Waiting for Parent-Teacher Conference

Samuel and I are standing in the hallway outside his classroom waiting to speak with his teacher. We are reading personal narratives written by his peers.

One is called "How I Came to America". It's the story of a classmate who was adopted from China. She talks about her parents adopting her sister and then going again the following year to adopt her. She talks about how their parents chose their names. She talks about celebrating their adoption days.

And now I fear I am too choked up to have a coherent conversation with Samuel's teacher.

Heavy

That's how I feel.  So much pain and fear and senselessness in the world.  It's piling up.  So, so heavy.

Death in my family.  Sudden, accidental death of a friend of a friend before that.  A mad gunman murdering movie goers. A child at work diagnosed with a brain tumor.  Another brought to us, seizing, not breathing, whisked away in an ambulance after we do what we can.  A 10-year-old girl abducted, her non-intact body found in an open field 5 days later.  A close friend's son hit by a truck and dragged down the street.

Life is so fleeting. It can be destroyed without reason, without warning, without regard for anything or anyone.

I am terrified to let the kids loose in the neighborhood.  A quick glance the wrong way at the wrong time and they're flattened by a car.  A creep follows them to the playground.  Or follows them home.  They disappear into any one of a million cars never to be seen or heard from again.

I do so much to protect them, to do the best for them.  In a hundred ways, every minute of every day, I think about what would be best for them and how to do it.  How to keep them safe, give them the best that I can.  And it may not be enough.  What if it's not enough?

Even if none of those accidents happen, even if none of those premeditated horrors befall them, even if none of that happens, what if?  What if there's a silent, genetic predisposition lurking some where in their bodies?  What if I take them to the doctor for a headache that isn't just a headache?  What if ...

I try valiantly not to let them see this.  I encourage them to go out and play.  I call them when they get off the bus to hear them get home.  I hug them tightly, so tightly, every morning and every night and every chance I have in between.  I smile at them and laugh with them and tickle them.  I caution them about creeps and about anyone who gives them a funny feeling.  I teach them the rule of the road -- that everything is bigger than you and everything else wins, no matter what the crosswalk or the sidewalk say.

I do all this and I hope against hope that it's enough.  I do all this because the "what ifs?" lurking in the recesses of my mind, or plaguing the forefront of my mind, can't take over.  Life goes on because it must.  Being petrified on account of the heaviness is not an option.

Friday Night

This is what it looks like from here. Thanks to a good 20 minutes of chores from each of my children and 45 minutes of decluttering and wiping surfaces from me, we're starting this weekend off on a good note. (Read: clean house. Yay!)

Lasagna that I assembled and froze ahead of time is baking. I'm in my old lady nightgown and I have wine. Samuel is playing video games. Solomon is reading. Miriam is practicing new hairstyles.

Life is good.

That Is a Lot of Data

I wonder if it's because I watched 3 videos from the DNC totaling about 2 hours?

Uncle Max

I have had this post sitting in my editing box for more than 3 months.  I started out wanting to say how sad I was that the end was near, how much I was going to miss him.  But those words would not come out, no matter how hard I tried.  Since then, he has passed and I have thought about this post at least weekly.  I have come back to write it many times.  I save it every time without making any progress.  I don't know what to say.

In the last several years I've only seen him once or twice per year.  But knowing that my Uncle Max was in the world made my world better.  I miss him.

I miss his laugh.  He had this hysterical giggle that overtook him when he was telling a funny story.  His eyes almost disappeared into his face and he couldn't get the words out.  Watching him tell a funny story was almost funnier than the actual story.  Almost.  Almost, because he had a plethora of funny stories -- pranks he pulled on friends, pranks he pulled on family, pranks he pulled on teachers.  In these stories, his getting caught was usually the thing he found to be the funniest.

I miss seeing him with his horses.  He loved his horses so much.  I've not had many experiences with horses at all, but the ones I have had, Uncle Max was always there.  Horses will always be linked with Max in my mind.

I miss his concern.  When I got divorced, his thoughtfulness and sensitivity were so meaningful to me.  He related to so much of what I was going through.  It was really good to know that he was thinking of me and he was on my side.

One summer when I was about 12, Jennifer, Lance and I spent a week or so with Uncle Max and his family.  He worked nights and beds were in short supply with so many people in the house so I slept in his and my aunt's bed with my aunt while he was at work.  One morning he came home from work while I was still asleep and my aunt had gotten up to shower.  Max leaned over the bed, thinking I was my aunt, and tried to snuggle up with me.  When I turned over and he saw that it was me, we were both a little unnerved, to say the least.  But after that, it was one of the funniest things ever.

Uncle Max was always up for a good time.  A few years ago, after Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' house, Jenn and Caleb and I left our children with Mom and Dad.  Then, anyone who was interested walked the few blocks from my parents' home down to the main street to have drinks and shoot pool.  There was quite a crowd -- Jenn and Caleb, Lance and his girlfriend at the time, Jonathan, Max and myself.  I believe Caleb's brother even joined us.  We had a great time.  At some point in the evening, Max tried to refresh my two-stepping skills, of which I have very little.  I have no idea how many times I stepped on his booted toes (Ah, yes, the cowboy boots -- a Max trademark.) but it didn't matter.  We had lots of good laughs at my expense.

My heart aches so much for my cousins, for Max's wife, for my mom, and for my grandparents.  I know that as much as I'm missing him, it cannot compare to what they are feeling in his absence.  There is just so much sadness in this.

A few times in the nearly 3 months since he has been gone, someone in my family has commented on or Liked pictures of Max in my albums on Facebook.  When I get the notification and click through to the photo, it takes my breath away for a few seconds.  It's so good to know that he is not and will not be forgotten, but that reminder that he is no longer with us hurts so much.  It's good to have so many great memories about such a great human being, but knowing that there will not be any new memories hurts so much.

I guess that's what I want to say.

These Kids ...

Miriam: "Can we get Pop-Tarts?"
Me: "No."
Solomon: "Pop-Tarts are full of sugar!"
Miriam: "That's why they're yummy!"
Solomon: "That's not a good enough reason."

New Belgium

Paul and I have wanted to tour the New Belgium brewery for a really long time.  The problem is that they schedule tours two months out and the Saturdays when it's easiest for us to go are always filled up as soon as they open.  Finally we decided to just pick a day that I was off work (I have one scheduled day off every two weeks) and schedule our tour for that day.  Paul would just take off work for the afternoon or whatever.  So that's what we did.  We ended up going in mid-July on a Wednesday afternoon.  It was the best Wednesday afternoon I had all summer.

I really love New Belgium.  They make some delicious, unique, innovative beers.  I like the story behind the brewery.  I like that they're locally owned and operated.  I like that they have come up with some really great ways to reduce their carbon emissions.  I like that their tour is free and they serve lots of beer during said free tour.

Signage

Fermentation tanks

Fun mirror

Mosaic floor in the fermentation room

Inside a fermentation tank

Thank you.  I will.

Such beautiful vessels

Multi-season, multi-sport bike

Hops

Fat Tire bottled 13 minutes prior

Very cool bottle lights

The bottling line

That's a lot of beer.

Can art work

New Belgium is very green.

Maybe my favorite beer ever

I would put this in my house if I could.

We saw a rainbow.

The ride home.

Guam Liberation Day

Paul has new neighbors.  The guy came over a couple of weeks ago to introduce himself and they chatted a little.  I think they moved here from Iowa.  Or maybe it was Ohio.  I frequently get the two confused.  Anyway, the guy told Paul that they are originally from Guam.

And then he said that in a couple more weeks they would be celebrating Guam Liberation Day.  He hoped the commotion wouldn't be too much of a problem.

Guam Liberation Day is today.  Today when we got home from motorcycling about, there were -- no joke -- about 2 dozen extra cars parked on the street.  They are barbecuing and dancing and laughing.  They are having a great time.

I Googled "guam independence" (because I couldn't remember that it was called 'Liberation Day'.) and eventually came upon this:  Battle of Guam.  I had no idea.  It's kind of neat the things you can learn from new neighbors.

This Happened Today

Funny/sad commentary of the day:
"Are you guys doing some sort of special study of chlamydia and gonorrhea up there in peds today?" said a lab tech after I took her the fifth specimen in two hours.

Boyfriend moment of the day:
Me:  "Oh, man.  This is a jalapeño and I don't have any rubber gloves.  I'm gonna get jalapeño residue on my hands."
Paul:  "Here, I'll cut it up."
Me:  "But then you'll have jalapeño residue on your hands."
Paul:  "Yeah, but I don't have contacts." :takes knife, cutting board, jalapeño pepper:


Meal of the week:
Lime-marinated fish tacos with avocado, mango and jalapeño salsa.  Black beans on the side.

Con. Den. Sa. Tion.

It never happens here. Except when we have a 30 minute typhoon.

Happy Anniversary of American Independence

If it weren't for the cloud of wildfire smoke enveloping us this would be a perfect day. Even still, it's a good day. A very good day, full of family, friends, grilled foods and various types of booze. I repeat: it's a good day.

Tuesday 9:00 AM by Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn't even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

This is my favorite poem. I heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" one morning on my way to school last winter. It really resonated with me. I was reminded of it this evening because Miriam asked what my favorite poem is. She had to ask for a homework assignment. I was about to tell her something by Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson but then I remembered this one. I couldn't remember the title of the poem though and it took several minutes of google searching on my phone for me to give up. I knew I had heard it on "The Writer's Almanac" so I went to their website and searched the archives until I found it. Now I'm posting it here partly to share it with you, but mostly so that when I want access to it again I can find it without spending 20 minutes on the interwebs.

Come Again?

I took a math placement test at the university yesterday. Two people were already in the testing center when I arrived. One of them finished her test about 10 minutes after I started mine. She brought the proctor to her testing carrel after she was finished. She said to the proctor, "Is there an easier test I can take? I don't want them to put me in the lowest math class but that test was a little bit too hard for me."

They say there are no dumb questions, only dumb answers. That has to be an exception to the rule.

In the Wake of Two Failures

I am sad.

Appreciating the View from the Other Side

I may have mentioned before how Dad spent most of every evening of most of my childhood helping me through my math homework.  It was pretty arduous but Dad was unfailingly patient.  If I didn't understand how he explained it at first, he'd come up with a different way.  And if I still didn't get it, he'd come up with yet another way.  And when I cried and wailed that I would never, ever survive, he didn't give up, he didn't walk away, he didn't wash his hands of me.  He just got me through it.

Recently Miriam has needed more help with math homework.  Tonight we spent close to an hour finishing the last eight problems of her homework.  She didn't understand the first two times we went through it and I struggled to come up with a third explanation.  It took a while for her to get it but she finally did. 

During this time I came to appreciate, on another level, what Dad went through with me.  It's tough being the kid doing the homework, not understanding what the teacher said earlier, forgetting the tips in the textbook.  It's a different kind of tough to be the parent who helps.  To see the answer before the problem is finished.  To want the child to understand why the problem works the way it does.  To skirt around what seems like a very obvious answer so the child can figure it out herself.  To wonder if the child really grasps the concept and isn't just nodding and smiling along.  That's tough.

So tonight, while I've always been beyond grateful to my Dad for all his years of math help, tonight I understood from the other side.  And I am even more grateful now that while he was teaching me math, he was also teaching me how to help my own children with their math.  If it weren't for my dad's guidance and excellent example, I wouldn't be able to help my own children.

Thank you, Dad.  I love you.

A License Plate

Tee hee.

Up Too Early

I got up extra early today. I am going to Paul's house immediately after work to cook dinner and spend the evening with him. I had a lot of wine and vegetables and meat that I couldn't exactly leave in the car all day or take into work. So I got up early to cart all of it to Paul's house and still get to work on time. It didn't take as long as I expected so now I find myself with an extra 45 minutes.

I decided to spend it in Starbucks, sipping a latte. While i was waiting for my coffee the Starbucks Pick of the Week caught my eye. This week it is a free book of short stories and essays. I thought that sounded interesting so I downloaded it. Then I discovered that iBooks has quite a few other interesting-sounding books for free. So I downloaded those, too. Not a bad way to spend the morning.

I Will Never Understand

I've seen this truck two mornings in a row on my way to work. Isn't it obnoxious? The driver cannot manage to stay in his or her own lane. That's even more obnoxious. Why drive a truck that you can't even drive safely?

I'm Going Bald Again!

In March, I'm going to shave my head to benefit the St. Baldrick's Foundation.  I am excited!  It's so satisfying to know that I am contributing to cancer research.  Plus, I really enjoyed being bald.  It was liberating in so many ways.  I can't wait!

If you want to donate on my head, go here: St. Baldrick's Foundation.  Search for me under Find a Participant and then choose how you'd like to donate.  My goal this time is $1500.

Two Fitting Quotations

"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, make them."  George Bernard Shaw

"Again and again, the impossible problem is solved when we see that the problem is only a tough decision waiting to be made."  Robert H. Schuller

I came across the first quote months and months ago.  I love it.  It explains my philosophy on life thoroughly, yet succinctly.  I just found the second one this morning on a note Miriam brought home from her jump rope coach.  At any other time it probably wouldn't have meant much to me but since I've been struggling with my career plans recently, it hit home.

Time and again the problems in my life have been solved by accepting that sometimes life sucks and sometimes I have no choice but to rearrange my perspective, make the difficult decisions and blaze a new trail.  Getting divorced, moving half way across the country, changing jobs, enrolling in school, losing 25 pounds, parenting -- all of it is challenging.  Curling up into myself and sobbing about it only works for so long.  At some point I have to blow my nose and wipe my eyes, take a deep breath and figure out how to fix it.  There is always a solution.  It might not be the one I want and it might not be easy or fun but there is always a solution.  Always.

Musings on My Career

I have recently begun to face facts.  Or one fact, anyway.  Namely, I do not have the time to go to nursing school and I won't have the time any time soon.  Any decent nursing program has a murderous clinical schedule that I cannot swing as a single parent.  I have done everything I can, worked out every plan, researched all the options and it's just not workable.

Now, I'm not one to let obstacles get in the way of what I want.  I don't give up easily.  I'm a hard worker.  I'm also a realist.  All the encouraging, feel good, don't give up-ness in the world cannot change the facts.  I don't know a single person in my situation -- single parent with the other parent 400 miles away -- who has done this.  Every BSN candidate I know has either 1) a spouse who works full-time and supports the family while caring for children; or 2) moved in with parents who can fill the childcare and financial support roles as needed; or 3) a vastly superior financial situation that allows for not working any kind of job.  None of these three are possible for me.

I was lamenting all of this to Paul and he said, "What else do you want to do?"  And I immediately said, "There's nothing else.  This is what I want."

But then I thought some more and I came up with these requirements for my career, such as it is or might be:

1. I have to be able to meet thousands, if not tens of thousands, of different people.  As much as individual people might drive me absolutely bonkers, I love humanity in general.  I need to be immersed in all the stuff that makes up people.
2. I have to be able to help those people.  I need to feel that I can have a personal impact on someone's life.  It may not be a lot to humanity as a whole, but I need to connect with at least a few people on a personal level.
3. I have to be learning stuff.  All the time.  I don't want a single day to go by where I don't learn something, be it fascinating or mundane.

I've never articulated before why I love nursing so much.  That's it right there.  Those things mean the world to me.  But that doesn't mean that nursing is the only way I can be fulfilled or happy. I can't believe I'm just now seeing this.  I think I could pursue a degree in biology or nutrition or something else that hasn't occurred to me yet and still be fulfilled and happy.

I would love to work in a research hospital some where.  If I could study disease processes or microscopic pathogens and figure out what makes them tick, I'd be happy.  If I could make them stop ticking, I'd be ecstatic.  If I could save lives by stopping the ticking of fatal pathogens, I'd die happier than anyone ever has.

I have a lot to consider.  I need to do some research on where I might fit.  I need to see what my realistic options are.  But I'm excited.  There is a whole world out there -- that doesn't require grueling clinical hours -- that I haven't considered before now.  And I can't wait to see what it might hold.

Coffee is a Beautiful Thing

This is one of the things Paul gave to me for Christmas. It's an espresso maker. I can make lattes all by myself! There is a milk steamer/frother thingy too. Yay for delicious coffee!  Yay for delicious coffee without paying Starbucks $4.00!

Dentist Time!

I took the kids to the dentist today. All three of them. It was just for cleaning and x-rays but I was still mighty anxious. We've had less than stellar dental appointments since they were tiny kids. I was mucho afraid of what we might need to repair, of the bills, of more anxiety.  Ugh.

But I feared for (almost) nothing. Out of three kids and some 48 teeth -- give or take a lost baby tooth -- there is only one cavity. And it's tiny. And in a baby tooth. Yay! Our religious dedication to brushing, flossing, fluoride rinses and much less candy has paid off!