Nice article on angels and caregivers from CNN's belief blog.

"Ultimately, the problem with calling caregivers angels is that it implies that they don't need help. If they don't need help, we don't have to step up and offer it." 

Heaven

If you've ever read, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom, you know that when you die, you get to stay, at least for a while, in a place that made you happy. When Eddie dies, he reunites with his wife, Marguerite, in a dressing room. She's in a bridesmaid's dress, waiting for a wedding to begin. She said the hope, that promise of beginning a new life, always captivated her. Given the disappointments she faced in marriage, you could see why she stayed in the day, just before the wedding, with the possibility that anything could happen and everyone was so happy.

Sally thinks that heaven is a place where everyone is a child again. You get to pick the age you want to be, but it must be a child. That sounds lovely to me. I wish I could meet my daughter as a child-I know we'd be best friends. My husband too. Although Sally and I would surely bully him, or at least torment him a little.

I think that if I go to heaven, it's going to be like a Saturday afternoon in September. The temperature so nice you don't even notice it. The afternoon sun slanting in through the dining room windows. And everyone just relaxing, curled up in a chair or taking a nap. There's something about a Saturday afternoon that just seems like time stands still. Saturday chores are done and you don't yet have to think about getting ready for Monday. You can do anything on Saturday night, but right now it's just time to curl up and not think about anything. Eventually, I'll get up and have to start dinner, but for right now it's enough. And feeling enough always feels like heaven to me.

Enough

Sally says that if she had "just the right amount of money," she would be happy. I confess I think this too, sometimes, and I'm not 7. My wish is a little more specific, as in "If I had my own home," or "If I had money to travel more," or even, "If I had a retirement plan," I too would be satisfied. This often leads me to envy, bitter envy sometimes if the truth be told. I judge people on how they care or don't care for their possessions, as in, "If I had a house, I'd never do X, Y, or Z." So far this doesn't seem to effect Sally, who is a pretty happy kid overall and doesn't seem to be jealous of anyone or anything. 

Truth be told, I like our life very, very much. I like our apartment. I also like not having to shell out money when the water heater breaks. I like that we're not on the very common treadmill of two full-time working parents who rush out the door with a cranky kid every morning, make sure she's got the lunch packed, the homework done, the permission slips signed. We don't come home exhausted at 6pm and worry about dinner, yell about homework, put the kid to bed and go to sleep to start all over again the next day. I'm very, very blessed to have a husband who stays home and makes our house run. I'm very, very blessed to have a job where I can support us working 3 days a week. 12 hour days to be sure, sometimes 36 hours in 3 days, which is its own, special kind of exhausting, as in, "please don't talk to me, I am done with human beings for at least the next 10 hours." We have a nice, working car, food in the fridge and the money to take a small trip every year, a bigger trip every 2 or 3. But once in a while I'd like to go out and spend $500 without thinking about it. I can't spend $50 without thinking long and hard about it. 

And that's ok. I don't mind shopping at thrift stores and getting furniture off the curb. The thrill of finding some amazing treasure in my mother's attic or my grandpa's garage hasn't left me, it's just been transferred to the stuff from other people's attics and garages and basements and closets. This summer I found a Calvin Klein, beautiful off the shoulder, swingy brown dress for $17. Gary found a still in the box and wrapped in its plastic, signed, designer modern red lamp ON. THE. CURB. People didn't want to pack up after a garage sale. Quick Google search says it goes for about $160. I love that. It's like bagging a 4 point buck to some people, I guess. Maybe one day we'll find the Holy Grail of bargain shoppers and find some rare painting or piece of furniture that worth $100,000 for five bucks and we'll be the ones on Antiques Roadshow going, "Oh my Gosh! I had no idea! We'd been using to store paint!" 

One of the things about my husband I cherish is that he doesn't have a lot of things and the things he has, he uses. It drives me crazy, sometimes, because he'll toss out or give away something and six months later we'll go, "Didn't we used to have a thingy-whatsis." But I used to find cool things and save them for "The right time, for when I had a house, for when I lost 10 pounds." And those things would sit in my closet, or on a shelf or in my basement until they were no longer anything I was interested in. Occasionally I'd unearth one of these things and and remember why I wanted it in the first place and start using it, but more often than not I'd wind up just re-gifting it, or donating it or throwing it away. "Don't store up your treasures here on earth." 

Another blessing I've received is that really, the less things I have, the more I make do, the less I really want. My envy, my desire to always have more, to always think, like a 7 year old, that happiness awaits if only I had....this has definitely decreased. Not gone completely, for sure. But lessened. I've learned to make do and be satisfied with what I have. And this isn't just in regards to My Stuff. Right now, my job is enough. My marriage is enough  More than enough, actually, but I know longer dwell on, "If only he'd...". How my kids are is enough-I'm not fretting over whether they're eating right, acting right, learning enough, whatever. And I'm trying, really trying to get over the house envy. God, if I'm supposed to buy a house, give me the ability and diligence to work for it, the knowledge to know what I'm doing. But if we stay where we are, that'd be ok too. 

The Princess Shift

I was on call last night, 3p-7:30p. Our ER is so totally busy and important that we have to take call. Are there other ER's that do this? I've never met one, but like fairies, that doesn't mean they don't exist. So of course I got called in while shopping at Costco. I love Costco and all those free yummies they hand out. Yesterday there was smoked salmon on crackers with with a sweet sauce, but I digress...

I got there to a not totally crazy ER, but what patients they had were pretty sick. I picked up 3 from a nurse going home. They all had cancer: 1 lung, 1 colon and 1 brain but the brain cancer was probably secondary, so he was going to CT to see if there was some old cancer hiding somewhere else. Gotta make your day, to find out you have a brain tumor. Last week I had a guy who had just been told he had a brain tumor and then a few hours later was told the good news that it wasn't a tumor, but an arterial-venous malformation that needed surgery so it wouldn't explode in his brain. Good news is really relative in the ER.

I walk into the room where my patients are, not really sure who's who yet and I see a woman my age crying. I ask her if she's ok and she says, "They're putting him in hospice."

Hi, I'm Susan your nurse. So, I hear you're going to die.

I don't really know what to say. Usually people's prognoses are not so definitive when I see them. So I don't say anything and just try and be helpful instead. I'm ever so helpful. So, while I'm trying to pass out everybody's meds, teach my other lady how to inject herself with lovenox so she can go home instead of spending the weekend in the hospital and minister to my dying dude, I get told I'm taking one of two codes that are coming in. I try and get caught up with my charting. First code comes in, I jump in help a little, then my code comes in. My patient was in respiratory distress and not breathing so good, so they intubated her. Otherwise, she was pretty awake. Like, very awake. So we sedated her. And then sedated her some more. Everytime I left the room for a minute to see to the THREE OTHER SICK PATIENTS I HAD, I got a call that my intubated patient was waking up and grabbing for her tube. Erg. I got her settled back down, got my lady discharged, took my dying guy off bipap for a few minutes so he could eat before needing the bipap again, I told him I couldn't make it better but I could I'd try to make it easier. I then tried to call report to MICU on my intubated chick. Who's waking up again!

I would like to take a moment to tell all the ER doctors out there that they are NOT anesthesiologists and that propofol sucks. I mean, it's quick to sedate you, but it's quick to wear off and quick to drop your pressure. Please, please, please use versed and fentanyl instead. That is all.

Put my guy back on bipap, suddenly remembered that the guy with the brain tumor hadn't been to CT yet, tried 3 times to get an ABG on my MICU lady who woke up AGAIN, more sedation (is she a drinker? is the line ok? why isn't she knocked out?) Called the respiratory therapist to see if he could get the ABG, he couldn't and left before I could stop him to do the transpot with me. Lady wakes up again, more sedation. Finally, I grabbed my relief who offered to bring her up to MICU while I finished up my charting and that he'd tell them I couldn't get the ABG. Searched 10 minutes for lost chart. Finished charting. Brought promised water pitcher to my hospice patient. Gave his wife a hug and held his hand and said goodbye. Went to get changed. Texted Gary to tell him to come pick me up, he said, "you've got the car." Oh, yeah. Well, it's been quite a four hours, what can I say.

Picked up cheesesteak and ice cream from Thomas Sweets for family. Was in bed by 10:30. Slept til S's alarm went off at 2am, cause she played with the phone. Really? But that's another post.

What time it is?

Oh dear God and/or Goddess.

I have volunteered to start a Brownie troop. Which everyone thinks is a great idea and wants their daughters to join and Oh-Gee-It's-Great-Someone-Wants-To-Start-A-Troop! Except no one really wants to LEAD a troop. And S- reeeeeaaaaallllllyyyyyy wants to be a Brownie. Cause, you know-Uniforms! Brownie Badges! A cool Brownie skort! So, here I am, about to be a Brownie leader, cause I have all the time in the world.

Actually, Pastor Patty told me last week that I was the busiest woman she knows and I was like, "Huh?" I'm not busy, I just work full time, take 2 college classes, homeschool S-, try to sing in the choir once in a while, maybe participate in a play (that was before college, though, to be fair) and walk the dog and put drops in the cat's ears....and maybe clean my house. Once in a while. Like when company is coming-and when do I ever have company? Next week, that's when-when I have a parent meeting for BROWNIES! Oh, God. Now I've got to bake and cook.

Thank Gods, Goddesses, Buddha and all the Bodhisattvas that I have Mr. H who does all the cooking, helps tremendously with cleaning and basically runs the homeschool AND generally makes sure the bills are paid and the house doesn't explode.

One consequence of all this is am now officially a Pintster. How very Pinteresting, how Pinsterific. I tried explaining to Mr. what Pinterest is. "It's like social media for girls. And a few gay guys." Those who like to share twee things, like wedding dresses and cutesy crafts while keeping away from WTF/NSFL gifs and evil, evil internet Trolls. I really, really, really was not Pinterested in joining. But my google search to find amazing and interesting things to do with a gaggle of Brownies led me directly there and....I did find some great Girl Scout things to do. Apparently, that is where all the GS leaders hang out: on Pinterest. I'm not even sure how to tell you to find me there. I thinks it's this: 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have homework to do.

I seriously need some elves...

Christmas 2012 has come and gone. We lived through the Mayan apocalypse AND dinner at my sister's. Just when I thought my extended family couldn't be any more boring, a co-worker mentions that at HER Christmas eve festivities, everyone got drunk and sang The Twelve Days of Christmas, including appropriate acting out of the song. Video was prohibited, of course. Nothing done at my holiday celebrations ever require anyone to sign a waiver, unfortunately.

As you can see from the above picture, Santa did not so much visit our house as ransack it. Oh, wait, that was done by children, mostly one small-ish, still-very-excited-by-it-all child. Which is really fun to watch, but not so much to clean up after. I now know why Jewish people go out for Chinese food and a movie.

Which is why I spent the day not cleaning. S-, who is normally home everyday except for 1 or 2 hour outside activities or occasional forays to friends' houses, is at karate camp. All day. A lesser woman would say that is a great time to tidy up, but not me! I spent the 5 hours having uninterrupted time speaking to my husband (actual whole sentences!) and surfing the web. Also, I learned how to use Evernote on my iphone and computer, so not a total loss. I am nothing if not fascinated by how to be organized. Actual organization is another thing. Besides, I think that organization-type people are part of a pyramid scheme. Just like you can make a million by writing a book How to Be a Millionaire and convincing a million people to buy it, so I think those Efficiency types try and convince you that being organized is oh-so-wonderful and then convince you to buy their twee organizing bins and color-coded folders. Their own houses probably look like who did it and ran. Anyhoo.

She is trying to look fierce

So, I offer you Susan's Guide to Cleaning Your Abode. First, pick the least dirty/cluttered room. Start small, I say. Find the spot that will be easiest to clean, however you define that. I generally pick the bathroom-it's small in size and usually doesn't have a tremendous amount of clutter in it, unless we had an extended bathtime the night before. Clean that mother! It won't be hard, because you started small. This success will give you fresh impetus to clean more. Move onto another room. Do NOT start with the kitchen. If it's like mine, it's too much at this point to even think about. Pick one spot in the room to clean off. Not a desk, that's too complicated. Say a bed or a couch. Clean off the surface and make the bed, if that's where you're at. Now go around with a big bag and pick up all the garbage. There, doesn't it look cleaner already? And you now you have one clean surface to focus on and you won't be overwhelmed by the rest of the clutter. If you like, use that surface to organize; dirty clothes, clean clothes (why would both be on the floor? If you know the answer to that, you don't need this article), papers, books, dirty dishes (but not clean dishes, there are never any clean dishes, sheesh). These things must be put away before you move onto the next room.

The kitchen. I try not to be in my kitchen unless I'm cooking something, so I'll clean it while I cook. Counter-intuitive, I know, but it works for me so don't judge. I fill the dishwasher while I'm waiting for water to boil or whatev. I have to wipe down a counter already to get cooking, so why not just keep going? With the dirty dishes away in the dishwasher and the counters cleaned off, I can pretend that the floor's not too bad and save that for another day. As one of my nursing instructors said, I throw a handful of dirt in the corner and when it sprouts, I know it's time to clean. Words to live by and you won't find that in any how-to-be-organized book I'll warrant.

New Year's is a few days away, a propitious time to clean the house. If that's not enough of an incentive,
invite some people over, then you'll have to clean. A Filipino nurse at work told me that a few minutes before midnight on New Year's, they open all the doors and windows of their home to let the evil spirits out and make way for good things to come in. Hey, ya never now. Happy 2013, y'all.

Holiday Happenings in Hub City

So we missed New Brunswick's tree lighting this year as I was working. But then I found out (still not sure how), that Highland Park was having a Christmas tree/Menorah lighting Saturday. After Shabbos, of course.

(Our town has a large, Jewish population-mostly Modern Orthodox, some Hasidim, conservative. A reformed minyan meets at my church. Israeli's, who can fall into any camp, I guess. Oh, and we have a town eruv. Google it).

So S and I and hubby and the dog walked uptown for dinner and general lighting of things. Several shops were giving out warm cider and cookies and S's old daycare was having pictures with Santa. S told Santa she wants a baby brother or sister for Christmas. Umm. Anyhoo, We stayed too long at the shawarma restaurant, missed the lighting of the Christmas tree and so stayed for the menorah lighting. How's that for a multicultural sentence? While they were preparing the menorah, a big PVC affair, the high school a cappella group sang, and then a blue grass group played Christmas music. It was quite a sight, all of us huddled on the sidewalk, listening to Christmas tunes and watching the menorah preparations. S found some friends. Together, they posed for pictures for a Jewish paper. "Say Happy Chanukah!" said the photographer and the 3 girls did, with candy canes in their mouths. I love my town. They were also selling menorahs (dreidle included) for $1. Of course we bought one, I have no shame. And it's a dollah.

I think the town kinda threw this thing together last minute, because the place they chose to do this was right on the main drag, on the sidewalk with cones extended into the street which is busy with NJ, holiday traffic. At night. I spent the time poised to spring into action should someone be jostled into the path of an oncoming SUV. Anyhoo, the rabbi(?) came forward, talked about the meaning and miracle of Chanukah and then proceeded to light up a flare. I had been wondering, because their were no light bulbs on this thing and there was no way a candle was going to last in the weather. No, flares it is! The assembled group sang the blessing over the lighting of the candles and with his one flare he lit the center and then the first night candle. Flares smoking, sparks falling to the ground, mothers pulling their children back so they didn't catch on fire. And all the while the real risk of an errant driver veering 1 foot to the right and cutting us all down. Good times.

We went home and played dreidle with pennies. It's easy and because we haven't had cheap dreidles pushed on us since childhood, fun (some Jewish friends I know are less than enthusiastic about the dreidling, but it was exciting and exotic for us. And you get to sing that song). It literally took S 10 seconds to memorize the symbols. Not the names, we're still working on that, but right away she knew that nun=no pennies, hey=half the pennies, shin=put a penny in the pot and gimmel (which looks like a "high heel" per my child)=Yippee! Gimmel me ALL the pennies!

Today we went to the Crossroads Theater's Holiday Jubilee. Eldest daughter got paid, yes I said paid, to be a costume consultant for the Motown inspired holiday show. Kids are free with a paid adult ticket and they sat on the stage. It was great-the music was fun, we were dancing in the seats and S had a great time, even though she didn't get picked to go up and dance with the cast, but she wore her disappointment well and I was so proud of her good behavior I bought her a disgusting candy thing at 7-11 afterward. They even put in  Chanukah, Kwanzaa and Muslim songs. And not in a "hey we have to be politically correct and throw in a
Chanukah song" but very nicely done. Because, seriously, sharing between different groups of people doesn't dilute anything, it only makes what we have and believe in stronger. It was groovy. AND the costumes were right on. I came home, ate 3 slices of pizza and passed out. Word.