I'm not ready

I have a post to write. Its not a bad post. It's not an "I'm throwing in the towel on blogging" post, nothing is wrong with the family.
For all intents and purposes, the topic of it is a good thing, really.
Its just. Well?
I'm not ready.
I don't know if I'll be ready.
I can tell you what it's about, it's not like it's a big secret.
MG is going to fly the coop this summer. Go off to the big bad world, spread her wings. Fly.
I told you I wasn't ready...
but the important question,
is SHE ready?
I guess we're gonna find out..
the best thing about home, is that it's always there if she needs it.
But I'm still not ready.

Lets Get Physical

I think the one thing that I really wasn't prepared for with having a little kid is how physical things can get. At any given time, I'm being pinched, bitten, scratched, head butted, slapped, punched, kicked, squirmed at, and least of all, drooled on.
Oh, and the hair pulling. Oy.
Sometimes I feel like I've gone 5 rounds with an MMA fighter.
My rational mind knows that all of this is exploration, and instinct, and, that he doesn't yet understand gentleness with his motions. He's learning. So I take the abuse as well as I can, with soft words to remind him to be gentle, and lately, saying "no", firmly, because we are at the point now where he responds to tone of voice, and body language. He gets very concerned if I have a stern look on my face.
When I'm tired after having been up all night at work, though, its tough. The hair pulling really hurts. I actually went and got my hair cut shorter than I wanted it to be, because I want to prevent more hair pulling than necessary. I'm really hoping he will learn the meaning of gentle quickly.....

He's a Person

Its so funny!
The last week or so has just been PACKED full of changes....
MB is about 10 months old now, and suddenly, he IS.
He is present
he is entertaining himself
he is entertaining US
he is mobile
he is eating MY food. (hogged all my mashed potatoes the other day)
he is making his needs and desires wanted
he is exploring the world, both in the house, and outside. We've been spending time in the back yard, in the hammock, on a blanket on the ground. We have sun block, and sun hats, and pirate shorts, and swim trunks that match the sun hat
We even have a PLAYDATE. With a GIRL.
Suddenly, he isn't the baby thats been always on one of us, touching us one way or the other, grasping, always needing contact.
He's a PERSON
gaining independence
almost ready to walk, (he stood on his own, for the first time, today)
I don't know if I'm ready for this!

Surprise, a Mieography!

Pick your jaws up off the floor, now.... I know it's a shock. But this woman is AMAZING....

Elisabeth Kubler was born in July 1926 in Zurich, Switzerland, the oldest of the Kubler triplets. She weighed 2 pounds. Her father was very strict, and before his daughters were even teenagers, he had their future mapped out for him. Elisabeth, (or, as she was known, Betli), was going to be the secretary for his business. Betli, however, had an entirely different future mapped out for herself. Instead of becoming her father's secretary, she found herself standing up to him, and, with dreams of becoming a doctor, she first labored as a maid, then, found herself jobs in various lab's in Zurich. Along with working for these labs, she also did refugee work in war torn Europe after WW II, working in both Switzerland, and in Poland. Eventually, she found her way into medical school, and graduated. While there, she met a young American man, and they married. After medical school, she wanted to go work in India. He wanted to return to the United States. Her Indian job fell through, so, she emigrated with her husband. They started out in New York, where he was from, where she wanted to initially specialize in Pediatrics. She got a fellowship, but during this time, the higher powers that be did not want any pregnant women, and, she was pregnant. So she took the last availiable spot, and ended up doing a psychiatric rotation. (How on earth can psych be a better place for a pregnant woman, I ask you!). Sadly, she had a miscarriage. She actually had 4 miscarriages, but two healthy children, a boy and a girl. She continued her psychiatry specialty, and, eventually found her way to Colorado, then, to Chicago. She began to be more and more drawn to the patients who were terminally ill, and before long, she was doing something no practitioner had ever even thought of doing. TALKING about death. She held seminars of medical students, doctors, nurses, clergymen, social workers, and more, where she would bring in a terminally ill patient, and have the patient educate them on how it felt to know you were facing death. Her lectures quickly became popular, though some of the older MD's were not thrilled with this, and would even refuse to admit their terminally ill/dying patient's were actually, ah, DYING. (hello?!!! is this thing on?!!!).

She began writing books of her experiences, and her first book, "On Death and Dying" proposed the now, widely accepted 5 stages of grief. (Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance). She then became a huge proponent of the hospice movement. She and her husband bought property in California, and opened the Shanti Nilaya (home of Peace). It was a healing center for the dying, and their families. She also co-founded the American Holistic Medical Association. She also began to become involved in assisting the patient's with AIDS. She moved her healing center to Virginia, with the intention of adopting AIDS suffering babies and letting them live their lives out in peace. Sadly, acceptance of AIDS during this era was minimal, and, her farm was burnt to the ground maliciously before she could enact her plan.

She died in 2004 in Scottsdale, Arizona, after suffering a series of strokes, but not before writing her last book, her own biography ( "The Wheel of Life", which I am now reading and highly recommend). Her works are highly regarded in any hospice organization, and we practice her tenants in almost all that we do. The depth of study, and compassion that she had for the death and dying are astounding, and she has changed the face of medicine for the better. She wrote 23 books on the subject matter, (varying topics), one being a photographic journal. ("Real Taste of Life").

neglect

My poor, poor, neglected blog.

I've been thinking about it a lot, lately. How I used to post regularly, then semi regularly, and now, so sporadically. I've gone back and forth, on just to "end" it, or keep it, or, what?

The memories here are some things I've already forgotten, and many I'll never forget. And for that reason alone, I am leaving it here, until I decide I don't want to anymore.

I don't want to print it. Somehow, it just seems wrong to do that. I didn't start this with the intention of printing any of it. Except maybe the recipes, for other people if need be.

So, it's here, for me to sporadically type at. It still has some life in it. And I do like to go visit the other blogs I've made friends with. I know I don't get to comment much anymore. Having a squirmy boy on my lap prevents me from typing anything that would make any sense, usually. He's discovered Mama's keyboard does neat things. MM thinks he's already practicing code. He may be right.

So, here I am, with my neglected blog that has been through so much. Maybe as MB gets older I am going to gain a semblance of freedom back again (ha ha). Or I will at least have a place to quickly dash off a humorous story of his antics. (So far my best one might just be that refried beans make for an explosive diaper... but I digress). We shall see what it evolves in to.

For now, for anyone keeping score, MM and I are still sickeningly happy with each other, being married hasn't ruined that :)

Mustang Girl is graduating high school VERY soon. That just makes my heart palpate looking at it. She is considering going to school in another area of the state, meaning, she's possibly going to leave and fly on her own.. (that really makes me palpate)

MB is doing what babies do. Drooling, growing teeth, and crawling all through the house, usually leaving a trail of havoc and drool in his wake. He's also teaching MG's new cat what it's like to live with a wee one. Good times...

So, I'll still continue to sporadically post. But I am reading.... and if you get a comment from me that looks like GLKJBGVFHBNBGVHN

then you'll know that MB had an opinion on what we read that day. And I've got sticky boy fingers and drool all over my keyboard...

Time on my hands

Going from working in a busy ICU, hospital care, to working in a Hospice, which is designed to look/act more like a really nice home/hotel, has been quite a difference. Where I work now is not clinical, in the least bit. It's a cluster of really nice rooms surrounding a gorgeous, high vaulted ceiling living room, with a fire place, comfortable couches and chairs to sit on, 2 dining rooms, a full kitchen, a small beverage center, a smaller, closed off sitting room. Very open concept everwhere else...

well you get the drift. Oh. And a pretty nice nurses station, too.

Anyhow

Its acceptable, in the middle of the night, while my charges are sleeping, and my paperwork is done, for me to go sit in the pretty living room, by the fire, in a comfortable chair, and read. I even got myself a Kindle, so I'd have portable books at my finger tips. (They even say I can nap, but I just can't bring myself to do that, I am 'working', after all).

So, I read. And last week, I finished this book, called "Defending Jacob", its by William Landay.

Now, I'm going to totally ruin the book for you all, so if you want to read it, you should probably stop here.

The book is about a man, who was his small town's assistant DA, whose 14 year old son gets charged with murdering one of his classmates. It turns out this father has violent men in his family tree, his own father is serving life in prison for murder. And his father before him killed some one, ect. ect.

So, they are exploring the concept of a "murder gene" with this kid. And it goes through the trial, the impact it has on the family, ect. ect.

In the end, the kid gets off, and they go on vacation. And the kid meets a girl. And, she dies....

hmmmm. But they can't charge the boy, no evidence at all.

So they return home, to their small town, and then, the mother of this boy gets him in a car, and drives them both into a big bridge cement pillar. Killing her son, and nearly herself

That ending really made me think. Especially now that I am a mother to a boy.

If I thought my son was a murderer, (now of 2 people), what would I do? If I knew he'd inherited this 'murder gene', and had the capacity to kill people, and learn from his first mistake, how to do it without getting caught, how would I handle it? Especially considering this boy was only 14 years old? Would I have the balls to drive into a bridge? No. Actually, I wouldn't. I just cannot even fathom it. Nor can I really fathom that MB would be a serial killer. It kind of brings to mind the whole nature vs. nurture arguement. Is it possible that there is a gene that predisposes people to murder, despite a stable, loving upbringing with two good parents and a happy life? What would a parent do, if that is the case? The book really got me thinking.

Oh, and in other news, MG got a kitten this last weekend, a little grey and white boy from the shelter. His name is Loki. And being as she left for school, right now the little mischief maker is laying on my arm, watching me type. MB is laying in the crib, complaining that he is in the crib. I'm trying to let him fall back asleep, but it's not really working that well. Once I bring him out, the cat runs to hide. (Smart cat).

How's things with everyone?

Duh, or maybe A-Ha?

First, to Daryl, I took off the WV :)....

Now...

This is going to probably sound silly. But yet, here it is.

I 've been working now at the Hospice facility for just about a month, on the inpatient side, and soon to go to the outpatient side. (I get to have the experience of both. It's a good thing).

Anyhow.

Today I kind of had a rough moment. I wasn't working or anything, but I was checking my voice mail thingy for work, and well. Most of the patient's that I have interacted with for the last 3 weeks are currently in the process of dying.

Duh, you say. I do, after all, work for hospice. They are what we refer to as "actively dying", meaning, that they will probably be gone within the next 24 hours.

It hit me today.

NONE of my patients are ever going to get better. None of them. Thats the whole point.

Now

I knew this. I did. And I am still totally game for this job. I actually really like the organization, and the whole concept of Hospice care. And I'm good at it. I've been good with the death and dying for most of my nursing career thus far.

But, being a hospital nurse, of course, our main goal is usually to save people and have the happy ending, blah blah blah. Some we didn't save. Some people, dying and going to a better place *is* the happy ending. And as a hospital nurse, I had the people getting better mixed in with the people who died.

Now?

I just have people dying.

And I found myself, crying in the grocery store over this epiphany. Not wailing and gnashing of teeth. I just had my moment. And then I realized what a big adjustment my brain just made, and accepted.

Because I am a hospice nurse....