at work and miss responsibilities. I became forgetful and out of focus. But I went to choir practice anyway on November 4, and left coughing worse than ever…in my life. Back to the doctor on November 5.
I sat on the exam table breathing like I just ran up the stairs. Wheezing. Exhausted. My pulse 115. “OK, I think let’s take you off work for a couple of days and start some Prednisone. “ He changed my antibiotic. But the Prednisone got my attention. That’s pretty major medication for a healthy young woman to have to take. I knew of my father-in-law’s struggles with it and it scared me. But somewhat relieved by the excuse to rest, I called into work, and went to bed. But I couldn’t lay down without gasping for air or having another violent coughing fit. All I could do was sit up on the couch and cough, and gasp. I couldn’t speak a full sentence without getting winded. But still in denial, I told my husband to bring me a load of laundry to fold on the bed. With just the activity of moving my arms back and forth, I went into a full-blown asthma attack. The inhaler only worked for minutes. My breathing sounded like a saw on wood. At just after midnight, I gasped to my husband that I was driving myself to the hospital. (OK, he didn’t let me drive myself.) We woke a friend to stay with the kids, and left with me insisting he drive me to the hospital where I worked even though it was further away than another one…but really…it was worth the extra 10 minutes.
“What are they going to do for you?” my husband asked not knowing what to expect. “They’ll probably just give me a nebulizer treatment and send me home.” Well, wrong. They admitted me immediately. I was shocked.
They ran tests for everything from H1N1 to Pertussis; from chest X-rays for Pneumonia to CT Scans for sinus issues and lung masses. They tested me for blood clots in my lungs because my blood tests came up positive for the possibility. (They scared my husband to death!) All turned out negative. The question: Why would an otherwise healthy woman have such a marked reaction to having the flu? The answer: inconclusive unfortunately. It took me four days of IV steroids and constant nebulizer treatments to turn the corner, and another day and a half to convert to medications by mouth. I was shockingly weakened (to my own eyes at least.) I was…..(ugh….)….incontinent from the forceful cough (don’t act so surprised…it’s a gift of remembrance for many a postpartum mothers.) I couldn’t believe that…I…a healthy nurse for crying out loud…was in that position! It was fantastically surreal.
And now, a week after being discharged, I have been amazed and frustrated at how long it has taken me to gain my strength back. But nevertheless, I have made improvement enough that I can do some things around the house…and sit here and write. I still do not have the clearance from my doctor to go back to work…which I’m sure is hard for my co-workers to understand…it’s hard for me to understand…and I leave them working short.
I have a lot of other thoughts and things to mention that I will write in separate posts. I’ve learned some things from this. I’m anticipating some changes from all this. I have been blessed by my friends and family and owe a huge thank-you to all of them because of all this. So be expecting more to come.
On October 8, I suddenly came down with a very high fever...which was not so uncommon in the middle of a mass-media exposed frenzied flu season with everyone believing that one cough is a sign of doom from dreaded H1N1. It’s the flu, right? It’s all just the flu, just like any other season. So we’ll just get over it. And I did. Sort of. The fever lasted a couple of days, and then I had an annoying cough…that wouldn’t go away. But again, typical for the flu. I was working and carrying out my responsibilities just fine…but the cough persisted and was getting worse. My husband told me to go to the doctor. My friends at work were no doubt annoyed by my hacking all the time. But, any day I expected to wake up and find myself well. I have an immune system of steel. I even got the H1N1 vaccine after the fact (even though I really wasn’t feeling very well. Probably not the best of plans.)
Finally, October 27, the cough got bad enough that I heeded my husband’s word, threw in the towel, and went to see Dr. Zoglo. “You look a little short of breath,” he noted. “Yes,” I agreed, really coming to that admission only just that instant. “You’re really wheezy…even in the front,” he noted as he listened to my lungs. OK….so antibiotics and an inhaler. Done. Get on with life. Unfortunately, it persisted, and I found myself counting the minutes until I could use the inhaler again, and again. I got a lot of comments like: “Janette are you OK?” “Janette you sound horrible!” I would have violent coughing fits at work and miss responsibilities. I became forgetful and out of focus. But I went to choir practice anyway on November 4, and left coughing worse than ever…in my life. Back to the doctor on November 5.
I sat on the exam table breathing like I just ran up the stairs. Wheezing. Exhausted. My pulse 115. “OK, I think let’s take you off work for a couple of days and start some Prednisone. “ He changed my antibiotic. But the Prednisone got my attention. That’s pretty major medication for a healthy young woman to have to take. I knew of my father-in-law’s struggles with it and it scared me. But somewhat relieved by the excuse to rest, I called into work, and went to bed. But I couldn’t lay down without gasping for air or having another violent coughing fit. All I could do was sit up on the couch and cough, and gasp. I couldn’t speak a full sentence without getting winded. But still in denial, I told my husband to bring me a load of laundry to fold on the bed. With just the activity of moving my arms back and forth, I went into a full-blown asthma attack. The inhaler only worked for minutes. My breathing sounded like a saw on wood. At just after midnight, I gasped to my husband that I was driving myself to the hospital. (OK, he didn’t let me drive myself.) We woke a friend to stay with the kids, and left with me insisting he drive me to the hospital where I worked even though it was further away than another one…but really…it was worth the extra 10 minutes.
“What are they going to do for you?” my husband asked not knowing what to expect. “They’ll probably just give me a nebulizer treatment and send me home.” Well, wrong. They admitted me immediately. I was shocked.
They ran tests for everything from H1N1 to Pertussis; from chest X-rays for Pneumonia to CT Scans for sinus issues and lung masses. They tested me for blood clots in my lungs because my blood tests came up positive for the possibility. (They scared my husband to death!) All turned out negative. The question: Why would an otherwise healthy woman have such a marked reaction to having the flu? The answer: inconclusive unfortunately. It took me four days of IV steroids and constant nebulizer treatments to turn the corner, and another day and a half to convert to medications by mouth. I was shockingly weakened (to my own eyes at least.) I was…..(ugh….)….incontinent from the forceful cough (don’t act so surprised…it’s a gift of remembrance for many a postpartum mothers.) I couldn’t believe that…I…a healthy nurse for crying out loud…was in that position! It was fantastically surreal.
And now, a week after being discharged, I have been amazed and frustrated at how long it has taken me to gain my strength back. But nevertheless, I have made improvement enough that I can do some things around the house…and sit here and write. I still do not have the clearance from my doctor to go back to work…which I’m sure is hard for my co-workers to understand…it’s hard for me to understand…and I leave them working short.
I have a lot of other thoughts and things to mention that I will write in separate posts. I’ve learned some things from this. I’m anticipating some changes from all this. I have been blessed by my friends and family and owe a huge thank-you to all of them because of all this. So be expecting more to come.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Music Education
I was sitting at the computer today with my daughter browsing through iTunes listening to some old music from my high school days and came across Home Sweet Home by Motley Crue. When I played a sample of it my daughter looked at me disgusted and said, "That's Carrie Underwood's song!" Now, I like Carrie Underwood just fine but this made me groan a bit. Give credit where credit is due. I had to educate her on 80s hair bands. Her response: "Mom, is that a girl or a boy singing?" with her nose wrinkled in disapproval. I could only shake my head. Those of us who grew up in the 80s are a breed of our own...no one else will ever understand.
Later, I overheard her singing, "One...twenty one guns..." Greenday? How does my daughter know Greenday? Then, "...It's gonna be a good night..." Black-Eyed Peas? OK she's seven! I don't play her this stuff! Are other 2nd graders really in to these bands? Its when she was singing, "...Apple-bottom jeans..." That's one we can't let slide.
I think I need to play her more "Bullfrogs and Butterflies."
Later, I overheard her singing, "One...twenty one guns..." Greenday? How does my daughter know Greenday? Then, "...It's gonna be a good night..." Black-Eyed Peas? OK she's seven! I don't play her this stuff! Are other 2nd graders really in to these bands? Its when she was singing, "...Apple-bottom jeans..." That's one we can't let slide.
I think I need to play her more "Bullfrogs and Butterflies."
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