Weekending

So I've now frittered away the entire weekend. I had a really good morning - Jenny and her coffeehouse villagers are quickly assimilating me, I fear (and by "fear," I mean "love it"). It certainly helps their case when they all show up with these smart, adorable little children. This morning we conjured up a rousing game of Superball table tennis, using the little baskets the shop serves their muffins in. Much to the chagrin of the other patrons, I suspect, although who can object to peals of delighted laughter from a five year old?

The rest of the day? Not so useful.

And I'm up too late again.

Thank heavens I don't have to go to work tomorrow....

Day 1

Didn't get much done today. Stayed up too late again, in part because of the nap I took late in the afternoon, which turned my little sinus headache into a migraine. Good times.

Actual good times were had today, though. I spent a nice chunk of the day with some friends of mine and a gaggle of their assorted children, all of whom are aged four or younger. I was the only one who didn't have to leave to put someone down for a nap (although, see above, re:me putting myself down for a nap), but I have to tell you - I think it was the highlight of my month, when, having spent the previous hour juggling various infants, I was sitting on the floor with three toddlers climbing all over me, playing cars and learning about Chuck the Truck his friends and getting schooled in what various animals say in several different languages.

So, here's a little bit of trivia for your next cocktail party, courtesy of my learned colleagues of the Playskool set, their moms, and a little help from the interwebs...here's what dogs say....

Spanish dogs: guau guau
French dogs: ouah ouah
Punjabi dogs: bhau bhau
German dogs: wau wau
Korean dogs: mong mong
Arabic dogs: aw aw
Russian dogs: gav gav (actually, I hear they have a lot to say these days on the subject of nuclear arms)
Swedish dogs: vof vof
Czech dogs: haf haf
Iranian dogs: vagh vagh
Jewish dogs (the ones that speak Hebrew): haw haw
Greek dogs: ghav ghav

Although, actually, I suspect Greek dogs say something more like, "Why you want to leeeeeave me?" (a la Costa in My Big Fat Greek Wedding).

My favorite, though, my absolute favorite, though, was what the snake says. Which is of course "ssss, ssss," but if you're two, and adorable, this involves sticking your tongue out through your teeth and concentrating very hard on getting it right.

Kids are just the best, I tell you what...I can't think of a better way to have spent my morning.

Hip hop hooray...ho....hey....ho......

Cherub

One of those days...

....when I'm not so sure I want to be a grown up.

What a long day. So many fires to put out, you would've thought Rome was burning.

But.

We had babies at work today. My postpartum patient's whole family came, including her three kids, one of whom is a mere 10 months. And just the sweetest thing. SUCH a cutie pie, holy cow, oh my gosh. I got to play with him for a while. Her older kids were cute, too. And then Guido's wife brought their son by for lunch (since Guido was on call tonight), who is also one of the cutest children in existence, and just sweet as you please. Made the day so much better.

I'm exhausted. Brutal long day, paired with staying out too late last night (like 9:30, which is sort of pathetic, but I didn't really get to bed until 11), because my friend Edie (one of our social workers) made me come out for TCBY last night with a bunch of her non-work-related friends (and Peng, for a while). It was such hilarity, and she texted just when I was really frustrated and pissed off about something else...the timing was totally perfect. But perhaps I stayed a little too long (nah).

However - I'm not going to be stupid and make the same mistake twice. 'Night, y'all.

It's a whole new year!

Whew! What a frenetic couple of days it's been. Crazy, but delightful (just like me!).

Oh, my gosh, the last 48 hours have been wonderfully full of friends and frivolity, and oh, holy wow do my friends have the sweetest, cutest children ever. I spent a good deal of time in the company of two smart, completely adorable toddlers, and two absolutely amazing little infants (not all at the same time, or my ovaries might have exploded).

But wow, am I exhausted (suffice it to say, I didn't sleep a whole lot last night). And my uterus aches just a little....

2009 is peeking around the corner!!

Let the games begin

So today was sort of my last (of two) day of calm, as it were. I hung out with the folks, my mom and I went shopping, we had my aunt and uncle and cousin over for dinner, whom I haven't seen since February. It was nice. We had Chicago pizza, good wine, and fabulous cookies. And Mai-Tais, with some wicked good pineapple in them. Ahh. Oh! And I bought my dad his first-ever iPod, a little silver Shuffle. I tried to get my mom one, too, but they didn't have blue, and she doesn't think she'd use it (I think she'd be surprised). All in all, a nice day.

Tomorrow, I'm out the door at a quarter past dark to have breakfast with one of my med school buddies. I have a few things I need to do whilst on the west side, and then have a phone appointment at 10:30, and then am heading over to the lovely Bianca's to hang out with her and my nephew, Basil (who's TWO AND A HALF OHMIFREAKINGAWD). After that, I'm going to head over to the equally lovely Robin's to score some time with her and meet my new (um, seven months ago) nephew, Luke. We're going to hang out around there for the evening, for a wonderful evening sans pantalon (NO PANTS!) (It's a long story....which I'll probably tell you tomorrow). We're doing a bring-your-favorite-takeout New Year's, which we've done before and was a raving success. I'm thinking I might order pizza, because, ohh...anyhow, Thursday I'm going to sleep in as long as little Luke will let me, and then am headed up north to hang with my college friend and her wife (take that, Prop 8 bitches) and their two adorable children. And with any luck, I might get to spend some quality time with my awesome Goddaughter on Thursday night.

I sense an impending onslaught of clock-ticking, after all of this baby/kid time in the next few days...

Fortunately, Friday I'm going in to the city for a fun-filled afternoon with Claudia, and then she and my cousins (the ones whose parents are my surrogate family in NC) and I are headed out for a night of single-gal debauchery. Even if my one cousin is married (I really like her hubby, so, I can't really hold that against her). I see fabulous martinis in our future...

Saturday is a smallish extended-family to-do at my cousin Paulie's restaurant, the best in the South Suburbs. It's a small, intimate thing, which in our circles means about 40 people (if I ever do have my own big fat Greek wedding, expect over 200 people. On my side. This is why I'm eloping). And then Sunday? Sunday I get back on the big avion and fly back to my real life. I'm guessing Peng will not be as late picking me up as the cabbie was dropping me off. And Maggie, I'm guessing, will still be happy to see me, even though she's spent all week with Maxine and Sparrow. And Monday's a full clinic, Tuesday I'm on call, and, away we go again.

Damn. I'd better get some rest...

Oh! But I do have a big decision to make in the next 48 hours or so - Blog 365 2008 is drawing to a close....do I sign up for Blog 365, 2009 edition? What do you think, folks?

::EDIT:: Oooh! Look! There's a poll! Go vote! (Be kind...)

Joy Sunday

No, I don't plan to make it a regular feature, but I missed Love Thursday this week, and Barb started this Rush of Joy meme, so I thought that since I finally had a few moments to sit and write (not that I shouldn't be packing/going to the grocery store/writing discharge summaries/etc/etc/etc), I'd throw in my two cents.

As you all know, it's been a particularly rough patch of late. So I thought this was a good challenge to take up. I went with Barb's original number of 15 because I wasn't sure I could think of 10, so, me being me, I decided that was a reason to aim higher. Because there are a lot of sources of joy in my life. Because I can certainly stand these days to concentrate more on the positive aspects. So...

Fifteen things that bring me joy (in no particular order):

1. Maggie's ears. They're incredibly expressive, very funny, and feel like velvet. I also adore her soft little muzzle, her curious little eyebrows, and her gentle, sweet (and surprisingly slobber-free) puppy kisses. Okay, fine, so generally, my dog melts my guarded little heart.


2. A really good, up-tempo, anthemic-y song, played loudly in my car. You know the ones. Full of energy and hope and you can't help but sing along at the top of your lungs. Or actually, even a song that may not be as adrenaline-inducing, but has really good lyrics that make me ache. And then, like, the songs of my youth (as utterly ridiculous as some of them are. I can't believe I still know all the lyrics to "Ice, Ice, Baby"). So really, lots of songs.

3. The ocean. And it sounds silly, but I'm more partial to the Atlantic than the Pacific. I love the rhythm of waves on the beach, the saline breeze, the ebb and flow of energy that comes with the tides. There's a peaceful fluidity and an expansiveness to life that you can't get anywhere else.


4. That ah-hah! moment when you finally "get it." Kind of regardless of what "it" is, whether the answer to a puzzle, the solution to a problem, or what someone is really saying to you. There's a particular rush in that moment when things click into place and suddenly make sense. You know?

5. Rain. Particularly, a good thunderstorm. I used to be terrified of thunderstorms for a while when I was an adolescent, because I lived in Chicago and thunderstorms occasionally mean tornadoes, and for a while I had this really bad phobia of the unpredictability of tornadoes. I've gotten over it, though, and a good thunderstorm is now one of my favorite things. Rain has a sort of cleansing feeling to me, and I totally love lying in bed all bundled up when there's a little chill in the air and listening to it rain. But I also love the force and tumult of a good thunderstorm. When I'm at home, they also mean that Maggie (who is still not a fan) gets extra cuddly. But, like, the last night we were at the beach for the intern retreat, and there was a tropical storm rolling in, and we sat on the deck and watched just the most impressive light show, and it was one of those storms where the thunder resonates and vibrates your very soul...it was magnificent.


6. That giddy intoxicated feeling you get when you're with good people and can be totally disinhibited and just giggle like a moron at the silliest things.

7. Getting totally engrossed in a good book, to the point that I lose all track of time or my surroundings and it's like the language of the page becomes my very way of thinking, when you're so voracious and can't hardly stand to turn the page for what happens next.

8. Birth. Wow, it's amazing. The whole process is like seeing God. But there's this particular moment when the mother's flesh yields and the baby (who's probably been on the perineum for some time, as long as everyone's tolerating it - including the doctor/midwife - just waiting, stretching, holding, almost there) slides into the world and a new life officially begins. To be witness to that is to touch a small piece of heaven, and is an incredible privilege.

9. Oh, speaking of which...my new nephew.


(Can you just smell that little baby head smell? Oh, I love that.)

And my "old" one.


And the myriad of other small people my friends have brought into the world.

10. The blatant innocence of children. You know those moments, when they're just so pure of heart. There's a reason the word is "unadulterated."

11. The heady intoxication of good yarn fumes. Wool, or alpaca in particular. Oh, man. The smell of baking bread, all warm and yeasty and comforting, is a different high than yarn fumes, but comparable.

12. Being with comfortable people. The ones you can totally be yourself with and know they'll still like you. The ones that you can just let it all hang out and let them see your really good qualities as well as the ones you're not as fond of.

13. Seeing "New Comment on your post..." in the subject line of an email. I seriously live for comments.

14. Dancing. Alone, or particularly with a group of friends at a club or a wedding or something. Where you're not trying to impress anyone, and you can just be free and open and dance like a fat white girl and it's okay.

15. The Chicago skyline at night. It's breathtaking. Why don't I have a picture of that?

All right, your turn. Click on the link above for the meme rules.

Good news!

I'm an aunt again!! My new nephew Luke made his grand entrance at 2:30 this morning. A little 6lb 12oz peanut. And two whole days before his due date. Welcome to the world, baby boy!!

His baby blanket? Still under construction. Honest, kiddo, I'm working on it!

It's just what I think

"I asked my mom if I was gifted, and she said they certainly wouldn't have paid for me..."



I've been thinking a lot this week, for reasons that I'm sure are implicitly obvious, about what it means to be a mother. Or, I guess, a parent, in the broader sense. But for all the theories and fuss about equality and co-parenting and all of that, there's something different about being a mother and being a father. It goes beyond, I think, what still are staunchly defined gender roles in our society. I think it's something biological. And it's not that being a dad is any less important, or any less of a biological drive; it's just different.

I do think it's important that children have strong parental figures in both roles. As one of my favorite LMHCs once said, "You learn your role as a woman from your mother; you learn your worth as a woman from your father." I think that's really true. And I think that you learn so many other lessons in kind - how to treat members of the opposite gender, what it means to be someone of your own gender, what your role in society is, what your worth is as a person, a man or woman, an individual, a member of society. I also think you get so much from watching your parents (or surrogate parents) interact.


I was sitting with one of my patients this week, an adolescent who has a horrible father and a stepfather who's just as bad, and I asked him, "what does it mean to be a man?" He had a hard time answering me, and gave me a lot of negative answers - i.e., "It means not treating women badly," "it means not abandoning your family." I praised his insight as far as noticing what seemed wrong that was going on around him. I also had a feeling that he probably couldn't give me a good answer for the questions, "What does it mean to treat a woman well?" or "what are the ways a woman shows you her worth?" because that had never been modeled to him, either. I don't know that I have the answers to those questions myself, at least not in the superlative sense (actually, I totally stumped myself with the last one, but that's my own neurosis). Nevertheless. This kid's at such a disadvantage at the stage he's at now, trying to figure out how to be an adult, what that is. God help him when he tries to become a meaningful parent. It's a rocky, uphill transition regardless, but this kid has a lot holding him back.

Our parents always do. That's part of being what we are; they prepare us the best they can with the tools they have, but it's up to the next generation to come up with a better set of tools. Whether that means updating and adapting for the changing times, or turning maladaptive skills into beneficial ones, or dumping out the toolbox and starting over, it's the way of progress and of the progression of humanity.


It's an endless effort and a huge responsibility to be a parent. No, to be a good parent. There are so many jobs you take on. At the most basic level, you have to keep them nourished, clothed, sheltered. You have to keep them safe, which if you ask me, is both the most taxing and the most important job. And then, you have to nurture and encourage them. Contain them but give them room to grow. You have set limits, hold absolutely steadfast to those, and know when to break them. You have to know, when presented with two absolutely essential needs that have to be met, which one trumps the other. You have to pass on what's important but keep your own stuff in check. You walk a delicate balance.

The hardest thing, I think, is knowing you have to let them screw up sometimes, even when you see them heading straight for the cliff. Because it's important for all of us to fail miserably sometimes. You have to be willing to bite your tongue, and then offer nothing but a hand and a hug when they're sitting in the middle of a royal mess. Because they have to learn how to fix it.

And you know what? You're going to screw up, too. You have to know how to do that with acceptance, humility, and grace.

Kids learn so much through modeling. It's not the latest theory of parenting or the hippest new toy or the most traditional nuclear family arrangement that makes a difference for a kid - it's you showing them what kind of person to be. We joke about the inevitability of turning into our mothers, or opening our mouths and hearing our fathers' words come out, but it's the honest truth.

I do think it's different to be a mother. I've been thinking a lot about my crazy pregnant patient's baby, what biological drive sent me over to the Women's Hospital to hold her, to physically touch her. I think it stems from the fact that we're set up to carry those little lives for their first nine months. Which isn't to say you have to birth a child from your own womb to be a good mother, or that every woman who delivers a child will parent it well (that one gets the big old duh). But I think it's relevant that we're chemically set up to do that. I think it's relevant that, evolutionarily, we've got better sensory perception and processing than men do. That we multi-task better. That the sound of a crying baby will make a nursing woman let down. Chemically, neurologically, hormonally, biologically, we have a different set of parenting skills.

Which, again, isn't to say you have to be a woman to be the nurturing parent (double kudos to the stay at home dad for defying gender conventions both socially and parentally). And it certainly isn't to say you can only parent your biological children well. And while I'd prefer she didn't take the presidency, I have to give Hilary her due for the fact that it does, indeed, take a village to raise a child. Aunts, grandparents, siblings, good friends - have all been some of the best "parents" I know. And it never hurts to have multiple people to learn from, particularly if your primary parents model well taking the positive from every person you encounter.

Mothering is a tough job. And with much respect intended to all those out their raising their own kids, no one has it harder, I think, than the foster parents. Again, I correct that to, the good foster parents. Because there are so damn many who aren't. And why anyone would take on that job if they didn't intend to be damn good at it is beyond me. Because that must be the most difficult thing going. You get these kids who already come to you damaged in one way or another. They already have attachment issues. And you welcome them in, and you have to attach to them and love them and encourage and nurture them just like any other parent, to deal with their problems and genetic setups and poor coping, knowing that all you may have with them is a brief moment before they get taken from you and whisked to someplace else. It's an awesome prospect and it deserves equally awesome respect.

Ultimately, I think being a mother isn't for everyone, at least not in the "direct," having actual offspring of their own, sense. Some people excel at indirect parenting (i.e., being a positive influence on others' kids or taking a strong surrogate role when the main parental figure is lacking), but for some it just isn't in the cards at all. And that's okay. The key is knowing it, I think, before you actually have kids.

What it boils down to, for me, is giving it your best effort and working in good faith for the welfare of your kids. To listening to them and to your own instincts. To understanding that it won't always be perfect. To remembering that the best thing you can do for your children's development into solid adults is to show them how to be one. Whether they're actually "your" children or not.

And knowing that one day, they'll get it.



(PS - thanks, Jenn!)

Sweet baby girl

(Which is, of course, a reference to this song.)

Love Thursday is a couple days early this week.

I still have so much work to do that didn't get done. And my poor dog had to wait and wait and wait because the dog walker didn't get my message in time to come by today. Doesn't matter. Maggie managed just fine (although she was SO happy to see me when I got home, and barely spent enough time outside to pee), and the work's just going to have to wait, because, I had something much more important to do.

Crazy pregnant lady? Had her baby today.

Her day didn't start out that great. I called L&D around 8:15 to say, hey, when did you want her there, anyway? And the nurse says, "She was supposed to be here at 8." So there was this flurry of activity to get her off our unit and fuss, fuss, fuss. You know, honestly, my day didn't start off so well, either (I think I'd been at work about a half hour when I turned and said to my social worker, "Oh, I am so not in the mood to be fucked with today, so everybody just needs to stop").

On the whole, a really, really stressed-out day. My crazy patient (the non-pregnant one) is now crazier than ever and has now failed four medications. We're now looking for the outlandish and ridiculous explanations, like, thalium poisoning and porphyria. My patient load is just huge and sick and bad. And call, at least was mostly just hand-holding.

I did get a great quote today, though, from one of my patients on the ward. "I've learned not to say never no more, because you never know when never's gonna come."

But then, when I was done with call, I went over to L&D.

I checked in on my patient, of course. She was fine. She actually looked better than I'd seen her in a while. I mean, still hates me, but less vehemently. And I just popped in, because she'll come back to our unit tonight and we'll keep an eye on her for a few days, because she's at very high risk for becoming more acutely psychotic. But then...then I went upstairs and met Molly.

Oh. There are not words to say how sweet and adorable this child is.

I held her. And I snuggled her. And I told her how glad I was that she was out. I kissed her little head and wished her luck in things to come. I gave her a little advice on life...play nice with others, seek therapy early, try to always do the right thing, and get a dog. I apologized for dumping all those drugs in on her and her tiny little brain. I told her I was sorry she was never going to know who her father was, and that I hoped she got a real daddy someday soon (Jenn, I'd so send her to you if I could). I cuddled her and cooed at her and couldn't bring myself to put her down. Oh, she's just so sweet. I wanted to take her home and snuggle her for the next five days or so, help her with that crucial bonding time, just wander around with her in one of those baby pouches (what the heck are those things called again?) for a few days and keep her close. And then give her to a good family. She deserves so much more than she's going to get. She deserves love and cuddles and adoration. She deserves parents who love her to bits. She deserves to keep her sweet, pure, unmarred innocence as long as she possibly can. She deserves to have a full and wonderful life full of love and happiness and the elusion of her genetic loading after starting with such auspicious beginnings.

I totally hadn't anticipated how relieved I would feel once she was out, but I just am. So relieved. Now I can treat her mom like a real schizophrenic and not worry about what I'm doing to her little baby brain. I no longer have to worry about her randomly dropping the kid on the unit and not telling us about it. All the fighting about sterilization vs. Depo Provera vs. an IUD has lost a lot of its urgency. And this beautiful, perfect creature is here with us now.

Welcome to the world, baby girl. It's a hell of a ride.

What a big boy!

I am way too tired and had far too long a day to actually write a substantive post tonight. Suffice it to say not-court went well enough, I'm considering a vendetta against my former realtor (who fucking perjured himself in arbitration today, the corrupt, lying rat that he is), and then on the way out of not-court I fell down again. I think it's the Danskos, I really do. But the evening was so much better. And so I leave you with a gratuitous cute picture of the world's cutest little boy, my 17 month old nephew, Basil.


This is actually my favorite shot we took tonight...


Shortly after I met Bianca, his mom, my freshman year of high school, her mom - who also worked at our high school - offered me a ride home. And as we walked to their car, I commented on the peculiar combination of numbers and letters that was their license plate. "My father's a HAM," she said, and was then quick to explain, "You know, like, a HAM radio operator."

"Right," I told her. "I didn't think your dad was a pork product."

Hey, Bei? I hate to tell you this (okay, no I don't), but I think there's another little ham in the family....