A Farewell to Blogs

Apparently I cannot commit to anything.

I have many half finished crochet, knitting, cross-stitch, etc projects in my home that I am sure I will never complete. My house is in the middle of renovation hell and I am not at all sure it will ever be done. Even two marriages have gone uncompleted (as in "till death do us part")....though, if either one of those men don't stop pissing me off, the death part may come to one of them prematurely.

And so, sits this blog......forgotten and abandoned.

It isn't that I don't enjoy writing and publishing these twisted little glimpses of life .... it is just that I fear I am suffering from some strange form of attention deficit that makes it virtually impossible to complete anything that I start.

My goal was to publish an article here once a week. Thank God I don't work for a newspaper and don't expect to get paid for writing. If I did, I would be living in a half decorated refridgerator box.

So I publish this "Farewell to Blogs"........ not that I am giving it up....... just that I am giving up the notion that I will publish it with any continuity or that I will ever accumulate the loyal readers who will wait with breath held for the next installment. I mean, if I ever did have such a following, they have all died of asphyxia waiting for this since February.

A Tale of Two Hamsters

Now, before anyone jumps all over me, I know that hamsters do not have tails.

This past summer, my middle son, almost 10 years old, got a pair of female hamsters from his dad. They are dwarf hamsters and very cute. They were named Smokey and Tiny. One being grey and one being smaller and tan. To start off, Tiny started to grow.....and since she wasn't smaller than Smokey anymore, we changed her name to Snoopy......because of her habit of poking her nose out of her shavings to see you whenever you approached the cage. She is very cute that way.

On to the story about Smokey. Smokey got sick with something called Wettail. It is a disease of hamsters where they get diarrhea and hence, their tail stub gets a wet look to it. This is treatable with a medicine aptly called Dritail...........original. While you are treating a sick hamster, it should not be in the same cage as a well hamster.......so we had to quarantine her. Since I only had one cage, we made a makeshift infirmary out of an ice cream pail with holes in the lid. This was good for a day or so. Did I mention that hamsters chew?? Anyway, I noticed that Smokey was trying to get to the holes of the infirmary, but not being all that bright, I figured that everything would be fine. Early in the morning I was rudely awoken by the sound of my cat playing by my bed. I hate when he does this as it usually means he wants to go out. So, I turn on the light and pick up my housecoat................................AAAAAAACK!! There is only half of Smokey laying there. Apparently she chewed her way out of her ice cream pail. Disgusted I pick up the remains and scenes from movies run through my head........The Godfather and the scene with the horse's head in the bed............Stuart Little, "We don't eat family members". And then, I can't get back to sleep.......I am wondering what I am going to tell my poor son about his pet. I was actually suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. When it was time to get the kids up for school, I gently woke my son. In my very caring nurse voice, I tell him...."I have bad news"......"What is it?" he askes. "Smokey died".........."Can I see her?"........ummmmmmmmm "No, son, that isn't a good idea"......."How do you know she is really dead? Maybe she is just sleeping".........ummmmmmmm ummmmmmmmm, "No, she got out of the cage"......"Maybe she is still running around the house".....ummmm ummm ummmmmmm , "Honey, Ginger found her"..........blank stares........then, the lightbulb comes on over his head. "OHHHH, he ate her?" "Well, only half of her"..........."COOL!" .........I will never understand boys. But, of course, being the big old softy that I am, I can't leave it at that. I promise that we will get another hamster to replace her.

On to hamster tale number two.

We buy Whiskers........a little grey hamster that looks an awful lot like Smokey. And since we weren't going to be home for a couple days, I purchase a whole new hamster kit including a cage. I figure, if we end up with another sick hamster, I wanted a proper hospital for her. We bring her home. Decide to try to put her in with Snoopy. Well, Snoopy had decided she didn't really like having a roommate, and promptly attacked poor Whiskers.........but we got her out and all was well. Now, I have twice the cages to clean and such. This was fine for a few months......then, one day Whiskers was acting strange, not running on her wheel, not eating her food........hiding under the shavings all the time. One morning I came home from working the night shift. I go over to the cages, like I always do, greet the furry little critters to see them poke their noses out of the shavings..........."Good Morning, Snoopy!" Out pops a little tan coloured nose to say hello.........."Good Morning, Whiskers!"............I look in the cage, and there is Whiskers, lying with her four little feet sticking up in the air. UGH, here we go again. As gently as I can, "Son, I have some bad news".........."Oh, what?"......."Whiskers died"........."Did she get out of the cage?"........."No, son, she died peacefully in her cage, not running scared from the cat"......."Oh, can I see her?"..........."Sure, I left her right there for now"..........he goes over, looks at the cage, says nothing..............I ask him, "Do you want to find a little box so we can bury her in the back yard?"..........."No......she's just a hamster, Mom."..................boys..................

It's a Dog's Life

Well, we have become a family complete with a dog.

Angus, aka Gus, aka Dumbass, joined our family in October. He was a gift from my ex-husband to my children. When he came to us, he was about 8 months old and very much still a puppy. This dog chewed up more toys, shoes, books than you can imagine. But look at him.......He is just so cute, how can you get mad at him?

My ex-husband got him as a puppy........Fell in love with him at first sight in a pet store. They named him Bryan. I couldn't bring myself to call the poor puppy that, so we changed his name. It did take some convincing with the kids, as they had only known him as Bryan, but my strong will won over. When I informed the ex-husband I was changing the puppy's name, there were some words of disapproval from the new wife. She very vocally commented that it took the dog 6 months to learn the name Bryan, he would never learn a new name. Funny, within a week he was responding favorably to being called Angus and Gus. I am sure that he knew his name was Bryan, he just didn't like it........Go figure. I have never totally established why he chose to give him up to us.......But I do have some theories. Regardless, he is ours, and I am totally in love with him.

If you can't tell from his picture, Angus is a Bassett Hound. Apparently Bassetts are notoriously hard to train. I believe it. We had a few weeks of "poop" accidents when he first came to us. Lucky for him, those are no longer happening. The other thing Bassetts do is bury things. I have found many Milk Bones in my laundry baskets. I am pretty sure he forgets where he puts them. Also, his short stature makes him just the perfect height to steal food from the toddler. Nothing cuter than hearing the 2 yr old yell, "Angus, stop it!" or more heartbreaking than hearing him crying because "puppy ate it". We have learned to put the dog in the kennel when the toddler is trying to eat.

The dog has been great for entertainment for all of us..........Well......except the cat. The cat is not completely impressed with the addition of the puppy. You see, the cat is older, much more sophisticated than the dog. He is a proud cat..........But it is hard to be proud when a large puppy is trying to get you to play, is licking your head or trying to mount you from behind. No, the cat is NOT impressed. The dog is always happy to see the cat......Whenever the cat enters the room, the dog gets all happy and excited......"Look!, the cat!! My favourite!!" He rushes to the cats side, licks him, follows him.......Very reminiscent of the Bugs Bunny cartoon with the big bull dog and the little terrier. The cat is usually just trying to get away.

I am sure that this relationship will bring about many more posts in the future.

Wednesday's Top Ten

Top Ten Reasons I am a Nurse

10. I love working all major holidays and through the summers too

9. I have an arsenal of sedating medications that I am at liberty to use

8. The smell of sweat, blood and booze on a warm summer night in the ER

7. Watching a big muscle bound man faint at the sight of a needle

6. Getting to see the many varied places a person will pierce their bodies

5. The warm sensation of fresh vomit on your duty shoes

4. Lunch breaks that consist of a swallow of cold coffee and a Tic Tac

3. The all night Potty Parade

2. The soothing sound of call bells that rings in your head for 10 hours after your shift is done

AND NUMBER 1!!!!

The disorientation that comes with working night shift is vaguely reminicent of a good drunk!

First Day of School

Here it is, the first day back to school.

As I sat here surfing the net for a funny or maybe a heartwarming retro image of "back to school" I was inundated with pictures of people's kids heading back to school. One photo diary followed the kid from sleeping in his bed to breakfast to brushing his teeth and combing his hair. Then outside the front door, in the car, outside the school doors, in the hall finding his locker.........you get the picture. I think the photos ended with him crawling back into his bed that night. If you look really really closely, I think you can still see the umbilical cord.

Apparently, many people feel the need to take pictures of their kids on the first day back to school. I have never done it with my kids.....probably because my mom never did it with me. I think I have grown up to be a fairly well adjusted adult without all of the fuss and fanfare that some parents seem to lavish on their children these days. I have seen parents who scrapbook volumes on each of their children. I suppose they feel that there is then some tangible record to show everyone around them just how much they love their children. My kids have memories. Those can never be lost in a fire or forgotten in a move. The carry them with them always.

Sometimes I feel that people who make such a major production about every normal occurance in a child's life ends up doing them a major injustice. In the real world, no one else is every going to think you are as special as your parents do, and kids that are brought up thinking they are just the most special, end up becoming very sad, lonely and depressed when they leave home and realize all of this.

My kids know I love them, but they also know that the world is hard and life can down right suck sometimes. They know that to get ahead they have to work, and that being "special" is not going to get you very far. That is not to say we don't celebrate our children. We do, on a daily basis. By telling them we love them and hugging them tightly. By making meals, buying clothing and by working hard at our jobs to provide a home and food for them. My kids have learned, simply because I have never had a lot of extra money to lavish them with things, that the best gifts are those that can only be held in their hearts, not in their hands.

Time to buy the school supplies

This is such a bittersweet time of year. Summer vacation is over, the leaves are turning colour, the days are getting shorter. All sort of meloncholy. Except, the kids are going back to school!!!!! YEAH!!!! No more day long bickering fests. No more, "He's looking at me". No more, "I'm bored!" Ahhhhhh, the joys of fall.

But there is one more task to do before we send them off to be someone else's problem for 6 hours a day. We have to go buy the school supplies. I did this yesterday, without my children. I am always amazed at the parents who take their children with them for this task. I swear they spend at least double what they need to. The child always NEEDS the Scooby Doo notebooks or the Disney Princess pencils. Not my kids. I go, I take the supply list, I get what it asks for. No where on the list does it say you NEED the Bratz lunch box. My kids never seem to be upset by this, they accept it and are fine. Of course, I usually throw in one "cool" item. This year it was the Barbie pencil case for my daughter. You would think I was mom of the year. My 14yr old son complained that he didn't get the Barbie pencil case, so I did offer to buy him one today. He is such a comedian. I should do it, just for fun.

I never have quite understood the school supply list that well though. When I went to school (my gawd that makes me sound old), the list said:

- notebooks
- pencils
- crayons
- erasers

and that was it. Now, they list the brand of pencil crayons and the size of package to buy. They specify wide ruled notebooks or white erasers. They ask for CALCULATORS!!!!! My son's teacher asked for 1500 pages of loose leaf paper. Now, I can't talk for other kids, but I KNOW my son will not take that many pages of notes in Grade 5.

As for school clothes, I have never been one to buy a whole new wardrobe for the kids for school. Mostly since they either find out the first day that everything they picked out is now out of style, or they out grow it in a month. Of course, having boys has made this much easier....since most boys really don't give a rat's petootie what they are wearing. Hell, they don't even care if it is clean. Jeans and T-shirts are pretty easy. As for my daughter, she is still young enough that she doesn't have to have the latest designer fashions. Thank you God for blessing me with only one daughter. I don't think my bank account could survive more than that. I love her dearly, but I fear that in the next few years, her full potential for Diva-hood will be revealed.

Now, what the hell do I pack in their lunches this year?

Sometimes you are the windshield, sometimes you are the bug

Either way, it pretty much sucks.

I do not understand what makes being the windshield seem to be so appealing. Yes, you are big and strong. You resist the forces of nature. Even if you are cracked, you can still get your job done. You are protective to those who stand behind you. But none of that changes the fact that you are usually covered in the dried, hollow corpses of the bugs that have come up against you. You are filthy and nasty. No amount of windshield wiper fluid ever makes you feel clean. There is always some nastiness around the edges.

I think I have actually known some windshields in my life.

On the other hand, you can be the bug. Your life is carefree. You fly and flit from place to place doing what bugs are supposed to do. Maybe you are looking for a beautiful field of fresh smelling wild flowers to do some cross pollunating. Or, you are looking for a warm steaming fresh pile of dung to feast on. You enjoy your spot in life and gladly carry out your business........until you happen across that highway.........then WHAM.......next thing you know, your brains are leaking out of your ass.

I definitely know I have had days like this.

DON'T EAT THE CRAYON! and other things you thought you'd never say

Remember back to a time before you had children of your own. You would watch parents of youngsters and think to yourself, "MY kids will never be so undisciplined". When you were a teenager yourself, you laughed at your parents for being so silly and worrying so much. Now, you have entered parenthood yourself.............

I find myself saying things that would never have entered my vocabulary before. "What do you mean the cat accidentally got into the dryer and you accidentally turned it on?" "No, Fruit Loops are not a food group" "Is this sofa REALLY stain proof?" "Stop mashing your potatoes with your knuckles!" (this gem was uttered at Christmas dinner)

My son, soon to be 14 years old, is constantly pushing the envelope. God love him though, he is a really good boy. But........"No, you can't have a beer while watching the movie" "No, you can't drive downtown just this once. Why? Because you are 13!" "No, you can't get your tongue pierced!" I know that he knows the answer to these questions is going to be no......but I suppose it is the job of the teenager to test the waters and ask the questions, all while giving you that silly half grin, waiting to see if smoke really will come out of your ears. The other children just observe, taking it all in.....learning what questions to ask and when......and thinking up new, even more ridiculous things to ask.

But then comes the toddler. The things you will say to a toddler sound like rantings of a mad man, at best. "I told you if you lick the cat you would get fur in your mouth. Fur doesn't taste good, does it?" "Cheezies are not meant to go up your nose" "Shut the fridge door. Shut the fridge door. Shut the fridge door. SHUT the fridge door. SHUT the FRIDGE DOOR! SHUT THE FRIDGE DOOR!!!"

Aw the life of a parent. Not at all glamorous.......but definitely colorful. Especially when the toddler has been eating his crayons!

You know you are living with a toddler when.........

We have all seen lists like this, but this one is my own.........written from my many experiences of living with toddlers. My oldest "toddler" is now almost 14yrs old, my youngest being a true toddler still at 20 months. While some of these experiences were tried and true through all of the children, some are completely unique to MY children.......you know, the aliens that live in my home.

You know you are living with a toddler when.......

.....you leave the room for a brief moment and upon your return, your coffee tastes vaguely of yellow Crayola

.....you need to find the duct tape before you can change a diaper (if you don't know why, you don't have a toddler)

.....you wonder why companies don't just make the sleepers to button up the back since you have to put them on the child backwards anyway to keep them in them

.....you are not fully awake until you have stepped on several pieces of Legos in the hallway

.....you duck at the dinner table every two minutes to avoid getting an ear full of mashed potatoes and peas

.....you leave the baby in his seat and the 4yr old colouring with washable markers only for a few minutes, on your return your baby's face is completely bright orange and the 4yr old says the baby did it himself. Later when you are batheing said baby, you find a bright orange "D" (first letter of babies name) on his back. Wonder how that got there? (True story, I swear!)

.....everytime you sit down at the computer, you have to close down the hundred programs that were opened by your toddler just sitting and clicking the mouse

.....every sentence you say starts with "Stop" or "NO" or "Don't" or "OH MY GOD!"

.....you are fluent in gibberish

.....you know all the songs and words to your toddler's favourite TV show and movie, but you can't remember your Social Insurance Number (or on really good days, your name)

.....if you walked into your kitchen and there wasn't a drawer full of Tupperware strewn on the floor, you would think you were in the wrong house

.....you pick up the Tupperware container you need directly off the floor and give it a quick wipe before using it

.....every remote control in your home has the battery door broken off and the batteries are held in with duct tape

.....you put the toddler in his playpen, give him a ton of toys then spend the next 20 minutes ducking as he throws everything out at your head

.....after all the toys are thrown out of the playpen, he takes off his diaper to see if there is either something in there to play with or something more to throw at your head

.....you go to put the diaper back on the toddler and find small pieces of Tupperware, two green legos and the remnants of the yellow Crayola and wonder where in the order from colouring to in the diaper your coffee cup fit in

.....you wouldn't trade one minute of any of the above for anything.

And in closing thoughts.......here is what I have learned about Toddlers and their things........

Toddler Property Laws

If I like it, it's mine.

If it is in my hand, it's mine.

If I can take it away from you, it's mine.

If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

If I'm doing or building something, all of the pieces are mine.

If it looks just like mine, it's mine.

If I think it is mine, it's mine.

To Blog, or Not to Blog........

I have not been here to write in so long, I think I have lost my touch. Of course, I know I have lost my mind and I HAVEN'T lost any weight. But, I digress.

I have always wanted this blog to be more than just a regurgitation of my daily life. I wanted it to read more like a witty newspaper column, full of my insights and observations. I want to entertain my readers, and make them want to come back and see what I have chosen to comment on next. Satire and cynicism being forefront in most of my works.

Today, I am not sure what to write about. The name of my blog is Rants, Raves and Recitations. I have blogged a lot of rants, but really no raves or recitations. I think it is time.

Why is it that raves are not nearly as interesting as rants? Is it because no one really wants to hear about the good things? Everyone wants to hear the dirt, the gossip, the misfortune? It seems to be that way. As for a recitation........let me think. OH YES! I have just thought of one!

While at my mom's place this past weekend, we were looking through some old papers. I came across a sign that my mom used to have posted on her refridgerator as I was growing up. Perhaps my reciting it now will give you a little insight into why I am the way I am!

STRESS

That confusion that is created

when the mind overrides the body's desire

to choke the living shit out of some

asshole who really needs it!

Life is like a box of chocolates

You never know what you are going to get.



The same could be said for inlaws.

The first time you look into the new box of chocolates, they all look so nice. They may be different colors, some a tad oddly shaped, but for the most part, they are shiny and appealing. Then, you take a taste.

Now, the head honcho chocolate, the one you married, he is usually your favourite. He is the caramel, gooey, sweet one. He is the one that you always choose first, then you are stuck with the whole box.

Now, the next one you try.........oh, it looks perfect......it is nice and shiny and tempting, you hold it close for a while, examining it, looking for something.........nothing, it is just so delicious looking, you jump in with both feet.............COCONUT!!!!!! BLECH!!! You have that icky texture and that taste in your mouth ICK!!! You had no idea that something so foul could come from the same box as that sweet caramel you are married to. Sadly, the coconuts do not all look a like, so you may encounter more than one.......and that bad taste never really leaves your mouth.

Next, you are a lot more wary....you take your time picking out one that looks appealing. You inspect it much more carefully, looking for outward signs that something icky might be lurking inside. You turn it over and over and over in your hand......it starts to melt a little, you lick your fingers.....so far so good. You poke at it a bit, trying to see if you can coax out a little filling, before you bite.....doesn't really work. You take a small nibble. Vanilla cream. Not vile, not icky, but kind of boring. You can live with boring once in a while, and it doesn't attack your senses at all. Not a bad choice.

This time, you go for something that is not as pretty a shape as the others. It looks lumpy and strange........but at the same time, intriguing. This one looks like it could be a lot of fun! You throw caution to the wind and take a big bite! RUM TRUFFLE!!! JACKPOT! This is almost as good as the caramel. This one always shakes up the box with that unexpected rush. It comes on strong, but it is okay, since there is enough sweetness to temper it. You definitely want this one around at all the get togethers.

Now, you are feeling like a pretty good judge of chocolates. You are thinking, "I know how to pick them". You figure you will not be fooled again. You take a dive into the box, and pick out something interesting. It has a nice smooth finish, looks absolutely perfect. It is a little irregularily shaped, but no problem, you got lucky with that last time. You pop the whole thing in your mouth expecting the absolute best surprise. You get it............you have encountered a nut. At first, it tastes mainly of chocolate, but as you chew, the sharp little pieces start to be uncomfortable, the taste is overwhelming, the texture unpleasant. It confuses and upsets you.....then you remember, every box of chocolates has at least one. Personally, I have seen whole boxes dedicated to the nuts..........in fact, I am pretty sure that is where I came from!

Getting in touch with your inner bitch

Apparently a lot of people are not only in touch with their inner bitch, they are communicating on a daily basis. She is not just an acquaintance who is invited to only the biggest of affairs, but is the best sister-friend to whom they are attached at the hip. They shop together, they work together, they go to their kids soccer games together. She seems to make an appearance EVERYWHERE!

My inner bitch didn't reveal herself until I was much older. Though my mother may claim that she was around a lot when I was a teenager. Because of that, she and I are not very close. She does show up when she is needed.....and this makes her an invaluable friend to have. When I am being threatened emotionally, she is usually right there to defend me. If I am being screwed over on a bill, she is right there to state my case. But for the most part, she stays quiet and out of sight. She USUALLY doesn't come to work with me, and I do not think my husband has ever met her.

My ex-husband, on the other hand, claims he was married to her.



So why do so many feel the need to have their inner bitches front and center all of the time? My guess is that they are feeling threatened or screwed all of the time. I know someone who never leaves her inner bitch at home. Sometimes you think to yourself, "Ah, the IB is finally taking a day off" when WHAMO, she shows herself in all her glory. Now, granted, there are times when she definitely less flamboyant than others, but she is always there, lurking, waiting for a moment to pounce.

I am thinking maybe I need to introduce my inner bitch to her inner bitch and see who wins. A battle of the century. Mine will win, she isn't near as war weary as hers.

I think maybe my IB may have written parts of this post.

Put on your Big Girl Panties and Deal with it!!!!

This is my new mantra. It basically says it all. Grow up, quit whining, stop feeling sorry for yourself....take control and take responsibility for your own life and your own actions.

Now, the first time I heard this saying, I about died laughing. It is amusing and fits so many different situations. But the more I think about it, the more it rings true.

Far too many "adults" in this world are so dependant on others to make them happy, take care of them, keep them out of trouble, etc. It totally drives me bananas. These people constantly blame others for their misfortunes or whine and cry and stomp their feet when things don't go their way. OY!!!!!!! Nothing more nauseating than to watch a grown woman throw a tantrum.

This leads to my other favourite mantra.....Suck it Up Princess! If your skin is so tender that it is bruised by the slightest of pebbles in your bed......you might as well lock yourself away. Trust me, life is FULL of pebbles, and rocks, and HONKIN' BOULDERS!! And though each of them may bruise you, you get tougher from each one. The Good Lord knows I have dealt with some real boulders in my life......but I am still here.......now, most of those boulders seem like little pebbles. And it seems that the little pebbles don't even bother to mess with me, since I can turn them to dust with just a look.

So, I have found my Big Girl Panties, and I wear them daily with pride.....and whatever comes my way, I can certainly deal with it.

DISCLAIMER: This post was not written about anyone in particular. It is a general observation about many people that I have encountered in my life. BUT, if as you read this, you thought I was talking about you......perhaps you should go shopping at Victoria Secret....... just a thought.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

So, March 17th.........a day to celebrate the Irish in us all..........why? There is no other day in the year where there is widespread celebration of a Nationality to which you don't belong. I mean, how many non-Scotsmen even know when Robbie Burns day is.........or who of us that is not Spanish celebrates Cinco de Mayo? There was no parade on Napoleon's Birthday.

So why is it we all embrace our inner Leprechaun and yell "Kiss me I'm Irish" while eating our mutton stew and drinking green beer? I suppose it is because it is FUN! It is fun to talk in a terrible Irish accent and make up Irish proverbs. It is fun to see just how much green a person can wear. Though, not one of my children dressed in anything green for school today.....they didn't have anything ....... though, my oldest son wore a T-shirt from the band Green Day..... I figure that counts.

So, even though I am not Irish (yes, I am Iris, but not Irish), I will color the beer green, maybe some gingerale for the kiddoes too.........will make a stew, but certainly not mutton, and we will celebrate tonight. I think I will make a green jello pie for dessert even. But please, I beg of you, on the next Robbie Burns day, January 25th..............wear a kilt, eat some haggus and do your own bad impression of the Scotsman.......

I PASSED!!

I know it has taken me some time to get back to this.......but I just had to write about my NRP course. The one I was previously so uptight about. Well, I passed......not only did I pass..... but I achieved 100% on the written part of the course. I was pretty impressed with myself. Especially since I have never taken this course before AND I had forgotten to study until about two days before. The hands on part of the course was pretty easy, really. I only wish the instructor had not cut the course time down in half and had given us more hands on practice through the day. Hopefully next time I have to take it, I will have more time.

Now, I have a few home study modules to complete and then I tackle the biggie.....ACLS or Advanced Cardiac Life Support. I shudder every time I think about it. It is a big course, with a LOT of studying and memorizing......something this 38½ year old brain has trouble doing. I feel sometimes like my brain only has room for so much information, and if I keep trying to add new stuff, some old stuff is going to fall out........and I won't remember my own name! As it is, I am having trouble remembering which one of my kids is which at times. Poor kids get called all kinds of names........not that kind, but you know, each other's names. I have even called Tuc Ginger a time or two.......that should be good for a couple years on some therapists couch.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

No, not the movie.........my life! Most of the time, things are good. I love my life and my family. But.........I get so stressed. My job is stressful.......and even though it is good paying, things have gotten out of hand and there isn't a lot of money.....that is stressful. I over extended myself and now my bills are killing me! I know I should be thankful I have bills, since if I didn't, it would mean I was homeless.......but I tend to forget that most of the time.

And now for the ugly part. I have courses upon courses to complete for my job.....none of which are going to get me an increase in pay......they only get me peace of mind in knowing what to do in case of emergency at work. This week, it is Neonatal Resuscitation. Nothing more stressful than attending a delivery where a baby needs to be resuscitated. And every time I read a chapter, it takes me back to when Tucker was born, and he needed to be resuscitated. Then spent 11 days in the NICU and 6 weeks on home oxygen. I can think of those days without crying.......as everything did work out in the end........but the stress that I had during that time was unbelievable. Thank God for my mother. She was here taking care of the other kids so that was one thing that WASN'T on my mind. I knew they were in good hands and being well cared for. I have courses in Advanced Cardiac Life Support, Palliative Care, Breastfeeding, Emergency Room Care and a few others I can't even remember. Ah, the joys of working in a rural setting where you are all things to all people. I once had a nursing instructor tell me I was a Jack of All Trades and Master of none........it was supposed to be a put down........but, she was right. I know a little bit about a lot of things......actually, I think I know a lot of things about a lot of things. If she could see me now, she would realize that being a Jack of All Trades is what makes a good nurse! And when you work in a team, and everyone knows a little something different.... it all works out in the end!

My first Random Thought

Well, maybe not my first, but the first I am publishing in my blog. I have heard much about blogging.......and well, didn't pay much attention. I have read certain ones, mostly from online friends.....and mostly specific ones about specific events.......mostly because I was pointed in their direction. I never thought I would bother.....or more so, that anyone would even care..... but....I have decided, I don't care if no one ever reads it or if no one even cares. These are my thoughts, as trivial as they may be, and I have the right to them.

Today, I was cleaning out my cupboards, trying to make some room for a new set of dishes I bought recently. All of my old dishes were chipped and pieces missing from dishwashing mishaps. I just wanted a new set. As I am cleaning them out, I keep feeling like it is so wasteful to just throw them away. Like I should do something with them. Then I am thinking....who would want a bunch of chipped dishes? I am so strange sometimes. I am a product of my mother, who grew up in the 30's and who never threw ANYTHING away.

Then came the mug cupboard. I have one whole section of a cupboard dedicated to coffee mugs. Most of them are special mugs that have been given to us as gifts and such over the years. I am having a hard time parting with them......as though if I get rid of them, I am getting rid of memories, or that I just don't care about the event or person who gave it to me. Isn't that just absurd?? How can a coffee mug hold so much meaning? The thing is, there are only a couple that I really like.......and certainly only one or two that I actually use......because they are big enough to hold half a pot of coffee at a time. So why do I feel the urge to keep them? I think I will take them to work and put them in our coffee room there. That way, I will still see them, they won't feel useless and abandoned anymore, since now they are at least being used, and I won't feel guilty about throwing them away. Of course, I have to be sure to allow the rest of the family to pick through them and decide if any are just too special to them!