On days like this I desperately wish I could simply clean out Jen’s abandoned room, without my mind and heart working overtime. But, oh no, I was flooded with waves of nostalgia with each and every familiar item that I touched.
It’s been two days since she left and today I got the courage to go into her room to start the cleansing process. It was worse than I could have imagined! There were posters still on the wall; I’m sure the floor hadn’t been swept in months, and so on. There were so many things left behind, as if she’s saying farewell to her childhood and welcoming adulthood.
The very first thing I noticed was her blankie was lying on her bed, utterly forsaken and forlorn. I nearly wept! She still slept with it every night, including the night before she left. That blankie has been to sleepovers, to camp, to Alberta and BC, and to Wisconsin (it is currently being used by Kev).
Perhaps I need to say goodbye to the child named Jennifer and welcome the adult by the same name. Perhaps she was only as childlike as I thought her to be. Perhaps it was I who had trouble adjusting to my baby girl becoming an adult. Perhaps I will approve of more of her choices now that she’s grown and gone. Perhaps . . . . oh I could go on forever and wonder why things have been the way they have. She seemed to have no trouble leaving her childhood behind, blankie was left lying casually on the bed, as if she had sprung out of bed Tuesday morning and simply tossed it aside for her new life.
She filled four boxes and two carry-on bags when packing her belongings Monday night. Two boxes went with her as baggage and two were left in her room for me to send later by bus. The morning of departure she said to me, “My entire life is in those 4 boxes.” She purged her belongings ruthlessly and extensively to whittle down the amount of stuff that would have to be moved across the country.
One of the boxes was searched as an extra security precaution by guards who opened the box and rifled through it. Kassie and I stood by and giggled and joked to ourselves that it was good that Jen hadn’t packed any weed in the box. We spoke too soon as it turns out her ‘pipe’ was in the box. Needless to say, security didn’t find it or I’d be writing another post entirely.
This afternoon I went through one of the boxes that I am to send her via bus. In it was shoes, a few articles of summer clothing, shoes, video games, shoes, stuffies, shoes, and books. Did I mention that she likes shoes? The other box is likely filled with books, which is interesting because she got rid of a large box just last week, and she’s left a huge collection of paper backs in her room. She is a true bibliophile. I think that means book lover, if not, please correct me.
Ever since “Pirates of the Caribbean” was released, she’s been in love with Johnny Depp and all things Depp-related. The majority of the posters and pictures left on her wall were of him; they are now out in the dumpster. Her method of saying goodbye to this home and her life here is to ‘rip the bandage off quickly,’ which is in sharp contrast to my method.
In short, sometimes I feel I knew the girl that lived in my home, and sometimes I swear I didn’t know her at all. She’s fascinating, beautiful, genius, artistic, entertaining, stubborn, unafraid, and she’s my daughter.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
HONESTY FROM A WOULD-BE EMPTY NESTER
As I pulled into my parking stall after taking Jen to the airport Kev to daycare, it hit me. Today is the day that I would have become an ‘empty nester,’ a time parents both dread and eagerly anticipate when the last child leaves home.
For some reason this concept never really applied to me, or so I thought. Empty nesters are fifty-ish, greying hair, bifocals, and married. None of those qualifications apply to me. I’m forty-two, brunette hair, just barely started wearing reading glasses, and am happily divorced for ten years. How could I be an empty nester?
It seems regardless of your qualifications, when the youngest leaves home, the nest is empty and, by default, you become an ‘empty-nester.’ My youngest child moved out today, but I’ve got another twenty years to go till my nest is really empty.
The years after graduating from nursing and before retirement were to be ‘my’ years. I’d done my job and raised my two children. Freedom from child-rearing meant I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. If I wanted to work an extra shift or two, or work three in a row (which I never EVER do now), it was up to me. On my off time, I would be able to go to the gym as often as I liked and for as long as I liked. With my huge paycheques I was going to be able to travel. If I wanted to go work up North, I could have done so.
Sometimes unexpected things come up and plans change. You can accept things as they are and be happy, or you can fight the change and be miserable. “Mom, I’m pregnant,” is one of those life-changing statements that you are somehow just never prepared to hear. Especially when the mother to be is a mere 17 years of age and has adamantly stated that she never wants to have children of her own. Ever.
Because of my personal opinion on abortion and because this was my own flesh and blood we were discussing, and because I feared for her mental health should she chose abortion, I strongly discouraged that route. Adoption was the next option, but it was never a realistic option. From the moment that I knew I was going to be a Grandmother, I loved the unborn child and eagerly anticipated his/her arrival. There was never a question in my mind that this child would be loved and well cared for and he would stay with his birth mother or me. I was not going to be denied a part in my grandchild’s life, regardless of the circumstances.
Kev was born March 30, 2008, several weeks premature. His entry into the world went quite smoothly right up until the very last ten minutes or so. An emergency team was called in and he was hurried into this world with mechanical assistance. I remember the nursing staff being very calm, but I could see the tell-tale looks on their faces (nurses always know when other nurses are worried). I mouthed across my daughter’s belly to her nurse, “is he going to be okay?” She nodded. I asked if she was sure, and she nodded again. Kev came out a grayish white sort of color, not breathing. My heart sank and I thought for a moment I would vomit. After some Narcan (a medication used to reverse the effects of narcotics), he pinked up and started crying. Tears entered my eyes and my world changed in that one moment.
For the first few weeks the birth mother tried desperately to be a good mother, but then post-partum depression set in. She and Kev took the train to her Dad’s in Alberta. Within two weeks I got a phone call from her dad who is always calm no matter the situation. He told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to come pick up Jen and Kev, or they would put Jen on a plane to Winnipeg and keep Kev until she was ready to be a mom. Wow. My world came crashing down and I took the necessary time off and met them in Brandon. And when I saw Kev again, I resolved that he would never again be away from my care in that way again.
Kev and his mother returned home, and for the next three months we shared the parenting duties. She watched him while I worked, and I took care of him when I wasn’t working. Things started to fall apart, and she felt unable to watch him while I went to work, so I found babysitters. It wasn’t long after that she signed the guardianship papers. It was not an easy decision for her to make, she wanted desperately to be a good Mommy to Kev but knew it was likely not a realistic scenario. She needed to finish high school and I did not want her caught up in the welfare cycle.
During the first few months of his life she and I went for several counseling sessions and I was able to admit that I was hugely resentful towards her for putting me in the position where I had to do the right thing. I was angry because she had ‘taken’ my freedom. Loving Kev was never in question, I’ve loved him since before birth.
Since I’ve assumed guardianship we’ve had some good times and some bad times. Its only in the last few months that our relationship has declined to the point where I knew we could no longer continue living together and raise Kev as a team. Her independence clashed with my need for control and vice versa. It wasn’t pretty! I love my baby girl, but boy, does she ever drive me crazy!! We knew that if we were ever to have a working relationship, or a good relationship, we would need to live in separate homes. At the end of October I informed her that Kev and I would be moving out to the country in January, February or March, and she would need to find a place to live by then, as I would only be renting a two bedroom home. I doubt very much whether this was as much of a surprise for her as it was for me.
Things went exponentially down hill right up till the time of her departure. It hurts that she left ‘angry’, so to speak. The expression ‘don’t let the sun go down upon your wrath’ seems to be quite fitting in this situation, except that we did let the sun go down while still angry with one another.
The only thing worse than the frequent disagreements is the guilt that I’m feeling over the relief of not having to fight with her anymore. It almost makes me feel as though I have failed at being a mother to her, and that’s a horrible feeling. Mothers, the good ones anyway, are supposed to get along with their children and never feel the slightest bit happy when they leave home. Or so I’ve been told (not in words) my whole life.
My mother doesn’t understand how I cannot be worried about Jen moving so far away, nor does she understand how I could be so cruel as to tell Jen that if things don’t work out for her and her boyfriend, she’s no longer welcome to live with me and Kev. What kind of person does that make me?! I’ve struggled with this guilt a lot lately, and more so now that she’s actually gone.
My reason for encouraging her to move out of my home is very simple. Kev should not be seeing her treat me poorly, and he shouldn’t have to be familiar with the feeling of tension in the air when his two favorite people are angry with each other but not speaking. The tension between her and I was a huge energy-sucker and emotionally draining.
I am certain she will thrive once settled in and away from me, and I believe I will do the same. She and I are two peas in a pod; I’m certain that our similarities are a large contributing factor to our inability to living together.
I love Kev and am committed 110% to being the best parent to him that I can be but there is still some resentment over being ‘forced’ to make the ‘right’ choice. I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled to pieces that I’ve got to pay for childcare for another ten years, or that I’ve had to make some huge attitude adjustments in my expectations of the empty-nest years.
However, I am thrilled to pieces that Kev has become an integral part of my world and I will protect him with my life
For some reason this concept never really applied to me, or so I thought. Empty nesters are fifty-ish, greying hair, bifocals, and married. None of those qualifications apply to me. I’m forty-two, brunette hair, just barely started wearing reading glasses, and am happily divorced for ten years. How could I be an empty nester?
It seems regardless of your qualifications, when the youngest leaves home, the nest is empty and, by default, you become an ‘empty-nester.’ My youngest child moved out today, but I’ve got another twenty years to go till my nest is really empty.
The years after graduating from nursing and before retirement were to be ‘my’ years. I’d done my job and raised my two children. Freedom from child-rearing meant I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. If I wanted to work an extra shift or two, or work three in a row (which I never EVER do now), it was up to me. On my off time, I would be able to go to the gym as often as I liked and for as long as I liked. With my huge paycheques I was going to be able to travel. If I wanted to go work up North, I could have done so.
Sometimes unexpected things come up and plans change. You can accept things as they are and be happy, or you can fight the change and be miserable. “Mom, I’m pregnant,” is one of those life-changing statements that you are somehow just never prepared to hear. Especially when the mother to be is a mere 17 years of age and has adamantly stated that she never wants to have children of her own. Ever.
Because of my personal opinion on abortion and because this was my own flesh and blood we were discussing, and because I feared for her mental health should she chose abortion, I strongly discouraged that route. Adoption was the next option, but it was never a realistic option. From the moment that I knew I was going to be a Grandmother, I loved the unborn child and eagerly anticipated his/her arrival. There was never a question in my mind that this child would be loved and well cared for and he would stay with his birth mother or me. I was not going to be denied a part in my grandchild’s life, regardless of the circumstances.
Kev was born March 30, 2008, several weeks premature. His entry into the world went quite smoothly right up until the very last ten minutes or so. An emergency team was called in and he was hurried into this world with mechanical assistance. I remember the nursing staff being very calm, but I could see the tell-tale looks on their faces (nurses always know when other nurses are worried). I mouthed across my daughter’s belly to her nurse, “is he going to be okay?” She nodded. I asked if she was sure, and she nodded again. Kev came out a grayish white sort of color, not breathing. My heart sank and I thought for a moment I would vomit. After some Narcan (a medication used to reverse the effects of narcotics), he pinked up and started crying. Tears entered my eyes and my world changed in that one moment.
For the first few weeks the birth mother tried desperately to be a good mother, but then post-partum depression set in. She and Kev took the train to her Dad’s in Alberta. Within two weeks I got a phone call from her dad who is always calm no matter the situation. He told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to come pick up Jen and Kev, or they would put Jen on a plane to Winnipeg and keep Kev until she was ready to be a mom. Wow. My world came crashing down and I took the necessary time off and met them in Brandon. And when I saw Kev again, I resolved that he would never again be away from my care in that way again.
Kev and his mother returned home, and for the next three months we shared the parenting duties. She watched him while I worked, and I took care of him when I wasn’t working. Things started to fall apart, and she felt unable to watch him while I went to work, so I found babysitters. It wasn’t long after that she signed the guardianship papers. It was not an easy decision for her to make, she wanted desperately to be a good Mommy to Kev but knew it was likely not a realistic scenario. She needed to finish high school and I did not want her caught up in the welfare cycle.
During the first few months of his life she and I went for several counseling sessions and I was able to admit that I was hugely resentful towards her for putting me in the position where I had to do the right thing. I was angry because she had ‘taken’ my freedom. Loving Kev was never in question, I’ve loved him since before birth.
Since I’ve assumed guardianship we’ve had some good times and some bad times. Its only in the last few months that our relationship has declined to the point where I knew we could no longer continue living together and raise Kev as a team. Her independence clashed with my need for control and vice versa. It wasn’t pretty! I love my baby girl, but boy, does she ever drive me crazy!! We knew that if we were ever to have a working relationship, or a good relationship, we would need to live in separate homes. At the end of October I informed her that Kev and I would be moving out to the country in January, February or March, and she would need to find a place to live by then, as I would only be renting a two bedroom home. I doubt very much whether this was as much of a surprise for her as it was for me.
Things went exponentially down hill right up till the time of her departure. It hurts that she left ‘angry’, so to speak. The expression ‘don’t let the sun go down upon your wrath’ seems to be quite fitting in this situation, except that we did let the sun go down while still angry with one another.
The only thing worse than the frequent disagreements is the guilt that I’m feeling over the relief of not having to fight with her anymore. It almost makes me feel as though I have failed at being a mother to her, and that’s a horrible feeling. Mothers, the good ones anyway, are supposed to get along with their children and never feel the slightest bit happy when they leave home. Or so I’ve been told (not in words) my whole life.
My mother doesn’t understand how I cannot be worried about Jen moving so far away, nor does she understand how I could be so cruel as to tell Jen that if things don’t work out for her and her boyfriend, she’s no longer welcome to live with me and Kev. What kind of person does that make me?! I’ve struggled with this guilt a lot lately, and more so now that she’s actually gone.
My reason for encouraging her to move out of my home is very simple. Kev should not be seeing her treat me poorly, and he shouldn’t have to be familiar with the feeling of tension in the air when his two favorite people are angry with each other but not speaking. The tension between her and I was a huge energy-sucker and emotionally draining.
I am certain she will thrive once settled in and away from me, and I believe I will do the same. She and I are two peas in a pod; I’m certain that our similarities are a large contributing factor to our inability to living together.
I love Kev and am committed 110% to being the best parent to him that I can be but there is still some resentment over being ‘forced’ to make the ‘right’ choice. I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled to pieces that I’ve got to pay for childcare for another ten years, or that I’ve had to make some huge attitude adjustments in my expectations of the empty-nest years.
However, I am thrilled to pieces that Kev has become an integral part of my world and I will protect him with my life
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Goal #1
A while back I posted a quick piece about goals vs resolutions. I'm not big on resolutions as they seem so temporary and fleeting, in my opinion. It makes more sense me to sit down periodically and review where you are in life, where you'd like to go, and confirm that you are headed in the direction of your goals.
If memory serves correctly, I believe I also included that having your life values and goals in alignment with each other is essential.
My primary value, the most important thing in the world to me, is family. That includes my small family of three children and their significant others. It includes Mom, my brothers, and many relatives. I've got some friends who are closer to me than family and I've included them in my definition of family.
Keeping that value in mind, my biggest goal for 2010 (and the next two decades) is this: To provide a loving and stable home environment for Kevin, in which he can be secure in the knowledge that he is loved and treasured. Ideally, this is to be an environment without financial worries. He will be provided with many opportunities for education, exploration, and learning. Through the examples of myself and others he will learn the value of family and friends. As his parent, I will be supportive of him while also fostering indepensence.
It may seem odd to some that I've included parenting Kev as a goal. Special circumstances dictate that I can't take a routine approach to nurturing this child. Perhaps if I had given some prior thought as to how I planned to raise my oldest two instead of "flying by the seat of my pants" and making it up as I went along, they may have received more effective parenting.
Being a parent is not an easy task but there are many, immeasurable rewards to help you forget the difficult days.
This goal is crucial to me; all my other goals are set with this goal being taken into consideration.
Moving to the country and closer to friends and family is part of this goal. Working in a rural hospital rather than commuting regularly to HSC is also part. Resolving my financial issues in order to better provide for him, also part of this goal.
Sharing this with you means that I'm held accountable for what I've written.
If memory serves correctly, I believe I also included that having your life values and goals in alignment with each other is essential. My primary value, the most important thing in the world to me, is family. That includes my small family of three children and their significant others. It includes Mom, my brothers, and many relatives. I've got some friends who are closer to me than family and I've included them in my definition of family.
Keeping that value in mind, my biggest goal for 2010 (and the next two decades) is this: To provide a loving and stable home environment for Kevin, in which he can be secure in the knowledge that he is loved and treasured. Ideally, this is to be an environment without financial worries. He will be provided with many opportunities for education, exploration, and learning. Through the examples of myself and others he will learn the value of family and friends. As his parent, I will be supportive of him while also fostering indepensence.
It may seem odd to some that I've included parenting Kev as a goal. Special circumstances dictate that I can't take a routine approach to nurturing this child. Perhaps if I had given some prior thought as to how I planned to raise my oldest two instead of "flying by the seat of my pants" and making it up as I went along, they may have received more effective parenting.
Being a parent is not an easy task but there are many, immeasurable rewards to help you forget the difficult days. This goal is crucial to me; all my other goals are set with this goal being taken into consideration.
Moving to the country and closer to friends and family is part of this goal. Working in a rural hospital rather than commuting regularly to HSC is also part. Resolving my financial issues in order to better provide for him, also part of this goal.
Sharing this with you means that I'm held accountable for what I've written.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Blessed for a Third Time
Every time I go into his room in the evening and see him sleeping, I am reminded of how fortunate and how blessed I am. Minutes ago I went in and covered him again. He repositioned himself, did a cute little thing with his mouth, and scratched his adorable little belly. There is no way to recreate these moments, they happen via quantity time.
Earlier this evening I entered the living room and found him attemting to put a sweater on the lower half of his body. That was a first for him; a first time trying to dress himself. As he continued the upside down method of getting dressed, he said "on. On." Without having ever heard him talk, you couldn't possibly imagine how wonderful this moment was.
As we entered Superstore today he immediately started saying "tootie," which translates to cookie. He kept repeating it over and over and I kept telling him that I wasn't buying "tooties" but I would rather bake some at home. We were almost done our shopping, finishing in the baked goods section, as I always do, when it FINALLY dawned on me! Duh! He wanted his cookie from the bakery! Ugh. Didn't I ever feel silly! He got his cookie, was very grateful and enthused and then inhaled it before we got to the check out.
Each time we're in the car, even before I've got him fully buckled in, he's pointing to the front of the car and saying something. It's evident that he wants something but it took me many occasions to figure it out. Before I understood what it was what he wanted, I would offer him everything that I thought it could possibly be, plus a few things that weren't even in his line of sight. Today he said a word while gesturing to the front and I'm 99% sure he said "tunes." Based on that assumption, I turned on his CD; he sat back quietly in his seat and said nothing the entire ride home. What I want to know is who taught him the word "tunes?"
I've saved the best for last! When he was younger I sang to him on occasion; he didn't seem to mind. My children and my VBF will all vouch for my legendary vocal talent. It seems Kev has caught on quite young; every time I start to sing, he uses this tiny little tortured voice and shakes his head and says "nooo."
There you have it. Kev is my third blessing.
Earlier this evening I entered the living room and found him attemting to put a sweater on the lower half of his body. That was a first for him; a first time trying to dress himself. As he continued the upside down method of getting dressed, he said "on. On." Without having ever heard him talk, you couldn't possibly imagine how wonderful this moment was.
As we entered Superstore today he immediately started saying "tootie," which translates to cookie. He kept repeating it over and over and I kept telling him that I wasn't buying "tooties" but I would rather bake some at home. We were almost done our shopping, finishing in the baked goods section, as I always do, when it FINALLY dawned on me! Duh! He wanted his cookie from the bakery! Ugh. Didn't I ever feel silly! He got his cookie, was very grateful and enthused and then inhaled it before we got to the check out.
Each time we're in the car, even before I've got him fully buckled in, he's pointing to the front of the car and saying something. It's evident that he wants something but it took me many occasions to figure it out. Before I understood what it was what he wanted, I would offer him everything that I thought it could possibly be, plus a few things that weren't even in his line of sight. Today he said a word while gesturing to the front and I'm 99% sure he said "tunes." Based on that assumption, I turned on his CD; he sat back quietly in his seat and said nothing the entire ride home. What I want to know is who taught him the word "tunes?"
I've saved the best for last! When he was younger I sang to him on occasion; he didn't seem to mind. My children and my VBF will all vouch for my legendary vocal talent. It seems Kev has caught on quite young; every time I start to sing, he uses this tiny little tortured voice and shakes his head and says "nooo."
There you have it. Kev is my third blessing.
Farewell Sony Ericsson, Hello iPhone!
My trusty Sony Ericsson phone totally crapped out on me earlier this morning, which is not a huge surprise to anyone; it was missing touch pads on the keys, the memory card was always threatening to fall out, and ever since the phone fell on the bathroom floor at work, it had stopped ringing and only vibrated. I was trying valiantly to keep it going until I could purchase a replacement phone outright rather than sign another three year contract. Ha!! Imagine my utter delight when it started turning itself on and off every minute or so! The final nail in the phone's coffin.
My cell phone is my only form of communication with the outside world and that makes it a necessity in my opinion. Without a phone the hospital cannot call me and much worse, my mother cannot call me which could potentially lead to utter pandemonium. What if one of my adult children decided to call or text?! And how on earth can I arrange a booty call without a phone?! Unheard of! I MUST have a phone!!
So now I've spent the past two hours familiarizing myself with my new iPhone, even posting my blog from the phone! This opens up a whole new world for me; blogging on the go.
And don't think I didn't just see you all roll your eyes at that joyous prospect!!
Goodnight all.
 |
| iPhone! |
So now I've spent the past two hours familiarizing myself with my new iPhone, even posting my blog from the phone! This opens up a whole new world for me; blogging on the go.
And don't think I didn't just see you all roll your eyes at that joyous prospect!!
Goodnight all.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Baby Girl Leaves the Nest
It is 0509 as I write this post, I’ve been awake since 0430, and out of bed since 0500. Why so early? This is the morning my baby girl is leaving the nest to begin a new phase in her life. She is moving into a two bedroom apartment with wood-stained kitchen cupboards located on the military base in Valcartier, Quebec, which is where her boyfriend has recently received his first posting.
My mother often asks me how I feel about her moving and if I have ‘peace’ about it; I always reply in the affirmative. In my mind it makes no difference if she’s moving to an apartment across Winnipeg or across the country. She’s moving forward with her life, and doing the things that young adults do. To live in another province, especially Quebec, is an opportunity that does not happen every day. She has always enjoyed experiencing and learning new things. This move presents many opportunities for both, and I’m happy she gets to experience this.
She will obviously need to brush up on the French that she learned in school and be able to speak fluently enough to get a job. This is a challenge she is looking forward to with great anticipation.
My mother sees it as a personal affront every time a grandchild moves away from here. She loves each and every one of her descendants dearly and wishes they would all stay nearby so she could see them more frequently. Dad loved his grandchildren just as much, but had a different attitude towards relatives moving away. This just gave him another excuse to jump in the car and go on an impromptu road trip; in this regard I must have inherited my father’s mindset.
There is a possibility that Kev and I will fly there for her 20th birthday in October; that would require saving enough money for airfare for two by that time as Kev turns two in March and will require full fare. If you’ve read the posts regarding my finances, you’ll know the situation in that area of my life is not optimal, but I will make every attempt to funnel that much out of my income.
My dear, dear niece, Tanya, and her husband, Dorwin, live approximately an hour away from Valcartier. I’m hoping that Jen will be able to visit them at some point, it would be good for both Tanya and Jen. As well, with Tanya nearby, I will be able to see her if/when I go visit Jen in October. Its been much too long since I’ve seen her.
Several people have asked about Kev, inquiring if he was going with her. (For those who don’t already know the situation, Jen gave birth to Kev on March 30, 2008, attempted parenting, suffered post-partum depression, and on August 1, 2008, she signed guardianship of Kev over to me. The offer to be Kev’s primary caregiver had been ‘on the table’ since the beginning of the pregnancy.) He is staying with me. In my opinion, there is no other logical option, as I have been his parent for most of his precious twenty-one months.
In summary, I’m okay with Jen flying across the country to start a new chapter in her life. And, Kev is staying with me, his “Bumma.” (Occasionally he calls me “Mum” and I don’t discourage this.)
My mother often asks me how I feel about her moving and if I have ‘peace’ about it; I always reply in the affirmative. In my mind it makes no difference if she’s moving to an apartment across Winnipeg or across the country. She’s moving forward with her life, and doing the things that young adults do. To live in another province, especially Quebec, is an opportunity that does not happen every day. She has always enjoyed experiencing and learning new things. This move presents many opportunities for both, and I’m happy she gets to experience this.
She will obviously need to brush up on the French that she learned in school and be able to speak fluently enough to get a job. This is a challenge she is looking forward to with great anticipation.
My mother sees it as a personal affront every time a grandchild moves away from here. She loves each and every one of her descendants dearly and wishes they would all stay nearby so she could see them more frequently. Dad loved his grandchildren just as much, but had a different attitude towards relatives moving away. This just gave him another excuse to jump in the car and go on an impromptu road trip; in this regard I must have inherited my father’s mindset.
There is a possibility that Kev and I will fly there for her 20th birthday in October; that would require saving enough money for airfare for two by that time as Kev turns two in March and will require full fare. If you’ve read the posts regarding my finances, you’ll know the situation in that area of my life is not optimal, but I will make every attempt to funnel that much out of my income.
My dear, dear niece, Tanya, and her husband, Dorwin, live approximately an hour away from Valcartier. I’m hoping that Jen will be able to visit them at some point, it would be good for both Tanya and Jen. As well, with Tanya nearby, I will be able to see her if/when I go visit Jen in October. Its been much too long since I’ve seen her.
Several people have asked about Kev, inquiring if he was going with her. (For those who don’t already know the situation, Jen gave birth to Kev on March 30, 2008, attempted parenting, suffered post-partum depression, and on August 1, 2008, she signed guardianship of Kev over to me. The offer to be Kev’s primary caregiver had been ‘on the table’ since the beginning of the pregnancy.) He is staying with me. In my opinion, there is no other logical option, as I have been his parent for most of his precious twenty-one months.
In summary, I’m okay with Jen flying across the country to start a new chapter in her life. And, Kev is staying with me, his “Bumma.” (Occasionally he calls me “Mum” and I don’t discourage this.)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Night Shift
Hey hey, its my last shift before Jen leaves for Quebec. Her last chance to "babysit" Kev. When she first had him she called me at work many times every shift, tired and complaining about the lack of sleep. She hasn't called me tonight at all. Likely a good indicator of the tenseness of our relationship at this point in time. Also, Kev sleeps through the night and is no longer in the newborn stage, which she admits really scared her.
I've got six patients tonight, four of them very high maintenance. Its 0320 and I'm just barely sitting down after getting my work done and finishing up all the paperwork.
Kev cried when he saw me in my scrubs today. That's a first. It made me secretly happy that he would miss me, and very excited that he associated the scrubs with me going away. He came to me for a hug, crying as though his heart was breaking. I spoke softly into his ear "When you wake up in the morning, I'll be here again." He stopped crying when I began speaking, and didn't really start up again, but went to sit on Jen's lap.
That's about all the time I've got for a post tonight, break time is in ten minutes; I could blog on my break, but I've got other things to occupy my time.
I've got six patients tonight, four of them very high maintenance. Its 0320 and I'm just barely sitting down after getting my work done and finishing up all the paperwork.
Kev cried when he saw me in my scrubs today. That's a first. It made me secretly happy that he would miss me, and very excited that he associated the scrubs with me going away. He came to me for a hug, crying as though his heart was breaking. I spoke softly into his ear "When you wake up in the morning, I'll be here again." He stopped crying when I began speaking, and didn't really start up again, but went to sit on Jen's lap.
That's about all the time I've got for a post tonight, break time is in ten minutes; I could blog on my break, but I've got other things to occupy my time.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
For Rent: House #1
It is currently 0919. Kev and I are sitting at the kitchen table where he is inhaling a piece of toast and I am typing on my laptop. Jen is upstairs bemoaning the sorry state of her life. In particular, she is complaining rather loudly about getting up so early to go see Grandma.
Yesterday I went to see a rental home in Steinbach; 1200 square feet approximately. One level (no basement + no upstairs= no stairs!). The living room/dining room/kitchen is a very open area. One car garage opens directly into the front hallway, Kev’s bedroom is a front bay bedroom, and mine is in the back of the house, facing west. Washer and dryer are in the hallway between the kitchen and bathroom. It’s a wonderful layout and would be a welcome reprieve from my current home which has a full basement and three levels in addition to that. So many stairs to worry about with Kev exploring the house. The only drawback to the house is so minor that I shouldn’t even refer to it as a drawback, is the color of its décor. Dusty rose is the color scheme and it is present in the carpet, the blinds, kitchen cupboards, kitchen counter, etc. It is not the color scheme that I would choose if I were designing my own home, but to me in this case it is such a trivial detail.
There is a small storage room off of the garage which is not accessible from the house. The hot water tank and the water softener are in this tiny room. There is room for several boxes if I stack them vertically. And at this point in my purging of belongings, I don’t feel as if I have more than I could safely and logically fit into this room.
This home remains on the market until January 15, at which point the owner will either continue to rent the home or place it back on the market for another short period of time. If this is the case, I will begin to actively look for another rental in the Steinbach/Blumenort/Mitchell area. I will be very disappointed if I cannot rent this house, as it is optimal in so many ways. It is within walking distance of Bethesda Hospital, Virg’s house, Superstore, Clearspring Mall (the hotbed of activity in Steinbach), and from my home I have access to a series of wonderful walking circuits in town. Not to mention which, the town has two 24-hour gyms, one very close to this property.
Oh, and the best part is the rent! It’s a mere 18 dollars more than what I’m paying here, but the benefits are worth so much more than that.
Yesterday I went to see a rental home in Steinbach; 1200 square feet approximately. One level (no basement + no upstairs= no stairs!). The living room/dining room/kitchen is a very open area. One car garage opens directly into the front hallway, Kev’s bedroom is a front bay bedroom, and mine is in the back of the house, facing west. Washer and dryer are in the hallway between the kitchen and bathroom. It’s a wonderful layout and would be a welcome reprieve from my current home which has a full basement and three levels in addition to that. So many stairs to worry about with Kev exploring the house. The only drawback to the house is so minor that I shouldn’t even refer to it as a drawback, is the color of its décor. Dusty rose is the color scheme and it is present in the carpet, the blinds, kitchen cupboards, kitchen counter, etc. It is not the color scheme that I would choose if I were designing my own home, but to me in this case it is such a trivial detail.
There is a small storage room off of the garage which is not accessible from the house. The hot water tank and the water softener are in this tiny room. There is room for several boxes if I stack them vertically. And at this point in my purging of belongings, I don’t feel as if I have more than I could safely and logically fit into this room.
This home remains on the market until January 15, at which point the owner will either continue to rent the home or place it back on the market for another short period of time. If this is the case, I will begin to actively look for another rental in the Steinbach/Blumenort/Mitchell area. I will be very disappointed if I cannot rent this house, as it is optimal in so many ways. It is within walking distance of Bethesda Hospital, Virg’s house, Superstore, Clearspring Mall (the hotbed of activity in Steinbach), and from my home I have access to a series of wonderful walking circuits in town. Not to mention which, the town has two 24-hour gyms, one very close to this property.
Oh, and the best part is the rent! It’s a mere 18 dollars more than what I’m paying here, but the benefits are worth so much more than that.
My Regrets
This could be a very short post as my regrets are none. Yes, you read that correctly. I have no regrets.
You may wonder how I could possibly have no regrets given that I’ve had, by some people’s standards, a hard life. Let me make one thing clear right now, my life and all it has encompassed thus far, is as a result of decisions I have made.
Everything that has happened, yes everything, has brought me to where I am today. I am immensely happy with where my life is at this very moment. I’ve raised two beautiful adult children and am raising one beautiful grandchild/son. I’m working as a nurse, which is something I’ve always wanted to do.
Having made clear that my life is a product of my choices, and that who I am today is a cumulative result of the past, there have been incidents in my life that I could label as ‘regrets’ but they’re really more like “turning points” or “decisive moments.” Incidents where I could have behaved differently or chosen differently and things would have turned out entirely differently.
H1N1 andVegas
For those of you in the know, I was on holidays for all of November and part of December. My VBF and I had booked a short vacation in Vegas in mid-November and were to leave on a Sunday. The preceding Tuesday, I discovered that Kev and I both had H1N1. The ensuing cancellation was made at the advice of the doctor and because I had no way of predicting the course my illness would take. (turns out I didn’t get very sick at all, it was the cough that nearly did me in) Together with my VBF, I made the choice to cancel, despite having spent $600 each on airfare and hotel.
Canceling is not a choice that I regret; during the time that I was scheduled to be in Vegas, I rediscovered how wonderful it is to spend quantity time with Kev, doing absolutely nothing except maintaining the house and existing. I feel that we bonded a lot during that time and it was during that time that I realized that a huge shift in priorities had taken place. My next vacation plans are likely to include my red-headed gremlin!
TMI
As a teen I went to Aruba with an organized mission group called Teen Missions International, allegedly to do mission work. While the group’s aim was truly to do mission work, what I wanted most of all was to escape from the sheltered life I was leading in my community, feeling that there was more to life than what I was seeing and experiencing. It took some lying and some conniving, but somehow I made it happen.
While with this group in a two week “boot camp” in Florida (mandatory before Aruba), one of the male members of my small group caught my eye. Tall, good looking and American. Foreign and exotic, nothing like the boys I knew at home. We immediately hit it off and realized there was some real chemistry between us. Under the ever watchful eyes of our team leaders, who weren’t blind or stupid, we were unable to sneak any time alone for the first while. By the time we flew from Miami to Aruba, we had already kissed and spent plenty of time alone together. It was so exciting for me to be away from my parents, my community, and the voices that forbade me to make any choices on my own. “You shouldn’t do that, you’ll get hurt.” “You can’t do that. That’s wrong.” “Would God approve of what you are doing?” I was finally able to make my own choices and if there were negative consequences, I had only myself to blame. In short, I was experiencing my first real taste of freedom and couldn’t have been happier.
To make a long story short, we spent one hot Sunday afternoon away from the confines of our group; someone saw us and ratted us out. I promptly got sent home at my parents’ expense and my only regret is that my parents had to foot the bill. I have no regret for breaking the rules and doing what was forbidden. I do not regret cheating on a boyfriend that was waiting for me back home. This was exactly the excitement that I needed in my life. After this adventure, I never returned to being the docile daughter, girlfriend and future wife that my upbringing dictated I should be. For that, I am eternally grateful.
There are many more such pivotal points in my life, but far too many for one post.
You may wonder how I could possibly have no regrets given that I’ve had, by some people’s standards, a hard life. Let me make one thing clear right now, my life and all it has encompassed thus far, is as a result of decisions I have made.
Everything that has happened, yes everything, has brought me to where I am today. I am immensely happy with where my life is at this very moment. I’ve raised two beautiful adult children and am raising one beautiful grandchild/son. I’m working as a nurse, which is something I’ve always wanted to do.
Having made clear that my life is a product of my choices, and that who I am today is a cumulative result of the past, there have been incidents in my life that I could label as ‘regrets’ but they’re really more like “turning points” or “decisive moments.” Incidents where I could have behaved differently or chosen differently and things would have turned out entirely differently.
H1N1 andVegas
For those of you in the know, I was on holidays for all of November and part of December. My VBF and I had booked a short vacation in Vegas in mid-November and were to leave on a Sunday. The preceding Tuesday, I discovered that Kev and I both had H1N1. The ensuing cancellation was made at the advice of the doctor and because I had no way of predicting the course my illness would take. (turns out I didn’t get very sick at all, it was the cough that nearly did me in) Together with my VBF, I made the choice to cancel, despite having spent $600 each on airfare and hotel.
Canceling is not a choice that I regret; during the time that I was scheduled to be in Vegas, I rediscovered how wonderful it is to spend quantity time with Kev, doing absolutely nothing except maintaining the house and existing. I feel that we bonded a lot during that time and it was during that time that I realized that a huge shift in priorities had taken place. My next vacation plans are likely to include my red-headed gremlin!
TMI
As a teen I went to Aruba with an organized mission group called Teen Missions International, allegedly to do mission work. While the group’s aim was truly to do mission work, what I wanted most of all was to escape from the sheltered life I was leading in my community, feeling that there was more to life than what I was seeing and experiencing. It took some lying and some conniving, but somehow I made it happen.
While with this group in a two week “boot camp” in Florida (mandatory before Aruba), one of the male members of my small group caught my eye. Tall, good looking and American. Foreign and exotic, nothing like the boys I knew at home. We immediately hit it off and realized there was some real chemistry between us. Under the ever watchful eyes of our team leaders, who weren’t blind or stupid, we were unable to sneak any time alone for the first while. By the time we flew from Miami to Aruba, we had already kissed and spent plenty of time alone together. It was so exciting for me to be away from my parents, my community, and the voices that forbade me to make any choices on my own. “You shouldn’t do that, you’ll get hurt.” “You can’t do that. That’s wrong.” “Would God approve of what you are doing?” I was finally able to make my own choices and if there were negative consequences, I had only myself to blame. In short, I was experiencing my first real taste of freedom and couldn’t have been happier.
To make a long story short, we spent one hot Sunday afternoon away from the confines of our group; someone saw us and ratted us out. I promptly got sent home at my parents’ expense and my only regret is that my parents had to foot the bill. I have no regret for breaking the rules and doing what was forbidden. I do not regret cheating on a boyfriend that was waiting for me back home. This was exactly the excitement that I needed in my life. After this adventure, I never returned to being the docile daughter, girlfriend and future wife that my upbringing dictated I should be. For that, I am eternally grateful.
There are many more such pivotal points in my life, but far too many for one post.
Downsizing
After living in this home since June 30, 1998, that’s 11 ½ years, it’s time to pack up and move again. The last move was from a rental home near Blumenort to my current home in Winnipeg I left a rather sizeable pile for the garbage man during that move, and thought I had purged my belongings very well. Clearly, purging of belongings is something that needs to either be an ongoing process, or it needs to be done on a regular basis. Once every twelve years doesn’t quite cut it! In preparation for my upcoming move, I’ve been packing and downsizing since November, when I had six weeks of holidays (four of them paid!). I’ve filled the dumpster at least once in total, and made countless trips with a full car to the local Salvation Army. Who knew I could accumulate so much clutter in 11 ½ years!!
In this effort to move a minimal amount of belongings, I have been going through my stuff and ridding myself of things I no longer find useful in my life, things that take me back to times in my life that provide no positive association. Every item has come under close scrutiny. For example, there was a lamp that my ex-husband and I purchased together, a halogen lamp with a CD rack built in. Why I was hanging onto it, I’ll never know. Occasionally I used it in the basement for extra lighting, but each bulb cost several dollars and it was a fire hazard if knocked over. And who really needs a CD rack these days? It went to the dumpster.
The bin of Xmas tree decorations was my next project, so when it was time to decorate the tree, I went through the bin and got rid of the decorations that were outdated and no longer fit in with my chosen color scheme for the tree. The gold and red decorations were offered to one friend, declined, and then delivered to the donation box. Broken bits of decorations were thrown out. Little golden bells with red ribbons didn’t make the cut either, but these went to Kev’s daycare.
Some of you may have noticed me trying to hawk my wares on Facebook, by placing items in my status. For example, a hand hooked rug that my Grandpa Unger made in his retirement years is going to a cousin who lost hers in house fire years ago. An afghan made by my sister is at Kev’s daycare being used as his nap blanket, and I’ll let them keep it when Kev leaves the centre. They can apparently always use extra blankets. And afghans that I’ve made; well, one is at work on the staff couch (which is really more like a love-seat cuz it’s a two-seater and unbelievably uncomfortable) for staff to use for breaktime naps (we really need more couches!). My other afghan is currently in use as a “draft stopper” by the front door.
In another post I wrote about going through my oldest son’s that had been sitting in a box for at least 15 years. This was one of the tasks that I was least looking forward to, but absolutely needed to be done. I believe there were three boxes of papers from school and his drawings (he was a very eager artist when he was young), and then one box of special stuffies and his blankie and hats. Obviously, his blankie is still with us, which will never be given away. I allowed myself to keep drawings that had date, name and description written on them, and bits of homework that described how wonderful his Mommy was! He’s got his Dad’s army beret, his own beret from Air Cadets, a hat that Grandpa (my dad) wore in Australia, his Dad’s blue United Nations Cap from peace-keeping duty in Cyprus in 1990. Some of these things are irreplaceable and when the time comes for Chris to take this box home (right now he’s not interested in looking at the stuff) I’ll let him decide what’s to be kept and what can be given away.
Yesterday I went through my sentimental box for approximately the fourth time since November. It started out as a series of belongings all over the house in various boxes and containers. It is now down to one Rubbermaid bin, and I feel that I may stop there. In it you’ll find books from my childhood, my Dad’s book, my childhood bibles, two stuffies from Marj (my sister that passed away in 1993), my childhood teddy bear, various articles of clothing from my infancy. Yesterday I removed all of the seashells from a childhood trip to BC but one. I photographed them all and kept the nicest one. My Dad’s bible will find a more appreciative home with one of my nephews. I went through my jewelry box with Jen, she got my wedding pearls, the gold chain that her Dad got me while in Cyprus and a random gold watch. I got rid of another gold chain that had been a gift from an ex-boyfriend. You may wonder why I didn’t pawn it at one of our lovely city pawnshops; the cost of driving to the nearest one in the -163 windchill, and getting Kev ready for a “quick” trip out of the house; it just wasn’t worth the small price I imagined I would get for it. So out it went, and today it made a trip to Salvation Army’s donation door. Not only had I not worn it in many years, I no longer wear gold jewelry, or any type of jewelry around my neck as it is very irritating to my sensitive skin. The jewelry box itself had been a wedding gift and I’d been hanging onto it all these years for some unknown reason. When I realized I couldn’t even remember who it was from, it also got tossed in the bag.
At our family xmas gathering this year, the one with all my nieces and nephews, I gave my wedding dress and shoes away to two very appreciative young girls who can now use them for dress up. Let me add that if I was still happily married to the man I married wearing those items of clothing, I may feel differently about parting with them. However, I have been divorced since 1998 and the clothing has been in the basement since then. No damn wonder I’ve had such a tough time moving forward in my life!! My basement has been full to the brim with items from my past! Lots of these items, like the wedding dress and shoes, don’t have pleasant associations. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the wedding and the divorce itself wasn’t nearly as bad as some I’ve seen and/or heard of, but it didn’t end in happiness and fulfillment. Letters from a boy I met when I was 16 were still carefully packed away, reminding me of a teenage crush that cost my parents thousands of dollars! That’s another story for another post!
There’s many many things I’ve tossed since I began my purge, too many to count. I’m doing this not only to lighten my literal load on moving day, but to lighten my mental or psychological load in the hopes that my life my start to move forward now. Perhaps the vacancy left by the purged belongings will welcome a new phase of my life.
In this effort to move a minimal amount of belongings, I have been going through my stuff and ridding myself of things I no longer find useful in my life, things that take me back to times in my life that provide no positive association. Every item has come under close scrutiny. For example, there was a lamp that my ex-husband and I purchased together, a halogen lamp with a CD rack built in. Why I was hanging onto it, I’ll never know. Occasionally I used it in the basement for extra lighting, but each bulb cost several dollars and it was a fire hazard if knocked over. And who really needs a CD rack these days? It went to the dumpster.
The bin of Xmas tree decorations was my next project, so when it was time to decorate the tree, I went through the bin and got rid of the decorations that were outdated and no longer fit in with my chosen color scheme for the tree. The gold and red decorations were offered to one friend, declined, and then delivered to the donation box. Broken bits of decorations were thrown out. Little golden bells with red ribbons didn’t make the cut either, but these went to Kev’s daycare.
Some of you may have noticed me trying to hawk my wares on Facebook, by placing items in my status. For example, a hand hooked rug that my Grandpa Unger made in his retirement years is going to a cousin who lost hers in house fire years ago. An afghan made by my sister is at Kev’s daycare being used as his nap blanket, and I’ll let them keep it when Kev leaves the centre. They can apparently always use extra blankets. And afghans that I’ve made; well, one is at work on the staff couch (which is really more like a love-seat cuz it’s a two-seater and unbelievably uncomfortable) for staff to use for breaktime naps (we really need more couches!). My other afghan is currently in use as a “draft stopper” by the front door.
In another post I wrote about going through my oldest son’s that had been sitting in a box for at least 15 years. This was one of the tasks that I was least looking forward to, but absolutely needed to be done. I believe there were three boxes of papers from school and his drawings (he was a very eager artist when he was young), and then one box of special stuffies and his blankie and hats. Obviously, his blankie is still with us, which will never be given away. I allowed myself to keep drawings that had date, name and description written on them, and bits of homework that described how wonderful his Mommy was! He’s got his Dad’s army beret, his own beret from Air Cadets, a hat that Grandpa (my dad) wore in Australia, his Dad’s blue United Nations Cap from peace-keeping duty in Cyprus in 1990. Some of these things are irreplaceable and when the time comes for Chris to take this box home (right now he’s not interested in looking at the stuff) I’ll let him decide what’s to be kept and what can be given away.
Yesterday I went through my sentimental box for approximately the fourth time since November. It started out as a series of belongings all over the house in various boxes and containers. It is now down to one Rubbermaid bin, and I feel that I may stop there. In it you’ll find books from my childhood, my Dad’s book, my childhood bibles, two stuffies from Marj (my sister that passed away in 1993), my childhood teddy bear, various articles of clothing from my infancy. Yesterday I removed all of the seashells from a childhood trip to BC but one. I photographed them all and kept the nicest one. My Dad’s bible will find a more appreciative home with one of my nephews. I went through my jewelry box with Jen, she got my wedding pearls, the gold chain that her Dad got me while in Cyprus and a random gold watch. I got rid of another gold chain that had been a gift from an ex-boyfriend. You may wonder why I didn’t pawn it at one of our lovely city pawnshops; the cost of driving to the nearest one in the -163 windchill, and getting Kev ready for a “quick” trip out of the house; it just wasn’t worth the small price I imagined I would get for it. So out it went, and today it made a trip to Salvation Army’s donation door. Not only had I not worn it in many years, I no longer wear gold jewelry, or any type of jewelry around my neck as it is very irritating to my sensitive skin. The jewelry box itself had been a wedding gift and I’d been hanging onto it all these years for some unknown reason. When I realized I couldn’t even remember who it was from, it also got tossed in the bag.
At our family xmas gathering this year, the one with all my nieces and nephews, I gave my wedding dress and shoes away to two very appreciative young girls who can now use them for dress up. Let me add that if I was still happily married to the man I married wearing those items of clothing, I may feel differently about parting with them. However, I have been divorced since 1998 and the clothing has been in the basement since then. No damn wonder I’ve had such a tough time moving forward in my life!! My basement has been full to the brim with items from my past! Lots of these items, like the wedding dress and shoes, don’t have pleasant associations. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the wedding and the divorce itself wasn’t nearly as bad as some I’ve seen and/or heard of, but it didn’t end in happiness and fulfillment. Letters from a boy I met when I was 16 were still carefully packed away, reminding me of a teenage crush that cost my parents thousands of dollars! That’s another story for another post!
There’s many many things I’ve tossed since I began my purge, too many to count. I’m doing this not only to lighten my literal load on moving day, but to lighten my mental or psychological load in the hopes that my life my start to move forward now. Perhaps the vacancy left by the purged belongings will welcome a new phase of my life.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Resolutions vs. Goals
With the arrival of a new year comes a flurry of new year's resolutions. Sales of gym memberships increase exponentially as people 'resolve' to get in shape. Diets are started because people want to lose weight. People resolve to spend less to make up for their x-mas spending. Etc etc etc. Resolutions such as these rarely make it to the end of January, much less become a permanent lifestyle change.
And that is why I do not make new year's resolutions.
Instead I periodically sit down throughout the year, including towards the end of the calendar year, and review the priorities in my life, my goals, and the steps I need to take to reach those goals. Having priorities in my life helps me to weed out the goals which may not be in line with my priorities. For example, my family and all that entails, is my number one priority. Being a travel nurse is not in line with that priority, as being away from home is simply not compatible with a family life. Especially not with young children. That goal is no longer on my list. A goal that would be more compatible with raising a family, for example, would be to work in an emergency department of a rural hospital, ie. Steinbach or Ste. Anne.
As I said, family is my number one priority. Providing a stable home environment for Kev is an important part of that equation. I feel that it would be easier for me to provide a stable environment living near my family and friends than it would be in the city where we have fewer supports and resources. Therefore, it is my goal to move out to the country as soon as reasonably possible after Jen moves to Quebec. Along with the move to the country, it would be more convenient and mean less time away from Kev if I worked in a nearby hospital. Therefore, Steinbach or Ste. Anne are the obvious options.
In order to achieve these goals, it is necessary to take action. I've already phoned both hospitals to inquire about available positions. Both facilities have openings and would like to meet with me in the new year to discuss the different options and positions.
As far as finding a home to live in, actions I've taken thus far are inquiring among family and friends whether they know of any places for rent in the Greenland/Steinbach/Mitchell area. I prefer a rural address, but would also live in a town if the price and location are right. Luckily, my nephew's wife is the rental manager for a real estate company in Steinbach and has some suggestions for me. At this point, my next action will be to call that niece-in-law during the week and plan a trip to see a property that is available.
In summary, in my opinion, resolutions are short lived while goals and priorities are more long term. Family is my number one prioriy and therefore my goals must be in accordance with that priority. Of course, I also have lesser priorities in addition to family, and someday I will share them with you, but not today.
And that is why I do not make new year's resolutions.
Instead I periodically sit down throughout the year, including towards the end of the calendar year, and review the priorities in my life, my goals, and the steps I need to take to reach those goals. Having priorities in my life helps me to weed out the goals which may not be in line with my priorities. For example, my family and all that entails, is my number one priority. Being a travel nurse is not in line with that priority, as being away from home is simply not compatible with a family life. Especially not with young children. That goal is no longer on my list. A goal that would be more compatible with raising a family, for example, would be to work in an emergency department of a rural hospital, ie. Steinbach or Ste. Anne.
As I said, family is my number one priority. Providing a stable home environment for Kev is an important part of that equation. I feel that it would be easier for me to provide a stable environment living near my family and friends than it would be in the city where we have fewer supports and resources. Therefore, it is my goal to move out to the country as soon as reasonably possible after Jen moves to Quebec. Along with the move to the country, it would be more convenient and mean less time away from Kev if I worked in a nearby hospital. Therefore, Steinbach or Ste. Anne are the obvious options.
In order to achieve these goals, it is necessary to take action. I've already phoned both hospitals to inquire about available positions. Both facilities have openings and would like to meet with me in the new year to discuss the different options and positions.
As far as finding a home to live in, actions I've taken thus far are inquiring among family and friends whether they know of any places for rent in the Greenland/Steinbach/Mitchell area. I prefer a rural address, but would also live in a town if the price and location are right. Luckily, my nephew's wife is the rental manager for a real estate company in Steinbach and has some suggestions for me. At this point, my next action will be to call that niece-in-law during the week and plan a trip to see a property that is available.
In summary, in my opinion, resolutions are short lived while goals and priorities are more long term. Family is my number one prioriy and therefore my goals must be in accordance with that priority. Of course, I also have lesser priorities in addition to family, and someday I will share them with you, but not today.
The Day Nurse
My alarm was set for 0600. Usually I wake up an hour or so before and have time for coffee, reading and a liesurely bath. Not this time, I slept right till the alarm so my normally leisurely preparations were somewhat rushed. Rather than omit the coffee, I omitted the bath. Coffee is an integral part of my day; two cups for work and one for home, all mixed with soy milk, flavored cream and a spoon of sugar.
Rushing out of the nice warm house at 0645 into frigid -35 degree air is more than a little shocking to the system. To top it off, I found that the electrical outlet which was functioning when I plugged the car in, was no longer working. The car still started but it was sluggish and was only starting to warm decently by the time I reached the Tecumseh Parkade at HSC.
Its a 5-10 minute walk from the parkade to D2, dependent on whether I walk through the tunnels or brave the elements outside. Due to the bitterly cold weather lately, I've been taking the tunnels to stay warm.
When I arrived on D2, all the nurses were already in the conference room giving report. Let me tell you, when you get five night nurses and seven day nurses in one small room all talking at once, it gets quite loud. Occasionally one of us gets frustrated and yells for everyone to shut up. It quiets down for a minute or two and the volume slowly creeps right back up. This lasts for ten to fifteen minutes. The night nurses go home, and the day nurses go out on the floor.
On a normal day shift each nurse has four patients. If we're short a nurse, that goes up to five. Yesterday I had five, today I started with four and am currently down to three. That makes me first in line for an admission. Our charge nurse today has five patients and is responsible for the whole unit. Not quite a fair distribution in my opinion.
Usually the first thing I do when I leave report is gather up my medication records for my patients, staple my patient notes together and write up a worklist for myself. I've discovered that with a worklist, I leave less things undone and make fewer errors. As I complete tasks I scribble them off my list. Items on my worklists include items like vital signs, assessments, dressing changes, giving meds, changing IV bags, administering pain medications, writing notes, checking charts, and many other miscellaneous things. And, yes, that includes bed pans and bum wiping.
Next I go around and introduce myself to my patients and inquire if they need anything immediately like pain meds, or water, or anything. This doesn't take very long on most days.
Following this, the day very rarely goes according to schedule. This is when unexpected things start coming up. For example, 48-1 needs to go for an x-ray and 19-3 is being called for surgery. The list goes on. If a patient goes for x-ray, we need a minimum of two people to assist because the patient must go on a stretcher and usually requires two people to transfer the person to the stretcher. Transport personnel come up to the ward and take the patient to the x-ray department. The process is reversed when the patient is finished in x-ray, again requiring two people to get the patient back to bed. Some patients require up to five or six people to move from bed to stretcher and back again.
When a patient is called for surgery, it used to be that we sent them to the O.R. via stretcher, now we send them on their beds. Before a patient is considered ready to go for surgery, the paperwork must be done and this is the time-consuming aspect of the job. An pre-op checklist must be completed, a pre-op note documenting the patient's status must be written, all the papers pertaining to the patient must be in the patient's chart, the I.V. pumps must be attached to a pole on the bed, and a pre-op dose of antibiotics must be given. O.R. personnel come to get the patient from the ward and they don't really appreciate when they have to wait to long while the nurse scrambles around getting stuff ready. Unfortunately, this cannot be avoided in some cases.
Barring any interruptions, following vital signs and assessments, I go back to the med room and get each patient's medications. Our med delivery system is computerized and accessed it via name and fingerprint. Narcotics require counting before the computer will give us any. We carry blue trays with white cups with the patients room numbers on the cups for delivering the meds.
The first few hours of the shift are normally the busiest of the day; the afternoon is generally used for paperwork, which, as any nurse will tell you, there is always plenty.
No two days are alike, or even similar; this is just a generalization of our work day.
Rushing out of the nice warm house at 0645 into frigid -35 degree air is more than a little shocking to the system. To top it off, I found that the electrical outlet which was functioning when I plugged the car in, was no longer working. The car still started but it was sluggish and was only starting to warm decently by the time I reached the Tecumseh Parkade at HSC.
Its a 5-10 minute walk from the parkade to D2, dependent on whether I walk through the tunnels or brave the elements outside. Due to the bitterly cold weather lately, I've been taking the tunnels to stay warm.
When I arrived on D2, all the nurses were already in the conference room giving report. Let me tell you, when you get five night nurses and seven day nurses in one small room all talking at once, it gets quite loud. Occasionally one of us gets frustrated and yells for everyone to shut up. It quiets down for a minute or two and the volume slowly creeps right back up. This lasts for ten to fifteen minutes. The night nurses go home, and the day nurses go out on the floor.
On a normal day shift each nurse has four patients. If we're short a nurse, that goes up to five. Yesterday I had five, today I started with four and am currently down to three. That makes me first in line for an admission. Our charge nurse today has five patients and is responsible for the whole unit. Not quite a fair distribution in my opinion.
Usually the first thing I do when I leave report is gather up my medication records for my patients, staple my patient notes together and write up a worklist for myself. I've discovered that with a worklist, I leave less things undone and make fewer errors. As I complete tasks I scribble them off my list. Items on my worklists include items like vital signs, assessments, dressing changes, giving meds, changing IV bags, administering pain medications, writing notes, checking charts, and many other miscellaneous things. And, yes, that includes bed pans and bum wiping.
Next I go around and introduce myself to my patients and inquire if they need anything immediately like pain meds, or water, or anything. This doesn't take very long on most days.
Following this, the day very rarely goes according to schedule. This is when unexpected things start coming up. For example, 48-1 needs to go for an x-ray and 19-3 is being called for surgery. The list goes on. If a patient goes for x-ray, we need a minimum of two people to assist because the patient must go on a stretcher and usually requires two people to transfer the person to the stretcher. Transport personnel come up to the ward and take the patient to the x-ray department. The process is reversed when the patient is finished in x-ray, again requiring two people to get the patient back to bed. Some patients require up to five or six people to move from bed to stretcher and back again.
When a patient is called for surgery, it used to be that we sent them to the O.R. via stretcher, now we send them on their beds. Before a patient is considered ready to go for surgery, the paperwork must be done and this is the time-consuming aspect of the job. An pre-op checklist must be completed, a pre-op note documenting the patient's status must be written, all the papers pertaining to the patient must be in the patient's chart, the I.V. pumps must be attached to a pole on the bed, and a pre-op dose of antibiotics must be given. O.R. personnel come to get the patient from the ward and they don't really appreciate when they have to wait to long while the nurse scrambles around getting stuff ready. Unfortunately, this cannot be avoided in some cases.
Barring any interruptions, following vital signs and assessments, I go back to the med room and get each patient's medications. Our med delivery system is computerized and accessed it via name and fingerprint. Narcotics require counting before the computer will give us any. We carry blue trays with white cups with the patients room numbers on the cups for delivering the meds.
The first few hours of the shift are normally the busiest of the day; the afternoon is generally used for paperwork, which, as any nurse will tell you, there is always plenty.
No two days are alike, or even similar; this is just a generalization of our work day.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Financial Taboo
Why is money such a taboo subject and why is the amount that a person earn such a big secret? We all deal with financial issues and most of us struggle with them. So why don't we talk about our issues and maybe we won't feel so alone in our day to day challenges regarding money.
Since I'm all about taking taboo subjects and discussing them out loud, I'm gonna tell you all my money secrets and then you, my readers, can hold me accountable and check in on me to make sure I'm doing what I've set out to do.
For starters, I earn $35.23 an hour on a day shift. Night shifts is $1.75 extra. Working the weekend is $1.25 extra. Being in charge is $0.70 extra (the 'extra' is a per hour fee). I work twelve hour shifts virtually every time I come in to work. Our pay periods are two weeks long. On average, I am guaranteed 2-4 shifts every two weeks as I work a .5 part-time position. Each shift, before taxes is $400. Most pay periods I am able to pick up enough shifts to have six to seven shifts per pay period. That's a fair chunk of cash, even after taxes. I'm not bragging about my income; quite the contrary, I'm wondering why I'm in such financial trouble. My gross income for 2009 was approximately $54,000. Five years ago, that amount of income was a totally unfathomable number, and now its not enough?! What gives?!
I started working as a nurse in mid-December 2005. My first paycheque was $1250. I was ecstatic!! Finally I could spoil my kids at Christmas. My first full year of employment, 2006, was the year that I kept saying to myself, "I've worked hard and I deserve to treat myself."
Before I go on, I must clarify something; virtually all of my debt is student loans. I have absolutely no credit card debt, etc. My debt is entirely related to my education. All $50,000 of it. Why didn't I work while I was in the Faculty of Nursing at the University of Manitoba? Two children and a demanding course of study made that virtually impossible. And, I justified that by saying "soon I'll be earning lots of money."
Also, you must also know that I did not go into nursing for the financial rewards. I've wanted to be a nurse since I was four or five. I would do my job for half the wages I earn now for the pure passion for the work.
While in school my finances became a very low priority, so I paid little attention to my bank balance and to pre-authorized debits, etc. The NSF fees piled up in alarming amounts, car payments were not made on time, etc. In short, I developed some very bad habits.
Its those same habits that became amplified upon leaving school. And I say amplified because the amount of money I was earning made me feel like I could just relax and my bank account would take care of itself. Well, it did take care of itself, just not in a positive fashion.
Money just disappeared. I have no nasty habits, I don't smoke, I don't drink very often (maybe one or two drinks a year), I don't gamble. In short, all my money has gone to very legitimate expenses. And, for those of you who know me, the money certainly wasn't spent on fashionable clothing.
Here I am, having earned a good income for four full years with nothing to show for it. No savings, no debt reduction, and quite possibly the worst credit rating ever. I have $2000.00 in RSPs, but that was saved before I began school on a much lower income. I own my 2004 Kia Rio, but my mother loaned me $10,000 for payment on the day of purchase.
I would estimate that $150,000 to $200,000 has flowed through my bank account in those four years. How is it that I have nothing to show for it?
Thankfully, something "clicked" for me in December of 2009 and I've begun to take a great interest in my financial situation. I could tell you, to the penny, what my net worth is. I could also tell you, again, to the penny, where all my money has gone since August 2008.
Obviously its not the income portion of the equation that is the problem, the issue must lie in my spending and the managing of my money.
There are no excuses for my situation, and I have no one to blame but myself. However, I manage my household on a single income.
Housing accounts for 22% of my expenditures. Childcare is 15%. Followed by food, transportation and other expenses.
Unfortunately, since I have begun to take such an active interest in my finances, there has been one setback after another. In January 2009 the shifts available for pickup were few and far between. In February I was ill and missed two weeks of work and had no sick days remaining. Here we are in August 2010 and the pickup shifts are again few and far between and I've been advised to take sick time, but I cannot afford to do so.
What has improved, however, is my attitude towards money and the way I spend it. Prior to mid-December, I was using my debit card for all purchases and rarely checking my bank balance or remembering to allow for pre-authorized debits. Mid-December I started to use the 'envelope system.' Have you ever heard the expression that "the definition of insanity is expecting different results from using the same action"? That was me in a nutshell, I'd write up a budget and swear I would follow it from now on. Of course, that didn't happen. And I would do this repeatedly. Every six months or so I would "start over."
So it was time for change; I decided to try something that had worked for me when I was 20 and a single parent working at McDonalds and receiving social assistance; the envelope system.
Happy 2nd of January to you all!! Thanks for reading.
Since I'm all about taking taboo subjects and discussing them out loud, I'm gonna tell you all my money secrets and then you, my readers, can hold me accountable and check in on me to make sure I'm doing what I've set out to do.
For starters, I earn $35.23 an hour on a day shift. Night shifts is $1.75 extra. Working the weekend is $1.25 extra. Being in charge is $0.70 extra (the 'extra' is a per hour fee). I work twelve hour shifts virtually every time I come in to work. Our pay periods are two weeks long. On average, I am guaranteed 2-4 shifts every two weeks as I work a .5 part-time position. Each shift, before taxes is $400. Most pay periods I am able to pick up enough shifts to have six to seven shifts per pay period. That's a fair chunk of cash, even after taxes. I'm not bragging about my income; quite the contrary, I'm wondering why I'm in such financial trouble. My gross income for 2009 was approximately $54,000. Five years ago, that amount of income was a totally unfathomable number, and now its not enough?! What gives?!
I started working as a nurse in mid-December 2005. My first paycheque was $1250. I was ecstatic!! Finally I could spoil my kids at Christmas. My first full year of employment, 2006, was the year that I kept saying to myself, "I've worked hard and I deserve to treat myself."
Before I go on, I must clarify something; virtually all of my debt is student loans. I have absolutely no credit card debt, etc. My debt is entirely related to my education. All $50,000 of it. Why didn't I work while I was in the Faculty of Nursing at the University of Manitoba? Two children and a demanding course of study made that virtually impossible. And, I justified that by saying "soon I'll be earning lots of money."
Also, you must also know that I did not go into nursing for the financial rewards. I've wanted to be a nurse since I was four or five. I would do my job for half the wages I earn now for the pure passion for the work.
While in school my finances became a very low priority, so I paid little attention to my bank balance and to pre-authorized debits, etc. The NSF fees piled up in alarming amounts, car payments were not made on time, etc. In short, I developed some very bad habits.
Its those same habits that became amplified upon leaving school. And I say amplified because the amount of money I was earning made me feel like I could just relax and my bank account would take care of itself. Well, it did take care of itself, just not in a positive fashion.
Money just disappeared. I have no nasty habits, I don't smoke, I don't drink very often (maybe one or two drinks a year), I don't gamble. In short, all my money has gone to very legitimate expenses. And, for those of you who know me, the money certainly wasn't spent on fashionable clothing.
Here I am, having earned a good income for four full years with nothing to show for it. No savings, no debt reduction, and quite possibly the worst credit rating ever. I have $2000.00 in RSPs, but that was saved before I began school on a much lower income. I own my 2004 Kia Rio, but my mother loaned me $10,000 for payment on the day of purchase.
I would estimate that $150,000 to $200,000 has flowed through my bank account in those four years. How is it that I have nothing to show for it?
Thankfully, something "clicked" for me in December of 2009 and I've begun to take a great interest in my financial situation. I could tell you, to the penny, what my net worth is. I could also tell you, again, to the penny, where all my money has gone since August 2008.
Obviously its not the income portion of the equation that is the problem, the issue must lie in my spending and the managing of my money.
There are no excuses for my situation, and I have no one to blame but myself. However, I manage my household on a single income.
Housing accounts for 22% of my expenditures. Childcare is 15%. Followed by food, transportation and other expenses.
Unfortunately, since I have begun to take such an active interest in my finances, there has been one setback after another. In January 2009 the shifts available for pickup were few and far between. In February I was ill and missed two weeks of work and had no sick days remaining. Here we are in August 2010 and the pickup shifts are again few and far between and I've been advised to take sick time, but I cannot afford to do so.
What has improved, however, is my attitude towards money and the way I spend it. Prior to mid-December, I was using my debit card for all purchases and rarely checking my bank balance or remembering to allow for pre-authorized debits. Mid-December I started to use the 'envelope system.' Have you ever heard the expression that "the definition of insanity is expecting different results from using the same action"? That was me in a nutshell, I'd write up a budget and swear I would follow it from now on. Of course, that didn't happen. And I would do this repeatedly. Every six months or so I would "start over."
So it was time for change; I decided to try something that had worked for me when I was 20 and a single parent working at McDonalds and receiving social assistance; the envelope system.
Happy 2nd of January to you all!! Thanks for reading.
Random Thoughts from a Nurse on Break
2010 is off to an auspicious start!
Kevin slept through the night the past two nights. Not a peep out of him last night, and just a wee bit of crying the night before. I, however, am not sleeping through the night. Can't actually remember the last time I slept through the night. Shift work and a weak bladder will do that to a person.
Other than that, not much has happened for me to make that bold opening statement.
On New Year's Day, my VBF was over for the afternoon. While I went through boxes of sentimental belongings, "Julie & Julia" was playing; we weren't paying much attention to it. Virg was quite amused simply watching me toil through box after box of paper and clothing; boxes of my oldest son's belongings, select items of infant clothing, his baby book, miscellaneous photos (his first Santa picture), and a full box of school papers and drawings.
Some of the boxes had been untouched since he was in Grade Four, which is at least 15 years ago as he is currently in his 3rd year of university. Each and every paper that was in the box was kept for specific reasons when I made the choice to keep them. If only I had written those reasons and dates on those papers. Many contained drawings of indeterminate objects with no date, name or description to indicate why I may have kept them. Those papers filled a large trash bag and made their way out to the dumpster. Report cards stayed, but only if they were the end of year report card. Others were thrown out. I'm not sure why I'm still keeping so many papers and things for "sentimental" reasons. But I am thrilled to pieces that I've managed to part with so many things in the past two months.
One corner in the living room is piled with numbered and labelled boxes already filled and ready to go. However, it is my goal to go through these boxes at least once or twice more to weed out even more belongings. I have boxes of clothing that I wore 40 pounds ago and continue to be optimistic that the weight will spontaneously melt away. There is a box of cookbooks, which was once two or three boxes. I'm keeping only the ones that I've actually used. I am not a big fan of having to cook, but I love to bake, and having Kevin requires that I cook occasionally.
Please accept my apologies for the randomness of this blog; I seem incapable of sticking to one topic today.
I'm at work in the break room and two nurses are having a conversation behind me while I type. ADD dictates that I keep one ear on their conversation and try and type a sensible blog at the same time. Possibly do-able for a non-ADD person, but not for me.
My daughter, Kev's birthmother, has her plane ticket to Quebec and is leaving on January 12. My feelings on this range from thankfulness to sadness to nostalgia. I'm thankful because we have not been getting along for a long time now and the situation has been complicated by our reversal of roles in Kev's care. The sadness is also because we don't get along and I don't want her to leave with bad memories and associations. But at the same time, I do not want Kev to see the disparity between Jen and myself. Nor should he be privy to the disrespect that Jen frequently demonstrates towards me.
Break time is over, work calls.
Kevin slept through the night the past two nights. Not a peep out of him last night, and just a wee bit of crying the night before. I, however, am not sleeping through the night. Can't actually remember the last time I slept through the night. Shift work and a weak bladder will do that to a person.
Other than that, not much has happened for me to make that bold opening statement.
On New Year's Day, my VBF was over for the afternoon. While I went through boxes of sentimental belongings, "Julie & Julia" was playing; we weren't paying much attention to it. Virg was quite amused simply watching me toil through box after box of paper and clothing; boxes of my oldest son's belongings, select items of infant clothing, his baby book, miscellaneous photos (his first Santa picture), and a full box of school papers and drawings.
Some of the boxes had been untouched since he was in Grade Four, which is at least 15 years ago as he is currently in his 3rd year of university. Each and every paper that was in the box was kept for specific reasons when I made the choice to keep them. If only I had written those reasons and dates on those papers. Many contained drawings of indeterminate objects with no date, name or description to indicate why I may have kept them. Those papers filled a large trash bag and made their way out to the dumpster. Report cards stayed, but only if they were the end of year report card. Others were thrown out. I'm not sure why I'm still keeping so many papers and things for "sentimental" reasons. But I am thrilled to pieces that I've managed to part with so many things in the past two months.
One corner in the living room is piled with numbered and labelled boxes already filled and ready to go. However, it is my goal to go through these boxes at least once or twice more to weed out even more belongings. I have boxes of clothing that I wore 40 pounds ago and continue to be optimistic that the weight will spontaneously melt away. There is a box of cookbooks, which was once two or three boxes. I'm keeping only the ones that I've actually used. I am not a big fan of having to cook, but I love to bake, and having Kevin requires that I cook occasionally.
Please accept my apologies for the randomness of this blog; I seem incapable of sticking to one topic today.
I'm at work in the break room and two nurses are having a conversation behind me while I type. ADD dictates that I keep one ear on their conversation and try and type a sensible blog at the same time. Possibly do-able for a non-ADD person, but not for me.
My daughter, Kev's birthmother, has her plane ticket to Quebec and is leaving on January 12. My feelings on this range from thankfulness to sadness to nostalgia. I'm thankful because we have not been getting along for a long time now and the situation has been complicated by our reversal of roles in Kev's care. The sadness is also because we don't get along and I don't want her to leave with bad memories and associations. But at the same time, I do not want Kev to see the disparity between Jen and myself. Nor should he be privy to the disrespect that Jen frequently demonstrates towards me.
Break time is over, work calls.
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