new arrival

this is my friend sarah's baby, brendan james. he was born with a congenital heart defect and has already had surgury and is only 7 days old.

he's doing well though, but please keep him and his family in your prayers.

he's a little peanut; he's 5lbs, 14 oz. :)

welcome to the world, brendan!

too much time on my hands

I took a test to see if i was normal. apparently, i'm not. this is what it said:

Are You Normal?

"Your Normalcy Quotient is: 44 out of 100. Your quiz results make you a Marvelous MaverickGiddy-up partner. You're a maverick and don't know what the definition of normal is. That's a-okay because you're now part of a fascinating group of desperadoes. Wherever you ride, it's sure to be off the beaten path because it's way more fun to find the path least traveled."

Take this free personality test by Clicking Here>> or going to www.chatterbean.com/runormal/

almost done

well, this is the last week of clinicals for the summer. i've made it... anyway, i think i've made it. i've given shots, hung i.v. bags and other fun stuff. i have not however, done a foley cath yet. my teacher told us today to remind her if we haven't gotten a chance to perform a skill yet. great. so guess what i'll probably do tomorrow? yeah! okay, i'm being sarcastic. it's not exactly on my "things i want to do" list, but it is something i need to do (on a real person), and soooo...

anyway, its probably best if i don't think about it... and just get in there and do it.

actually, i'm kinda proud of myself. a few years ago, even the mere thought of performing such a procedure would have made my insides shrivel in horror. okay, it still kinda does -- but then, i probably wouldn't have been able to do it.

okay, so i'm shy. i couldn't even say the names of certain parts of anatomy without turning bright red and stuttering. its not like i shout them out now, but at least i can say the correct term without feeling like i've just blurted out a swear word.

needless to say, my nursing education has been an iteresting path. i've cringed alot and thought, "i can't do this!", but i got through it and realized i could to it and it wasn't as bad as i thought.

in fact, i've actually really enjoyed the past eight weeks. i've been applying the skills i learned and actually working with real patients and helping them, and it's just like everything is clicking into place. there were a few times there last semester that i wondered if i'd made the right choice and if i could even do this. i found that it is very difficult to juggle work school and a family, and sometimes, i wanted to give up and quit school. it was hard; i was tired, and worn out, and sometimes i thought i couldn't do it. but i told myself i would do clinicals and if i could get through that, i could do it. if i hated it, then i would know it wasn't for me. and i discovered that i'd found my niche. working with people, and helping them, and realizing that i could do this stuff was just so amazing. this is definately what i want to do with my life. its definately my calling.

when i started this rotation, i was petrified. i wasn't sure if i could make it in a hospital setting, or if i would remember what i was supposed to do; but every week, i got through it, and learned a little more.

so 8 weeks of clinicals have gone by, and tomorrow is review day -- so i find out if i passed. i think i did.

that would be ironic; here i am talking about the wonderful experience i had, and then i find out i was an abysmal failure. hmmmm.... don't think so.

well, at any rate, i'll find out tomorrow.

big mama's in da house

hmmmm... just goin thru old preggers pics. i was big!



the one on the bottom right is not a very good picture. i look like a stoned out hippie. actually, nothing fit me at the moment, so i look more like i robbed a thrift store in the dark and put on whatever i grabbed. this was fun... none of my shirts were big enough to completely cover my huge belly (even the "maternity" shirts were too small), and so i'd be walking around and realize half my stomach was hanging out. my "cool" elastic waist pants were stretched out and tired and not doing their job; they sagged below my belly and made my thighs look huge.

wait. they were huge. i know this because i split the seam in the legs of my maternity pants. in the thighs. yeah, that's kinda embarrasing. you know you're fat when your thighs bust out of maternity pants...

don't get me wrong, being pregnant is fun, and an incredible, precious experience. but you get to a point at the end where you feel like a huge, beached whale. you waddle everywhere, and when you get into the tub, you create a tidal wave when you sit down. and when you try to get out... you realize you're stuck. and you don't want to be stuck, because if your husband can't help you get out, what happens then? do you ask the neighbors to help?

thankfully, no one besides my husband ever had to see my big old pregnant self in the tub, for which i'm very glad.

and i couldn't tie my shoes! i finally gave up and just laced them very loosely and slipped them on. my feet got too fat and swollen to tie them normally anyway. i swear, ten pounds of the weight i had gained was all water weight. my feet looked like little sausages. i definately wasn't one of those women that looked sexy when i was pregnant.

i just looked pregnant. and big. and clumsy.

but i loved it. i loved feeling him move around, and having him so close. i loved talking to him, and singing lullabyes. i loved being able to calm him down by rubbing my belly and singing.

i love being a mom. i wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

so that's why...

i read this post on a friend's (effie's) blog and discovered why i'm so exhausted at the end of the day. enjoy:

"Recently I was diagnosed with A.A.A.D.D. -
Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder. This is how it manifests:

I decide to water my garden.

As I turn on the hose in the driveway, I look over at my car and decide the car needs washing.

As I start toward the garage, I notice that there is mail on the porch table that I brought up from the mailbox earlier.

I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table, and notice that the can is full.

So I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first.

But then I think, since I’m going to be near the mailbox, when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my checkbook off the table, and see that there is only 1 check left. My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find a can of Coke that I had been drinking.

I’m going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don’t accidentally knock it over. I see that the Coke is getting warm, and I decide I should put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye – they need to be watered.

I set the Coke down on the counter, and I discover my reading glasses that I’ve been searching for all morning.

I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first, I’m going to water the flowers.

I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water and suddenly I spot the TV remote. Someone left it on the kitchen table.

I realize that tonite when we go to watch TV, I will be looking for the remote, but I won’t remember that it’s on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I’ll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill.

Then, I head down the hall, trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day:

- the car isn’t washed;
- the bills aren’t paid;
- there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter;
- the flowers don’t have enough water;
- there is still only 1 check in my check book;
- I can’t find the remote;
- I can’t find my glasses;
- And I don’t remember what I did with the car keys.

Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I’m really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I’m really tired.

I realize this is a serious problem, and I’ll try to get some help for it, but first, I’ll check my e-mail.

Don’t laugh – if this isn’t you yet, your day is coming!
Growing older is mandatory, growing up is optional.
Laughing at yourself is therapeutic.
PS: I just remembered…I left the water running in the driveway!!!"

if anything can go wrong, it will...

... or so murphy's law states. anyway, it usually applies to me.

we had a power outage on tuesday for about two hours. nick is unhappy with our power company, as this sort of thing happens about once every couple of months or so (and sometimes more). he says it would be nice to be in a more civilized area, where the electricity wasn't always going out.

i made fun of him (until i realized i couldn't make lunch because we had no stove or microwave and no bread for sandwhiches).

i told nick we should be amish; at least they aren't paralyzed when there's a power outage. unlike us, they have water, and can cook. not to mention they save hundreds of dollars by not having to pay an electric bill for an electric company that didn't work all the time anyway...

nick reminded me that the amish don't have power outages, because they don't have power in the first place.

"you know what i mean!" i snapped. he grinned. he loves to "wind me up", as he calls it. i don't think amish women snap at their husbands. i don't think i'd last long as an amish woman.

but at any rate, the power came back and i forgot about it.

until the next morning, that is. early in the morning, i was jolted awake by nick's panicked voice saying, "what are you doing?! it's 6:20! you're supposed to be at clinicals!".

i look at the clock, which says, "4:30 a.m.," and tell him so.

"it's SIX TWENTY," he says again, with emphasis. "Didn't you reset the clock after the power cut?" he asked.

now, i'm awake. really awake. "what?" i say, stupidly. i look blearily at his clock (which has the right time). it says 6:20. i rub my eyes and look again, as if that will change anything. it doesn't, of course.

i sit bolt upright in bed. it's amazing how you can go from being in a dead sleep to wide awake in less than a minute.

i panic. i have the drill seargeant for a teacher, and i'm late for clinicals. "what am i going to dooo?!" i wail.

nick rubs my back and trys to calm me down. i calm down enough to gather my thoughts and call the hospital to let them (and my instructor) know that i will be late.

i then get ready in record time (15 minutes) and race to the hospital, almost hitting two deer that decided to jump out in front of me.

that would have been too ironic. i guess i would have still ended up at the hospital, but not quite in the way i had planned.

at any rate, one hour later, i arrive, and still make it in time to hear the end of shift report from the night shift.

****

other that getting "the look" from my teacher, nothing was said. at any rate, we were kept over for 45 minutes that day, and half an hour the week before... so i guess i'm even...

and lucky. i guess it turned out okay in the end.

hamming it up with the shark from underwater world. the poor guy must have been dying inside that thing -- it was so hot that day!

mom and clay at the mall of america.

here we are enjoying the carousel. once he got used to it, he didn't want to get off!

clinicals

i've started my second rotation of clinicals and the teacher i have now absolutely terrifies me. don't ask me why. she's very quiet and soft spoken and very calm. in fact, i don't think she'd yell if there was a fire. i don't think she'd yell if she was on fire.

but she makes me nervous. my first day on the floor, i felt like throwing up. actually, my first day on the floor was a disaster. i was fine on my own, but then when she observed me, i couldn't do anything right.

she quizzed me on medications and asked me about one particular blood thinning medication, which was given by injection.

"do you aspirate with this shot?" she asked, grilling me.

my mind went blank, and i forgot what aspirating was. she had to tell me.

"i know you learned this in skills," she said severely. i wanted to vomit.

it only got better. my patient was great, i had no problem establishing a relatonship and a good rapport, but my teacher didn't crack a smile. in fact, she made me feel ridiculous. i might as well have worn a big red nose and great big clown shoes -- i felt that clumsy around her.

but then again... i was clumsy. i also had to give pills, and dropped the container holding the pills, further impressing my (by now very unsmiling) teacher.

i also had to give an injection. my first one, and it was under her watchful, steely eye. i wondered if anyone had ever fainted while giving an injection and wondered vaguely what would happen if i did.

i didn't.

but my hands were shaking, and i was so terrified about jabbing a needle into a live human being, that i forgot how to hold the needle correctly and she had to show me. she probably thinks i'm an abyssmal failure. but i did it. and the person didn't scream in pain, and nothing horrible happened.

i didn't vomit either. i did however, have to use my inhaler several times. i felt like i had an elephant sitting on my chest half the time.

(great... i'm reading this and i sound like a basket case.... if my teacher ever saw this, she'd never pass me, she'd refer me to a psychiatrist)

so... we'll see if i can survive next week without vomiting or fainting.

practice makes perfect. my friend told me to make sure i knew the meds frontwards and backwards and then the teacher gets off your back.

so i'll try that little experiement and see how it works.

i don't make this stuff up...

the other day, my friend's brothers were at the mud races. yes, that's an actual sport here, where trucks race each other through a field of mud. i'm not sure what the prize is, but some other prizes you could win here could be the "t-shirt with the stupidest slogan" award, "worst mullet" award, and "drunken idiot" award.

which brings me to my story.

their friend, steve, kept coming back with beer, and they asked him where he was getting all the beer. apparently he was drinking alot of it.

he told them it was free, just sitting there for the taking.

are you thinking what i'm thinking?

well, after helping himself several times, steve met the owner of the "free" beer source, who, needless to say, was not happy about some stranger taking beer from his pick-up truck.

so he did what every reasonable (drunk) person would do; he attacked steve with a tire iron until he had knocked him unconscious.

the policemen, who we will call earl and bubba, were of course very helpful. they showed up promply on the scene, and said, "nothing to see folks," and sent everyone packing and refused to take statements from any witnesses.

steve's wife was going to take him home, but someone thought it might be a good idea to take him to the hospital since his head had just been hit repeatedly by a tire iron.

apparently, while this was being decided, earl and bubba were apparently being chewed out by their supervising officer, because they showed up at the hospital looking for steve, much more attentive now, and wanting to take down any and all statements.

of course, steve wanted to press charges. on someone that no doubt looked like half the other guys there...

so you can imagine how that interview went:
"sir, can you describe your attacker?"

"um, he had a t-shirt on.... some kind of writing on it..."

the officer starts to write down, "...t-shirt with writing..." and then rememberes that EVERYONE there had a t-shirt with writing on it. he sighs. "do you remember what it said?" he asks, without too much hope.

"yeah, i always take time to read someone's shirt when they are attacking me with a tire iron."

"right. okay... er... do you remember what he was driving?"

"a pickup."

yeah, and so was everyone else, the cop thinks to himself. "do you remember what color the truck was?"

"um, it might have been red, but then again, that could have been the blood running into my eyes from having my head bashed in..."

"how about a plate number?"

"didn't see it (although the witness you refused to take a statement from did)"

no, i don't suppose you did, buddy. if you had been sober enough to get a plate number, you might have been sober enough to realize that the beer was not free, and that it was definately not a good idea to take it from a complete stranger's truck. at a mudrace. full of rednecks.

a redneck's most prized possessions are his truck and his beer. in that order. in fact, if you gave some of them the choice between their wives and their trucks, they'd choose the trucks. ("sorry baby, but i had the truck first.")

so if you take something from a redneck's truck, even if you are so ridiculously plastered that you think its free, it's going to cause the redneck owner to see red.

and lets face it. you have to be really plastered (or really stupid) to walk up to a complete stranger's truck and assume that the refreshments there are for the taking. however, you have to be equally plastered (and stupid) to think its okay to attack someone with a tire iron because they took a few cans of beer.

i don't know, maybe its the alcohol, but i could be crazy. maybe, since the probability of people realizing they do stupid stuff when they get drunk and deciding not to get drunk anymore, is not likely to happen in the near future; then there should just be a law against being stupid.

*******

um, does stuff like this happen anywhere else (besides to the Duke boys in Hazard county?)

world cup

left my boys sitting watching the england vs. portugal game. clay is quite into soccer himself, loves to watch it. right now i'm listening to commentary on the game; its 0-0 and into the penalty shootout and so am hoping for the best.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/fivelive/sport/commentaries.shtml

Well, here goes... guess we'll see what happens.