Warm Chocolate Milk

Red Nails

2010-07-27T18:50:00.001-07:00

I sat in the chair as my grandmother lay dying across the room. Dark. Silent. What caused the tears to fill my eyes and the lump to catch in my throat, more than anything else, were her manicured, freshly polished but already starting to chip, red nails.

My eyes glued, I stared as words like "hospice", "palliative care", and "morphine" floated around me in the room. I was young and this was long before those words came to hold professional meaning to me. My chin in my palms and elbow on knees I remembered watching those hands with the red nails knit scarves and fold bread dough. Now they lay motionless and turning blue at the fingertips. I made my eyes burn into them, knowing I would never see those nails in action again.... and soon wouldn't see them at all. I memorized every vein, every wrinkle. It was like staring at a life that was so close... so real, but also far and slipping away.

I've thought about those nails so many times over the years. In a quirky way, to me, red nails have now come to symbolize her life; the strength, the feminine beauty, the traditionalism, and the feisty sass. Sometimes I paint my own nails bright crimson and wear her ring on my finger. On those days I stare at my hands all day. Remembering...... her.... and the fragility of life.

It's a red nail day.

All This Time The Answer Was In My Boobs

2010-07-26T11:28:00.000-07:00

It hit me, like that unexpected baseball launched from my toddler while I was looking for my sunglasses, although it wasn't as painful.

I never would have thought my life's work would involve breasts. I mean, when I was a kid and examined all the career opportunities that lay out before me, nipples never factored into my equation (maybe that's why I kept missing it). Some kids know what they want to be, forever, at the age of four. I'm 32, and I think I just now figured it out.

That must be how it is for Lactation Consultants. No child says, "I want to be a breastfeeding advocate when I grow up"......I guess they say, "I want to be a nurse" and that's what I am, (although at four, and even 24, I would have turned my nose up at the idea that it was my "calling"). I became a nurse because, honestly, I didn't know what else to do.

I always knew I would breastfeed. My mother had, and from a very young age I dreamt of becoming a mother myself. I treasured my dolls back then almost as much as I treasure my real live babies now. How I would feed my infants was not something I really gave a lot of thought. It was just sort of a given that breastfeeding was how it was done.

When I became pregnant with my first child I bought all the "expecting" books. It was then that I learned that breastfeeding was not always simple. I worried. What if I couldn't do it? I took a breastfeeding class at the hospital a read a few "How to" breastfeeding books, and the inspiring memoir, "How My Breasts Saved The World" by Lisa Wood Shapiro.

As Murphy's law would have it, breastfeeding was NOT easy for me. Those first weeks there was a lot of crying, a lot of hopelessness, and a lot of visits and discussions with a lactation consultant. Although we struggled, in the end, Weston and I, we were champs at breastfeeding. When Liam's time came we had a rocky start as well. "Every child is different" the Lactation Consultant told me, and "If you want to be successful with this, you will." She was right, and when we finally got it, I sat teary eyed in her office, "Thank you!" I praised.
"It was all you...and him", she responded.

The most important things the lactation consultant gave me were peace and self confidence. Those are really the two most important factors in successful breastfeeding, I think. I feel like breastfeeding my children has truly been a gift that has enriched our lives. I know she would disagree with this next part, but, I don't believe that gift would have been possible without her (LC) help.

I want to share the gift with others, so this fall I'm taking steps to reach my ultimate goal. I'm taking classes to become a Certified Lactation Consultant. After the class it will be a long process of clinical contact hours and studying for the exam. It will feel so good to work toward something I am so passionate about.

Breastfeeding encompasses so many of my beliefs. You've heard me talk about my Cave Man Theory (click here) and it's also economical, and "green", and healthy, and an integral part of attachment parenting. Breastfeeding is also powerful as a body image improvement tool (value placed on what your body can do, not just what it looks like) and it is cross-cultural.

When I finally reach my goal, I will LOVE my job for so many complex reasons. Deciding what to do with my professional life has taken me a long time, but I think it will have been worth the wait. I needed all that time to figure it out. I'm very excited, "Certified Lactation Consultant" sounds much better, after all, than "Breastfeeding Freak!" (An occupation I've already whole-heartedly mastered.)

Inside the Gate

2010-07-20T04:53:00.000-07:00

My Dad put it well when he said, "I'm morally opposed to gated communities....that is, until I'm standing on the inside of the gate."

This simple but profound statement spilled across his lips between slurps of ice cream yesterday as we sat on the porch of the general store in our private little paradise here at "Sunset Island" in Ocean City, Maryland.

I can't stop thinking about it. I get it in a literal sense, but there are also so many other implications to things like the "in" crowd or to taking one side or another on a controversial issue. Or what about in the context of a judgement, looking down upon a certain group of people until, that is, you find yourself standing in their place?

Once in a while a group of words strings together and has so many meanings, it seems infinite. I love that sort of thing. I only wish it could be me that could find a way to author sentences like that more often.

My Dad, he's on the inside of the gated community of published authors. Me, I'm on the outside. Sometimes I feel a bit jealous as I peer through the slats and catch a glimpse of those frolicking on the inside. I feel a moral opposition. I want to crash down and storm the gate, but I have to bide my time and wait for the door to open because we all know trying to force your way into a gated community only gets you locked out....forever.

My Motherly Heart

2010-07-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

I instinctively turned toward the origin of the scream. It was the kind of deep roar that comes straight from a heart that is so panic stricken it's perpetual beat is stunned, motionless. The thick heat filled my chest, pulsing terror through my arteries, pulling blood from all over my body into the fury, racing, searching out it's only target; my motherly heart.

I looked out into the street where, just a day earlier it had been my toddler who bolted across without warning. I witnessed the boy come within inches of devastation. The pizza delivery guy never even saw him. Thank God the toddlers grandmother did, it was her vocal thunder that saved his precious life, (and his mother's heart). I'll be having nightmares about that one for awhile. While my children play in that fountain I will forever guard that curb.

It's these kinds of moments, and the empathy and fear that go with them, that have changed the most for me since becoming a mother. Words cannot describe the physical reaction my body now has to children in danger. The few times that it has been my child who encountered the near miss, whether it was an open second story window, or few panicked moments of an inability to locate, those images and feelings become the source of my nightmares for years to come.

It's those feelings that make these days feel so much more valuable.

Each one of these children has my heart. They are surely the ones I would die to protect. I look at this photo with such joy, especially after that scare today. In a way, I'm glad there was something, some force, to open my eyes. Because honestly you would not believe the orchestration, planning, and frustration involved in preparing the ten fourth generation cousins for this two second snapshot. Hooray for generation three!

Seriously.... Are they cute, or what?

Ignorance Is Parenting Bliss

2010-07-18T05:43:00.000-07:00

My parents are always telling me about how they didn't know about this or that way back when in ancient times when I was a kid. They tell me I'm smart.....a "good mother". They actually used these things called "car beds" basically like a moses basket that you just sat in the backseat (or sometimes the front) and don't buckle in at all! (Honestly, can you even imagine that???)

After traveling thousands of miles to the ocean toting car seats, life jackets, sunscreen, BPH free reusable cups, washable soft organic cotton diapers, outlet plugs and the first-aid kit. I'm starting to truly believe, in parenting (as with many aspects of life), ignorance is bliss.

Our family has made this same trip for over 40 years, in my mother's day... the airlines served food... bag check was free, she never thought of cramming life jackets into her suitcase, and we were lucky if the car we rented even had seat belts. Dare I say, I think they had it easier...

My brothers and me, we survived. We didn't need to sleep in a pack n' play. We slept on an inflatable pool floaty, we consumed oreos and cheeze puffs, stayed out in the sun until our cheeks and shoulders turned pink, and ran around on the beach after dark breaking open toxic glow sticks and splattering the paint in the sand while our parents sat out on the deck (out of sight).

My parents watch me follow my two year old around, like a key follows a magnet. I never get a chance to finish a conversation with an adult. They witness my sheer panic when he darts off and I lose sight of him near the pool. They help me chop organic fruit into bit size (non-chokable) pieces, They listen to me negotiate whether my 6 year old can go across the street to buy an ice cream cone.

You'd think they say I am "over-protective". They don't. They just say we never worried about that when you were a kid. "The studies had not come out."

I'm all for scientific research, and often I truly am grateful for the findings, but I'm a little neurotic as it is, so, if you tell me that to decrease my baby's chance of SIDS, I need to ensure that he is breastfed, and sleeps on his back, in a crib, in a smoke-free home, in our bedroom, with a fan on and no blankets.... AND A PINK INFLATABLE ELEPHANT IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM... I'm going to do it. Begrudgingly, and with complaint..but I will do it.

Breastfeeding is like smoking. No, I don't mean it's addictive.

2010-07-14T19:39:00.000-07:00

I have a beef. Not the kind that you slather with ketchup and slap between two pieces of bread, but the kind that causes you to suppress a scream ‘cuz it makes you so hot and mad, but you are at work, so you take a deep breath and say, “This is hard for me. I don’t understand. I don’t agree.”

I helped write a breastfeeding info sheet to hand out to expectant mothers at the clinic I work at. You all know how passionate I am about this issue. I personally thought my excitement about breastfeeding, writing, and conducting more research on the subject would make me a perfect addition to the team. I quickly learned that my “passion” is somewhat annoying to some of my co-workers.

I had a great time resurrecting my old nursing books and hoping from website to website. I pulled together some great persuasive information for the handout. My goal being to let people know how great breastfeeding is and to help them make this decision to benefit their baby and their family.

I finished a draft of the sheet and emailed it to some of the doctors and other people I work with. At first I got a lot of positive feedback, Doctors telling me “This is great!” It has accurate information.” “ It is well written”. Friends telling me they had never thought about some of the positive aspects that I had pointed out.

I was feeling good; proud of my contribution! That was a few months ago...... Slowly the sheet has morphed. It’s no longer a “Breastfeeding Info Sheet”, It’s now an “Infant Feeding Sheet”. Some of my co-workers felt that the original info sheet was too "one-sided"( Seriously!) So I tried my best to be cordial. They suggested we have two sections. One about breastfeeding, and one about formula. I listed about 15 positive things about breastfeeding, such as…… it's cheaper, greener for the environment, better for baby, better for mom, it's convenient being that it is always at ready to serve temperature and pre-mixed to perfect proportions……(I could have gone on and on). Then I asked what we should put on the side about formula. I tried my best not to sound trite as I said, “I honestly cannot think of one positive thing about formula”.

They came up with two suggestions, “Dad can help feed” and “mom gets a break”. I'm sorry (Okay, I’m not. That was passive aggressive). Those reasons are pretty lame!! Take your break while the baby naps and find another job for Dad! I understand as well as the next mother how important "breaks" are, but are you willing to put your baby's health and your health at risk for it? I hope not.

Some issues only have one "side" to take. In my opinion, breastfeeding is one of them. You can't be "pro- breastfeeding" because it's ludicrous to think that anyone could be "anti-breastfeeding" when you look at all the research and science to back it up. (Not to mention the strong recommendations from the American Academy of Pediatrics and the World Health Organization) Is there any argument to made for "pro-formula"?

I understand not everyone is able to breastfeed, and therefore I am glad formula companies exist (although I hate the philosophies and marketing schemes behind the people who own them). What would we do without formula? Well, there would be some other options (wet nurse, cow's or other animal's milk) but formula is easier and probably safer. Formula is a good option if for some reason the breastfeeding option is not possible. They (formula and breast milk) are not two equals to choose between. This is not like picking bedroom colors.

I'm disappointed. As RNs, and as a clinic, I think our job is health promotion and education. From a medical standpoint Breastfeeding is CLEARLY the better choice here. No, I do not want to belittle people who choose formula. No, I don't want to make them feel bad (especially not the ones who tried to breastfeed). I just want to give expectant mothers the facts. I want to promote something that is proven to be healthy and nurturing. We as health educators take a strong stance on other heath issues such as smoking cessation. There are not two sides to the smoking issue in the medical profession. We don’t feel the need to say things like “It’s okay if you choose smoking”. There should not be two sides to the breastfeeding issue either!

Go Team!

2010-07-13T02:15:00.000-07:00

For years my husband and I have put our hands together and done a sportsman-like holler of "Go Team!" after completing a challenging task such as setting up a crib or navigating our way through an unknown city. It's cheesy, but that's sort of why we like it. It's a playful way of reaffirming that we are, in fact, a darn good team. Sports have always played a major role in my life, and my husband being a baseball buff can relate.

Now that our “team” has grown and we are two players stronger we still huddle together and shout off a cheer now and then. This team is good, we are championship quality. Like the best teams, we can accomplish great things when we work together, we are ultimately on the same side, and when one of us wins we all win.

I had to step back and snap this photo of our team work in action. (I live for this kind of stuff!) We did something similar at girl scout camp one summer when I was about 10. It was a team building exercise; one of those obstacle courses out in the woods where the goal is to get everyone over the rope. The one at camp was planned, but this obstacle course pictured above was nature made and unexpectedly presented itself on a family outing.

All four of us got across the creek with the help of the others. Only two of us got wet (the bigger two) one purposefully to help the greater good of the group, one (guess which one) in a clumsy accident that had me in hysterics.

Win or lose, wet or dry.... I’m so lucky to be part of this team!

It might be time to quit the book club. You know, BEFORE we have to call the fire department.

2010-07-12T02:21:00.000-07:00

It's mainly the feministic constant flame that burns inside my heart, occasionally shooting out sparks of hot rage, that causes the problem. Literary education is all well, and good, until it starts making you picking fights with your husband.

I joined a motherhood book club recently. The first two books have not been good for my marriage. They were, "Motherhood this is not how I thought it would be: Remodeling motherhood to get the lives we want today." by Kristen Marschka and "Just Kiss me and tell me you did the laundry" by Karen Bouris

Trust me, I'm not knocking the books. It's not really their fault. They were excellent, eye-opening reads that led me to see that my life is profoundly affected by cultural norms and social beliefs many of which I never knew existed. Things I had never thought about, or just took as a fact of life. The first book held an angry bra burning feminist tone with a mind numbing research proposal to back it up. The second was more relateable to me, (and at times even funny) it outlined a plan to achieve EPA, Equal parenting agreement (read that as... let go of everything you ever believed about gender roles, the definition of motherhood, and pretty much life in general).

These insights have threatened my perception of what it means to be a "good mother", and now I'm feeling confused, lost, and bit resentful not only to my husband but to all the women before me who have perpetuated these motherhood myths. At the same time though mental maps hold strong. I can't let go of some of my traditional matriarchal beliefs.

Then I question if I want to. Do I really want to get rid of those beliefs about what it means to be a "good mother"? I had some pretty great examples (mom, grandma, auntie) and they fit that mold (mostly). Good mothers kiss boo boos, manage the family calendar, pack your bag. Good mothers know where your brown sandals are, they pack you a nutritious lunch with a little surprise treat. Good mothers tell you when you need to wash your hair, they buy the sunscreen that doesn't cause you to get those little red bumps on your back. Good Mothers dry your nightmare tears, they clean up your puke, they don't complain. I do these things (well all except the not complaining part) so I take pride in thinking I might be a "good mother". I desperately want to be part of that club.

But, if I live a June Cleaver like life, if I do all these and don't feed my feminism flame, am I just one of those perpetuating women whom I resent??

Is it Nate's fault that for centuries the mother has been the primary parent? Is he alone supposed to break down every barrier, tear up every mental map and pull me through to the other side? Am I supposed to beat him with a dish rag until he does?

What if I'm okay with this life? Am I still me?

The books posed specific questions about my happiness with my life, and I was not always pleased with my answers. After I complained and whined to my husband and then protested by going on dishwashing/sheet changing strike I came to my senses (I think).

I realized that maybe my life is not blissfully pleasantlville perfect, but I have it pretty darn good; and, I have Greener Grass Disease. Have you heard of it? (careful, it might be contagious)

If I work, I think it's better to stay at home. If I stay at home, I think

it's better to work. I believe sorting the recycling and cleaning the gutters

is probably easier than planning the grocery list and taking the kids to their

doctor's appointments. But when actually posed with the option

to change roles I slither under a rock and hold my breath until people

forget that I complained.

I mean, honestly, I think the real problem is that I don't like to do work. I'd rather just play all the time and get out of as much of it (work) as possible. Let me tell you,........ THIS MOTHERHOOD STUFF IS WORK! It's play too, and that's why I love it. (I had to throw that in their just in case you might get the idea that I don't absolutely and completely adore every single moment of being a mother and therefore might cause you to believe that I am not one of the "good ones".. 'cuz I am. I AM!)

So instead of working or playing, lately I've just been arguing (which is not fun for anyone and really not at all useful). It might be time to quit the book club. (Or at least talk to them about selecting a new topic. One that won't fuel the fire).

Sometimes it's not the button, but a faulty hole...

2010-07-10T15:49:00.000-07:00

Buttons are constantly falling off garments, and we re-sew them.

Sometimes the new button does not fit. It's simply too big or too small,

That's easy to resolve, but sometimes the problem is not the button,

it's the hole.

I've had a few relationships, business and personal, over the years that have turned sour. Communication for whatever reason is bad, and things eventually just fall apart. It's easy for me to write it off and blame the other person, thinking to myself "there must be something wrong with them", but as I get older and see the similarities among the discords, I'm starting to wonder if the problem is not with them, but with me.

Maybe I talk to much, or not enough. Or maybe I say the wrong things (I have a been known to say or write things I later regret.) Maybe it's just that my face is wrong, I swear it constantly looks grouchy, even when I'm just sitting there relaxed. (Maybe I really am grouchy too much...I am a bit of a pessimist).Maybe it's my whole black and white emotions thing carried over into friendship. (click here).

I'm wise enough to know, however, that no one is all good or all bad (It would be easier if they were). So even if it's more their fault than mine, I could focus on the good and overlook the bad. (Is that what a true friend does? Have I ever really been a true friend? Is it sad I have to ask that? )

Nonetheless, I can only control myself. My own emotions, actions, and words. And sometimes,... actually ALWAYS, it takes two people to make a relationship work (and probably to not work too). Maybe one of us decided it wasn't worth the effort. We're adults. We can do that.

I think the important thing is not whether or not you can salvage the relationship, because lets face it; some relationships just aren't worth salvaging, the most important thing is to have the ability to stand back and look at yourself objectively and ask "What could I have done better?" (I'm still working on that..the looking objectively part).

Insignificant Beauty

2010-07-09T20:43:00.001-07:00

Every now and then I'm T-boned. It's a fierce impact of frustration that slams me from the realization that I'm doomed to be average. I am a middle class, middle aged, mom haircut; and the fleeting but reoccurring thought just keeps entering the private crevices of my twisted mind. I'm selfish in this way. I want to be noticed, valued, significant.

It's not the kind of thing I openly discuss over lattes and cookies at the neighborhood mommy coffee shop, or even with a close friend at a late night dessert craving fulfillment date, but I mull over things like.......is it still considered selfish if it's something I wouldn't do if I lived all alone away from civilization....like pedicures....I wouldn't get pedicures on a deserted island. So if it's not purely for myself, then who is it for? What would I still do on a deserted island?....(read Twilight!)

If I brought up topics like these with anyone but my Nate, surely I'd be seen as narcissistic. I think (I hope) this desire to be viewed as extraordinary is extremely prevalent.

"Whatever you do in life will be insignificant,

but it's very important that you do it"

-Gandhi

Maybe if we all just admitted our repulsion to mediocrity, our urge to stand above the crowd, we'd be able to move beyond this stage and see that the ultimate goal is not to perform an abounding leap that lands us outside of ordinarity, but to willingly dive straight in smiling.

How profound it would be to have the ability to take pride in ones average-ness, to actually bask in the glow of mediocrity instead of fearing it. It reminds me of The Broken Window Theory (click here). Maybe it applies to people as well as houses. If you value your own life, others will also.

How does one learn to value every moment, honor every day? How do you live each interaction and each minute as if it were your last indulgence? Is it even possible? I'm searching for the answers......I think it's what Gandhi meant, "it's very important that you do it", because it's important to someONE (and really it should be even to you). Living with intensity, it's something to strive for, to fully experience everything, not only tasting life but savoring the nuances of flavor.

I don't really know how to live that way, but I think I know someone who does. I gained insight into this and could only smile, mentally marking this as significant,.... in the car on a long drive home. My son Weston was awoken from his transportation induced slumber by his younger brother's shouting. When fully awake Weston promptly replied to Liam,

"Liam! You woke me up! Why did you do that?! That was the most important nap of my life!"

.....if only I had the capacity to value everything in my life as deeply!

Independence Together

2010-07-05T01:38:00.001-07:00

Soon we were tracing only silhouettes as they pranced on the beach and splashed in the shallow water by the dock. I've noticed that days when my whole family is together and cousins frolic until they are sun drenched and sand covered, (and even then, pop inside for just a few frantic minutes of showers and dry clothes being yanked over wet heads only to quickly emerge into the darkness with a fresh layer of mosquito spray and a suddenly acquired second wind) these days come too seldom and end to quickly.

My son Weston, like his mother, tends to have black and white emotions. His brain filters the life he views through his eyes into two categories,....... shining gleaming wondrous joy and depths of dark putrid despair.

It's sometimes a challenge to share a living space with a specimen of this colorless variety. The dark days are no "day at the beach". But the gleaming beach days? They make the suffering seem a reasonable toll.

After the sun had dipped below the trees across the water, we sat huddled together in damp towels with the smell of bug spray thick in the air. We gazed at the flickering sky and listened to baby Liam's screams of terror eventually turn to squeals of delight accompanied by lots of clapping as he realized the colorful "poppem's" high above weren't so bad after all.

When it was sure the fun was officially over for us, because the two small ones in the family could no longer keep their eyelashes from touching, I took my sleepy, utterly peaceful family home, and I swear we were in our beds, minds fast at slow rest, dreaming remembrance of the waves slapping against the boat, the laughter fluttering in the air, and the hot dogs filling our hungry bellies before the engine on the car was even cold.

This year's celebration of the red, white, and blue.....It really was gleaming white for us all.

My Immortal Words

2010-07-01T04:59:00.001-07:00

One of the most important things I learned in nursing school didn't involve treating wounds that require physical sutures. It was an unexpected lesson about the, not so subtle, difference between referring to an individual as a "Cancer patient" versus "a person with cancer".

It's an easy mistake to make. In a rush we try to make things easier, and saying "The Hernia repair in room 14" seems like a harmless simplification. Beware trying to fit an entire human being into one tiny box with a short label like "diabetic" or "influenza" is a dangerous organizational weapon. Not only does it effect that person's perception of themselves, it changes yours too and spreads quickly to others like the disease itself.

It's taken me a while to understand that words can harbor Vampire strength. Maybe it's the reason I've fallen in love with writing. I feel so powerless in so many other areas of my life, so fragile, but my words are immortal.

It isn't just at work that I see the influence words have. I've heard the words "Good Luck" turn sour as they are thrown from a sarcastic tongue. I've realized the incredible difference between "time out" and "a minute to relax".

I feel things deeply. Words CAN hurt me, and they can levitate me too. It's the same for most adults, I think. And the results is amplified when turned toward children. Please remember the strenth of your words. I hope mine cause some thought, and maybe even some changes, in you.

Fair Weather Mother?

2010-06-28T18:42:00.001-07:00

Some days are dark. They are not sunshine and smiles, with waterfalls full of joy. It's on the tainted days like today, that I wonder if you'll turn out the way I hope. On these days I worry what I'll do, if you don't.

These are the days I blame myself. Days that don't go well (for any of us).

There is anger, and tears, and pain. There is frustration, and disappointment, and sadness. On these days, when a small part of me has a thought that she may not adore every piece of you, there is a larger mass that hates me.

If I had some magic button to push, a button that would open a window to the future.... If I could see that things will turn out okay.... maybe it would make days like today easier.

But there is no button. No guarantee. No answers.

So I put you to bed with kisses and hugs, "I'm sorry"'s and "I love you"'s. Then I lay awake in angst and wonder.... forcing myself to remember that there are good days too (and pining for one). Asking myself if there such a thing as a "fair weather mother", and praying to God that I'm not one of them, as I feel as, if so, I may drown in the tides of guilt.

Eventually, after sleep has reached you, and stopped somewhere short of me, I realize that at this hour there is nothing for me to do but wish for the wind to bring a tomorrow that is better than today.

Chafing In Places Adults Should Not Have Chafing

2010-06-26T14:03:00.000-07:00

As I sit here my legs feel like they are weighted to the floor, tied by some magnet that's pull surely must reach the center of the earth. My butt has a mind of its own, and is begging me to stay in the chair for the remainder of the day. I have chafing in places adults should not have chafing. My muscles are tight I think there must be a cheese shredder somewhere inside my body that is conducting random attacks. This feels so good!

Yea, you read that right. I love this! I still may not get out of my chair, I'm feeling pretty darn self-rightous about the fact that I completed a 10k today (ran the whole thing, yes I did, my dear), so I think I deserve to sit on this poor tired backside awhile.

The run raised money for Children's Cancer Research. So it even makes me feel more awesome that we supported such a great cause along the way. We are all mothers and as we passed the memorial signs families had posted along the route, it made the pain a little stronger in our hearts but helped us with the motivation to push and finish the dang 10k so we can help finish cancer!

The photos are of me and some other amazing women who shared in the cheese shredding with me today (and one shot of our adorable, but messy, offspring). These photos were taken before the event. Yes it's early and we didn't bother with makeup or hair appliances, but trust me, the after shots (If I had let anyone take them) would have been worse. I sweat so much it literally looked like I peed my pants, (or maybe I actually did, I was in so much pain I'm not really sure).

A 10k is 6.2 miles. It took us several months to train for this, and at breakfast afterward we were already discussing the possibility of doing a 10 mile run later this year. WE TOTALLY ROCK!!

How Come You Never See Any Fat Vampries?

2010-06-24T00:25:00.000-07:00

If I were a vampire I probably wouldn't be so annoyed by "the claw". "The claw" is this maneuver in which my husband clasps my heel with his incredible long, and agile, toes. It's disgusting, and basically the adult equivalent of the 5th grade boys teasing the girls they have a crush on, on the playground. It's irritating, but I guess it's one of those things that makes life as a human..... interesting. I don't think Vampires and other supernatural beings have to deal with this sort of thing. Maybe that's why I like Stephenie Meyer's book so much. They peak into this world I can't comprehend.

In "The host" she questions what a "perfect" world would be like to live in. It was a curious proposition, and I started to realize that as much as I don't like these things, a world with no violence, no betrayal, no secrets, no frustrations.......no "claw" would actually be pretty dang boring. (Just something I've been thinking about.)

Anyway, I'm getting ready to go to the midnight showing of Eclipse on Tuesday. Yes I'm an adult, and yes it's sort of crazy. I have to be at work at 8:30 the next morning and Wes has a baseball game that Wednesday evening too, so I will surely be completely exhausted, but I also surely know it will be thoroughly worth it! Enjoy your weekend!

Swamp Baby

2010-06-22T02:43:00.000-07:00

I'm philosophically, emotionally, intellectually, and theoretically opposed to air conditioning in the same way that I hold an aversion to bottled water, and frozen meatloaf, but at 2am when the sweat has drenched my t-shirt and I've kicked the sheet off for the third time..... I reevaluate my principles, and glance longingly at the thermostat.

It's one of the things I like least about myself, my inability to follow through and live my life out according to my.... beliefs. Unfortunately, there is some innate part of me that is lazy. Some core primal piece to my personality that likes the easy way out and prefers comfort to that feeling of satisfaction that comes from hard work. (I hope my kids don't inherit that.) However, along with the ancient sloth, my brain is also inhabited by some strong contemporary and powerful guilt. Maybe its from being raised Catholic. Those Catholics, they seem big on guilt.

There is this game of tug-of-war that is constantly being battled inside my mind, and every once in a while Karma bites me in the butt. Like yesterday when I took the kids to the pond to throw some bread for the ducks. Often I am vigilant about Liam near the water (annoyingly so). I grasp the back of his t-shirt tightly between my fingers as he hobbles around pulling his mother like a trailer behind him on the grassy patch near the water's edge. Yesterday, I was feeling lazy. I mean how many times have we been to the pond and he's NEVER, ever, even come close to falling in. Maybe I am "really neurotic", I started to think. I don't see other mother's fingers turning red from all the t-shirt gripping. So, I let go. I stood about 3 feet from him. Amazingly, a few minutes passed, and, he hadn't fallen in (I've got this mothering thing down!)

I started to get a little smug. "I've taught him so well."..... He knows his limitations. He is a confident capable child. I was thinking all these self-righteous thoughts while turning my back and pulling some bread out of the bag for Wes.......then, SPLASH!! ..NO WAY!!??? This was the kind of splash that is much too big to be a rock, or pebble, or even a duck............................Yes! LIAM FELL INTO THE POND!! or as Wes loving referred to it..."the swamp"

I (very) humbly carried my swamp baby back to the house to give him a bath. The guilt forcing my lazy self to vow, in my mind, to hold tightly to the back of his shirt.... until he goes to college.

Dad

2010-06-18T01:56:00.000-07:00

He shows up faithfully on my doorstep with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a Reuben, a turkey sandwich, a pickle, and two cookies; "The usual". I get the drinks from the kitchen, he passes out the sandwiches, then we gobble and slurp, and talk about things like light sabers and cloth diapers.

When the subject of my Dad comes up in conversation, other people mention the incredible contributions he has made to Psychiatry, what a brilliant Doctor, dedicated Air Force Colonel, and exciting Author he is. All that is nice, but what they don't know is that he makes the best macaroni and cheese on this planet! And that he's likes to get up early, that he gets dizzy when his grandkids spin him around too much, and he hates black olives. He is incapable of closing a cupboard door quietly. He's a really good swimmer, and his laugh, OMG his laugh! Imagine loud bounding bursts of pure joy, ones that you have to hear to really understand how infectious they are.

On Father's Day people always talk about the things their Dad has taught them, like how to fish, or how to make pancakes. My Dad has taught me those things too, but some of his best lessons have come unknowingly from his examples. He is honest.... tells the clerk they gave him too much change kind of honest. He is respectful of the environment.... plant thousands of trees, reuses everything, and wear his shoes until his toes poke out the front kind of respectful.

My Dad was the first great Dad I got to know, but I must say I am lucky to be surrounded by a whole bunch of spectacular specimens of the fatherly type.

I'm so glad my kids will learn how to be a dad (and a great person) from such terrific examples.

Happy Father's Day!!

Compromise, Sugar, And Change Needed In MNA

2010-06-17T01:27:00.000-07:00

Do you know anyone else in this economy with a four year degree who is making (on average) $67,000 a year (for part time work, .8 = 3/4 time), has a great pension, and is expecting raises over the next three years? I didn't think so. Registered Nurses have, at best, a four year degree. (Many of them have a two year.) If they chose to work full time (which very few do), in MN they are making around $79,000 a year. It sounds like I'm picking on nurses, I'm not. I'm one of them, remember? I just think we need to be realistic. I think the union leaders are steering nurses in the wrong direction (click here).

Where does the union get the audacity to ask for a raise when businesses are closing all around us, and layoffs are rampant?

This is one of the issues at a stand still in negotiations here between the Minnesota Nurses Association (MNA) and local hospitals, the pay increases the MNA is asking for over the next three years. Trust me, we all want pay increases. We get it. The economy sucks, it's not going to happen.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe hospitals are the one type of business in this economy that is not struggling. I’m not sure, since they keep a lot of their financial information private. I have noticed the plasma screen TVs that are starting to appear in patient rooms. An open discussion about hospital spending and profits may ease the negotiations. It’s hard to be a nurse and be told that you have to limit the linens you use (only one towel, and don’t change the sheets more than is necessary) while you watch the workman install those plasmas.

Despite all this, (my understanding of why Nurses are frustrated) it baffles me why they think this strike is a good idea. Besides the fact that it’s the patients, and not the hospital administration, that suffer when nurses strike, apparently they've also never heard the adage, "Do what you've always done and you'll get what you've always gotten".

Union nurses in Minnesota voted Monday and they are cooking up another strike in their big black cauldron. It's a smelly green bubbling mess and they're huddled around it with too many sweaty cooks dazed by the heat, and the stench.

It didn't work the first time.

How about this one, "You catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar"? They are all so angry, spiteful, and confrontational. They feel they are oppressed. They feel they are being taken advantage of. They feel they are worth more money. Oh poor darlings....Welcome to the recession here in 2010! (We all feel that way.) Honestly, they are lucky they have a job at all! A little sugary sweet and a lot less sour may sweeten the deal in the negotiations.

Besides the "safe staffing", (of which we already in Minnesota have one of the best ratios in the country, but I agree it could always be better to lighten our load and give us more time to spend doing what we love caring for and getting to know our patients) one of the biggest complaints I hear from the nurses is about their pension....... their pension, their glorious pension. Let me make something clear.....

They are not going to lose what they've already accumulated.

What is in their pension now is legally theirs to keep. I think the union is purposely holding union nurses in the dark a little here. They will only lose their ability to accumulate as much as they currently have been in the coming three years. Then the contract will expire and they can vote again, but what's there now is theirs too keep and use as they wish.

Maybe if the nurses gave up on the ideas about pension and pay increases for this contract the hospitals might be willing to work with them a little on the staffing.

That's what the MNA needs, a little dose of compromise, sugar and change.

Give it a try. Why not? What you are doing isn't working!

"Fartpickles!"

2010-06-16T00:06:00.000-07:00

I love this photo. Just love it. It is the last day of school, Weston's 6th Birthday, cousins hangin' out in my messy house. Fabulous! Yep Fabulous! :)

Weston's loves to tell jokes that make sense to no one but himself and his two cousins. Often they contain words like "fartpickles", and are delivered with a funny face and impeccable timing. How can you not laugh at these goofs? Cheers me up every day!

Why I dislike Formula Companies So Much If I Were Their Waitress I Would Spit In Their Soup!

2010-06-15T00:40:00.000-07:00

I was so upset when that formula came in the mail a few days after my son was born, I couldn't think straight. My mind was a blurred mess of sleep deprivation and emotion, it didn't occur to me, at first, that I could just throw the canister into the trash.

It sat on the counter for a few days staring at me, tempting me, and making me cry. I tried to call the number on the back to ask if they'd come back and pick it up "I was breastfeeding" I told them, but they just gave me the run around, and basically said no. They told me to bring it to a food shelf or to Goodwill. I put my tiny Weston, bobbly head and all, in the car seat and drove my crazed self to Goodwill, but they wouldn't take it. I sobbed to the man in the loading garage, what was I supposed to do, I didn't even know where a food shelf was and I was just so tired! "Throw it in the garbage." He calmly told me, as I stared back at him in hysteria. (Oh.)

As a result of this traumatic experience, I feel the same way about formula companies as I do about the smelly scum stuck to the bottom of my garbage can. Every time I see any sign of it, it makes me wanna puke!

Breastfeeding is hard! But it clearly is the better choice to make, it's healthier for mom and baby, it saves money, and it's better for the environment. Most of us know these things, logically, (how can you not with the thousands of studies that have proven it to be true) but there is so much more that plays into parents infant feeding decisions than just logic.

Family history has a huge impact, if your mother breastfed, you are much more likely to breastfed too. Your culture and the support from your spouse, family and friends are also a key factor in the decision making process (even if only subconsciously). I can be pretty certain that had my husband, or my mother, been standing at my bedside with a bottle of formula I may have given in to the temptation. Lucky for me, they knew how I felt about it, and knew better.

There are some women who choose to feed their baby formula and feel guilty about it every single day, still others go with breastfeeding, but to a certain degree resent their baby for making they feel tied down, and trapped and they feel guilty for feeling that way.

It's a tangled emotional, and irrational, issue. And the time in your life when you are making these choices...lets just say you are not at your best. Hormones are raging, you are exhausted and you have just experienced probably the biggest change of your life.

Formula companies take advantage of this. They know what breastfeeding is not easy, that you are overwhelmed with the newness of motherhood, and that you are insecure about your changing body....AND THAT YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP!!! They know you are sitting home in a blue heap of post-partum feelings and leaking orifices. That's why they send you formula in the mail around the time of your due date. THEY WANT YOU TO FAIL! So they can make money off of you. They don't care about your baby's well-being.

It's not fair for formula companies to prey on post-partum women for their own financial gain. Leave us alone! That's why if I were a waitress I would spit in their soup. I understand that we need formula for those rare occasions when a mother is unable to breastfeed. We need formula like we need colace for constipation. But we don't see romantic ads for colace on TV and they don't send you free samples. You won't see formula ads on this site (not unless it's over my dead body). I can't do much about their advertising tactics in general but I can control it here, so I do.

I think formula companies should focus their advertising and promotion on the other products they make (most of them also make breast pads, baby cereal, and other baby relating products). I think formula should be available if a doctor recommends it in case of slow infant weight gain or another medical condition but it should not be glorified and it should not be sent to tempt you away from what is doing what is best for your family.

Stay strong! Don't let them convince you, you are doomed to fail!

Loyalty Runs Deep In The Masses

2010-06-12T09:31:00.000-07:00

It reminds me a lot of the sociological dynamics of my 5th grade class. A few strong-minded individuals made some poor decisions, and the rest of us....we followed them faithfully like a rusty old trailer follows a mud stained pick-up.When the truck went over a bump (or the leaders made fun of another kid) we just clung on tighter. We would not have let go no matter what. We were "loyal".

At some point you have to let go. For example, holding on as the pick-up plunges into a lake is not in your best interest. Loyalty is not as virtuous, when your allegiance is with a demon. I remember reading about this phenomenon in a college sociology class. It fascinated me that when part of a large group, rational intelligent human beings do things they would NEVER dream of doing alone. Even well meaning groups, groups that started with positive purpose can turn and follow this deadly track.

I'm watching grown women cling, with bloody knuckles, to the pick-up as it penetrates the water's surface. It's painful to watch, but in a strange way, at the same time I also feel thankful. Sort of a ,"but there for the grace of God go I" sort of understanding.

I'm hoping some of them come to their senses before the bubbles stop popping at the surface of the lake. I really do.

Letter From A "Scab"

2010-06-11T05:27:00.001-07:00

Dear Union Nurse-

You say you care about your patients. You say that's why you did it, but you are the one who walked out and left them all alone yesterday. Sick and weak, they were disconnected from the politics of it all. They asked about you. I told them you, "had the day off".

I guess I can understand why you did it. You misguidedly thought you were making a point, taking a stand, proving your worth. I don't agree with what you did, but I do understand, and I'm sorry it didn't work. The hospitals have not budged on their contract. I wish you would have gone about your protest in a different way.

What I don't understand, is why you are mad at me, the one who stepped in while you were away. You chose to leave. Would you rather your patients had laid in their beds alone yesterday, calling out all day for a nurse who never came? Is that what you wanted?

You called me a scab. You said I was only there for the money. Honestly, I would have been there yesterday if they had paid me nothing at all. I feel as strongly about my side of the picket line as you do about yours. It was principle for me, not paycheck. I just thought you should know.

You'll see when you go to work today that your patients were well taken care of. Your unit is clean and in order. Dare I say I feel you owe me an apology, if not a "Thank you".

Well, you're welcome.

Signed,
"Scabby"

Good Girls Do Cross The Picket Line : MN Nursing Strike 2010

2010-06-10T08:48:00.000-07:00

I often jokingly identify myself as being like the pregnant cop from the movie Fargo. You know the one with the thick Midwestern accent and the kinky hair. The humor comes from the incredibly real similarities we share. I’ve lived in Minnesota my whole life. I’m a middle aged version of the girl next door; your quintessential “good girl”. I’ve always followed the rules and done my best not to upset anybody. I like to say I avoid confrontation “at all costs”. I’m one of those people that will sit in the booth at the restaurant eating my cold soup watching a fly swim the backstroke in my bowl, and I won’t complain. (Nope.)

There had been rumors of a possible nursing strike here in Minnesota for quite awhile before that day I read the article that mentioned the statistics from the strike in New York. To be honest, even though I am a nurse myself, I hadn’t really paid much attention, until I read that hospitals see a 19.4 percent increase in patient death during a nursing strike. It hit me like a baseball bat to the shin, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the number for days. What if my mom was one of the ones who died because nurses were too busy negotiating their pensions, and paychecks, to care for her? What if it was my child who suffered on the bad side of that statistic?

It bothered me to hear the nurses I knew sound so cold hearted and disconnected from the reality of what walking off the job would mean for their patients. I agreed with some of what they were asking for with the new contract, lower patient to staff ratios and limitations on hospitals ability to “float” nurses to units they are not used to working on, but I didn’t think a strike was the answer.

I decided I couldn’t sit back and watch the effects of this strike play out, in real time, here in my city. For once in my life I did what felt right, even though some people thought it was incredibly wrong. I crossed the picket line and went into the hospital to work and to help the patients during the strike.

I drove to the unfamiliar hospital with bated breath this morning. Doing things in the dark always makes them seem more naughty, so as I headed off at 4am though the night, I felt a tinge of excitement mixed along with my nervousness and anticipation. You don’t get much job training when you’re a “scab”. They just throw you into the pool and see if you swim…… I swam; not only for the patients, but for myself.

It was like, instead of staring helplessly at that fly in my soup bowl of life, I dove in and challenged him to a race. It was incredibly liberating! As I stood there in my scrubs, waiting for the security guard that would escort me into the building. I felt a bit like one of those chicks in the bikinis on the good girls gone wild videos. I wanted to scream, throw my arms above my head and spin around, or something (thankfully I was able to contain myself).

It was so unlike me, crossing that picket line. So, not something a “nice” girl does. I got some disapproving looks, some less than supportive comments, but it didn’t bother me. I found out that when you know in your heart that you're doing the right thing, being “nice” is not such a priority.

The patients, doctors, and other staff were so welcoming and thankful to us for stepping outside our normal routine and into theirs. They showed us where to get coffee, held warm smiles on their faces, and some of them even volleyed around words like "hero" and "admirable". Oh, and the other "scabs"...they were good girls (and boys) just like me, who laughed about being called "heros".

I'm no hero. I'm a klutz. I'm a dork (in fact to prove it, I'll admit that I accidentally set off my car alarm in my driveway at 4am this morning -smooth). I may be a big nerd, and you may not agree with what I did, but I feel in my heart that I finally did something right, and it felt good!

Correction

2010-06-10T00:01:00.000-07:00

In my article "The Abortion Pill Is Now Available Online", My Post on June 9th, 2010, I mistakenly referred to "The Morning After Pill" as the "Abortion Pill". While these drugs have the same purpose, aborting the fetus, they do so with different methods and at different points in the implantation process.

"The Morning After Pill" also called "Plan B" which is a progesterone only hormone is the one that is available online. The other medication, "The abortion pill" , containing misoprostol, and also a very similar medication also referred to as "The abortion pill" that contains misoprostol and one other ingredient and is called "RU486", is NOT available online and is only prescribed in a Doctor's office.

I apologize for the confusion.

Abortion Pill Now Available Online (but I don't want to "push the button")

2010-06-09T04:49:00.000-07:00

I'm still not certain exactly where I stand on the issue of abortion, but I'm pretty sure I don't like the idea of the "morning after" pill being available online. A clinic in Iowa is now sending e-prescriptions (no appointment necessary) for the abortion pill, and I gotta say it gives me the "heeby geebies".

Once, during a discussion about the death penalty in high school Civil Liberties class (yes Dad, sometimes I did actually listen in high school) my teacher posed the question. "Do you want to be the one to push the button?" It was interesting, many of the kids who said there were for the death penalty, admitted they themselves did not want to push the button.

I feel much that way about abortion. I was once offered an interview for a nursing position at an abortion clinic, and while I sometimes call myself "pro-choice", I declined the interview and decided I didn't want to be the one "pushing the button".

I heard the ad for the e-prescription on the radio this morning. I've been thinking about it ever since. I'm not sure if it's the pill itself, or the simplicity of it that bothers me.

I have a good friend who was arrested for protesting outside an abortion clinic. I also have (another) good friend who had an abortion. The issue is complex. It's hard, for me, to give a straight answer, when asked the question, "Are you pro-life, or pro-choice?"

Luckily I'm not actually asked too often. This topic has become sort of taboo. Everybody thinks they know their position and really nobody is going to change anybody's mind at this point, right? So why discuss it? Well, because as a good friend of mine says, "I write to find out what I'm thinking", and I've never gotten the whole thing straight in my mind.

As a feminist, I believe in a woman's power to make a choice, but as a mother, and as a Christian, it tears my heart open to think that somebody could end a life. I struggled to get pregnant. How could someone who is blessed throw that blessing away?

The friend that had the abortion did not take it lightly. It was agonizing for her, and definitely not something she wanted to do. Her baby had a condition that did not support life outside the womb, and she needed the abortion to save her own life. I 100% supported her decision. (I would have made the same choice if I were in her shoes.) People who made mean remarks or questioned her decision......they just make me angry.

I'm glad that we have the medical technology that saved my friend. I also believe there are people who abuse that technology. In my mind saving the woman's life is one, but not the only, acceptable reason to choose abortion. How can we create laws that support the right to an abortion, but prevent abuse of that right? I'm afraid it may be impossible. There is a slippery slope that makes these sorts of laws so hard to define.

When some people hear the term "pro-choice" or listen to discussions about laws supporting abortion, they get angry, they immediately think "baby-killers". I can understand. I don't like abortion. I don't think anybody does. It's not that people who are pro-choice want women to have abortions, it's that they want a safe option to be available, for people like my friend.

If there were not laws to support abortion, people would do it anyway, in basements and dirty bathrooms. It would not be safe, but even more importantly in my mind, it would financially support people working in the black market.

So, yes, I'm pro-choice (I think), but no thanks....someone else can push the button.

Please click (here) to view a post-publication correction. Thank you.