Ineedagoddamnnap!

Just life

I feel sort of like a stressed out, living-dead person. If that makes any sense? Perhaps I am stuck in a rut in life at the moment. I feel like I have lost my sense of self and spend all my time as Mommy. Not that I am complaining about being a Mom, I love my children and thank God for them every day of my life. I suppose I just feel like being a Mother is defining me at the moment, and I am not sure how to change that.

I am a nurse and love my profession, but I can't work because we can't seem to find a regular babysitter. It was easy when we only had one child and my Dad used to watch her for us while I worked. But now, with three little ones, it isn't so easy anymore. I tried putting ads out there, asking around the neighborhood, school, etc. Nothing, nada, zilch. Sucks- really. Not only could we use a little extra income for savings, but it does wonders for me to go to work and feel like I am doing something important other than what I do at home. I am a good nurse and truly care for my patients. I am hoping that once spring break comes around and the college kids are home, I will be able to talk my niece into watching the girls so I can work a little.

My husband and I never get the chance to do anything alone. He works so many damn hours during the week and by the time he gets home and we have dinner (if he is even home in time for dinner) he is exhausted, the kids are antsy and I am about to lose my mind. The weekends are great, but it would be so nice to have the chance every couple weeks to go out to dinner or a movie with him without three kids in tow. I sound like I'm complaining; I'm not complaining. Okay- maybe I am. Just a little!

Hell, I am allowed to complain. This is my blog and I'll complain if I want to. I used to be good at writing. After writing that book last summer (which is still sitting on the dresser in my bedroom, un-edited because I just don't have the desire to pick it back up) I seemed to have lost all interest in writing. It has always been such a great outlet for me in life. I am not very good at talk about my emotions, so writing always gave me a way to get them out without someone listening. Granted, the whole world could read this...so it pretty much makes no sense that I can't talk about my emotions, but I can put them here on this website for everyone to see. But hey, I never claimed to make sense. That's me...the senseless one.

I just spent a half hour rocking the baby to sleep. She finally quieted down and I have been sitting here writing this for the last 10 minutes. My oldest child decided to get out of bed, yet again, and run through the hallway doing God knows what and woke the baby back up again. Seriously, I sort of feel like running away at the moment. Oh the thought of getting in my car and just driving, perhaps to a mental hospital for a few weeks! I can hear my husband walking down the hallway to quiet her. I feel bad. I know he had to leave the house at 4:30 this morning and is exhausted, but sometimes I need a break too. Actually, I need a break and a shower. And, perhaps a lock on my five year olds door.

By the way, my birthday is next week. I will be 34 and I am seriously, despite all the craziness in my life, thinking about having another baby. Insane?-most likely. I just can't shake the desire to add a forth child into our lives and I don't want to do that after I turn 35. So, my clock is a' tickin! Stay tuned...maybe I will come to my senses.

Fed up with worrying

I am a worrier. Always have been, hope someday that changes. Not that I don't think some amount of worry is healthy, I do. What good would a person be if they wandered through life not giving a shit about anything? It's just that I take things to an extreme.

For example, childbirth. While most women look forward to meeting their new bundle of joy, or stress out about the pain of contractions, I am convinced I am going to die. Of course I pick the rarest thing out there to die from, an amniotic fluid embolism. I have a better chance of perishing on my way to the hospital to give birth, and rationally, I know that. But some part of my brain misfires way too often and I obsess over whatever thing I happen to be worried about. Doctors love me. Family has learned to ignore me.

My oldest daughter, Gianna, is suffering from many of the same symptoms I have and it scares me to death. I can remember worrying as a young child. I would sit on the edge of my bed and look out my window watching for my Dad to get home from work. Or give myself a stomach ache when we were left with a babysitter because I was afraid my Mom and Dad wouldn't come back. I remember findingwhat was probably a bug bite, on my arm while showering one afternoon. It scared me so bad, I jumped out of the shower, threw a towel around me and ran on to the backyard where my step-mom was hanging clothes on the line. I insisted she look at my "bump" right away. I knew it was something awful and I was sure to die from it. She marched me back into the house, quickly, and tried to reason with me about how ridiculous I sounded.

Gianna worries about everything. She used to be an overly happy four year old. Over the last 9 months or so, she has become more and more concerned about things that she should pay no mind to. She worries about police officers, and if they are going to come get her if she spills something on herself. She worries about having children someday because she doesn't want to get any needles. She worries about future doctors appointments, for herself and her sisters. She worries about foxes getting into the house and attacking her in her bedroom at night. She worries when she coughs that she will throw up. She worries when her sisters cough that they will throw up. I hate all her worry. I worry about her worry.

My husband and I tried homeopathic therapy, much to my Mom's insistence, but it has done nothing for her. I hate the thought of putting her in therapy, but it looks like it is coming to that. I cannot stand the thought that my little girl may suffer through life like I did. I have spent years and years struggling with anxiety attacks and anxiety medication just to make it through the day. Of course, as I got older, I learned to better deal with my anxiety. But, it took me a long time and a lot of wasted days.

Anxiety sucks. Worrying sucks. Watching your children suffer sucks. Life isn't always easy, but when you love someone more than you love yourself, like any mother should, it makes life a million times harder watching them struggle. I hope my first born learns to put the worry behind her and live in the moment. I hope she wakes each day with excitement for what the new day will bring. I hope she laughs her heart and and brightens entire rooms with her smiles. And after all that is done, I hope she teaches me a little of what she learned.

I've learned that...

I've learned that there aren't enough hours in the day.

I've learned that, too often, I appreciate my kids more when they are sleeping.

I've learned that I will never be a perfect Mother. I will never even come close to that status. But, I love my kids with all my heart and try to learn from my mistakes.

I've learned that four and a half year olds love to be the boss. They also master the art of talking back.

I've learned that sometimes, I find myself defeated by my four and a half year old!

I've learned that two year olds can be bull headed and throw a mean temper tantrum.

I've learned that two year olds prefer to live off of fruit snacks and chicken nuggets.

I've learned that sometimes it is easier for me to give in and let my two year old eat fruit snacks for breakfast, than it is for me to argue with her.

I've learned that one year olds quickly pick up on the bad habits of their two and four year old sister's.

I've learned that once my one year old realize she could scream, she decided to make a habit of it.

I've learned that I should invest in earplugs...today.

I've learned that one should NEVER buy a puppy two days before surgery. No matter how cute he is.

I've learned that I am impulsive and while I have attempted to improve my bad behavior, it doesn't seem like it will ever go away completely.

I've learned that I make mountains out of molehills.

I've learned that I need to worry less, laugh more and appreciate what I have.

I've learned that money is necessary to live, but it doesn't bring a person happiness.

I've learned that you cannot change people. You can lead a horse to water, but you can never, ever make it drink.

I've learned that no matter how much it hurts you to see another person making the wrong choices in life, they are their choices to make.

I've learned that I make a lot of mistakes myself. Sometimes I learn from them, sometimes I pretend they never happened.

I've learned that I love writing and wish my "writers block" would go away so I could get back to writing my book.

I've learned that I secretly hope my book will be a huge hit and will eventually get published.

I've learned I am very much a dreamer! Go figure, I'm a Pieces.

I've learned my passion for being a nurse isn't what it used to be. At this point, I would be happy never to work as a nurse again.

I've learned that taking care of people at the end of their lives isn't easy, and takes a toll on you. Despite not knowing the person outside of a work atmosphere, it is hard to watch as each breath they take is one closer to their last.

I've learned that when my four and a half year old decides she wants her name to be "Taylor" rather than Gianna...it is easiest to agree. Taylor it is!

I've learned that marriage is hard work. The work never ends and both people must be dedicated to the work, or else the marriage will fail.

I've learned that you never stop learning about your spouse, no matter how long you are together.

I've learned that I can be a spiteful person when I want to be. I can hurt a person in ways that are shameful.

I've learned that changing that behavior is hard as hell to do. But, I keep trying.

I've learned that mother in laws can be giant pains in the ass.

I've learned to choose my battles.

I've learned to appreciate every single person involved in the making, producing and stocking the drug Xanax. Without it, I would very certainly be spending a lot of time institutionalized.

I've learned that my family is everything to me.

I've learned that I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful family. It saddens me to see other people with a family dynamic that just stinks. They miss out on so much without the happiness and love a good family brings into your life.

I've learned to take nothing for granted.

I've learned that the pain and hurt from losing someone you love never goes away. It becomes bearable, but remains intact, ready to haunt you at any given moment.

I've learned that the concept of life and death can be very scary and overwhelming.

I've learned that trying to figure it all out is impossible.

I've learned that the best I can do is strengthen my beliefs, maintain some sort of relationship with my higher power and pray that there is more to it than we can understand.

I've learned that there have been an awful lot of unexplainable things that have happened to me in life that bring me much comfort.

I've learned that I never stop looking for those "signs"...my eyes are always open.

I've learned that I will try most things once. Most things.

I've learned that I will never try caviar, veal or several other types of animal meat many people consider delicacies. I will never jump from an airplane. I will never learn to like spiders.

I've learned that losing weight is hard as hell to do.

I've learned that a small part of me secretly hates thin girls that can eat whatever they want.

I've learned that I have a hang up on vampires.

I've learned that Vicodin and me don't mix.

I've learned that I am tired of thinking of things I've learned.

How boring

I used to be really good at "blogging." Well, maybe not good at it, but good about it! I always had something to write, eh-hem, complain about! I am not sure if I am suffering writers block, living a more boring life or just don't have the time to write as often these days. I think about posting a new blog, everyday...but I just can't come up with anything to write about. Or, I have a ton of good ideas in my mind and when I sit down to post, I can't remember any of them. Of course I have facebook and my latest "True Blood" addiction to keep me busy.

My Dad is suffering greatly from 3 herniated discs in his cervical spine. Medication isn't helping, chiropractic care isn't helping, anti-inflammatories aren't helping, rest doesn't help...it seems nothing is working for him. He is also scheduled to have brain surgery a week from tomorrow. He hasa tumor on his pituitary gland that isn't responding to medication, so, they need to remove it. My Dad is an otherwise healthy, 64 year old man. He has always been fairly active, in good shape, an avid golfer and very involved in his children's lives. Recently, he has been staying in bed because the pain is so bad. A few days ago, he called his primary care physician to ask for something for the pain. Mind you, my Father has never asked for pain medication, nor is he a complainer. The doctor had the receptionist call him back and tell him to go see an orthopedic surgeon. Oh, okay then...you fucking dip shit. Yeah, because you can just pick one of them out of the phone book and get an appointment for sometime later that afternoon! How insulting, negligent and cruel. Sometimes, I really hate doctors.

He ended up going to the emergency room a couple days later. The doctor there didn't even bother to lay a hand on him! He gave him a pamphlet of information on herniated discs and a script for Vicodin. Uh-huh...our health care system is fabulous! As mentioned above, the Vicodin don't work. Neither does the Flexeril, the 750mg of Relafin he is taking twice a day or the Percocet. He went back to his doctor this morning to ask for an MRI, they told him they would call him once the referral was ready and refilled his Vicodin script. Seriously, I would like to unleash the fury on someone.

I worry about other people, a lot. It often consumes me actually. Right now, it seems like most everyone in my life has something going on that I am worried about. Well, maybe not worried...but thinking about, or something. My mind is all fucking filled up! That's what I am trying to say. On top of my worries, for other people, I have my own worries about my children, my job that has canceled quite a few of my shifts lately due to a low census, money, my dirty house, starting school in the fall, the future, the lump on my dogs head, whether or not I have cancer, etc. Seriously, I need a vacation. Only it would really be a vacation because I have three small children that require A LOT of time and attention. Perhaps, I need a vacation and a nanny! That sounds pretty good to me. A beach, a good book, the sound of the waves, a fruity drink, a nanny and no stress! Oh, and a tummy tuck and a little liposuction prior to leaving, of course.

I don't suppose this post really has a point. I just wanted to complain a little, and let everyone know that I am well aware of the fact that my blog SUCKS these days! I am working on it, really.

And so this is life...

I often think about my life, and all the crap I complain about on a daily basis. Headaches, backaches, sick kids, work, money, stress, cooking, cleaning, etc...I do my share of bitching about these things that we all deal with at some point. Some days, it seems like my life is spinning out of control. Some days I want to rip my hair out, run for the hills (where ever they may be!) and be care-free. And then, there are days that make me appreciate all that I have in my life. Today was one of those days.

I had to work today. My alarm beeped way too early, and while everyone else in the house remained asleep, I got up, brushed my teeth, put my makeup on, got dressed and left for work. I was sort of excited for the drive there because I burned a new CD last night, and was able to listen to it all by myself in the car...as loud as I wanted to. I could also sing along without worrying I would offend anyone! I worked with a friend today, another reason work didn't seem too bad. And you, not to mention that I get paid for it! Yet, somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was wishing I was still snuggled in bed...in Hawaii!

One of my patients today is actively dying. By actively dying, I mean her body is literally shutting down, she is pretty much unresponsive and has a fever. I took care of this women last Friday as well, and she was able to speak to me and enjoy music that a kind gentleman from her hospice provider played for her. Her entire family arrived this morning to be by her bedside, including her grandson, who was supposed to graduate from college today. This woman hasn't eaten food for a long time, her nutrition provided through a tube feeding...but today, even that was stopped. I gave her medication for pain and anxiety, put her "favorite" CD on for her, repositioned her for comfort and said a prayer for her. One of the hardest parts about being a nurse is knowing that there are times when there is little you can do to help a person.

Another one of my patients lost her husband last week. They would have been married 75 years in July! Seventy-five years!! Wow. They shared a room together, separate beds, yet side by side. She sat and did her "Word Finds" and he frequently napped, read and watched tv. I sat down with her for a while today, and talked with her about how she was doing since her husband's passing. She cried, she smiled, she laughed and she shared memories of her life with me.

This brave woman told me that when she was just 3 years old, her mother got sick with Tuberculosis and died. The same year that her mother passed away, FOUR of her siblings died from the flu. Hearing about the tragic events in her life in just 3 short years was enough to make my heart break for her...but she went on. Her baby sister was adopted by a lady who helped to take care of them, and her older brother stayed with her father. She was sent to orphanage after orphanage, bounced from home to home. When she was 9, she was taken in by a couple who, she said, had 5 children that died in Italy. She went on to tell me how mean this woman was to her. Her adoptive mother would beat her, verbally abuse her, tried to force her to change her last name...her identity, her past, her mother and father. She said her father came to visit her once and she told him what was happening to her, but he left her there anyway. She told me about her friend across the street, the days they spent playing together and how she met her husband. She was 14 and he was 20. They married two years later and started their new life together.

They had children, 5 of them, and the story started to sound like it had a happy ending. Then, she told me about her youngest daughter getting cancer, losing her leg, walking with a wooden leg for a year only to have the cancer return and take her life. She told me about her other daughter, who religiously visits her mother, and father before he passed, every single day, and how her husband recently died of cancer. She told me she wasn't able to go to her husbands funeral because she cannot get in and out of bed without the help of a mechanical lift. She cried and I held her hand. She told me her husband loved to coach the kids baseball and football teams when they were younger, and that a "boy" he coached stayed in touch with him throughout his life, and spoke at his funeral. The "boy", now a grown man, referred to my patient's husband as his "other father" and told everyone how wonderfully he treated him and how special he was. I am glad she has that memory to hold on to.

She thanked me for talking with her, apologized for taking up so much of my time and smiled as if a weight were lifted off her chest. I told her it was my pleasure to listen to her, thanked her for sharing her life with me and smiled back, happy I was able to be a part of it. As bittersweet as it was, making a difference in a person's life is the most rewarding part of nursing, and the reason I do what I do. Being a nurse is more than just giving medication, taking doctor's orders and helping to save lives...it is also about caring about the person inside the chart. It is about listening to the voice in room 324, bed B. It is about putting yourself in someone else's shoes, just for a moment, and treat them as you would want to be treated.  Room 324, bed B has a whole lifetime of happiness and sorrow that comes along with her...she is so much more than just a patient and she helped me put some things in perspective.

Yes, I had to get up early to go to work...so what! I am alive, healthy (I hope!), have 3 wonderful little girls, a great husband and a loving family.
Yes, said husband was in a car accident this afternoon...but so what! He is ok. Yeah, we will have to pay our deductible to have the car fixed, but no one died, no one was beaten or verbally abused.
Yes, I got canceled for a shift I was scheduled to work next Tuesday...but really, will I remember that in a few months? I still have a home, a car, cable television and food in the pantry!
Yes, I came home to 3 filthy children (and I mean filthy!) ...Oh well. I have a bath tub to wash them in, they are all alive and well and I am physically able to bathe my children. What is there to complain about?
Yes, I just went to get myself a diet coke out of the refrigerator, and realized my mother-in-law drank the last one. Ok, who the fuck drinks someone's last soda? Yes, this one I am pissed about! Bitch even left the empty soda pack on the shelf, in the fridge. Better go check my underwear drawer!

Anyway, my point is, someone always has it worse than you. Today, I appreciate what I have in my life a little more. Today, I hugged my babies a little tighter, rocked them a little longer and kissed them a lot more. Today, I called my parents (wait, who am I kidding, I do that everyday anyway!)...I didn't get upset over stupid things my wonderful husband does that drive me bat shit and I even forgave which ever cat took a dump in my hallway (little bastard!) Ok, maybe I am holding on to the cat shit a little...but not as much as my mother-in-law creepin' on my last diet coke!

Whatever...just stop whining and live. Live now, because tomorrow, it may be gone.