Two

My little man is two and I finally understand the expression time flies. He is running and jumping, taking the stairs with alternating feet, and demanding to wear his crocs to bed and his rain boots to school. He is learning the alphabet and he sings along to the itsy bitsy spider. He says I love you; out loud and in sign. A week ago, he transitioned easily to his toddler bed. When I tuck him in he says "bye, mama. Bye!" and blows me a kiss. In the morning, he sneaks into my room and crawls into my bed, wraps his arms around me and plants a big smooch right on my lips. He swims like a fish, leaps off the diving board, and kicks all the water onto the bathroom floor while he "practices" in the tub. He plays rough, sometimes hits, but always apologizes with a big hug. He says "hi" to every person we walk by, shouts "dog" and "dump truck" and "oh look mama" as we drive around town, and sings all the "na na nas" right on que to Akons latest single. He runs to church in a real hurry to "help the babies" in the nursury. He never has to be reminded to finish his plate, no matter what I put on it. He sits semi still after fetching the scizzors so mama can "make me handsome?" His blond hair goes bed head day after day because he refuses to let me comb it. And he never fails to convince me that he is the sweetest, funniest, most intelligent two year old at least this side of the great wall (if not on both sides of it).

Seconds

Just recently, a good friend of mine filled me in on the news. She's pregnent. With her second, as it seems all of my friends have popped out recently. Of the five of us, Im the only one left with a single child. From happily married to single with a pair of adopted, they are all forming little herds and as I sit in the hospitals 5n/motherbaby overflow listening to the cries of the most recently born kids in town, I cant help feeling just a tad left behind.
My head knows that I want to do it right this time. You know, that logical sequence of college degree, wedding ring, (second) baby. But my heart stirs watching them redo those first kicks from the womb, those first family introductions, and the first snuggles with their newborns. They argue over baby names and two kids in the family bed, and I try not to forget how precious this time with just the two of us will be when its my turn for a second.

On Death and Dying

I hate that I've become that person who blogs too much about her job, but today I have to. Twice before I've had a patient die on my time. Once I was lucky and lunch interfered with me wrapping up the leftovers. The next time, I braved it alone, foolishly procrastinating until rigor mortis had kicked in, and had to spend half an hour preying the poor stiff wouldn't wake up and grab me, not dead at all but irritated that I'd disrupted his sleep. Today, three patients... a third of my case load... lay desperatly ill and dying. One had been assigned a one to one sitter to keep from pulling out vital tubes and wiring. One spent the day in silence, eyes rolled back, barely breathing until, suprizingly, my goodbye at the end of shift wasn't his last. One passed. Whatever that means.

This time a nurse as sweet as an angel helped me clean and prepare the body. She spoke his name through the silence, explaining to him what we were about to do as if he could hear. As if. I half chuckled and started a sentence with her name before I realized she was right. In the short minutes that followed, she taught me that while it is never as hard again as the first time, it never gets easy. Nor should it, because fear and grief are natures way of showing respect. She taught me how to let go. And when I discovered my hand patting his back, and laughed at myself for it, she taught me that too was ok.

Two good ideas and one very bad one...

Afognak, despite it's odd name and the even odder charachters that inhibit it, may quite possibly be my favorite place on Earth. Amazingly beautiful, cozy and comforting... a weekend there gives even my mamas homemade chicken soup a run for it's money.
While there, I thought up a handy invention that consists of...well, basically a toilet paper roll holder that can spin a line on to a reel while you use the john. The ultimate multitasker. I dreamt up the newest kinky pain; getting your man to have a jellyfish sting you just before your happy ending. And I decided to go into the woods armed with a gun I am most likely too scared to use in search of a kodiak brown bear in a place I was all but guaranteed to find one; the salmon river.
Well, I made it home safe so it must not have been that stupid. Cheers to good friends, great times, and interesting ideas!

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

So I found a flimsy paper back copy of a childhood favorite in the hospital lobby last week and I stole it. You remember the one where food and beverage products take the world by storm. How fabulous would it be if eggs and bacon snowed down every morning? Or if during your afternoon jog, fresh juice poured down from the sky? Dehydration and hunger would be a thing of the past. Imagine a life without arguing over whose turn it is to cook, or what's on the menu...we'd all just grab a plate and let the skies determine what's for dinner. Of course, it would get messy. And you might have to start worrying a bit more seriously about a death by giant pancake. But it'd sure keep things interesting. Maybe we'd stop seeking a thrill out of starting fires beneath pointless disagreements, participating in petty misdemeanors, and smoking crack and instead be amused by the weather.

My goodness, I may have just found a cure for malnutrition, world hunger, domestic violence, drug abuse, crime, and...dare I say it, war.
Or maybe I should lay off the LSD.

I'll Cry If I Want To...

The whole past week at work has been nothing but poop. Literally. Diarreah, constipation, prune juice and laxitives. A girl can take only so much. The breaking point was not the snippety grandma who bossed me in a voice sweeter than suger as I placed her in bed for the thirteenth time. BEFORE LUNCH! I did not lose it as I wiped the elderly mans bum, applied cream, and looked down... at the brown stain ON MY ARM! And when I caught a brick shaped loaf halfway through clean up out the back door of a man my Dad's age, I held back thinking only briefly that this must be how a doctor feels during a vaginal birth. But when I lifted the leg of a paraplegic upon request of a coworker and "pulled the trigger" so to speak on a loose steamy pile that was large enough to have been accumulating there all week, I laughed. Loudly. It was oh so inappropriate but try as I might I could not stop. It felt good, and was apparently contagious because everyone in the room was rolling before long. As silence fell and we made our escape, I had nothing left to say. Except; "the next time you throw a poop party, don't invite me."

Time and Place

I met a man who is charming and sweet, hilarious and fun. He makes me smile more than usual, which is saying a lot. We share a certain chemistry that I hadn't the foggiest idea existed until a short time ago. He is exactly who I want my son to grow into. Smart, polite, witty, hardworking, good looking.

And yet, I met him at the hospital. My place of employment. Fraternizing with a patient. Just weeks after a breakup that most likely should never have occured. What's more, he lives out of state and makes just a few short trips to Alaska each year for his amazingly cool and well paid career.

With a move on the horizon and tears fresh on my cheeks, I'm not quite ready for anything serious. Especially not a long distance fling with a guy I could potentially lose my job over. But why not a new friend and the opportunity to learn more? I'm interested.