Reading the obituary page is definitely my favorite part of the whole paper. The rest of the paper is all passing news, the scandal of the hour, and no matter how horrifying that particular hour is-well, as someone once said (the Bible?), "This too shall pass." But not the Obits. The Obits will stay the same way forever, and the lives of the people they memorialize are now static. How much easier it is to get a handle on something when you're pretty sure that no new information will be dropped on you at the last minute. Of course that isn't uniformly true. God bless the family that finds out years after a death about some unsavory aspect of the deceased (Grandma's S&M buddy memorializes her as such in his obit), and also those who find out about a heretofore unknown aspect of their loved one's good character (the janitor who saved millions to donate to charity). However, these are probably the exception to the rule. For the most folks, the obit is the final summary of what you did or did not do.
When I scan the obits, I look first for the tragedy. The birth and death dates that aren't far enough apart, the "died suddenly and unexpectedly," the ones that mention the memorial service being held at a high school. Tragedy wakes you up like no cup of coffee ever could, readying you for a day of making sure you get a few things taken care of, telling some folks how much you love (or despise) them, and doing something worth noting for chris'sake! It seems like a mistake to me to think that because I am 23 I have plenty of time to make my death noteworthy and my obit interesting. I've seen many 17-25 year olds in the paper, whose families were obviously struggling to come up with something notable about them without resorting to their remarkable ability to be an ass to their parents, their outrageous acne, their record breaking SAT scores, etc. They end up with something like, "Jessica/Kevin was a friend to everyone she/he met." No, they weren't. Why would they want to be? I much prefer the families who choose to acknowledge what may have been truly remarkable about their kid, but maybe they're the only ones who knew or appreciated it. "Epiphany Asteroid Jones once told her 2nd grade teacher to kiss off, and maintained that attitude ever since, applying it especially vigorously to her cancer." The lucky ones are those whose kids actually did do something that they would have wanted written about. "Mary volunteered as a Ski-for-All guide, helping people who were blind or had no legs to ski." It seems almost more tragic than a premature death when the parents can't think of anything to say about their kid. I don't want to be mean. The last place anyone hopes or plans to spend their creative writing energy is on their child's obit, and unlike the elderly, few teenagers pre-write the obit or mention what they want said. I guess I just hope that if I died right now, no one would censor themselves. Just pour out all the grief and humor you can find in my life and death, and publish it for posterity to dig up in a geneology library some day.
The next set of folks I look for are those who were married for 50+ years. Remarkable. That's something that, if I am hardworking, lucky, and dogged enough to accomplish, I damn sure want noted in my obit. If the spouse is surviving, I am forced to think about them. I have shared a bed with Alex for seven years, and I don't sleep well without his twitches and snorts, and the occasional, precious half-awake declaration of love. It's unimaginable how one would feel after 65 years, whether they were spectacular years or not. I guess for some it could be a sense of relief, but I have to think that for most it's more like losing three of your limbs, all at a go. "John leaves behind his wife of 67 years," is going to be a rarer and rarer sighting on the obit page. Those I read about who reached the 50 year mark were married when they were around 20, sometime in the 1940's. I know very few people now who are married before they're 30, if they marry at all. Those that do eventually marry proceed to get divorced in fairly short order. It seems like 20-25 years is the longest one can hope to be married these days. I certainly hope it's a trend that turns around, that some miracle of good communication skills and loving respect will present itself out of the depths of a nation immersed in bad examples on reality TV. In the meantime, I pay my respects to these hardworking and loyal spouses.
After premature deaths and long-time spouses, I read everyone else. A few minutes spent in meditation on people with no obit, just death notices. A few admiring thoughts for folks who did quirky things they must have caught flack for (collecting 150 antique vacuum cleaners comes to mind), and people who suffered the extraordinary and lived on (a child abducted and never heard from again, a holocaust survivor, any combat vets). I know there are lots of things not said in the obits that might be lovable or despicable, and I spend a minute contemplating what those things might be.
Then I close the paper, and having been reminded of the important stuff, live my life.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Not Much Cookin'
Not much to report at all today. I rode the bus to the shelter, which was great. Buses are fantastic when you have all the time in the world to get where you're going, and a good book to entertain you and keep the weirdos away. It was a perfect fall day here: cool, crisp, blue skies, and a breeze.
The shelter was quiet, and all I did was update obselete forms in an obselete word processing program. I worked with T., my favorite advocate. She is hardworking, up front, and knowledgeable. What more could anyone ask for.
I just finished a pretty good book, called The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears. And, after spending a few minutes thinking about it, I decided to add a reading list to this blog. I always appreciate a lead on a good book, and my mom has always (really, always-like since 2nd grade) encouraged me to start a reading list. Like many things my mom has encouraged me to do over the years, I regret not having done this sooner. Just trying to remember what I've read over the last few weeks was hard, let alone 2nd grade. I'll always remember Ramona, Nancy Drew, Zel, and unfortuantely and embarrassingly, the Babysitters Club series. Beyond that it's a long, mostly happy blur. The public library doesn't keep a list of what you check out, which is quaint, since I'm sure Homeland Security does.
Maybe I'll have more exciting things to say soon. If anyone actually reads this blog, post comments now or forever hold your peace when I start posting gory details of my cat's life because I think no one else is reading this....
The shelter was quiet, and all I did was update obselete forms in an obselete word processing program. I worked with T., my favorite advocate. She is hardworking, up front, and knowledgeable. What more could anyone ask for.
I just finished a pretty good book, called The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears. And, after spending a few minutes thinking about it, I decided to add a reading list to this blog. I always appreciate a lead on a good book, and my mom has always (really, always-like since 2nd grade) encouraged me to start a reading list. Like many things my mom has encouraged me to do over the years, I regret not having done this sooner. Just trying to remember what I've read over the last few weeks was hard, let alone 2nd grade. I'll always remember Ramona, Nancy Drew, Zel, and unfortuantely and embarrassingly, the Babysitters Club series. Beyond that it's a long, mostly happy blur. The public library doesn't keep a list of what you check out, which is quaint, since I'm sure Homeland Security does.
Maybe I'll have more exciting things to say soon. If anyone actually reads this blog, post comments now or forever hold your peace when I start posting gory details of my cat's life because I think no one else is reading this....
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Workaholics, relax-o-matics
I've been thinking a lot about work lately. Some would say I have time to think about it because I haven't been doing that much of it. I think it's part of my lifelong process of self-acceptance. Also, living with and loving the people I do, work is like a 7th house mate, a family member, the juicy friend that's great to gossip about around the dinner table.
Some people work a lot because they must in order to make ends meet. Other people genuinely love what they do for a living. Some feel obligated to work because their work is important to the world. But I've found that the people I know, regardless of their motivation for working or whether they take pride in the work itself, take pride in working a lot.
I'm not so sure working more than necessary is a good thing. Everyone seems to have a rebellious viewpoint on at least one generally excepted socio-cultural norm. My friend Ben thinks that lard is good for you, and damn the surgeon general. Several friends think that monogamy is a terrible and oppressive practice. A few disbelieve in the existence of most mental illness. I take issue with the moral value of work, specifically working a lot.
These work-a-lot types aren't the people I'd think they would be. It's not like they're stock brokers, day traders, ER residents, miners. They're union organizers, teachers, bar tenders, students, retail clerks. Alex, as some of you might know, is definitely a work-a-lot type, and he has so far come up with the best (and most damning) explanation of work-a-lots for me. "If everyone else would just work more, just do their share, I wouldn't have to work so hard." He told me this a few years ago, and I was overcome with guilt. I, through my relaxation, was working him to death. I immediately started a student group, joined a board, started volunteering at a shelter and a hospital. By God, I was going to do my part to save the hard working work-a-lot types from perishing for my relaxation sins. Of course, that is the vastly oversimplified version of events. I really did and still do care about the organizations and projects I am involved in.
Nothing changed except for my level of anxiety and self-loathing. I'm bad at being overworked, and for a long time that has been a source of shame for me. I have an irresistable urge to slack when I am overwhelmed, and it's not as pleasant as it sounds. At my breaking point, it happens like this: I lay down to sleep, at last, around 1am. I have nightmares all night, that make me cry out, thrash, and generally disrupt my own and Alex's sleep (recently, my spine was torn out by an alligator). After weeks of sleep that is basically more exhausting than it is restful, I wake up one morning, crack my eyes, and can't get out of bed. My heart is beating so fast I fear that I will have a heart attack. I know, from various failed attempts at athletic training, what my maximum heart rate is, and I know that I must me approaching it as I lay there sweating and panting, exhausted and unable to do the 8 bazillion things I have promised various committees, the homeless, the abused, my family, my friends, myself, that I will do. It goes on like this, until I close my eyes and wait, submit to the panic, and eventually it passes. If I have any sense, I go climb into the guest bed and go back to sleep. If not, I go get started on the 8 bazillion things, but the truth, I've learned from so many repeats of this episode, is that it's all over at this point. My relax-o-matic kicks in. I can't focus enough to get anything done. In my shame, I don't call or email or text anyone to let them know that I'll be dropping out of society for a few days or weeks. I just stop. Recently, I stopped as I have before, but this time I tried something different. I tried not to hate myself for stopping. The nightmares and the heart attacks continued for a while, but over the last few weeks they've been on the decline.
It's hard not to think of my inability to handle overwork as one of my greatest moral failings. There are all kinds of derogatory labels for people like me, but I know they're others out there. Partly because Alex is not one of them, and he complains frequently about people who all of a sudden, after a period of good work, stop returning his calls and emails, miss deadlines without warning, blow off important meetings. He is mystified, but I know. They're me. It doesn't help a lot on my mission of self-love that these people drive Alex crazy, but whether out of unconditional love or out of ignorance of my true relaxing nature, he loves me. I prefer to think it's the latter that gets us through.
One option that I've considered in the past is that other people only pretend to work harder than I find possible, unkindly fibbing me into attempting the unreasonable. Sadly, that theory has been disproved my my current acquaintances. In the interest of their privacy, I won't go into specifics of their schedules, but suffice to say that no one works merely 40 hours a week. Relaxation is a priority for no one. Reading the paper leisurely while drinking a hot cup of coffee, contemplatively staring out the window for a few minutes, browsing dusty corners of the local public library-none of this is penciled into their schedules. Some of them try, sometimes subtly, sometimes cuttingly, to make me feel like a bit of a loser for partaking in these activities. Lately, I refuse. I refuse to feel guilty. Not that I have reached Buddha-like peace with myself on this issue. I'm still just a little jealous of other people's capacity for work, but lately I've been hoping that they are a tad jealous of my capacity for doing nothing.
Some people work a lot because they must in order to make ends meet. Other people genuinely love what they do for a living. Some feel obligated to work because their work is important to the world. But I've found that the people I know, regardless of their motivation for working or whether they take pride in the work itself, take pride in working a lot.
I'm not so sure working more than necessary is a good thing. Everyone seems to have a rebellious viewpoint on at least one generally excepted socio-cultural norm. My friend Ben thinks that lard is good for you, and damn the surgeon general. Several friends think that monogamy is a terrible and oppressive practice. A few disbelieve in the existence of most mental illness. I take issue with the moral value of work, specifically working a lot.
These work-a-lot types aren't the people I'd think they would be. It's not like they're stock brokers, day traders, ER residents, miners. They're union organizers, teachers, bar tenders, students, retail clerks. Alex, as some of you might know, is definitely a work-a-lot type, and he has so far come up with the best (and most damning) explanation of work-a-lots for me. "If everyone else would just work more, just do their share, I wouldn't have to work so hard." He told me this a few years ago, and I was overcome with guilt. I, through my relaxation, was working him to death. I immediately started a student group, joined a board, started volunteering at a shelter and a hospital. By God, I was going to do my part to save the hard working work-a-lot types from perishing for my relaxation sins. Of course, that is the vastly oversimplified version of events. I really did and still do care about the organizations and projects I am involved in.
Nothing changed except for my level of anxiety and self-loathing. I'm bad at being overworked, and for a long time that has been a source of shame for me. I have an irresistable urge to slack when I am overwhelmed, and it's not as pleasant as it sounds. At my breaking point, it happens like this: I lay down to sleep, at last, around 1am. I have nightmares all night, that make me cry out, thrash, and generally disrupt my own and Alex's sleep (recently, my spine was torn out by an alligator). After weeks of sleep that is basically more exhausting than it is restful, I wake up one morning, crack my eyes, and can't get out of bed. My heart is beating so fast I fear that I will have a heart attack. I know, from various failed attempts at athletic training, what my maximum heart rate is, and I know that I must me approaching it as I lay there sweating and panting, exhausted and unable to do the 8 bazillion things I have promised various committees, the homeless, the abused, my family, my friends, myself, that I will do. It goes on like this, until I close my eyes and wait, submit to the panic, and eventually it passes. If I have any sense, I go climb into the guest bed and go back to sleep. If not, I go get started on the 8 bazillion things, but the truth, I've learned from so many repeats of this episode, is that it's all over at this point. My relax-o-matic kicks in. I can't focus enough to get anything done. In my shame, I don't call or email or text anyone to let them know that I'll be dropping out of society for a few days or weeks. I just stop. Recently, I stopped as I have before, but this time I tried something different. I tried not to hate myself for stopping. The nightmares and the heart attacks continued for a while, but over the last few weeks they've been on the decline.
It's hard not to think of my inability to handle overwork as one of my greatest moral failings. There are all kinds of derogatory labels for people like me, but I know they're others out there. Partly because Alex is not one of them, and he complains frequently about people who all of a sudden, after a period of good work, stop returning his calls and emails, miss deadlines without warning, blow off important meetings. He is mystified, but I know. They're me. It doesn't help a lot on my mission of self-love that these people drive Alex crazy, but whether out of unconditional love or out of ignorance of my true relaxing nature, he loves me. I prefer to think it's the latter that gets us through.
One option that I've considered in the past is that other people only pretend to work harder than I find possible, unkindly fibbing me into attempting the unreasonable. Sadly, that theory has been disproved my my current acquaintances. In the interest of their privacy, I won't go into specifics of their schedules, but suffice to say that no one works merely 40 hours a week. Relaxation is a priority for no one. Reading the paper leisurely while drinking a hot cup of coffee, contemplatively staring out the window for a few minutes, browsing dusty corners of the local public library-none of this is penciled into their schedules. Some of them try, sometimes subtly, sometimes cuttingly, to make me feel like a bit of a loser for partaking in these activities. Lately, I refuse. I refuse to feel guilty. Not that I have reached Buddha-like peace with myself on this issue. I'm still just a little jealous of other people's capacity for work, but lately I've been hoping that they are a tad jealous of my capacity for doing nothing.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Oi! The guilt!
Song o' the day: http://www.xtreak.com/go/carenott/130533/Trinity_Roots_-_Little_Things.m
I just called in sick to my postpartum job today, because I am so overwhelmed with other things I need to get done. In the longterm, it's a good decision because I'm working on my longterm, big picture plan today, but in the short term...Oh the guilt! I just need to be organized enough to work full time AND get nursing school stuff knocked out. But we all know that's not how I am, at least not at this stage of my self-improvement.
Things I'll be doing today:
1) Writing three birth stories and emailing them to clients
2) Calling to check in on postpartum mamas
3) Calling to check in on pregnant mamas
4) Emailing out birth plan forms/examples and homebirth supply lists to two clients
5) Rough drafting two essays and finishing the form part of the common application
6) Volunteering at the DV shelter
7) Mailing off some care packages
8) Deciding who to ask for letters of rec
9) Catching up on SMS board stuff....ugh
10) Updating my appointment book
Things I need to do tomorrow:
1) Take a float test for rowing (yep, I can tread water for 10 minutes!)
2) Study for GRE
3) Pick out some cologne for Alex (cause it's really for me...)
Alex is being incredibly wonderful helping me stay motivated and enthusiastic about nursing school applications. We daydreamed last night about how great it'll be to get acceptance letters (please, please, please!) and actually get to go somewhere new and do something new. The world is so wide! Staying focused on the outcome is definitely important, when it's so easy to get dragged down in the annoying details of applications.
I'm trying to think about any updates I haven't included since I last posted. Went to a great volunteer birth at the UWMC last week. Early in the labor I really didn't feel like I was connecting with the mama. The differences between us were so huge: she was African, already a mother, much older than me, probably not someone who would've chosen me had we interviewed. But I was the only volunteer available when she got to the hospital, and she was stuck with me-or at least I felt like she felt stuck with my cheerful, young, white, childless, English-speaking self. But as usual, when hard labor really set in, the walls came down, we connected, and afterward we felt like sisters for the 45 minutes or so I could stick around. It is wonderful and amazing what labor does to social boundaries and divisions.
I also got a kick in the pants from watching the new resident, and (I know this is totally prideful and arrogant) realizing that I know a bit more about normal labor and birth than he did, and possibly am even more familiar with the common drugs and interventions. To cut the guy some slack, all the newbies just started July 1st, so he hasn't had a whole lot of time yet, and maybe he doesn't even want to work in OB. But still-it made me realize how much I really have learned from going to all these births over the last couple of years. The interrupted sleep has paid off!
My twins moms had their babies yesterday-they are HUGE for twins, and so healthy! Yea!
Alex has a stress fracture and tendonitis in his wrist, probably from his bike trip. Poor guy can't ride his bike now, but he is quitting his job effective late September. That's soothing the wound of being bike-less.
As you can see from the To-Do list above, I need to go actually get things done.
Love ya's!
Caren
I just called in sick to my postpartum job today, because I am so overwhelmed with other things I need to get done. In the longterm, it's a good decision because I'm working on my longterm, big picture plan today, but in the short term...Oh the guilt! I just need to be organized enough to work full time AND get nursing school stuff knocked out. But we all know that's not how I am, at least not at this stage of my self-improvement.
Things I'll be doing today:
1) Writing three birth stories and emailing them to clients
2) Calling to check in on postpartum mamas
3) Calling to check in on pregnant mamas
4) Emailing out birth plan forms/examples and homebirth supply lists to two clients
5) Rough drafting two essays and finishing the form part of the common application
6) Volunteering at the DV shelter
7) Mailing off some care packages
8) Deciding who to ask for letters of rec
9) Catching up on SMS board stuff....ugh
10) Updating my appointment book
Things I need to do tomorrow:
1) Take a float test for rowing (yep, I can tread water for 10 minutes!)
2) Study for GRE
3) Pick out some cologne for Alex (cause it's really for me...)
Alex is being incredibly wonderful helping me stay motivated and enthusiastic about nursing school applications. We daydreamed last night about how great it'll be to get acceptance letters (please, please, please!) and actually get to go somewhere new and do something new. The world is so wide! Staying focused on the outcome is definitely important, when it's so easy to get dragged down in the annoying details of applications.
I'm trying to think about any updates I haven't included since I last posted. Went to a great volunteer birth at the UWMC last week. Early in the labor I really didn't feel like I was connecting with the mama. The differences between us were so huge: she was African, already a mother, much older than me, probably not someone who would've chosen me had we interviewed. But I was the only volunteer available when she got to the hospital, and she was stuck with me-or at least I felt like she felt stuck with my cheerful, young, white, childless, English-speaking self. But as usual, when hard labor really set in, the walls came down, we connected, and afterward we felt like sisters for the 45 minutes or so I could stick around. It is wonderful and amazing what labor does to social boundaries and divisions.
I also got a kick in the pants from watching the new resident, and (I know this is totally prideful and arrogant) realizing that I know a bit more about normal labor and birth than he did, and possibly am even more familiar with the common drugs and interventions. To cut the guy some slack, all the newbies just started July 1st, so he hasn't had a whole lot of time yet, and maybe he doesn't even want to work in OB. But still-it made me realize how much I really have learned from going to all these births over the last couple of years. The interrupted sleep has paid off!
My twins moms had their babies yesterday-they are HUGE for twins, and so healthy! Yea!
Alex has a stress fracture and tendonitis in his wrist, probably from his bike trip. Poor guy can't ride his bike now, but he is quitting his job effective late September. That's soothing the wound of being bike-less.
As you can see from the To-Do list above, I need to go actually get things done.
Love ya's!
Caren
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Holiness Issues in Blasts
What a lovely morning. 59 degrees, drizzling. The Bird is squaking away in her crib, and I'm sure her mom is trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of precious sleep. Here's the perfect song for the morning.
Alex, Ben and Jason left for their bike trip through the Columbia River Gorge this morning at 6:30am. I hauled myself out of bed to wave them off with a white rag, like a good Adkison-Ott girl would. Then back to bed with a hot cup of coffee and a good book. Annie Dillard is my favorite essayist. She writes about the details of things, and I think I move through the world more appreciatively after I read her writing.
"This hospital, like every other, is a hole in the universe through which holiness issues in blasts. It blows both ways, in and out of time. In wards above and below me men and women are dying. Their hearts seize, give out or clatter, their kidneys fail, their lungs harden or drown, their brains clog or jam, or die for blood. Their awarenesses lower like lamp wicks. Off they go, these many great and beloved people, as death subtracts them one by one from the living-about 164,000 of them a day worldwide, 6,000 a day in the United States-and the hospital shunts their bodies away. Simultaneously, here they come, these many new people, for now absurdly alike-about 10,000 of them a day in this country-as apparently shabby replacements."
Last night's Torchlight Parade was awesome. My favorite, of the at least 12 drill teams, was the Baby Dangerettes. All between 6 and 12 years old, these little girls rocked the tasseled cowgirl boots and sequined uniforms with attitude. "Bang, bang, choo choo train, come on girls and shake that thang!" Indeed! The high school marching bands were poignant-all arms and legs and tubas, faces temporarily ravaged by acne, playing for all they're worth. At the end of the parade the Seafair pirates come through, blasting realistically loud cannons, terrifying small children, and running off with pretty bystanders.
I've been working on my Must-Do List. Here is a start on it.
1) Be a foster parent
2) Ride the Duck
3) Complete a triathalon (Next August, Danskin Women's Triathalon)
4) Catch 10,000 babies in my lifetime (9,998 to go!)
5) Catch babies somewhere else in the world, too
6) Live in NYC (With Alex in Philly, I should be able to at least visit NYC sometime this year!)
7) Kill my TV for good
8) Learn to play the fiddle
9) Hike a National Scenic Trail (or all of them...)
10) Host a Love Feast
11) Go ice skating each winter
12) Try rock climbing
13) Rent a canoe on Lake Washington
14) Become a nurse-practitioner (nurse-midwife/FNP) (On my way to a BSN from UW!)
15) Make a budget and stick to it for 6 months (2 months down!)
16) Consistently balance my checkbook on the first day of the month (REMOVE FROM LIST: HUBBY IN CHARGE OF THIS NOW!!!! MUAHAHAHA!!!)
17) Go to yoga at least once a week
18) Develop my spiritual practice in some way-need to think about how
19) Learn to play cello
20) Volunteer at a hospice
21) Earn my board certification as a lactation consultant
More to come!
I'm off to church, then to see Mama Mia with Alex's sister Jennifer and her kids, who are visiting from El Paso, TX this week.
All my best!
Caren
Alex, Ben and Jason left for their bike trip through the Columbia River Gorge this morning at 6:30am. I hauled myself out of bed to wave them off with a white rag, like a good Adkison-Ott girl would. Then back to bed with a hot cup of coffee and a good book. Annie Dillard is my favorite essayist. She writes about the details of things, and I think I move through the world more appreciatively after I read her writing.
"This hospital, like every other, is a hole in the universe through which holiness issues in blasts. It blows both ways, in and out of time. In wards above and below me men and women are dying. Their hearts seize, give out or clatter, their kidneys fail, their lungs harden or drown, their brains clog or jam, or die for blood. Their awarenesses lower like lamp wicks. Off they go, these many great and beloved people, as death subtracts them one by one from the living-about 164,000 of them a day worldwide, 6,000 a day in the United States-and the hospital shunts their bodies away. Simultaneously, here they come, these many new people, for now absurdly alike-about 10,000 of them a day in this country-as apparently shabby replacements."
Last night's Torchlight Parade was awesome. My favorite, of the at least 12 drill teams, was the Baby Dangerettes. All between 6 and 12 years old, these little girls rocked the tasseled cowgirl boots and sequined uniforms with attitude. "Bang, bang, choo choo train, come on girls and shake that thang!" Indeed! The high school marching bands were poignant-all arms and legs and tubas, faces temporarily ravaged by acne, playing for all they're worth. At the end of the parade the Seafair pirates come through, blasting realistically loud cannons, terrifying small children, and running off with pretty bystanders.
I've been working on my Must-Do List. Here is a start on it.
1) Be a foster parent
2) Ride the Duck
3) Complete a triathalon (Next August, Danskin Women's Triathalon)
4) Catch 10,000 babies in my lifetime (9,998 to go!)
5) Catch babies somewhere else in the world, too
6) Live in NYC (With Alex in Philly, I should be able to at least visit NYC sometime this year!)
7) Kill my TV for good
8) Learn to play the fiddle
9) Hike a National Scenic Trail (or all of them...)
10) Host a Love Feast
11) Go ice skating each winter
12) Try rock climbing
13) Rent a canoe on Lake Washington
14) Become a nurse-practitioner (nurse-midwife/FNP) (On my way to a BSN from UW!)
15) Make a budget and stick to it for 6 months (2 months down!)
16) Consistently balance my checkbook on the first day of the month (REMOVE FROM LIST: HUBBY IN CHARGE OF THIS NOW!!!! MUAHAHAHA!!!)
17) Go to yoga at least once a week
18) Develop my spiritual practice in some way-need to think about how
19) Learn to play cello
20) Volunteer at a hospice
21) Earn my board certification as a lactation consultant
More to come!
I'm off to church, then to see Mama Mia with Alex's sister Jennifer and her kids, who are visiting from El Paso, TX this week.
All my best!
Caren
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Long time, no write
Hi Folks!
So much has happened since I last wrote. Nothing extraordinary, but enough to keep me hopping (and not sleeping too much). Two babies, a wedding, career decisions, nursing school stuff.
I'll start with the wedding: Had great fun wearing this red headed babe while her parents tied the knot. About the only time I didn't hold her was while her mom nursed her (she had a custom designed wedding dress that allowed her to unzip from the side to nurse-brilliant!) and when her mom carried her down the aisle as her "baby bouquet"! I danced a lot, and got a kick out of watching other folks dance. It was a half-Jewish wedding, and they did the chair dance (apperntly the official name is Hora), where the music builds to a crescendo, people dance in a frantic spiral, and eventually some drunk uncles and cousins hoist the couple onto wobbling chairs while they cling to each other via a white hanky. This was definitely the energetic high point of the whole weekend of wedding festivities. While I am not Jewish, nor am I planning a wedding, I think if I did get married I might be forgiven for the cultural appropriation if I stole this dance. After all, Alex's paternal Grandmother was Jewish.
As previously mentioned, I was on high alert for two term clients during the wedding festivities, one who was due Saturday, the other not due until today. The one due today was having a scheduled cesarean birth for a breech, but I had a feeling she wouldn't wait for the scheduled birthday. And she didn't! So I went to her birth on Sunday. A lovely 7#4oz baby girl.
Almost no one intentionally catches vaginal breech babies anymore, at least not in Washington. I've heard that in Oregon there are some home birth midwives who will, and at The Farm in TN they will (they do a lot of higher risk births at the Farm, but they are also set up with a basic NICU, private ambulances, a helicopter pad, and some very, very highly skilled midwives). For the most part, the kabosh was put on vaginal breeches by this international trial of vaginal versus cesarean outcomes for breech birth. The data was so apparently conclusive that they stopped the study early. Ever since, the standard of care is a cesarean for all known breeches. However, the study itself is quite controversial. Questions include: is a randomized trial really an appropriate methodology for this condition, where most practitioners would make decisions based on other findings such as parity, fetal weight estimates, overall health of the fetus, pelvimetry, etc? While the study claimed that experienced practitioners were managing all the vaginal breeches, in reality it was used as a teaching tool for inexperienced OB's, and only 2.8% of the practitioners were actually "experienced". Also, this was an international study but failed to take into account the fact that major abdominal surgery might be less safe than vaginal breech birth in area with limited access to things like epidurals, blood products, and antibiotics. I am absolutely all for evidence based care, but you really need to be careful about making sure your evidence is high quality before you dive in head first (or butt first in this case...). Unfortunately, one of the side-effects of this study has been that now, since no one is having breech babes vaginally, no one is getting experienced in catching them. So, vaginal breech birth is an endangered skill set, and that will make it all the harder to reverse the policy if we later realize that vaginal birth might be safer for some moms and babes.
At any rate, Sunday was a cesarean breech birth. Frank breech babies are funny when they come out, because their legs stick up next to their ears, just like they have been in the womb. Usually they relax on their own, some need treatment for hip problems. Anyway, that was Sunday.
My Wednesday birth was just as lovely and normal as apple pie. Both births were with one of my favorite nurse-midwives. Why is she one of my faves? She strikes a very difficult balance between faith and trust in normal birth, and a hawk's eye for abnormality that requires intervention. For me, she defines midwifery care: a focus on educating and empowering parents, providing guidance and information, and being positive, respectful, and encouraging but also scrupulously honest. Not to mention she's got mad skills, yo!
I am very grateful to all the providers (midwives, OB's and nurses) that I learn from at every birth. From some I learn great tricks and valuable lessons, others it's more of a cautionary tale.
In other news, I think I've told most of you who could (or could not) be reading this blog, that I am planning to stay home with the Bird this fall. People keep asking me why. Its because I want to be off call, sleep through the night, go out of cell phone range, and have lots of time for wrapping up nursing school apps. But, I can't say it's an easy decision. For one thing, I do love my job, as draining as it can be. Also, I have a little fear that people won't respect me as much as a stay at home auntie, as they did as a small business owning doula who dashes out at a moment's notice at three in the morning to help mothers birth. It's just not as cool. Alex says he wonders how this fits into my overall career plan, and the answer is that it really doesn't, except as it gives me time to work like mad on nursing school applications. I'll also have more time to volunteer as a doula at the UW Medical Center, and to volunteer as an advocate at New Beginnings Shelter, both of which I love and are valuable experience for my career. Like I said though, not an easy choice.
I'm going to wrap this up. Alex and I are going to the Torchlight Parade with his sister tonight, and then he leaves for a week long bike trip through the Columbia River Gorge tomorrow at 0-dark thirty.
LOVE!!!
Caren
So much has happened since I last wrote. Nothing extraordinary, but enough to keep me hopping (and not sleeping too much). Two babies, a wedding, career decisions, nursing school stuff.
I'll start with the wedding: Had great fun wearing this red headed babe while her parents tied the knot. About the only time I didn't hold her was while her mom nursed her (she had a custom designed wedding dress that allowed her to unzip from the side to nurse-brilliant!) and when her mom carried her down the aisle as her "baby bouquet"! I danced a lot, and got a kick out of watching other folks dance. It was a half-Jewish wedding, and they did the chair dance (apperntly the official name is Hora), where the music builds to a crescendo, people dance in a frantic spiral, and eventually some drunk uncles and cousins hoist the couple onto wobbling chairs while they cling to each other via a white hanky. This was definitely the energetic high point of the whole weekend of wedding festivities. While I am not Jewish, nor am I planning a wedding, I think if I did get married I might be forgiven for the cultural appropriation if I stole this dance. After all, Alex's paternal Grandmother was Jewish.
As previously mentioned, I was on high alert for two term clients during the wedding festivities, one who was due Saturday, the other not due until today. The one due today was having a scheduled cesarean birth for a breech, but I had a feeling she wouldn't wait for the scheduled birthday. And she didn't! So I went to her birth on Sunday. A lovely 7#4oz baby girl.
Almost no one intentionally catches vaginal breech babies anymore, at least not in Washington. I've heard that in Oregon there are some home birth midwives who will, and at The Farm in TN they will (they do a lot of higher risk births at the Farm, but they are also set up with a basic NICU, private ambulances, a helicopter pad, and some very, very highly skilled midwives). For the most part, the kabosh was put on vaginal breeches by this international trial of vaginal versus cesarean outcomes for breech birth. The data was so apparently conclusive that they stopped the study early. Ever since, the standard of care is a cesarean for all known breeches. However, the study itself is quite controversial. Questions include: is a randomized trial really an appropriate methodology for this condition, where most practitioners would make decisions based on other findings such as parity, fetal weight estimates, overall health of the fetus, pelvimetry, etc? While the study claimed that experienced practitioners were managing all the vaginal breeches, in reality it was used as a teaching tool for inexperienced OB's, and only 2.8% of the practitioners were actually "experienced". Also, this was an international study but failed to take into account the fact that major abdominal surgery might be less safe than vaginal breech birth in area with limited access to things like epidurals, blood products, and antibiotics. I am absolutely all for evidence based care, but you really need to be careful about making sure your evidence is high quality before you dive in head first (or butt first in this case...). Unfortunately, one of the side-effects of this study has been that now, since no one is having breech babes vaginally, no one is getting experienced in catching them. So, vaginal breech birth is an endangered skill set, and that will make it all the harder to reverse the policy if we later realize that vaginal birth might be safer for some moms and babes.
At any rate, Sunday was a cesarean breech birth. Frank breech babies are funny when they come out, because their legs stick up next to their ears, just like they have been in the womb. Usually they relax on their own, some need treatment for hip problems. Anyway, that was Sunday.
My Wednesday birth was just as lovely and normal as apple pie. Both births were with one of my favorite nurse-midwives. Why is she one of my faves? She strikes a very difficult balance between faith and trust in normal birth, and a hawk's eye for abnormality that requires intervention. For me, she defines midwifery care: a focus on educating and empowering parents, providing guidance and information, and being positive, respectful, and encouraging but also scrupulously honest. Not to mention she's got mad skills, yo!
I am very grateful to all the providers (midwives, OB's and nurses) that I learn from at every birth. From some I learn great tricks and valuable lessons, others it's more of a cautionary tale.
In other news, I think I've told most of you who could (or could not) be reading this blog, that I am planning to stay home with the Bird this fall. People keep asking me why. Its because I want to be off call, sleep through the night, go out of cell phone range, and have lots of time for wrapping up nursing school apps. But, I can't say it's an easy decision. For one thing, I do love my job, as draining as it can be. Also, I have a little fear that people won't respect me as much as a stay at home auntie, as they did as a small business owning doula who dashes out at a moment's notice at three in the morning to help mothers birth. It's just not as cool. Alex says he wonders how this fits into my overall career plan, and the answer is that it really doesn't, except as it gives me time to work like mad on nursing school applications. I'll also have more time to volunteer as a doula at the UW Medical Center, and to volunteer as an advocate at New Beginnings Shelter, both of which I love and are valuable experience for my career. Like I said though, not an easy choice.
I'm going to wrap this up. Alex and I are going to the Torchlight Parade with his sister tonight, and then he leaves for a week long bike trip through the Columbia River Gorge tomorrow at 0-dark thirty.
LOVE!!!
Caren
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Duck, Duck, BIRD!
Well, nothing too exciting happened yesterday. Except....BIRD SAID HER FIRST WORD!!!! I've been waiting practically since she was born to see what this brilliant little person was thinking about. Turns out she's got ducks on the brain! Mama Bird gave her a little stuffed terry cloth duck, which the Bird absolutely adores. She loves to hug, chew on, and whack this duck. When I go to pick her up from a nap I often find her chillin' in her crib with Duck. So Papa Bird and I were holding it up for her and saying 'Duck' over and over and over, ad nauseum. Bird must have gotten sick of us idiots babbling on about her duck and not playing with it, so she put a stop to it by holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender and saying "DUCK"! Wow. It's somehow made me feel like I know what her voice is, even though she's been babbling away loudly for months now. That she articulated an actual word that we both know the meaning of just made her into such a kid. Supposedly she's only supposed to know 3 words or so by 12 months (she's 10 months now), but this Bird is smarter than the average Bird, so I wouldn't be surprised if she starts work on her first novel next week. Something perhaps entitled: Boobs, Ducks, and Pureed Carrots: The Three Great Loves of Baby Bird's Life.
In other news yesterday, I got to go on an Argosy cruise! What scenery! The couple I'm babysitting for had a great rehearsal dinner party while we cruised the Puget Sound for three hours. Their little red-headed 5 week old slept right through it, despite being the subject of the Auntie & Granny Paparazzi. I wore her in the Moby all night to avoid a massive game of pass the baby. Hopefully I'll post some pics soon.
The minute we got back to the dock I got a page from a second time mom who thought for sure she was in early labor. Fortunately for me, I've found that second time moms often labor at night for days or even weeks, and then stop completely during the day. My old midwife pointed this trend out to me, and attributed it to a brilliant evolutionary development: labor at night, take care of the other young during the day, and then eventually have your babe under the cover of darkness. It was also a full moon last night. Anyway, I did get a full night of sleep, and dreamed that this mom had a precipitous unplanned homebirth. I caught her baby, covered in thick mec (I don't carry any birth equipment with me, because I never intend to catch babies, but in my dream I tried to suction this kiddo with my mouth over his nose and mouth-not super effective). He was pink and toned, and all kinds of supernatural weather events (lightning filling the sky, flying rainbows, water spouts on Lake Washington) were happening outside. I told the dad to call 911, but they never came, and I did the whole birth myself (intact perineum and a lovely placenta, but a slow trickle hemorrhage that I gave her Shepherd's Purse and lots of fundal massage for, BTW). This dream was perhaps partly due to being almost done reading the last Harry Potter book, partly because I did accidentally catch a baby the other day (but in the hospital), and partly because I love this mama and I really want her to have a calm, spiritual, and healthy birth-but not an unplanned homebirth!
I rode my bike down to the pier and back last night, which was fun. Everyone was out in the International District and Pioneer Square, celebrating summer, Friday night, and a full moon. Some fella hung out the side of his souped up blue caddy with gold rims, and asked for a high five! Sorry man, too slow for me!
Gotta go! I'm off to yoga at the Y, and then maybe Goodwill for a dress to wear to the wedding tonight. I also had a dream last night about a dress I tried on years ago at a thrift store and loved, but it was too small. In my dream I went back to the store and the dress was 75% off, so I thought, 'Why not, I'll just try it again.' It fit like a charm.
Love,
Caren
In other news yesterday, I got to go on an Argosy cruise! What scenery! The couple I'm babysitting for had a great rehearsal dinner party while we cruised the Puget Sound for three hours. Their little red-headed 5 week old slept right through it, despite being the subject of the Auntie & Granny Paparazzi. I wore her in the Moby all night to avoid a massive game of pass the baby. Hopefully I'll post some pics soon.
The minute we got back to the dock I got a page from a second time mom who thought for sure she was in early labor. Fortunately for me, I've found that second time moms often labor at night for days or even weeks, and then stop completely during the day. My old midwife pointed this trend out to me, and attributed it to a brilliant evolutionary development: labor at night, take care of the other young during the day, and then eventually have your babe under the cover of darkness. It was also a full moon last night. Anyway, I did get a full night of sleep, and dreamed that this mom had a precipitous unplanned homebirth. I caught her baby, covered in thick mec (I don't carry any birth equipment with me, because I never intend to catch babies, but in my dream I tried to suction this kiddo with my mouth over his nose and mouth-not super effective). He was pink and toned, and all kinds of supernatural weather events (lightning filling the sky, flying rainbows, water spouts on Lake Washington) were happening outside. I told the dad to call 911, but they never came, and I did the whole birth myself (intact perineum and a lovely placenta, but a slow trickle hemorrhage that I gave her Shepherd's Purse and lots of fundal massage for, BTW). This dream was perhaps partly due to being almost done reading the last Harry Potter book, partly because I did accidentally catch a baby the other day (but in the hospital), and partly because I love this mama and I really want her to have a calm, spiritual, and healthy birth-but not an unplanned homebirth!
I rode my bike down to the pier and back last night, which was fun. Everyone was out in the International District and Pioneer Square, celebrating summer, Friday night, and a full moon. Some fella hung out the side of his souped up blue caddy with gold rims, and asked for a high five! Sorry man, too slow for me!
Gotta go! I'm off to yoga at the Y, and then maybe Goodwill for a dress to wear to the wedding tonight. I also had a dream last night about a dress I tried on years ago at a thrift store and loved, but it was too small. In my dream I went back to the store and the dress was 75% off, so I thought, 'Why not, I'll just try it again.' It fit like a charm.
Love,
Caren
Friday, July 18, 2008
Sore buns
To the tune of a blues song....
Woke up this morning (du du du du dum)
My buns were real sore (du du du du dum)
Accidentally did a backbend
Last night in my class (du du du du dum)
Turns out (du du du du dum)
That hurts my ass (du du du du dum)
This musical genius is dedicated to the elderly black man freestyling the blues at the bus stop on Queen Anne last night. Made me smile.
As it turns out, there was more than precocious puberty stopping me from dancing all these years. I have no coordination, no sense of rhythm, and not so much grace either. All that didn't stop me from having a blast last night at Capoiera. Despite the fact that I may be the worst dancer/martial artist these folks have ever seen, they were all rediculously friendly. For my seven bucks, I got a good two hours of almost one on one instruction from an amazing teacher who managed to not make me feel like a total idiot. He said to give it 15 classes before I decide that I'm just not cut out for it (although he certainly didn't rule that possibility out). So, I figure if I have no improvement by the end of August, maybe I should try some other athletic feat. Frolfing, anyone?
Today I'm taking care of a recent birth clients' newborn while she and her honey tie the knot at the Seattle Aquarium. I'm looking forward to snuggle time with this 5 week old cutie, seeing the aquarium, and maybe even shaking some sore boo-tay with the baby in the Moby.
Hopefully something exciting enough to write about will happen today!
Love yas!
Caren
Woke up this morning (du du du du dum)
My buns were real sore (du du du du dum)
Accidentally did a backbend
Last night in my class (du du du du dum)
Turns out (du du du du dum)
That hurts my ass (du du du du dum)
This musical genius is dedicated to the elderly black man freestyling the blues at the bus stop on Queen Anne last night. Made me smile.
As it turns out, there was more than precocious puberty stopping me from dancing all these years. I have no coordination, no sense of rhythm, and not so much grace either. All that didn't stop me from having a blast last night at Capoiera. Despite the fact that I may be the worst dancer/martial artist these folks have ever seen, they were all rediculously friendly. For my seven bucks, I got a good two hours of almost one on one instruction from an amazing teacher who managed to not make me feel like a total idiot. He said to give it 15 classes before I decide that I'm just not cut out for it (although he certainly didn't rule that possibility out). So, I figure if I have no improvement by the end of August, maybe I should try some other athletic feat. Frolfing, anyone?
Today I'm taking care of a recent birth clients' newborn while she and her honey tie the knot at the Seattle Aquarium. I'm looking forward to snuggle time with this 5 week old cutie, seeing the aquarium, and maybe even shaking some sore boo-tay with the baby in the Moby.
Hopefully something exciting enough to write about will happen today!
Love yas!
Caren
Thursday, July 17, 2008
First Post
Hi, friends, family, and hopefully not strangers.
I don't know why I'm creating this blog really, except that I am procastinating in a major way on getting nursing school applications done, and studying for the GRE. It's truly amazing the things I can get done when there is something much more important that really needs to be done. Other reasons to blog: to keep in touch with family that lives far away, to keep up (or develop, depending on your opinion) some writing skills, and to journal what I hope will be a fantastic, fun, creative, and daring year for me.It seems presumptuous that folks would want to read about my little life, but I'm putting it out here anyway.
The call of adventure has been loud in my ears lately. The prospect of not being tethered to my cell phone and pager this fall, when I go off call for about 6 months, might have something to do with it. Less tangibly though, I have just had a realization that this is it!! This is my life. Not having time, money, a killer bod, experience, or (my favorite) that it's too late to be a child prodigy so why bother, are awfully lame excuses.
I read an article in the NYT magazine the other day about people's "Must-Do" lists, list of things to do before they die. I don't have such a list yet-look for updates in future posts. But you know how I dig lists, so look for one in future postings. Share yours in the comments section!
Tonight I am trying something really intimidating to me: Capoeira. It's a combo of dance and martial arts, traditionally practiced by Brazilian slaves. Slaves could practice a self-defense system, without slave owners seeing them doing anything but dancing. I've wanted to try it for about 2 years, but...dance? Me? Not a good combo. I haven't wanted to dance since about 3rd grade, when I had to wear a leotard to tap and ballet, despite being a bit overdeveloped for my age. Humiliating. But Capoiera? No leotard required! So why not give it a try? I'll update you on any injuries.
Last Saturday I knocked off another Must-Do. I got to participate in a cadaver lab at a local medical school. Amazing! It's really indescribable. All 23 people were so unique, and the stories of their lives were marked on their bodies: someone who wore high heels way, way too much; someone who was very physically active and fit; someone who loved tattoos. It also gave me an appreciation for the resiliency of the human body, all they go through in our lives, and keep working for us (more or less). I definitely, for the record, would like to donate my body for this purpose. I only wish I could be there to see what's unique about my insides!
Ok, well. I better get to work on nursing school stuff. Today, I'll order transcripts, fill out background check forms, and rough draft my general essay, so I can customize it for each school. FYI, the schools I am applying for are: NYU, Vanderbilt, Hawaii Pacific University, University of Hawaii, University of Illinois-Chicago, University of Washington, Seattle University, Oregon Health and Sciences University, and a few other safety schools. Oi! I keep telling myself that no one can say yes if I don't ask!
Love to all!
Caren
I don't know why I'm creating this blog really, except that I am procastinating in a major way on getting nursing school applications done, and studying for the GRE. It's truly amazing the things I can get done when there is something much more important that really needs to be done. Other reasons to blog: to keep in touch with family that lives far away, to keep up (or develop, depending on your opinion) some writing skills, and to journal what I hope will be a fantastic, fun, creative, and daring year for me.It seems presumptuous that folks would want to read about my little life, but I'm putting it out here anyway.
The call of adventure has been loud in my ears lately. The prospect of not being tethered to my cell phone and pager this fall, when I go off call for about 6 months, might have something to do with it. Less tangibly though, I have just had a realization that this is it!! This is my life. Not having time, money, a killer bod, experience, or (my favorite) that it's too late to be a child prodigy so why bother, are awfully lame excuses.
I read an article in the NYT magazine the other day about people's "Must-Do" lists, list of things to do before they die. I don't have such a list yet-look for updates in future posts. But you know how I dig lists, so look for one in future postings. Share yours in the comments section!
Tonight I am trying something really intimidating to me: Capoeira. It's a combo of dance and martial arts, traditionally practiced by Brazilian slaves. Slaves could practice a self-defense system, without slave owners seeing them doing anything but dancing. I've wanted to try it for about 2 years, but...dance? Me? Not a good combo. I haven't wanted to dance since about 3rd grade, when I had to wear a leotard to tap and ballet, despite being a bit overdeveloped for my age. Humiliating. But Capoiera? No leotard required! So why not give it a try? I'll update you on any injuries.
Last Saturday I knocked off another Must-Do. I got to participate in a cadaver lab at a local medical school. Amazing! It's really indescribable. All 23 people were so unique, and the stories of their lives were marked on their bodies: someone who wore high heels way, way too much; someone who was very physically active and fit; someone who loved tattoos. It also gave me an appreciation for the resiliency of the human body, all they go through in our lives, and keep working for us (more or less). I definitely, for the record, would like to donate my body for this purpose. I only wish I could be there to see what's unique about my insides!
Ok, well. I better get to work on nursing school stuff. Today, I'll order transcripts, fill out background check forms, and rough draft my general essay, so I can customize it for each school. FYI, the schools I am applying for are: NYU, Vanderbilt, Hawaii Pacific University, University of Hawaii, University of Illinois-Chicago, University of Washington, Seattle University, Oregon Health and Sciences University, and a few other safety schools. Oi! I keep telling myself that no one can say yes if I don't ask!
Love to all!
Caren
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