Christmas

Christmas came suddenly and without much enthusiasm for me. I've been so preoccupied with school that I forgot how much I enjoy this season.

As Christmas neared and the pile of presents under the tree grew larger, it seemed the children became naughtier. On Christmas Eve morning I'd finally had enough of the fighting and carrying on by the children that I told them Christmas was canceled. Logan sobbed and the girls screamed at me, still I would not relent. I told them that their presents would all be taken back to the store and I was phoning Santa to make sure he had them on the naughty list. (I know, feel free to gasp in horror.)

Well, I was relating this story to my friend Andrea just a few hours ago and her children were in the room. Her son looked at me with shock and fear in his eyes and asked in an awed whisper "You canceled Christmas?" Yes I did, I told him. His older sister replied with "You're the Grinch". Yes, I said ashamed, I am. Obviously Christmas was not canceled (Brent talked me out of it) and the children smell worse than they did before (they're spoiled, get it? Ha, ha, ha).

My New Year's resolution (among others) is to take the time to remember Christmas next year, and learn patience in the meantime so I won't be the Grinch anymore. My heart will grow three sizes by this time next year!

Marie

My niece, Marie, passed away this week. She was such a wonderful, happy girl. She loved to sing, she loved purple, and she loved to smile. I'm so grateful to have had her in my life.

Marie was handicapped both physically and mentally. Heavenly Father didn't need to put her sweet spirit into a perfect body. She's such a faithful soul that He knew she could live with limitations and still shine through.

I know her time on this earth was finished; she was ready to move on. It's difficult to be left without her, though. I'm grateful to my God and his infinite wisdom in sending her to touch so many peoples' hearts. I can hardly wait to see her again, what a beautiful angel she is.

Reading

I love to read. I can get so absorbed in a book that the world around me disappears and my children can tear the house down without me knowing. I love to read in the bathtub, don't know why, I think it's because it's a soothing environment and most of the time free of distraction.

Today Logan came home from school with a book in his hands. He didn't put it down until he was finished. I'm so excited about this new development. Logan's been reading for a while, and he reads very well, but he's never shown such an interest until now. I've been waiting so long to share chapter books with him. Books I think he'd really enjoy because of his fabulous imagination. He told me his teacher let him borrow the book.

I'm thankful for teachers that inspire and allow a mother to experience the joy of a child who is quietly reading, and loving it.

Sunday School Miracles

I was finally released as Primary Chorister after three long years and they called me instead to teach the 14-15 yr old Sunday School class. As it turns out, the 16-17 yr olds don't have a teacher so I get them too. This was okay until the first day when I saw that my class was all teenage boys, about 8 of them, and they're all taller than me. Nevertheless, I have waded right in and done my best not to make a fool of myself. I gave them a disclaimer that first day and let them know I was learning right along with them and told them to speak up as often as they felt like it to prove me wrong (one of them has taken this to heart).

Anyway, this Sunday our lesson covered miracles and how they continue today, not just when Jesus was on the earth. So the discussion went something like this:

Me: What are some miracles we know of?
Boy #1: Anything Jesus did in the New Testament. (Nice broad answer, but I'm not going to let them off that easy)
Me: Okay, New Testament, what else?
Boy #2: The earth.
Me: Absolutely.
Boy #3: Food.
Me: Yeah, I like food.
Boy #4: Girls.
Me: (Chuckle) Yep, girls are a miracle.

Funny Things

My mother told me to write down the funny things my kids do and say, but did I, no. Here are the few I've remembered thus far; not everyone will think these are funny, but I do.

Avery was teasing Logan the other day by singing a song about he and his friend...
Avery: Logan and Jacob sitting in a tree, l-m-t-p-e-e-g (we're working on spelling)
Logan: Avery and Christina sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g
Mom: Cut it out, both of you
Sometime later...
Ellie: Logan and Jacob sitting in a tree, m-l-m-l-n-n-p (she's three)
Mom: Ellie, I asked Logan and Avery to stop that, now you stop it too. That is not a nice song.
Ellie: (still singing) Logan and Jacob are NOT sitting in a tree...

Out of the blue...
Ellie: Dad, I don't think you're stupid.
Dad: Uh, thanks, Ellie.

Avery: Logan, do you think I'm weird?
Logan: Yes you are.
Avery: That's okay, I think you're stupid.


In reference to something he finds amazing...
Logan: It's changing my mind!

Long story short, Avery had a primary lesson about sins and the teacher gave each child a bag of rocks to represent sins. Upon arriving home from church Logan swiped the bag and Avery exclaimed...
Avery: Give me my sins back!!

Funny Story...This actually happened about 3 years ago, but I'm still laughing about it.
I'm watching television in my room and I hear a commotion coming from the kitchen. I look down the hallway to see tiny Avery with a terrified/gleeful expression on her face running/waddling down the hallway at her top speed. In her chubby fist is the last Reese's Peanut Butter cup from the refrigerator. Now, close on her tail is Logan, crawling on hands and knees because he sprained his ankle playing at the mall. He has tears streaming down his face as he tries to catch up, something he's normally able to do within seconds. I am laughing so hard at this scene that I can't even stand up. Avery runs to me for safety and Logan sobs out the story. He had crawled off the couch and into the kitchen. He'd opened the fridge and was about to get the candy when little Avery, seeing the only chance she would ever have in her life to beat Logan, hurried around him and snatched the candy from the shelf before he could. Then it hit her what she'd done and she fled for her life. Triumph battled with extreme fear as the impossible happened and she outran her brother. In the end Logan got the candy, Avery got a hug, and I got blackmail material.

Halloween

Halloween is a big deal for our kids, as I'm sure it is for most. Logan wanted to decorate the house so much, but there just never seemed to be any time. I did manage to put a plastic orange pumpkin on our porch light and hang a bat on Halloween morning, but that was it.

Avery was determined to be a princess this year, again, so she was picking out all the princess costumes at the store. I told her if she wanted to be a princess we had the costumes at home already. But it's not fun if you can't get a NEW costume. So, Ellie chose to wear the Snow White costume we had at home and Avery bought Snow White's wicked Step-Mother's costume and went as that. Logan was discouraged that I wouldn't let him be a Power Ranger for a third time (he'd already been the red one and the blue one), but he happily settled for a ninja costume we found.

As far as costumes go, last year was awesome for our family. Logan was a Ninja Turtle, Avery was a fairy, Ellie was a Care Bear, I was a chicken, and Brent wore a T-shirt that says, "I Don't Do Costumes".

Someday I dream of our entire family dressing up with the same theme. We did it once, before the kids were old enough to complain, but I'm all to aware of how individual they are. It's not a bad thing, in fact it's one of my favorite things about them.

Sophie

For my birthday this year we got a cat. Well, no, we got a dog, but
I swear she's got jungle cat somewhere in her genetic make up. Sophie is half lab, half pit bull, she's not quite a year old yet and she's very spunky.

Sophie doesn't walk, she stalks. As she prowls through the back yard every sinew is poised and ready to strike should some defenseless squirrel cross her path (we've already had a fatality, Logan thought it was hilarious).

We have an older dog, Sam, and he's become her favorite chew toy.
At every opportunity she's biting his neck, his legs, his tail, anything directly accessible. Sophie knows exactly where to latch on that will most effectively bring her opponent down. As Sam trots down off the deck to the back yard Sophie lunges after him, wraps her wolf-like jaws around his back leg and holds on tight. She hasn't drawn blood yet so I think she's just playing, but I can't help but be reminded of a lion taking down a gazelle every time she does this.

Sophie also likes to dig, tear, chew, and destroy. "Is this puppy or pit bull?", I ask myself. She has chewed through the upholstery on the front of our sofa (thanks Mom for the rapid re-upholstery job), dug at least a dozen holes in Brent's hard earned perfect grass, dug through our mattress (it's been duck taped), destroyed Sam's pillow bed (stuffing was everywhere), and dismembered/maimed almost every Barbie, pony, and baby doll we had (there were quite a few). I offer her rawhides to chew on, normal dogs might take all day or at least a few hours to get through one, she's devoured several by the time Sam has finished his first.

Sophie must also have housecat in her. So often I find her perched on the sofa looking out the window, watching the world go by. She curls up just like a cat too, tail twitching, head and feet touching.

She's also very good at catching flies; she may have learned this from Sam. Sam caught a bee this summer; it was buzzing around his head and the next thing we know we hear this SNAP and SLURP and the bee is gone and Sam is licking his lips.

It's possible that Sophie is also part pig. I have never seen a dog use her snout for nuzzling the way she does. It's like she's looking for truffles the way she roots around with that nose in armpits, crotches, anywhere that suits her fancy. She really has no manners at all.

The children adore her, Brent loves how tough she is, I just think she's funny.

The Haircut

A few weeks ago, Brent and I were enjoying a few rare minutes of quiet. We were using those minutes to watch T.V. in our room. Now, while quiet is a welcome thing in our home, it is more frequently a warning sign of terrible things to come.

At some point Brent saw Ellie run into our room and then out again very quickly. It took a moment to register, but he knew something was amiss. He went into the hallway and came back, eyes wide with fear. I caught his gaze and thought the one thing all mother's think at least once during the day, "What now?!".

I stepped cautiously into the hallway, composing myself, and I see Ellie, her beautiful hair hanging in tatters, what's left of it that is. Then I see Avery at the end of the hall, scissors in hand. As soon as her frightened eyes meet my blazing pair she drops the scissors and runs out the back door. I quickly grab up the scissors and I am holding them like a weapon. I point them at Brent then out the back door and I say, "Destroy her before I do". He runs to his duty (actually he was trying to spare her my wrath).

I calm myself, I know this could be funny if it weren't so awful right now. So I document it, I take pictures, and then Ellie and I make a hurried trip to the mall to get it fixed. At the mall, the hairstylists all giggle and share stories of their own sibling stylists experimenting with them. I continue to tell myself that this will be funny, but it's not yet.

Once home, Avery walks warily around me and Ellie flaunts her short locks. The next day we are at the shoe store. Ellie has on Logan's Batman pajama top and blue jeans. Despite the fact that I am buying pink ballet slippers the salesclerk tears off a dozen Spiderman stickers, thrusts them at Ellie and says, "Here you go big guy". Ugh, the final blow.

Weeks later I have become accustomed to Ellie's hairstyle, everyone at church thought it was adorable. It's a good thing she's so cute, not everyone could pull off that style and maintain such a high level of cuteness.

Adventures in Nursing

Tuesday evening I was at yet another clinical. This time I was on the Mental Health floor. I'd been waiting for a couple of weeks to sit in on a patient admit which is really just an interview with a new patient to get background information. I'm standing by the nurses' station and my teacher points out a woman in a white jacket and says "Holly, go with her". I think, "Yeah, an admit" and off we go down 5 flights of stairs. I notice that this woman is hurrying, then all of a sudden she's running and I'm completely confused. An admit is not an emergency situation. "Maybe she just doesn't like to waste time," I think. We turn the final corner and the woman I'm with ushers me into the back corner of a surgical suite.

In this room are about twelve people. Half of them are wearing lead vests. In the center of the room is a table and on top of the table are two people. One is lying flat with a large blue drape over her and the other is a nurse pushing very hard on the chest of the first. A light bulb goes off and I know why the room is so full of people, this is a code.

As it happened, the woman on the table was there to have a cardiac procedure done. During the procedure she threw a clot (a blood clot) and it sent her into cardiac arrest. When a code is called nurses from the ER and the Critical Care Unit rush in to help. The six in the vests were the original cardiac team who are now standing back until the woman is brought back.

The CPR wasn't working so they needed to shock her. She already had the pads attached (this is standard procedure) so they charged it up and shocked her. I was stunned. Her back arched off the table, just like on T.V. Now she had a rhythm, but she wasn't breathing well, so they had to intubate her (this is where they put a tube down a patient's throat and have a machine breathe for the patient). The doctor put a scope in her mouth and proceeded to feed the tube down her throat. This is not a smooth procedure. There were times I heard scraping sounds and my throat burned in response.

Now that her vitals are under control, the emergency team goes back to their units and the cardiac team is ready to continue. I'm sent to the viewing room adjacent to the suite. Through a window I can see the procure, on the monitor I can see the patient's heart. Amazing. As dye is pushed through her arteries they light up on the screen. The technician rewinds the tape and I can see exactly where the original problem was, where the clots formed, and when they dislodged. All of this is made possible because the cardiologist has fed a scope up through an artery in the woman's groin and up to her heart.

The procedure will continue for at least another hour and the emergency has passed so I am taken back up to the Mental Health floor. My instructor greets me and laughs because my eyes are as big as dinner plates. She asks, "How was it?". I respond, "Crazy cool". She laughs again, and I am hooked. This is the drug of choice for me, adrenaline. I want to be an ER nurse.

The title of my blog

I have titled my blog "It's Time" because in my world it's always time for something.
-It's time to get up (ugh)
-It's time to get the kids up (what am I talking about, they've been up for an hour, miserable little...)
-It's time for breakfast (wait, not for me, I don't have time for breakfast)
-It's time for school (not just the kids, ALL of us)
-It's time to sit in lecture for four hours (Yeah! I get to sit down! And now my butt's asleep)
-It's time for clinical (Oh gosh, just let me do better than yesterday)
-It's time for lab (for the record, I do not like working with manequins, they are NOTHING like real patients)
-It's time to pick up the kids (while an hour at the park after school may be rejuvinating for them it's time for me to get eaten alive by these horrid tiny black bugs)
-It's time for chores (not mine, the kids', yes they do them now, yipee!)
-It's time for dinner (finally, dinner, I'm so hungry. What do you mean I have to cook?!)
-It's time for homework, class, clinical, soccer practice, and anything else we can fit into the next 2-3 hours before bed)
-It's time for the kids to go to bed (the hallelujah chorus plays loud and clear)
-It's lazy time (this is the time after the children are asleep when Brent and I watch T.V. and/or read for recreation, however there are dozens of other things we should be doing)
-It's time for me to go to bed (Brent doesn't have a bed time, I go to sleep around 10, I don't know when he goes to sleep, at some point during the night I notice the fan's been turned off, the windows are shut and it's become very hot in our room- then I know Brent must have gone to sleep)
-It's time to do it all again!! (Now you hear me crying)

Yesterday

Yesterday was one of those days. I began the morning on very little sleep (not uncommon, but still unpleasant). As you may know I am in nursing school. This semester my Mondays start bright and early with a clinical on a post-operation floor. This Monday started as any other until medication time. As a nursing student I am authorized to give meds to patients as long as my instructor oversees the entire process. There I am in the med room, I have a vial of medication in one hand and I am filling it with a little air from a syringe in my other hand. As I'm applying pressure to the plunger of the syringe my instructor tells me to draw it out. I think she's referring to the needle (she wasn't) so without releasing pressure (Pam I know you're cringing right now) I pull out the needle and medication sprays all over the front of me. Strike one.

Now I am in a patient's room. I am attempting to flush her g-tube (a tube for feeding and med administration that's inserted into her digestive tract through her abdomen). I have filled a needleless syringe with water, but there's too much air inside. I did the right thing, I turned away from the patient, but I applied too much force and shot water at her grandfather. Strike two.

I'm desperately trying not to die of embarrassment. I have attached the syringe to the g-tube port and I am beginning to flush the tube with water. Again, I apply too much pressure, and now the patient and I are drenched. Strike three, you're out.

Miserable and wet I finish my task and walk out into the hall where my instructor gives me a hug and a pep talk and sends me off to do paperwork.

Blogging

I've done it. I have become one of the many that are boldly going where all new e-journalists go. I am a blogger. The definition of blog is an online journal. The definition of blogger is a keeper of a blog. I am Holly, keeper of this blog, hear me complain.