Waiting . . . .

Working on my book has brought up a lot of memories of relationships past, both good and bad.  With the wisdom and hindsight of my 42 and 3/4 years, I can see patterns of behavior and I've come to an understanding, sort of, of why I made the choices I did.

Tonight I had another one of those epiphanies and I'd like to share it with you to see if any of you out there are equally guilty of "waiting."

Waiting?  Waiting for what, you ask.  Waiting for a man.  Waiting to be rescued.  Waiting to be happy.  Waiting to be taken care of.  The saddest and most pathetic kind of waiting that any self-respecting woman can ever be guilty of.

And I've been guilty so many times in my life.  After each failed relationship I'd pretend to be living my life, but it was just a sham to cover up my insecurity and my perceived need for a man in my life.  I'd wait for the next one to come along and then when someone showed interest the wait would be over and I could begin living again.

If I really look within myself I believe that I have put my life on hold numerous times during these 'waiting' periods.  It was as if I didn't dare be happy or successful while I was single.  Then I would be guilty of something.  Perhaps its my upbringing that has taught me that no woman can get by in life without a man.  Unmarried women often have their brothers or fathers as their "adviser."  Its as if they are incapable of making any type of decision on their own and need a human with a penis to tell them how to live their life. Now, I have nothing against men and nothing against penises, but why does an unmarried adult woman need a male "adviser?"  Why does she need an adviser at all?

That is the mentality that surrounded me as a child and still surrounds me to some extent in relatives and the community in which I live.  I'm assuming that is why I have spent the better portion of my life waiting.

The question is, how do I stop waiting?  How do I live my life not waiting?  I've always imagined that I was an independent and strong woman and could live perfectly well without being in a relationship.  Why is it then that my life is in limbo and I have currently returned to waiting?  And, if I consciously realize that I'm waiting, then I should be able to stop myself, right?  If it were so easy to put an end to this behavior, I'd say adios to it right now.

What would my life look like if I were not "waiting?"  Externally, there would be few signs that anything had changed; my cell phone would not be permanently attached to me, I wouldn't eye each male as a potential rescuer, and perhaps I would talk and joke around less while working. Internally is where the changes would be.  I'm forever waiting for my phone to ring with a call or text from someone special, waiting for any sign that he might be interested in me, not making concrete plans or planning ahead in case he does call or text.  In general, its an unsettled feeling.

Its embarrassing to admit that at 42 and 3/4 I'm waiting again.  Its not embarrassing to be single, I'm ashamed to be waiting for Mr. Right and not being fully happy and fully independent because of that waiting.


Ladies, don't wait for that special someone to come along.  Live your life like its yours and only yours.  Live now.

Guest Post by Kev

Mum  didn’t have to go to work today cuz it was her day off. That makes me happy.

She took so long to wake up today. I jumped and jumped in my crib for a long time. When I got tired of jumping I called “Gumma! Gumma!” Finally she came. She was so happy to see me and I was so happy to see her. She swooped me out of the crib and put me on the floor and I ran to the kitchen. The soy milk is in the fridge and I had waited all night for some.

Mum put the TV on for me so she could go have a bath. “Baa da Bilder” was on. I like that show.

Then Mum got me dressed and we went to Superstore. The cookie people were busy till 1100 so I had to wait for my cookie. I waited very nice and patient. Mum said so. She visited with lots of people in the store today. And she bought me “loop loops.” I’ve never had those before. They are “yummmmmmmy!”

I'm strong, Mum said I was.

Then we drove to “Gate Gumma’s” and got gravel. I didn’t know why Mum was getting gravel. When we got home she put it into a little flat box. I played in my new sandbox all day long!

At naptime I wasn’t tired so I didn’t sleep. Mum didn’t sleep either I don’t think. I just jumped and bounced some more and then she came to get me.

I had a good day. Mum likes being with me and I like being with Mum. We have fun.

Nurse's Notes

The general public may not fully appreciate the humor in this post, but bear with me on this one.

Tonight I set a new record for myself; a mere twenty minutes after leaving report I uttered the familiar and dreaded question: "Has anyone seen my notes?"

For those of you who are not nurses, a nurse's notes are akin to what a bible is to a religious leader. They are that important and they contain that much crucial information. Prior to starting a shift the notes must be prepared and it appears almost ritualistic as each nurse has their own method and they repeat this method each and every shift.  Some use a particular color of paper (I use orange);some use pre-printed forms made up on the computer, while others use multi-colored pens.  

The information contained in the notes is fairly consistent from nurse to nurse. Room number, patient's name, age, gender, physician, diagnosis, date of admission, allergies, brief medical history, IV information, special treatments, and any other pertinent information. I also include times of medications, code status, and LBM (last bowel movement).


Carrying these notes is essentially carrying a summary of each patient in your pocket and are considered to be confidential information.  As such, they are to be destroyed at the end of each shift.  Tossing them in the garbage is not sufficient, they must go into the confidential waste.  

Any nurse who claims she has never lost her notes is lying; its part of being a nurse. Lost notes can be found in the oddest places; in charts, on patients' bedside tables, even in another nurse's pocket.

This time my notes magically appeared on the very same table where I had written them, and once safely back in my bulging scrub pockets, they stayed with me for the remainder of the shift.

5 Reasons Why I Adore Kev's Sitter!

"Don't worry, the dog will lick it off," was her response when I dropped Kev off today, apologizing for the DQ Blizzard that he was partially wearing.

That comment not only made me laugh, but it also got me thinking about how much her and I are on the same wavelength when it comes our philosophy of childcare. There are not many things she says or does that I don't agree with. Childcare like she provides is difficult to find these days.

So, without further ado, here are the 5 reasons I adore Kev's sitter:

1. I'm welcome in her home. She has nothing to hide; when I drop Kev off I do not meet her at the door, hand Kev over and then run. Today for example, she and the children were outside when we arrived so we visited for maybe fifteen minutes, talking about how Kev had been during the day at home, and how cute and well-behaved he had been on his previous visit there. Kev had a dry diaper upon arrival, which is not always the case, and I was quite pleased with myself that I had changed it before leaving the house. We talked about our personal lives a while (they have run a similar path), and then I yelled goodbye at Kev and drove off the yard. Interestingly enough, Kev was so busy in the sandbox/playstructure with his cronies that he barely lifted his head long enough to acknowledge my existence.

2. There is no TV in the home. That alleviates my concern that Kev will become a zombie at her house. She will not be turning on the television and using it as a babysitter for the children, nor will she be distracted by watching daytime or evening television. I'm not adverse to television at all if it is used appropriately. At our house it is used as a babysitter while I am in the shower, or while Kev is sick and can do nothing but lie still. Rainy weather also prompts increased television time for him at home.

3. She is a magnificent cook! In fact, she is such a good cook, that Kev turns up his nose at my meals sometimes. She reports back to me about how much he eats at her house and I am bewildered. Is this the same boy that sometimes refuses to eat until lunch at home?! As well, at her house, there are other children and mealtime is a more formal activity than it is at our two person home. Kev and I rarely eat the same food at mealtime as I am trying to lose a few pounds.

4. Her home is always open for Kev. As a nurse, I work horrifically unpredictable hours, hours that are not compatible with daycare, or with most babysitters. Without a 2nd adult in the home, I cannot leave Kev at home for night while I go to work. This requires either a sitter in the home, or requires that Kev stay at someone's home. Since he is familiar with her home and her family, and since I pay her a flat fee every week, he goes there for night. When I work two consecutive nights, he stays for nearly 48 hours. Its too long for me, but our reality is that I do not have a choice, I have to work.

5. She and her family love Kev like their own. This is possibly the biggest reason why I adore her so much! They take Kev with them on their family outings. A trip to the city to visit her adult son, supper with her parents, etc. Kev is always welcome to go with them. He attends church with them, morning and evening church if its a Sunday. She does not feel that she needs to stay home and 'babysit' Kev. If her and her girls are invited out for supper to a friends' home, she simply lets me know, and then I pick him up there.

Wow. Five reasons doesn't quite cut it; there are so many more reasons why I like bringing Kev there. Her and I have known each other since birth and while we haven't been in touch or even friends during our childhood, it seems as though we have bonded over the similarities in our adult lives.

Because Kev is my grandson (officially) and I'm a single (grand)parent, and because I certainly wasn't planning on raising another child at this stage in my life, it is essential that I have excellent and flexible childcare for Kev. Not working is not an option, no matter how much I wish I could be a stay-at-home-mom its just not possible if I want to provide food and shelter for Kev. There are few things in life that I insist upon more than childcare I can trust.

It is essential for every parent to be able to relax while at work, knowing that their child is being well cared for in another person's care. Would you want your nurse to be distracted at work, worrying about her child while measuring out your medications and making decisions regarding your care?

If you have children, do you work outside the home? What do you do for childcare? How do feel about daycare vs. homecare for your child? Please comment, I'll respond.

My Book

For years it's been on my goal list and for years I've postponed it in favor of more pressing issues. That, and I wasn't quite sure what type of book I really wanted to write but as of today, July 21, 2010, I have officially started writing a book.

Tenatively titled "To Protect This Heart," it is designed to prevent my experiences in life from being repeated in other females. There are lessons to be learned from the not-so-pleasant aspects of my life. There is also an important message for fathers of daughters.

It is not going to be a book written with the aim of pointing fingers and naming names and blaming games. I just don't want another woman to spend a lifetime wondering why she can't seem to find a good man; why the men she choses continue to be such 'winners.'

It's not a book of excuses to absolve me of any responsibility for poor choices. Instead, I hope to come to an understanding as to why I made particular choices despite knowing I was making a dangerous choice.

My father wrote a book and self-published it; I am not sure that my book will ever be officially published. I'm writing it as part of a journey of self-exploration, and will share it's contents willingly with anyone who is interested.

I've always said my life is an open book and I've got nothing to hide from anyone. This will really put those words to the test.

Brain Dump

Does your head ever get so full of details and ideas that you're afraid you'll forget something important? Happens to me all the time.

It happens with grocery items, work schedules, things to do, and so on. I'm sure we've all been there at one time or another. You desperately don't want to forget to stop at the bank, but what do you do? You drive home, passing the bank because you're completely preoccupied with what you're gonna wear to work tomorrow, or what you're gonna cook for dinner tonight.

For me, I often think of ideas for a blog post while I'm doing something else; while working is often the situation. The idea is brilliant! The post that everyone will love and subsequently tell me what a good writer I am. Then I get jolted back to reality by 105-3 needing analgesia. Poof! There goes my brilliant idea. Out of my head.

Despite jotting brief notes on my work notes (now there's another topic entirely!), the ideas never quite make it home. They get lost in my cavernous nurse's pockets and become forgotten long before the shift's end.

During routine daily activities at home or out on errands, another brilliant idea pops into my consciousness. Inevitably I'm nowhere near a pen and paper or in a situation where writing is likely not a wise choice, ie. never a good idea to write and drive.

My sort-of solution to this problem? During a quiet period in my home (remember that I live with a male toddler), when I've exhausted all other entertainment options, I grab an old fashioned data recording device and commence recording the ideas from my head. My data recording device is pen and paper (gasp!), a very useful way of recording ideas for future reference. Tonight I had some future post ideas on my mind; they are all neatly written down.

And, wouldn't you know it?! The ideas I wrote down spawned more ideas for posts, including this one.

"Brain Dump" is what I call this activity when I write down all the random to-do items, groceries, errands, and anything else that's on my mind. It's doubtful that I came up with this name on my own; more likely that I heard the expression somewhere and adopted it.

Regardless, I'm thinking that I should do this on a regular basis and not just when the mood strikes.

What do you do to help yourself remember things? How do you keep your brain from becoming overloaded with details?

To Protect This Heart

The name for this post just kind of randomly popped into my head while I was sitting here trying to decide what I felt like writing about.

I'm not quite sure where it came from, but I know what it means. It literally means "to protect my heart." Protect it from what, I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect it has to do with the opposite sex.

Its no secret that I'm divorced. But that is not the single causative issue for me to feel the need to protect myself. Before my ex-husband entered the picture there were numerous relationships, none of them good ones. And before that, there is a history of abuse that reaches back to childhood.

Every now and again these issues come back up and beg me to deal with them, so I deal with them as best as I know how and think I'm done with them for good. Each time its a bit longer till they come back to haunt me once more and each time they come back they demand less attention.  I continue to hope someday they'll stay gone for good.

Don't worry, I'm not going to go into details about the past, I won't mention any names, and I won't point any fingers. Funny, the things that were done to me would be considered criminal offenses in this day and age. But in my younger years, I was blamed for what happened to me and simply told to "stay away from those boys" and "well, you were a cute little girl." These events have had an immeasurable effect on my life, possibly because I truly believed until my mid-twenties that it really was my fault.

Despite being armed with the knowledge that I was not to blame for these events, I continued to treat myself as if I was worthless and in turn allowed others to treat me as if I were worthless.

Within myself I know I am a wonderful, loving, intelligent, and caring person with many positive traits. In virtually every area of my life I behave this way and others treat me likewise. However, there is one area of my life in which I continue to make irrational choices and allow myself to be treated like a "side dish" rather than an "entree." Possibly a poor analogy, but painfully accurate.

I wonder what its like to be in love, truly in love, and to have a partner love me in the same way. I wonder what its like to be in a mutually respectful relationship. I wonder what its like to be treated as a partner, not a plaything. I wonder what its like to be admired and respected and loved by the person you are intimate with. And I wonder if there is someone with whom I will no longer feel the need to protect myself.