Day Three

When you work 12 hour shifts, the third day can sometimes be a bit dicey. A lot of people can breeze through more than three days, but for most, three is the absolute limit. For others, two is the limit of what their mind and body can take.

I'm not quite at the full 12 hour shift yet, but I will be next week.  Currently I'm doing 10 hour shifts, a graduated step between 8 and 12 hours.  But I'm doing three consecutive shifts. I've been off work for 15 months with a herniated disc and the road to recovery has been riddled with complications and setbacks, so for me to get to this point is utterly fantabulous!! (Yes, I made that word up.)

Here's how it works at our house when I'm on three in a row:

• get up anytime between 0400 and 0600
• coffee
• get ready (includes waking child, dressing child, packing lunch, etc etc etc)
• visalus shake
• leave the house
• drive 15 minutes to sitter
• unpack child
• drive 15 minutes back to town to work
• go hard for the entirety of the shift (sometimes longer)
• drive 15 minutes to retrieve over-tired child
• retrieve child
• drive 15 minutes with overtired child who is alternately crying from exhaustion or falling asleep
• unpack the car
• enter house and feed child
• bathe child (or not)
• cajole child into staying in his own bed long enough to fall asleep
• collapse into my bed with every intention of brushing my teeth in a few minutes
• wake up at 0100 with a very full bladder
• pee
• get into pyjamas
• back to bed
• wake between 0400 and 0600

Repeat twice more.

Note: I have not included the possibilities that child may wake at 0430 and refuse to sleep anymore, exacerbating his tiredness at pick up time and interrupting my quiet and peaceful morning.

Nor have I included the little bloopers that make up a normal day. Spilling a portion of the shake on the passenger's seat, forgetting swipe card at home and being unable to enter the hospital, stopping to fix irritating windshield wipers, and so on.

By the end of three days, mind and body are ready to enter a coma state.

Have I mentioned lately that I love nursing?

AFRAID TO START

What am I afraid to start?

I'm afraid to start keeping a daily journal as a from of self examination. It scares me as I am sure I will start writing and not be able to write all that I need to write. There are so many things racing around in my head that they are all crowding the exit and waiting to get out and onto paper, or keyboard. Either option is available to me; I just haven't got a preference at this point.

Everyone's life is chaotic in some way. Sometimes only for a little while, but others have lives that are permanently chaotic.  I want to examine this for myself and get to know myself a little better and see what really makes me tick.

I'm also afraid that if I begin to examine myself via a daily journal, I may not always like some of the things I discover. There are choices that have to be made, and it scares me to think that I may have to give up things that I worked so hard to attain.

But, I feel compelled to do this, to reach deep within myself and look around at who I am, where I came from, where I am, and where I am going.

There are so many sections and sub-sections and sub-sub-sections in me that I honestly do not know where to start. Like I said earlier, I'm afraid to start this self-examination process; afraid that once the deluge begins, there will be no end.

Organized Chaos

At this very moment I am lying flat on my back on my loveseat with my feet up on the armrest; one of my most comfortable positions since I injured my back. Kevin woke me up by crawling into my bed at 0630. Dry! He was dry!!

Given my early start, I've been up and going hard for almost two hours, which really is nothing unusual for me.  I've officially started packing for our upcoming move; both exciting and intimidating. 

I've got lists and lists and lists and more lists of the things that I need to get done, and a list of items that we will be moving with us back to Winnipeg.  Life's demands don't just stop when you are packing, everyday items still need to be taken care of, ie. dishes, cooking, laundry, etc.

So far I've packed a clear plastic bin of cotton fabric, mostly sheets and pillowcases, for use in future rugs.  I have accumulated quite a bit in the past months and will continue to accept donations, but will not be making any trips to the thrift store or to garage sales in search of fabric until I have used up a substantial portion of what I have left. 

My oldest son's wedding is in just more than 48 hours and this is currently occupying the largest portion of my time and focus at this point.  Although, most everything is done, except for the appointments for hair and makeup, etc.  Arrangements for childcare are made, all clothing and accessories are purchased except for Kevin's clothing. And that I've put Jennifer in charge of doing, as she works in a shopping mall. 

Life never slows down to a crawl at our house, there is always more to do than there are hours in the day. I know it could be a lot busier and am confident that it will get more complicated when we are moved into the city. Kevin is eligible for nursery school this fall, and is already on a waiting list at a "school of choice" for Kindergarten 2013-2014. The school in question has a daycare program onsite, which is ideal. It is a school in a upper middle-class neighborhood and it is where my son's fiance spent her first nine years of education. Speaking of nine years, it is a Kindergarten to Grade 9 facility, which means only switching school for high school, and then he would be going to the same school that my two older children graduated from.

I'm aware that nursery school (or pre-school) is not mandatory, but was kind of hoping that he could get into one, but that would make my work schedule and child care arrangements so much more difficult to keep track of.  I'd love to be able to afford a nanny, not a live-in, but one who lived close by enough that she could be at my house or her house for the duration of my work day, which is usually 12 hours.

Sigh.  Time for another cup of coffee....

20 YEAR PLAN

Somewhere, not sure exactly where or when, I read or heard about making a 20 year plan for your life, and being goal oriented, thought this was an idea that I may follow up on in the future. I think that may have been a year ago.  Life hasn't been extremely kind the past year but its taught me some valuable lessons.  And here I am, telling you about the 20 year plan that I've been working on this morning.  (I wasn't kidding when I posted on Facebook that I was "lying on the deck, planning my life.")

Like everyone else, my life is split into categories which are not always easy to discern.  I've narrowed mine down to seven for the purpose of this plan.  Financial.  Figure.  Domestic.  Employment.  Business.  Family. Travel. Not necessarily listed in order of their priority, this is a generalized list.  The financial category needs to explanation, nor does employment, family, or travel.  Figure refers to my goal of someday competing in a figure competition, which I've been toying with since 2003, and almost realized that goal in 2007, which is when I was injured and spent 11 months off of work and out of commission.  Domestic refers to my home and its physical condition, ie neat, organized, welcoming, economical, etc.  Business refers to "The Motivated Hooker," my non-nurse source of income.

For those of you who are not yet aware, I am a bit of a nerd when it comes to spreadsheets, charts, graphs, etc.  Needless to say, my 20 year plan is now on a large sheet of paper and hand-made into a chart or spreadsheet.  And color coded.  So far the chart includes a plan to get competition ready for a figure competition, a snowball planto get me out of debt, the approximate months of when I think we should move back to Winnipeg and when I should return to HSC.  For easy reference, I also included my age, and my children's ages, and Kevin's grade in the future years.  This kind of helps keep it in context  and gives me a point of reference.  He will graduate in 2026, so I've got that long to come up with money for his post-secondary education.  And its a rather large amount!

My car is going to hit 250K in June of 2014, and I'm aiming to be able to replace it at that point.  Told you I was a nerd! 

Garage Sales and Bitches

What?!

What kind of title is that for a blog post anyway?

Hmmm, the way I understand it, is that blogs are for writers to express their freedom.  And I intend to take advantage of that freedom.  

That, and I just love the way those two words sound together.

People are odd.  Everyone is odd, yes I know that, but some people really stand out with their “oddness” and cause you to take a second look or take a second listen, or whatever.

So this lady comes to my garage sale this afternoon, during a lull.  She’s hold two brand spanking new pairs of flip flops in her hand.  Ones that I bought last summer because I just HAD to have new flip flops, but never used them. 

She peers into my box of $5 Tupperware items, picks up an item, and says “oh. Look. Its cracked already.” I took it from her and looked carefully and said, “No its not cracked.” She put it back in the box and hmphed.  And then was starting to walk away and said, “Oh, and I took these from the box,” gesturing out to the shoe and purse box on the driveway.

“$2 for both pairs.”

“Oh, but I took them from the ‘free’ box.”

“Ummmm, no they weren’t in the free box; that’s the box beside it.”

“Then I don’t want them.”

And she was gone in a huff.

My Garbage Adventure

Clearly my blog follows no predetermined subject from day to day, or week to week, or even month to month.  I generally just blog about what’s on my mind, and occasionally I will create a spin off on a popular topic and so I’ve really got three blogs.  However, it’s been almost two years since I’ve blogged on the other two.  That reminds me that perhaps I should, because lots has happened since and lots is happening on both those topics.  “"Down Fifty at 43" was to be a journal of my weight loss, but now the blog title would have to be changed to “Down 60 at 44.”  And the other blog is about "A Nurse and Her Money."

My life has so many different areas and “compartments;” some of which overlap and some of which are distinctly separate from the others.  And when I get to the point where I feel like life isn’t busy or challenging enough, I don’t hesitate to add another dimension.  Obviously a bit of sarcasm there; my life is busy and challenging all the time.  I do, however, keep learning new things, and therefore add to the “compartments” in my life.

My latest thing is an attempt to cut back on the amount of waste my household produces, and I’m not referring to human waste; I’m referring to garbage, the stuff that ends up at the dump.  Anything that cannot be reused, recycled or composted is considered garbage.  I’m not sure where or why this became an issue for me, but I suspect it had something to do with having a few stinky garbage bags in my garage due to a missed garbage day.  One thing led to another while browsing the web and I came across a blog titled "Zero Waste."   Oh, wait, that’s not true!  I was waiting at my doctor’s office and read a magazine article about the woman that writes the blog and then looked up the blog.  She, her husband, and their two children produced only a quart jar of landfill garbage in one year! 

That really intrigued me, and put a bit of a challenge in my mind to see how much we could reduce our garbage output.

Yesterday was garbage day here; I put out two big blue bags of recycling and two grocery store bags of garbage.  Keep in mind that Kevin is still wearing pull-ups for night and that makes up a large portion of our garbage.  He has stated, after his fourth birthday on Friday, that he is a “big boy” and I shall not “buy any more pull-ups” for him.  I wish that were the case!

As for compost material, my sister-in-law’s garden will be a very happy place this coming summer, as I am keeping anything compostable and then bringing it over to her place once every two weeks. 

Now you might be wondering how I have gone about reducing my garbage output…My first step was simply to become conscious of what I was throwing away.  As soon as I became conscious of how much packaging of products I was throwing in the garbage, I began to make changes in the right direction.  Instead of keeping a large garbage can in the kitchen, I now keep a small one by the back door.  Instead of having a small recycling bin in the garage, I have a recycling bag in my big garbage can in the kitchen.  This makes it easier to toss recyclables in their place rather than be lazy and toss it in the garbage.  And, at the same time, I think before throwing anything in the garbage because I have to put forth more effort to get to the garbage can.  Really, it’s just a mind game, but its made a tremendous difference.  As well, I keep a medium size pail on my kitchen counter for compost materials.  Since we eat a lot of fruit and drink a lot of coffee, there is never a shortage of compost material for Luanna’s garden.

More secrets to come in the near future;  athough, I wouldn’t really call them secrets, they are commonly available on the internet.  

The Enlightenment of Me

Sometimes, out of the wild blue yonder, a realization strikes you, and changes your perspective on things.

Obviously, since that's my opening line, that's what happened to me today.

And, again obviously, I'm going to share that with you, because I know you all wait with bated breath to hear the minute details of my engaging life.

Actually, its not my life that's so engaging, its Kevin's.  He's my entertainment, my sunshine.  Hell, he's pretty much my whole world.  How could he not be?  He's so damn cute and, well, entertaining. 

As much as he is my world, its easy to get caught up in the details of the day, and the tick of the clock.  So when we went out for a walk at 5 pm, I had been thinking we would arrive home at 6 and have plenty of time to make a decent meal, have bathtime, and read a few books, and get ready for a conference call at 9. 

Kevin had other ideas.  As we left Bethesda Hospital, he asked to see the water fountain on the grounds.  Then he asked if we could sit there for a bit.  Okay, I thought we'd sit for maybe a minute or two.  He discovered "corn cobs" and proceeded to collect every one within a one mile radius, carefully placing them on a bench.  For those of you who are ignorant to how Kevin's language works, "corn cobs" are really pine cones. 

At first I was kind of impatient and just wanted to get going.  You know, put him in the stroller and walk the 1.8 km to home as fast as I possibly could.  Then I realized how truly he was living in the moment and was enjoying himself as if there was nothing else in the world to think about.  He has no worries, no time constraints, no other thought but than what he was doing right at that very moment, and that was collecting all the corncobs within a one mile radius, which he was doing with the utmost pleasure. 

When we did start towards home, and I use that phrase loosely because we were meandering more than we were really walking, Kevin was walking and not sitting.  Now, Kevin is 4, he does not have the same sense of urgency that I do when walking.  We walked slowly, and looked at everything. EMS went by us, red, and we discussed EMS and what they do and why they take people to the hospital.  EMS are, in my opinion, fabulous at their job, so I simply explained that they need to take people to the hospital because the hospital has more equipment and medicine for sick people. 

There were so many things we saw on the way home, and talked about that I can't even begin to mention them all.  Days and evenings with Kevin are the best of times, and its rare that I count the hours till bedtime.  Even when I do, its usually due to me being in a bad mood, not because he is unmanageable or unruly. 

So there you have it.  My enlightenment for the day is mostly that I need to slow down to Kevin's pace and see all the wonderful things that he sees. 

He is my "why."

KEVIN IS FOUR

Kevin is four years old as of yesterday.  Where oh where has the time gone?  It seems he was a newborn just yesterday and today we had cake and ice-cream with his great-grandmother, Auntie Luanna, Uncle Chris, Auntie Maria, and Jenny (his birth mother). 

He wanted seven candles when I asked him how many I should put onto his cake. Seven?  Seven it was. 

Yesterday we went together to Superstore to pick out the cake mix, frosting, ice cream, and the decorations for the top of the cake.  It was delightful to let him choose a confetti cake mix, chocolate frosting, and stars for the cake.  For ice cream he chose Rainbow, which we all agreed today had very little flavor variety in its colors. 

We mixed and baked the cake after supper yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed it.  He cracked and opened two eggs with only a few pieces of shell falling into the batter.

The point here is that he had most of the control over decision making in his 4th birthday.  No one ridiculed his choices, no one suggested he should choose differently. This is one of the areas in life where he can flex his decision-making muscles with confidence.

Catharticism

On occasion I feel an overwhelming urge to write, but am unable to focus on a specific topic.  Regardless, it is imperative that I heed that urge in order to free the thoughts free-floating through my head.

Sounds odd, perhaps; that’s how my brain works.  Writing has proven effective time after time in sorting out the issue du jour.  The thoughts line up and spew onto the page in some sort of order and things begin to make sense. When bouncing around in my head these same random thoughts only cause trouble.

There are so many things on my mind tonight; where to begin? And should I share my thoughts and concerns with you?  My concerns tonight are not of the negative or the positive variety, they are merely things that I think about periodically and sporadically, when the house is quiet and dark and I’m alone.  Its not a case of being alone too much or too much time on my hands; these are the most introspective moments of my life, and growth, if not already in evidence, always follows these moments.

My life is no longer my own; I feel “owned” by my employer and by those currently paying my compensatory wages.  My freedom to seek employment at a facility of my choice is no longer a freedom; it is the choice of my employer, until I am deemed completely rehabbed and employable once again.  Had I not been injured, I would have found employment elsewhere and relocated my household.  As it is now, I have no concept of how long it might take till I am ‘free’ to leave.  This is not necessarily a positive thing, in my opinion, but I have learned to let things work them selves out in their own time.  Reasons that I cannot see today may make themselves clear tomorrow.  However, my impatient nature is struggling mightily with this.

This morning I deposited a toddler at the sitter and this afternoon I picked up a toddler-become-a-boy.  Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I suddenly noticed that he’s growing up and leaving toddler-hood behind.  But that can’t be!  It was only yesterday he morphed from infant to toddler.  And the day before that he was newborn.  What’s next? I imagine he’ll be graduating from high school tomorrow.  Humorous?  Yes.  Sad? Yes.  So many emotions course through a mother’s heart as they hurtle through their child’s life.  The days go by too slowly, but the years are racing by at the speed of sound. 

My confidence suffered a major assault in the past years and I allowed it to happen; I may even have made it possible by not listening to my heart at the first sign of trouble.  And when my identity was at its most fragile stage I added insult to injury by setting myself up for even more assaults on my integrity and capabilities.  Recently, the confidence that I formerly had in myself and my strengths and abilities has begun to return, and it is restoring me to a much stronger state than previously.  Adversity does truly strengthen us, but causes a fair bit of discomfort while doing so. 

Those are but a few examples of what topics my mind brings to my attention on any given day.  Having shared them with you, I can now put my finger on my thoughts; they are no longer free floating.

PURGING -- ROUND TWO

 Getting rid of as many clothes as I did a few days ago, you’d think that was the end of it.  But, oh no, I had a second go-round with the leftover clothes, and whittled away the pile by perhaps another third.  Things I’ve never worn, things that don’t fit properly, things that are uncomfortable, colors I can’t stand, and so on.  All gone.  Well, not quite gone; most are waiting for inclusion in a new rug while a few are waiting for a ride to the thrift store.

This weekend I tackled a long overdue project and that was to clean the cupboard under the bathroom sink.  It was quite cluttered and full, now its much emptier and well organized.  A few cosmetics went in the trash.  There is a maximum time that you should be keeping cosmetics before they need to be thrown away.  Since I haven’t purchased any in the past year, I’m guessing ALL of mine should have gone to the landfill.  I kept back the minimum that I need to keep until my great Arbonne shopping spree in May!

Going through boxes and bins in the basement has been on my list of projects since moving in.  This weekend I went through two boxes.  Granted, they were both extremely small boxes (think shoe box size), but everything has been allocated to a new home.  Jen’s stack of papers from school has been recycled, kept for a bit longer, or tossed completely.  I’ll revisit the “keepers” in a week or two, and I’m sure I’ll be able to get rid of even more.  Why did I do Jen’s and not Chris’s?  Very simply put, Jen’s papers were easily accessible, Chris’s weren’t. I’ll get to his when I open the right box downstairs.

Ugh, why are we so attached to our belongings?  Is it really necessary to keep so many things?  I'm sensing that I'm really on a mission here, to rid myself of anything that isn't necessary.  

Stay tuned .  . .

Isolated

Perhaps my sense of isolation today is of my own doing, but knowing that does nothing to ease the feeling. It simply adds guilt to isolation, not a great combination.

Normally I love being alone at home with Kevy, but today is not one of those days.

Acknowledging isolation, I came up with four possible reasons or causes that I would be feeling that way.

First, I'm broker than broke and that pretty much forces me to stay home. Just knowing that I can't afford to do anything makes it much worse. I'd be fine if I was choosing to stay home, but this is out of necessity.

Second, I really really really miss my adult children. It's not even possible to exaggerate that statement! Living in the same neighborhood as them, we could walk over or invite them over for dinner.

Third, when I was working I spent all day with people and was quite happy to spend time at home without others around. That was my time to "regroup" and prepare for the next set of days on. Being off work, I am lacking the company of co-workers; not necessarily missing it, but lacking the interaction with others.

Fourth, when the isolation hit me the hardest this afternoon, I simply wanted to get out of the house to go for a walk. But, Kevy had not napped and did not want to go outside. Being already tired and grumpy myself, I chose to not force the issue and we stayed in the house.

It goes without saying that single parents (or single grandparents) could potentially experience stronger feelings of isolation. Not having a partner, someone who is a support, someone who knows me, intensifies the feeling of being alone.

It's a rare day that I feel isolation as intensely today, so don't think this is my normal state; it's not.

Purging

No, not the "binge and purge" type of purging! I'm referring to purging as it pertains to belongings; clothing, books, etc.

Two and a half years ago, while preparing to move from city to country (I consider living in Steinbach living in the country. Long story.), I went through every item in my townhouse, one by one. I tossed dumpsters of stuff and drove to the donation door at the thrift shop at least a dozen times. We'd been living there for eleven years, so there was a lot of stuff to wade through.

It was a sense of relief each time I got rid of something. It could be anything, an old t-shirt, old letters, or anything. To part with old belongings, I was hanging onto the past and was unable to embrace the future.

Now, I can understand that I purged just prior to a move. After all, isn't that the best time to do it? So then why am I on a purging rampage the past few days? I'm parting with items that I so diligently packed up to move here. Mostly I'm posting them on Kijiji, but I haven't stopped there.

My closet got a good purge this afternoon while Kevy napped. What did I get rid of? Seven hoodies, my favorite article of clothing, are now awaiting a buyer on Kijiji. Six t-shirts and tank-tops are nicely folded and will be crocheted into rugs. A javex-ruined pair of pants will also become part of a rug, as will my beloved Adidas track pants. I thought my world would end when I put them in the back of my closet six months ago. But, when tearing through the closet today, I realized I had forgotten all about them!

Once the stained or torn items were weeded out, I went through the rest and tried on every single article of clothing. Every article. Shirts that were too short will always be too short regardless of my weight. Shirts and pants that fit but were a bit snug are being put away in a box for another six months. If I haven't lost enough weight to wear them comfortably by then, they will also become part of my rugs.

It's amazing what a sense of lightness and relief I feel when there is less "stuff" around me. Clutter in my space makes it difficult for me to think. Far from being cluttered, my home is still a lot fuller than after moving in.

I'll do a bit more tomorrow,

Detour! Detour!

Just when you get settled into a comfortable (or uncomfortable) groove, life hands you the oddest and most dismaying (initially) roadblocks, and insists (dictates) that you change direction NOW!

How we respond to life's detours essentially determines our level of happiness and contentment with our lives. Kicking and screaming into each unexpected curve in the road will, predictably, lead to unhappiness and dissatisfaction.

Accepting the detour and curves and reversals, subsequently searching for beauty along the way will yield a higher level of satisfaction and contentment with life.

So where is the beauty and satisfaction in a back injury and the enforced time of work and decreased income? I've been asking myself the same question since August 5, 2011, which was my last day at work before my physician ordered me to take time off.

It took a very long time before I was able to see any beauty in anything, and I mean that quite literally. It took a month or two before I began to feel the very real
desperation of lack of income (WCB took eight weeks to assess the claim and a further two weeks to issue the first payment).

Financially, things are still in dire straits at our house. However, this has allowed me to get to know my SIL in a whole new way. She is a harsh taskmaster when it comes to money! I should have given her this "job" of looking after my finances when I first started nursing!

The abundance of free time has given me the opportunity to spend more time with my extended family members, my nieces and nephews and their children. I've spent more time with my youngest brother in the past months than in the previous years combined. He's an even better man than I previously thought.

These are the beautiful sights along my injured back detour.

Not so beautiful has been seeing my mother's increasingly rapid decline into the scary world of dementia. It's a privilege to spend additional time with her, as always. We've recently had her started on an anti-psychotic and the change in her has been remarkable! Her sense of humor has returned and she can smile again.

This has not been easy, but I've been able to witness and experience it in its entirety. Her dementia has brought her children into closer contact with each other, as we understand the need for frequent communication regarding Mom.

The most obvious beauty of my injured back has been the extra time with Kevy, my red-haired Gremlin. Sure, he still spends time at the sitter, but that's for his benefit as much as mine.

He says "I love you" frequently, and often follows that with a hug. Moments like that would not be as frequent if I were not spending this much time with him.

When it's time to return to work, I may not be returning to the type of work I previously did. However, that is speculation on my part, and some theorizing by my physician.

Regardless of the outcome, I hope to not forget the beauty I found while living on a decreased income and increased time.

Fear the Phone

If you've been paying any attention to my status (frequent) updates on Facebook, you are aware that I've taken on a new role in life, that of Pampered Chef Consultant.  But being an Independent Consultant is not nearly enough challenge for me, I had to go and take the challenge of joining the Leadership Group, which is basically a fast track to being a director; not entirely sure what possessed me to do that.

Ah, well, never one to shy away from a challenge, I'm also working toward a Mediterranean Cruise in 2013.  That is an award given to those who meet certain sales criteria, and certain recruiting criteria.  I've really got my work cut out for me.

It seems that I'm missing the challenge of being in the hospital and on the ward, where life is fast-paced and unpredictable and coworkers can become a second family under the right conditions.

As it is somewhat unclear when I will be returning to nursing (due to back injury), I need to keep myself busy and surrounded by people.

I've already really come to appreciate the women I've met through Pampered Chef; all of them supportive and friendly.  Its a group in which I feel I can relax and be myself with no pressures to be someone I'm not; no hiding my personality and delightful sense of humor.  Yes, I just declared myself to have a delightful sense of humor.

Its not all fun and games, though.  Well, actually it is.  Even the work is fun.  Hosting cooking shows allows me to be the center of attention for a few minutes.  Going into other people's homes also allows me to meet and interact with a never-ending supply of new faces and personalities.  In that regard, it is similar to nursing, minus the bodily fluids, of course.

There is one aspect of direct sales that I am having a bit of a challenge with, but I'm sure its only temporary.  I've never met a challenge that I couldn't beat, and this one is no different. It'll just require lots of practice and perseverance, in addition to a sense of humor.  The rule is not to take myself too seriously when I'm making the calls.

Up until today the only calls I'd made were to family.  However, if I'm going to reach my goals, I'll need to get uncomfortable and reach past previous boundaries I've unconsciously set in my life.  So today I made calls to women who were not related to me.  The first call was not unsuccessful, nor was it done by the book.  I had the pre-written script in front of me, just as a guidleline, and promptly was unable to follow it.  The second call, I ignored the script entirely and relied on my charming personality instead.  This felt better.

The third call was the best one yet!  It went something like this:  "Hi Myrna, this is Marla."  (I'm Myrna, so this was completely backwards). 

Silence.

"Hi Marla, this is Myrna."  Whew.  I remembered my own name. 

Today yielded two "no" responses; I'm well on my way to my goal of 100.

Anyone with any experience in sales knows that for every four "no" responses, one "yes" is generally forthcoming.

I'm happy, because according to my calculations, my next four calls should be "yes."

Insanity

I've heard that the definition of insanity is repeating the same actions over and over again and expecting to get different results.

Whew! That is absolutely true! There are so many areas in life where I've set goals and laid out plans and mini-goals, etc. It's usually the same aspects of my life that are involved; money and health/fitness are the most frequent targets of goal setting for me. And I don't think I'm unusual in that regard.

When it comes to money, I've tried many methods to save money, to pay off debt, to pay bills on time, and so on. And, as a nurse, it's not that there isn't enough money for these things. However, receiving compensation for my back injury is severely stressing my resources and my patience.

In the past I've joked about being one pay cheque away from being homeless. That's not so funny anymore. Savings accounts are wiped out, retirement accounts are non-existent, and the option of picking up extra shifts is not available to me. The bills, like electricity (which is sort of a necessity) are piling up. NSF fees are adding insult to injury at the bank, and so on.

Now I've always maintained that a person's situation is a result of their decisions, past and present. My current situation is no different. Obviously I made some poor financial choices in the past. Well, not just some, a lot. And I'm paying (bad play on words) for it now.

This time, instead of simply trying to blunder my way through a rough patch, I've called in another brain and set of eyes to examine my situation. Instead of simply asking her advice, I'm allowing her to tell me what to do, each step of the way, right down to how much cash I can spend for groceries.

She's got a fair bit of experience with these things, and loves solving problems such as this. I think she sees it as a challenge and a bit of a puzzle that needs solving.

I simply don't have the patience to sit and calculate different options and come up with ideas. I'm more likely to turn a blind eye to things and hope it all works out in the end. It is exactly that attitude that had gotten me in trouble; I've trice repeatedly to "solve" my situation, to no avail.

A different approach was called for this time. And already I can feel the difference; perhaps it is because if I spend money on coffee or other non-necessities, she'll know about it. She's telling me what to do with each penny and I'm certainly being held accountable.

Every expense has, or will be, examined to ascertain its necessity or to see whether it can be decreased by any amount. The areas we've attacked first are gas, groceries, and dining out, as these are areas which are relatively flexible.

What difference have I felt so far? Yesterday I did not stop for coffee on the way to the city in the early morning, nor did I stop for a snack on the way home. Today, I did not zip through McDonald's drive thru before going to pick up Kevy at his sleepover. We also spent the rest of the day at home, napping and hanging out.

Not only have I stopped spending money on coffee and drive-thrus, I've not ingested the extra calories from the coffees and snacks. It's a win-win situation, don't you think?

A new approach to an old and recurring problem is sometimes the best way to come up with a more creative solution that actually works!

The Sleepover

So Kevy's having his very first sleepover tomorrow at a friend's house. He's super excited, I'm nervous as heck. He'll be about ten miles down the road from home, but it feels like a thousand miles. I've got no problem leaving him to sleepover at the sitter's house; heck, we've had to do that since he was born cuz I worked a lot of nights.

This is different; he's going to a friend's house. It's another step towards independence and not needing me, and that means he's gonna start school soon, and then he'll be graduating, and then and then and then ...... Oh dear!

My older kids put up with me being a Nervous Nellie when it came to sleepovers and activities that took them away from me. I was sure I'd have gotten over that by now! But, alas, it appears I'm still afflicted.

He's gonna be away from me for about 18 hours, easy, right? He's stayed at the sitters for 72 hours sometimes when I've had three consecutive nights. Again, no problem.

Growing up is what kids are supposed to do, but they're supposed to do it slower! This is just too fast for me!

What if he cries for me at night? What if the other mom doesn't know how to turn him into a hippo or horse or elephant when tucking him in? What if he has to pee at night? What if he falls off a strange bed? What if? What if?!

I'm really not as worried or nervous as I'm leading on. He'll be perfectly fine at his friend's house.

And, I see this experience for what it is; an important step on the road to independence.

Even so, I'm leaving my cell phone number and instructions to call if he needs anything. I've also mentioned (more than a few times) to the other mother, that I will pick him up at 0300 if necessary.

Perfection

I'm not perfect and you're not perfect. No one is. So why do we demand perfection of ourselves? Why do we beat ourselves up when we fall short of perfection?

It's great to strive to improve on a continual basis; without growth, we stagnate and die. Not in the literal sense, of course. But each day that we're alive and breathing, we need to improve upon ourselves from the day before; each rising sun gives us the opportunity to start fresh.

Why I felt compelled to write about perfection tonight, I'll never know. What I do know that is the past few weeks I've let my mind and pen write a lot without any type of censorship. So when my mind gives me the nudge to write about a particular topic or person or situation, I pay attention, pick up my pen, and write. To some that may seem a bit wishy-washy; that's okay, I'm not writing this for you.

If you're a FB friend, you'll have noticed that I went for four (4) coffee dates in two days, two of which were with my mom and likely should not count. But it's never just me and my mom. Family and friends nearly always join us.

I was sort of dreading these "coffee" dates, as I sometimes tend to shrink back into my "hermit-zone" when things are not going well. However, I made myself go to each date, and I'm not sorry I did so. It's good for us to push past our comfort zones and get a bit uncomfortable on occasion. In this case I knew I needed to give myself a little nudge and spend some time with adults, communicating about grown-up things.

We all are familiar with the expression that things happen for a reason, etc. these coffee dates were no exception. With each person I sat down with and communicated, I learned more about them, and had new insights into my own
mind.

My two years working in rural nursing have not been kind to me, nor have I been kind to it, or to myself. I've lost the passion I once had for nursing as a result of the move to rural nursing. This disappoints me greatly! It took having coffee with a dear friend and co-worker for me to realize that this is not the fault of rural nursing. Things happen for a reason, but I'm really struggling with understanding this one!

Coffee #2 was a larger group; there were six of us, I believe. Here I learned that I should likely sit down and address my feelings about possibly not returning to regular nursing duties. I'm angry. But that's another post.

Lunch/coffee today was me and mom with one of her long-time friends, and her daughter. The moms visited and reminisced, while we discussed a multitude of topics; it was quite enjoyable.

This afternoon I sat down with an ex-boyfriend''s ex-wife. We've talked sporadically over the past years, and I've really come to appreciate her as a friend. Sitting with her I had another one of my "epiphanies," which happens every now and then. Without her, and without our conversation, I would never have had this revelation. It was one of those flashes of insight into one's own condition that changes the way a person behaves ever after. Just as I have used humor as a means of covering my insecurities, I believe I've also used another behavior for another purpose. (I don't care to share specifics of that behavior here.)

So how does this all relate back to perfection?

We're always growing, learning. We're never done learning about ourselves, and the more we learn about ourselves, the more adjustments we can make in our journey towards perfection.

Responsibility (sometimes) Sucks)

Wherever you are in life, you're there because of choices YOU made! These are not always the big choices (which job offer to take); where you are is more a result of many small day-to-day choices.

We love to go through life thinking we are a result of our childhood, or a product of past abuses suffered earlier in life, even identifying ourselves as an abuse survivor.

Let me ask you this question: how can you call it living if you're an abuse "survivor?" That would imply that you are merely "surviving" vs truly thriving.

When is it a good time to let go of your past and start living? This is where our choices begin to factor in; when we've wallowed in self pity and bitterness long enough, we can choose to remain there and continue with our "poor poor me, my life is so lousy" attitude or we can CHOOSE to take action and change our lives for the better.

Personally, I have no patience or tolerance for those who have made the choice to remain in their "poor me" condition, whining and complaining ad nauseum, steadfastly refusing to make the choice to improve their lives in any manner.

Inaction is just another form of choice. In not taking action, we are CHOOSING to not take action.

We are a product of our past choices and while we cannot go back in time to change our choices, we can certainly CHOOSE to make better choices starting this exact moment.

GONG SHOW

Some of my FB statuses are long enough to be short stories, but this is a story that would push the boundaries of status length.  Besides, there is only so much patience I have for keying in lengthy dialogues on my iPhone.

Having said that, let me tell you a story.

It happened one bitterly cold Sunday in January.  Kevin and I picked up my mother at her home and proceeded to drive off to Winnipeg.  What was supposed to be a surprise for Great-Gramma turned out to not be much of a surprise because Luanna, my dear dear sister-in-law, was unaware that the event was to be a surprise.  The surprise was that we were going to pick up Jen, my daughter, Kevy's birth mother, and my mother's granddaughter who she had not seen in many months.  I'm sure she was convinced that Jen no longer existed and was just a part of her memory bank.

Now before I go any further with this tale, let me fill in some background, for those of you who are blissfully unaware of my mother's status (and I do not mean FB status).  She is 87 years old, has pitifully poor hearing despite two expensive hearing aids, and has some form of dementia which is advancing surprisingly rapidly the past few weeks.  She is normally very pleasant, but has had some more unpleasant moments recently, which is why we started her on Risperidone ten days ago, with very good effect.

Now that you are up to speed..... we are on the way to Winnipeg, the drive there was uneventful.  After no confusion whatsoever (on my part) we found Jenny's new home and proceeded to pick her up.  Her and I had prearranged to go to Smitty's at Pembina and Grant, and there we went.

After we were seated in our booth, the fun began.  And what fun it was.  Mom has her condition which leaves her at a distinct disadvantage at the best of times.  Kevin is a toddler, which should also be known as a medical condition.  Jennifer is 21 with an attitude.  This is definitely a medical condition.  I'm 44 and I was the only normal one at the table. And if you're buying that, well, you've got bigger things to be worrying about.

Picture the four of us at a table.  Mom can't hear anything we're saying unless we practically shout.  Kevin talks and fidgets non stop.  Jennifer says very little and what she says usually should not be repeated.  I spent most of my time repeating things that had to be censored first.  Then attempting to discipline an unruly toddler on the other side of the table whose birth mother seems to think she can make decisions on behalf of.

Jen thought it was a good idea to play tic-tac-toe with Gramma.  She won't be doing that again anytime soon.  Mom beat her with 3 or 4 x's.  In short, she got schooled and good!!

The drive home was ridiculously funny.  Driving down the Trans Canada highway, a route that my mother has been on and driven on at least a million times, she asked where we were.  It seems she no longer recognized the landmarks that were once so familiar.  No, that's not the funny part.  What was funny was that at the very same time, Kevy asked what road we were on and what the sign beside the road said.  This cacophony of noise and conversation was brief but intense.  Everytime I spoke to Kevin, Mom thought I was talking to her and demanded that I repeat myself.  Kevin had this knack of simply not speaking until Mom was already talking and then  I was listening to two at once.

(written last winter; not sure why I never posted it then)