Her mother's daughter

Two stories about my kid.

Story #1: The case of the disappearing chocolate
Ellison's daycare had a class Easter egg hunt last month. All the parents brought little plastic eggs stuffed with candy, and the teachers "hid" them on the playground (=not really hidden at all, just lying around in the open). When I picked her up, the teachers told me how all the kids were toddling around, picking up eggs. But when they looked up, my child had only a couple eggs but a face full of chocolate. Apparently she was the only one smart enough to bust into the eggs and go straight for the good stuff. That's my girl.

Story #2: One sock, two sock
When I picked her up today, she saw me through the door and stood up from the table (where she was impatiently awaiting afternoon snack #2) and ran for me. With only one sock and shoe on. The teacher had her other shoe, with the sock neatly tucked inside. That's Elle's thing, you see, to take off her shoe (usually just one, she likes to save the other for later) and then the sock, and then tuck the sock into the shoe. It seems she is the only child in her class who does this. The others scatter socks and shoes willy nilly all over the place. They thought we'd taught her to do the sock-tuck thing to keep track of them. Nope. She's just type A by nature. Again, that's my girl.

Her cover girl pose. And yes, I let my child chew on paper towel tubes. Don't judge me.

Me and my PTSD

I have to re-certify my ACLS* training for my new hire credentialing. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I can do this via a computer program and then just go take the test at the medical school next week. So there's this little program, kinda like the Sims, where I am the puppeteer of the little on-screen code team.
And ya know what? This is giving me flashbacks to all those terrifying nights in the ICU, where I sat awake at the nurse station all night because I somehow felt like if I watched the tele monitors, no one would dare to die on me. Know what else? I still hate coding people. Even if it's just a mannequin. Even if it's just a two dimensional, on screen figment of someone else's imagination. I did my time in the ICU, and I think I did it (mostly) well. But codes make me sooooo anxious. I mean, I can pause this and look up the answer to make sure I don't kill my patient. I mean my mannequin. I mean my virtual mannequin. And it still makes my palms sweat!
Thank goodness for rheumatology. Because even though I'll always carry my code card in my pocket, just in case, I can sleep at night knowing there is no realistic chance I'll ever have to do that again. So a big thank you to all the adrenaline-junkie ICU docs out there. I'll stick to my steroids, thank you very much.


*ACLS=Advanced Cardiac Life Support=coding somebody

Battle of the sexes: The dirty work

I was doing laundry last week and just not feeling in the mood to do so. I got everything dried, sorted, and folded, and then the laundry blahs just kind of hit me.

 

Me: So I'm not in the mood to put the laundry away, which means you're in charge of putting your own socks in the drawer.

Nick: What?! That's not right. How about I make you mow your half of the yard.

Me: But I never spend any time out there. So I shouldn't have to mow it.

Nick: I don't ever spend time out in the yard, so how come I'm the one stuck mowing it?

Me: Uh, yes you do. You spend a lot of time in the yard while you're out there mowing it. So there you have it.

 

Needless to say, Nick was less than amused by my so-called "circular" logic. I say he's just a sore loser.

Up in smoke

When searching for a picture of recently-mentioned freshman self with short hair, I found this photo.

Now here's a story for you. Jen and I did spring break at Padre one year in college. I'd booked us this cheap motel really close to the beach. Then just a few days before our trip, I got an e-mail. They regretted to inform me the hotel had been destroyed in a fire. Hmm, quite unfortunate. The good news is that they booked us into another motel (still motel not hotel but overall nicer than the original). As we trekked to the island, we passed by our burnt-up spring break dreams and couldn't resist taking this photo.

Taking the plunge

Remember those commercials from the '80s - the Nestea plunge? They got nothing on me. Last week, I chopped my hair off. Yes, you read that right. I got my ears lowered, a lot. See exhibit A.

Ellison couldn't care less about my hair, but she really digs my new bubble necklace. It makes a delightful noise when shaken, which she demonstrates for me every few seconds.

What do you think? It's taken me several days to adjust, but I'm finally ready to share my decision with all my e-friends. What do you think? I think it's a great haircut and looks surprisingly good. Fortunately, I can't find a picture from freshman year (everything was still 35 mm back then) when I chopped my hair to a similar length with dramatically different results. (sidebar to Jen - soooo glad we didn't peak in high school) It's taken me years to get the courage to try it again. And while I like it, the jury's still out on whether I like it more than my long hair. I guess I have a while to decide, since I estimate it would take 9 months or so to grow it back out.

Diversifying my portfolio

Because of a scheduling fluke, I had a really tiny clinic this morning. Good and bad. Good for my laziness, bad for business. But really I tell you that to tell you this. In my 4 appointments this morning, I conducted the visit in sign language, Arabic, English, and Spanish. Well, I wouldn't say that I so much "conducted" those first 2 visits as I watched the back-and-forth verbal tennis match between patient and translator.

Only in America, huh?

Loose end potpourri

Various and sundry topics on which I've left you, my adoring public, hanging...

1) working out 5 days/week in January: I came close. I think I missed 1 day. But it was really, really hard. Even though I go into work early so I can leave early, the evenings are still just too short. So I've been on and off the wagon. Lately I'm back on the wagon - 3 days so far this week. I did assign myself an A for effort and therefore treated myself to a manicure as promised.

2) the Shabby Apple: Remember a million years ago when I said I wanted to buy something from the Shabby Apple once I lost the baby weight? Well those pounds have been gone for months (thank goodness), but I never took the plunge. Buying clothes I can't try on just makes me too nervous. But have no fear; I've done plenty of other shopping to compensate.

3) mom's kitchen: Is still not done. Close but no teddy bear. [Sidebar: In 5th grade Mrs. Elmore made us learn a phrase every day {or was it week?} from the dictionary of cultural literacy, which documents the meaning and origin of such phrases as "you can't have your cake and eat it, too." When we got to "close but no cigar," she made a comment that smoking is bad for you and that you can't even win cigars at carnivals anymore. One boy said, "Well then why don't they change it to close but no teddy bear?" He was of course being completely facetious, but it stuck with me ever since.] The back splash might get done next week, and the oven is ready and waiting for the perfect oven-shaped hole to be cut in the cabinet. Soon, very soon.

4) the 30-day challenge: Remember that time I said I would only listen to the Christian radio station for a whole month? Well I made it. But I don't think they're gonna put me on one of their promo ads anytime soon because I am not a full-time convert. I just can't handle all the chipper perkiness so early in the morning. When the traffic girl told me to pack my patience yesterday morning, it felt really good to switch that dial.


Um, I think that's all. But I'm taking requests if you have any burning questions or feel like I didn't give a topic adequate closure.