Birthdays and Real Life

Today was Megan's second birthday. I am not having her party until tomorrow, but two years ago today I learned my baby would share her birthday with my Granny--which had to be a wonderful sign. I would love to write about all of the magical memories we made today when it was just the two of us. Those special bonding moments that can only happen between a mother and her daughter. I am picturing things like swinging in the park in the sunshine and kicking a ball around in a lush, green back yard, but those things did not happen today.

To begin with, it poured down rain. It is barely March, so our grass is more of a burned yellow color right now. And the mud still lingers. The most memorable moments of today are not the kind of memories that solidify relationships. I was playing the keyboard, to try the height of the new seat I bought for it, when Megan came flying around the corner pointing her tiny finger at me, demanding, "Stop it, Mommy. Dat's eNOUGH, Mommy! Dat's eNOUGH!" Soon after that, she spilled my much needed and highly anticipated Diet Dr. Pepper all over the kitchen counter. That was before she tried eating a banana, peel and all, from the middle creating a mushy mess of her hands and face, and after she had ripped a packet of hot cocoa mix open, covering herself, her baby doll, and my favorite chair in the living room. Much of this she managed while clomping around in her sister's cowboy boots.

In the evening, she let out a scream that had me planning the fastest route to the emergency room, and when I got to her (she was intact, by the way), I found her cornering her older brother saying, "Dawin, NO NO HAVE IT THE BALL!!" For those of you who do not speak Megan, that means, "Jaron, no you cannot have the ball, you need to give it to me as soon as possible." So while I tried to think loving thoughts about the anniversary of her birth, mostly I was annoyed and hoping this was not a preview into the terrible two experience for our family. After showers and baths and fresh PJs for everyone, I was rocking her at bedtime. I was thinking about how I wished her birthday had gone a little bit differently when she let go of her blankie and reached up and pushed my wet hair away from my face and said, "Mommy pity." Translation: "Mommy is pretty." That was all I needed to decide her birthday was okay in the big scheme of things.

Investing in Valerie

I never thought maintaining a healthy weight would be such a struggle for me in my adulthood. I don't remember if this is an original idea of my very own or if I read it somewhere, but I have thought for years that weight is like grade point average. It can quickly and easily stray from what we would consider to be ideal, and getting it back where it needs to be takes a lot of work and determination. And some sacrificed sleep. Tomorrow we will be kicking off a team weight loss competition at work, Spring Training. I have had several people approach me to do another challenge, but with our current patient load and the computer project we have going on right now, I was not sure I wanted to work it into my schedule. Recently, though, the tide was turned when I decided to step onto the scale and was shocked and dismayed by the reading glaring at me in big, red numbers. I mean, I want to help my coworkers, I do, but the bottom line is sometimes you have to look out for number one. I realized I needed this challenge as a final push to be successful and maintain my motivation. My baby will be two years old this weekend, and the time to focus on getting myself back into the most healthy person I can be has long passed. My primary focus has to get an attitude adjustment now. If you want to know the truth about things, I have been looking out for number one a lot so far in 2011. I think this could be my year. It was not really anything intentional, but looking back over the last few months I cannot deny that I have moved up on my own list of priorities.

It all started after Christmas when I came across my thumb ring from my teenage days. I loved that ring and wore it everywhere. It got too small...not that it actually decreased in size or anything...and I took it off. It has been in my drawer, completely forgotten, for a decade. I think sometimes that I get so wrapped up in the small, daily motherly decisions that I forget about the things that make me who I am. I feel like I try so hard to learn how to be a decent wife and mom that I forget that I was a person first. I was a person with confidence and interests and opinions and I loved rings. I took my thumb ring to the jeweler and had it re-sized, along with the ring Kevin got me when I graduated from college. I have worn them every day since then. I bought an elliptical machine. I have wanted one for years. I am taking a photography class. I went to the eye doctor and got new glasses. Don't worry, I am still in charge of menus and groceries and laundry and piano lessons and signing homework folders every night. I am not neglecting my people. I do love my people. I am just saying, do not overlook the importance of good, solid investments. And this year I am investing in Valerie.

About a Dog

Poochie was born February 6, 1999 to a dog of questionable virtue named Tigger. We never knew for sure who her father was. When she was a very small puppy, she was bitten by another dog and had to get stitches in her neck. She then came to Kevin's parents' house to stay while she healed. Well, this was around the time of my midterms, and just before Kevin and I were married, so any time I spent at their house included my backpack and reading glasses. So this tiny ball of adorable black fur snuggled up on my lap with my textbooks and slept away her ailments as I studied. A few months later, after we were married, when we went back to collect Kevin's things and move to our farm house, we packed Poochie up right along with everything else and took her with us.

She was our first baby, and the first animal I have ever had to live in my home. We taught her to sit, shake, roll over, and say, "Please." It took forever for that last one, because she is not a dog who is overly prone to barking(which I love and appreciate). Kevin taught her to go look in the mirror when asked to "find the pretty puppy." If asked where her shadow was, she would run to put her nose against the wall as she tried to find it. She also gives hugs. By that I mean she puts a paw on each of my shoulders, and curls her head around my neck and gives a real hug, like she means it.

Long story short, Poochie is a brilliant and extraordinary dog. Over the years, when my toddler children pulled on her ears or legs, or hugged her a little too tightly, she merely gave me a dirty look, instead of retaliating. When my babies cried, she would come to me to make sure I had noticed, and she would stay at my feet until I fixed the problem. Now when they cry, she nuzzles their cheek. Mine, too. I am starting to prepare myself, and the kids, for the time when she will leave us. I have never been through this before. She was recently diagnosed with a cancer for which treatment would cause more damage than benefit to her. So I know it is coming. I know life will go on for our family, but while she is still here and relatively healthy I just wanted to say that Poochie is a brilliant and extraordinary dog. Coming from a childhood of hunting dogs and livestock, I never understood the depth of feelings some people had for their pets. I never knew the birthday of any of the animals from my childhood. I totally get it now, though. I get how a dog can be a huge and integral part of your family. Poochie has shared our home for twelve years. That is twelve years of Thanksgivings and Christmases and New Years and Independence Days and birthdays. And over the weekend she had one of those. Happy Birthday, Poochie Peavler...from your family.

As The Snow Flies

I remember my Grandma Harvey, as she was canning vegetables in the peak of summer heat, saying, "This will sure taste good when the snow flies." I have been thinking a lot about summer lately. About how I will be sweating in the garden picking green beans and wishing for a breeze. Because these days, snow has been flying. Snow has been flying unlike anything I have ever seen. I decided that instead of thinking of how the endless snow is not conducive to my going to work and earning a paycheck, I wanted to remember all of the wonderful experiences that came along with the blizzard of 2011.

a warm fire burning
a child in my lap

books to read
phone calls to be sure loved ones are safe as the snow flies

a cup of hot cocoa
a well-stocked pantry

pink, fuzzy socks
an instrument to play as the snow flies

a snow tunnel adventure

a recipe for snow ice cream

games to play

yummy smells from baking as the snow flies.

a neighbor blading the driveway

a Disney movie on pay per view

snuggles beneath warm blankets

a family together, safe and warm, as the snow flies

Some Days

I have always believed that someday I would have it all together. I was going to be the kind of person who kept everything tucked away in its place. I was going to be that super fun mom who basked in the adoration of her children every day. Those children would never go to school without finishing their homework or without their backpacks. I was going to adhere to my calendar/planner with reverence and be dependable and symmetrical and balanced...because I will just tell you that kind of thing makes me smile. I thought I would have all kinds of free time, and I would attend all of the events at school with my children lined up sweetly next to me in the bleachers.

When I was a kid, I thought it would happen upon entering adulthood. After my 18th birthday, I thought I would get it all together after I graduated from college and/or got started on my career. I thought surely after I was married, or after the babies were born...or maybe once we were finished with the diapers and food in their hair.

You know how Alan Jackson sings that sometimes someday never comes? I have finally realized that I am not going to be that girl. The one who is good at everything all the time. Someday may never come, but some days I do have it all together. Some days. But many days, I do not. Many days, if my family members have eaten something, washed themselves, brushed their teeth, and can sleep peacefully, I think that is all I need. Even if I left laundry on the couch or I forgot to send in their book order that day. Because some days I do have it all together. And tomorrow might be one of those days.

Let me count the ways.

I don't write often enough about my work. When health care comes up in conversation, the discussion tends to center around dollars. Deductibles and insurance premiums and copayments and EOBs. I have been working in this field for more than eight years now. I don't know if I have ever mentioned before how much I love my job. I wonder if I appreciate that enough. I get up in the dark, get kids up and ready for their day, and go to my workplace most weekdays. It is not always easy. To leave them, I mean. I sometimes feel that by trying to be a good mom and employee that I am only average at everything. I wonder how I would survive this whole process if I did not love my job.

When I was in college, I reached the point in which I had to choose my specialty. I had taken all of the prerequisite courses and core sciences, and I could not go forward until I decided whether to go into nursing, teaching, business, or some type of therapy or leisure management. I loved the idea of cardiac rehab. All of my grandparents struggled with cardiac issues when I was younger, and I had an epiphany. Every patient that enters into cardiac rehab is someone's grandparent. Or maybe an aunt or uncle or sibling or spouse. You know that song by Brad Paisley? To the world you might be just another girl, but to me you are the world? These patients would be somebody's world, and I would treat them how I would treat my own grandparents. Or parents. You get the idea. So I chose cardiac rehab. I knew it was a field I would always be interested in, but I did not anticipate all of the ways I would be blessed by this career. Let me count the ways.

*I got to interview multiple applicants and choose the nurse I wanted to work with full time. I had a list of interview questions and qualities I wanted to find in my cardiac rehab nurse. Who gets to do that? So I went with my gut. I hired someone who I felt was qualified, dependable, and kind. Would you like to guess how that worked out for me? She has been working with me for five years now, and has become one of my best friends on the planet. I LOVE her! She gets all of my jokes and rarely makes fun of me for them.

*Most of my patients are wise. I get to collect advice from people who have been where I am right now. When I was considering baby #3, I was concerned the baby would take away from the older children. One of my ladies told me, "Oh, Honey, but think of the joy and love the new baby will bring to them!" They encourage me to forget the laundry in favor of playing outside, or to take more vacations, even if I have to pinch some pennies to get it accomplished. Oh, and they share recipes! Lots of them. They tell me things like, "Authority is like a bar of soap. The more you use it, the less you have left." They tell me, "If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken much better care of myself!" Without exception, they tell me to spend more time with my children. I have been so inspired by the life lessons they bring with them that I have started an official notebook of quotes!

*I have banker's hours. I'm not going to lie about it. Nobody wants to come in and exercise in a hospital in the middle of the night, or on weekends or holidays...which means I don't work at those times! I offer 3 exercise days per week, but the program is flexible enough that I can move days around if I need to for my patients to be able to celebrate the holidays with their families. This means I get to be home for all of the really big holidays. I may not get summers off along with lengthy Christmas breaks like all my teacher buddies, but in the hospital setting, sticking to weekdays is pretty special!

*A patient spends three months in my program. That means I get to know them. That means I get to watch them go from struggling to make it to 7 minutes on the treadmill on the first day to walking 40 minutes without difficulty towards the end of things. That is one of my favorite things.

*I get to wear scrubs or exercise gear to work. Imagine enjoying your workday in the comfort of your pajamas, with a stethoscope hanging around your neck. That's me.

I am not saying things are always peace, love, and sunshine. We have had to fly patients out before. Sometimes we may have to load a patient up in a wheelchair and push him directly to the ER and call his wife to come and be with him. Piles of paperwork must be done, and classes and meetings must be attended. But most of the time, at the root of it all, somebody's world comes in to our program, and when they leave us they have improved. That's all I'm saying.

Piano Lessons

I always wanted to learn how to play the piano. Not in a cry myself to sleep at night for years kind of way, but more in a wistful envious pang as I listened to others play kind of way. In a harassing people to teach me to play a song here and there kind of way. As I got older and into sports I realized there was little time for it. In the back of my mind, I always thought that someday I would have a daughter, and my daughter would take lessons. I always sort of planned on us learning together.

I never wanted to be one of those creepy mothers who forces unrealized dreams on her child when anyone can see the child cares little about those dreams. But when Madison started to mention learning to play, I decided this was our chance. I ordered an electric keyboard, with weighted keys and all kinds of intelligence, in time for Christmas and began my search for a teacher. A tingle of anxiety swept over me as she opened it on Christmas morning. Part of me was afraid I had read too much into her interest and it was more about me than her. As the wrapping paper was ripped away, her mouth dropped to form a perfect O, and she said, "OH! YOU DIDN'T!" Which in kid language translates into, "I can't believe you got me such an awesome present!" It was the first thing she told all of her family at all of the dinners and the first thing she mentioned to her friends at school when asked about the holidays. She was also quick to inform everyone about lessons beginning January 6.

Now I am beginning to wonder if I am really going to be able to do this. Teaching old dogs new tricks and all. I remember my grandad, a man who spent most of his life around horses, learning what equestrian meant. He was around eighty years old at the time. He said you never get too old to learn something. So Madison had her first lesson, and we did her homework together and have been practicing every day. She loves the keyboard. I love the keyboard. We are really going to do this.