Expectations and Realities

I will finally sign out that last autopsy that is due in 9 days so that this time I don't wait until day 60.
*I call my husband on day 60 and tell him I'll be staying really late to finish an autopsy, but I'll be home for Punky's bed time, for sure; she gets to bed 30 minutes late.

Tonight I get home from work before 6:00pm and I'm definitely going to wash my makeup sponges and re-order whatever stuff I'm low on from Sephora.
*A friend texts with a work crisis and I write back-and-forth for 45 minutes until I have to break for bath time.

For sure this time I will buy our plane tickets for our holiday travel at least three months ahead of time to save money.
*Three weeks before the trip I'm scrambling for the last three seats on the plane, surely paying at least $200 more per ticket. Again.

After Punky's bath tonight, I am definitely going to change her sheets and thin out her clothing that she's outgrown for donation.
*I spend that 25 minutes recording (for posterity) the funniest conversation that she and I had about unicorns vs. mermaids while she was in the bath.

Today will be such a good day at work; I have been off for a week and I am back and refreshed with an empty queue to start.
*43 new cases in the queue, Pedi GI calls and asks for a stat run on a liver biopsy for possible atresia, three separate colleagues come in with "sorry, I have a few quick cases that need review, and they're kinda old" and then the outlying problem hospital calls to say that a surgeon is screaming about a lost specimen and I need to call him NOW.

I will be the first one to sign up for what to bring to the next pre-K class party; I will definitely get paper plates or napkins this time!
*The list comes out when I'm on call and can't bring Punky to school or pick her up for a week; I cut an array of colorful fresh fruit for 1.7 hours at midnight and arrange them into an appealing rainbow configuration in an act of self-flagellation.

I will schedule a nice, easy play date with Punky's school friend that has the really nice and friendly mom to bolster my only child's social skills.
*I finally text her 14 weeks after I first committed to it in my mind, schedule them to come to our house for the upcoming Saturday, spend three hours the night before cleaning the house,  and then drink a mimosa beforehand to ease the path to small talk. It goes fine. The anxiety regarding the next play date begins immediately after the front door closes behind them.

I will work extra hard to keep up efficiency today and just work on my cases, one after another, until they are all completed before I do anything extra because I know that I'm too far behind already this week.
*I work steadily for 45 minutes, then make a doctor's appt for myself that I've been putting off for two years, make sure bills are paid, finally order Christmas gifts for my oldest friend's five kids so they get there in time (converted from birthday gifts, because I decide to face it, remembering five extra birthdays annually is essentially never going to happen), and make that rage donation to Amy McGrath (because Moscow Mitch did something heinous *again*) so I don't forget to do it later. Only half of my cases are signed out. Crap.

I really want to spend the 20 min of Punky's bath time doing color-by-number on my iPad.
*I fold two more baskets of other people's laundry and force myself to put away the clothes.

Tonight I will definitely clear off the clutter from the kitchen table that we never use for eating, because I know that my husband hates this state of affairs.
*I put approximately four pieces of paper into recycling, photograph 16 pieces of artwork for Keepy and throw them away, then realize that I need to answer my MOC quarterly questions now since the thought just popped into my head and if I don't do it I'll miss the deadline.

This year, I will wrap presents as they come in to keep caught up.
*I place gifts in reusable cloth bags on a random midnight a few days before Christmas in place of sleeping.

I will definitely complete all four of the reminders I set on my phone for internet errands today.
*At 1:23 am, I sigh and change the dates on all four phone reminders to tomorrow's date. Well, technically *today's* date.

I will work on that amazing wooden puzzle tonight after putting Punky to bed and eating something.
*I scroll thru my Facebook feed for 1.75 hours reading the news, getting angry; I see a couple of cute kids and I feel a little better.

It's been weeks since I've had a work day off with the kid in daycare, I will definitely knock out at least four of my running to-do-at-home jobs off the list I keep on my phone, including setting up the Roomba that I bought two months ago which is sitting in it's box in the corner of the utility room.
*I drop off Punky, "stop in" to World Market for 1.4 hours, then head over to Target to wander around for another two, finally getting home at 1:45 pm and folding laundry/hanging clothes in the closest while listening to podcasts and scrolling Instagram until I have to pick up Punky at 5:30pm; the Roomba remains unopened.

I will make sure that this year, we get our family photos done in October so that I can get the cards completed in November.
*I panic and realize that the weekend before Thanksgiving is the last of the semi-decent leaf color and implore my husband to check out that spot that he's been meaning to look at for photography; cards are completed on December 8th and mailed on December 15th.

I will definitely go to bed in the 12:00 hour tonight; I really need a couple extra hours of sleep this week.
*I jolt awake at 2:34am, scroll back through the Schitt's Creek episode list to figure out exactly how many episodes I missed on auto-play, and finish cleaning up the kitchen before brushing teeth and falling into bed.

I will set a recurring reminder in my phone to write a blog post for MiM at some point so they don't kick me off the site.
*I sit at my desk at work at spew this out instead of signing out cases or validating immunostains, because, well, it's just time.

Being The One

As a pediatrician, I got the chance to preview parenthood in more detail than many people likely do. The five-year-old little boy who clutched his mom during bedside rounds my intern year stands out even now: he buried his head in her chest as soon as we entered the room. She whispered, "Does something hurt or are you scared?" He managed to whisper that it was the latter and she held him tight, soothing and reassuring him while she listened to the plan for the day.

I carried that rosy picture along with many others as a boon of future parenthood. The chance to cuddle, to protect, to take complete care of my own little person someday - and, yes, in all honesty, the chance to be so important, to be the one. The one a child immediately turns to, relies on, needs.

Since that encounter, I have had two sons, and it thrills me to know end to be, along with my husband, their person. Nothing compares to the sound of little boy feet running toward the door with the greeting of a wide smile, a "Mama!," and eventually, "Mommy's home!" To the high-pitched voice calling your name in the middle of the night because of a scary dream or a need for water or just some extra cuddles. When in shyness they hide behind me, hugging my legs, my heart bursts with joy and wonder at the chance to be part of this classic, perhaps cliched but no less endearing, image of a child clutching his mother for comfort.

A few months ago, I saw a teenage boy in my office for consultation. I'm training in pediatric hematology/oncology, so trips to my clinic can be nerve-wracking for patients and families. This young man's sheer terror at what he feared were symptoms of cancer (happily, they were not) was visible, audible, nearly palpable. When I sent him to have blood drawn and imaging done, I heard him say to his mother, who had accompanied him, "I need to call [insert girl's name here]."

His reaction startled me. I could appreciate the anxiety, but the realization that, even with his mother beside him, his instinct was to turn to someone different - presumably his girlfriend - took me by surprise. Once I reminded myself that it was, in fact, developmentally appropriate for an adolescent to be developing relationships and establishing independence from his family, I was left with sadness. Someday, far sooner than I hope, my boys will turn to someone else as their person. Someone other than me will be the one.

I sit with that sadness even now. With each milestone, it mixes in with the joy and pride. And as my children grow and I grow, my work continues to provide examples of the realities and possibilities of parenthood. So when I encountered another adolescent who, facing a challenge, had little support and no peers, romantic or platonic, to whom to turn, my apprehension and sorrow began to abate. I want my children to grow and develop, to have healthy relationships and support, even if they must eventually come from someone other than me. 

For the time being, though, I'm fortunate to have my days peppered with eager footsteps, warm hugs, and sticky kisses. And when I dropped my older son off at school yesterday, after we had said our goodbyes, he ran back for one more hug. I savor every single one.

Moving with Boxes

Hi! I am so excited to join this community. I have been following since applying to medical school 6 years ago and now, med school and 2 kids later, am honored to be able to share with this community more regularly.

I am usually an upbeat, sunny side up, West Coast girl. But I would like to introduce myself with a post that bares my soul and reflects a more raw version of myself. Below is what I wrote 3 days ago, the night before getting on a plane with my husband, kids, and dog, to fly across the country to start EM residency. With the chaos of moving I didn't have a chance to share until today. I'll hopefully post a more positive update later next week!

I'm flooded. And overhwlemed. and the dam that has been holding my emotions at bay has broken and every thought, fear, feelings of guilt, absolute fear, and sense of desperation keeps washing over me, unrelenting, like a wave, as I fight the current in the tumult of emotions  that keeps pounding relentlessly. 

let me backtrack. 

when I fell in love with emergency medicine the beginning of 3rd year, I knew that was the only field of medicine for me. the pace, the variety, the sense of camarederie, the fast paced atmosphere. I was hooked. I also knew that getting a residency position in my home town would be a stretch. my step 1 scores were okay, but test day was blunted by braxton hicks contractions and running to the bathroom with my 8.5 month waddling belly and I underperformed all my practice tests by about 10 points. so when eras and interviews started, i knew that moving away from my hometown was a real possibility, if not probability. 

on match day, i told me parents and grandparents and aunts and siblings  (who all live within a 5 mile radius of me and the med school) not to come. i knew i would not get in to the top 10 rated programs in my hometown. i was right, and opening that envelope ensured that my husband, 2 kids, and i would be traveling for an adventure across the county for at least the next 3 years. 

i went into GO mode. i found a house, registered the kids for school, hired a moving company, organized a goodbye party. but we leave tomorrow. and i am now terrified. 

i had my daughter, Chicken, a few months before starting med school and my son, Monkey, after Step 1. My kids go to my parents every day after school and most weekends when i need to study. They play at my grandparents' house on Sundays. My aunts and siblings have driven more carpools and orgsnized playdates and provided last minute babysitting more times than i can count. and now i am leaving the village that helped my little family thrive in med school and we are leaving so so far away where we have none of that.

i am just so scared. so scared that my kids will feel lost and alone. so scared that they wont be able to continue strengthening the amazing relationships they have with their grandparents and great grandparents. so scared that i will ruin or permanently derail my husbands career. so scared that it is all my fault because chose too competitive of a residency and wasnt good enough to get in at home. 

i love my program. i am going to love residency. im just so scared of what i am going to mess up in the process. 

Bits n' Bobs~ Parenting 8 year olds; a fine needle aspirate.

A biopsy (FNA, not core) of  some recent parenting moments.

I have three children, ages 8, 8, and 2. My 8 year olds (girl/boy twins) are about to start 3rd grade next month which makes me feel really old--how did this happen already?! I feel like I was just waddling around HUGELY pregnant, then swaddling them, nursing them, rinsing off binkies dropped on the floor for the millionth time, changing their diapers, having delirium from the sleep deprivation, and all of that goodness and badness. And now we're talking about Big Issues In The World like homelessness, what is a mortgage, why Donald Trump is "not a nice man" (ok, so we're not subtle in our liberal tendencies. We're a West coast gay multiracial family, duh!), why it's better to compost food waste than throw it away, and on..and on. And last week my daughter saw a license plate frame that said "Army Mom" and asked me "Mom, are there any wars going on in the world right now?". What a heartbreaking and innocent question. Cue a conversation about war and conflict in the world, presented at an 8 year old level.

When did parenting suddenly get so complicated for our home? Does anyone just want to read a board book? Sing a song? Wrestle? Be totally oblivious sometimes?! And with two elementary school students, we're now entering into questions about the human body. And these questions usually come up either at dinner or at bedtime (of course).

The other night as I was putting my son to bed I reminded him that he realllllly needed a bath the next day (man, boys can be so DIRTY! Summer boy feet, oh wow); I also asked him if he was still retracting his foreskin while in the tub, to make sure he was cleaning himself properly-such a mom question. It truly astounds me that an 8yo child can get out of the bathtub after having "bathed" as dirty as when s/he went IN. He asked me "Why do I have to pull it back?" and I explained that for boys with foreskins, it's important to retract/clean because blah blah blah. He then says, incredulously "You mean SOME BOYS DON'T HAVE FORESKINS?!". Oh. I guess we never really talked about that specifically--never had a need. So there we were at 9:00 at night discussing circumcision, why we didn't circumcise him, whether most boys are circumcised (around here I think it's 50/50 for new births), penis growth (he said he thought his was "fully grown" by now....um...no, honey...it's not. So we did a bit of teaching there) and so on. It was hysterically funny, all in all.

And at the end of the conversation, my little man, being the budding biologist that he is (his obsession is mostly birds, so ornithology is actually his first love) also reminded me that foreskins are also important because they protect his penis from bad weather, bacteria, and insect bites. Oh right, but of course...

Until the next bedtime,

ZebraARNP