Harvest Moon

I am not a proponent of co-sleeping. Not at all. I like my space. Given a choice between sleeping by myself and with my husband, I choose by myself.
I know it probably sounds weird to some of you.

A shared bed does not a good marriage make (at least my personal opinion and I am qualified because I have a good marriage).
Sleep, on the other hand--I'd be willing to vote for. Two well rested individuals get along much better than two sleep deprived ones. And they also have more energy for...other things.

But that isn't even the topic I meant to discuss...

As many of you know, Holden has never been a good sleeper.

Please don't tell me about your kid who slept through the night at 6 weeks old.

There is nothing worse you can do to someone who hasn't slept much in 2 1/2 years than look incredulously at them when they tell you their sleep woes and say something like that.

It doesn't help. Not helpful.

Or maybe you thought about giving them advice about your "tricks" to get the kid to sleep? Because they haven't tried everything under the moon?

Also not a good idea.

Anyway, off the soapbox and back on the couch. Holden was really sick this week and had bronchiolitis and was croup-y with some stridor (upper airway swelling). It was not fun and in order to listen for him at night I let him sleep with me in bed.

And now I'm afraid I may have altered my entire sleeping life until the kid is in third grade. He would rather cry most of the night than sleep alone in his room.







PS. Last day of September! Woo Hoo!!

Okay, two things.

1. Yesterday I went the entire day with one of those size stickers on the back of my pants (because they were new and I was too lazy to wash them first). It was pretty high up on my butt and I was wearing a long scrub jacket, but still.

At least someone told me, finally.

Maybe no one else noticed, but I seriously doubt that.

2. Today I went to the gym after class and noticed in the locker room that I had been wearing my pants backward all day. I thought they didn't look right in the mirror this morning but was wearing waaaay too baggy black lounge pants because my abdomen still hurts from surgery...

Did I tell you I had a laparoscopy a little over a week ago? But I digress.

I think some long hard sleep is definitely in my future.

And tomorrow I'm going to put my pants on correctly.

You may have already noticed this about me, but I'm a little bit of a perfectionist. That is probably why I tend to point out personal flaws on my blog...because I'm my own worst critic.

I am the kind of student my husband hates. If we were in the same class in school he would roll his eyes at me. I answer questions in class. I hate to not understand something. I like knowing the answer before the question is asked.

Sometimes I have to remind my dear husband that if I don't know something I could kill someone...It's not like the 8:00 a.m. freshman psych class I think I only actually attended about 3 times. It's like real life. It's someone's mom or dad or sister or brother or child. Which makes it more stressful, but I suppose more rewarding in a way.

I think for me learning good patient care might be something I needed to wait to do until I was older. In this way I am glad that I am closer to 30 and still in school.

I have a different perspective now because it was my dad in the ICU bed for 9 months. It was me holding my still-warm stillborn daughter Allison in my arms (by the way all you healthcare workers who read this--they put me back in labor and delivery afterward--what the hell were they thinking?) , it was me visiting my mom in a locked psychiatric ward when I was in 7th grade.

You can't teach empathy and compassion like that.

I'm starting to believe it can only truly be learned in the most heart wrenching way.

Experience.

The full size comforter I bought (on clearance!) for $30 today at Wal-Mart showed a big Mickey Mouse on the front of the package...and as I took it off the shelf I smiled at my stroke of luck.

Holden will love it.

I got it home and (I'm pretty sure this isn't normal) was absolutely delighted to open it up and see that not only does it have Mickey Mouse on it, Donald Duck and Goofy are there too!

I seriously need to get out more.

I have always loathed September. And loathe isn't too strong a word. September is second to the bottom of my list (January being my most hated month).

The good news is we're halfway to October. I love October!

I don't have much else to say really. I'm sorry I have been largely absent, but my yearly September depression has set in.

A few things that cheer me:

Fresh peach cobbler. Warm peach cobbler with soft serve vanilla ice cream.

Listening to Holden praying. Thanking Jesus for marshmallows, doggies, and mowers.

Holden's two favorite books, read every night before bed.

Being in my husbands arms.

Corn almost ready for harvest across the road.

Cool mornings.

The counselor I went to see (quite awhile ago now) told me that this summer and fall might get progressively worse emotionally before they get better (instead of better gradually and continually--which is what happened when my mom died).

She was right.

I am struggling in my clinicals--though not academically or practically...just emotionally. I think I'm burned out, but don't know how that is possible when I'm not even working as a nurse yet.

I'm too emotional. Things that never affected me before affect me now.

All I want is to get off the floor and work somewhere happy and not too stressful. Like mother/baby or in the nursery. Or surgery, where the procedure is done and then the patient is gone. Or same day surgery where relatively healthy people walk in and right back out a few hours later.

Anywhere but somewhere I have to delve into medical histories and personal histories and try to manage everyone else's problems along with my own emotions for 12 hours. Or spoon feed people who are never going to get better and die in an institution.

It's depressing the hell out of me.

I guess I just didn't realize how much those 9 months on the other side of the hospital room door as family and caregiver affected me. Now every time I walk onto the floor of the hospital I have to work to distract myself from thinking of my dad.

I am currently online streaming my husband doing color commentary for a football game. Which, if you know him you would know is pretty much his dream internship. Talking about football for 4 hours straight.

Three other things:

1) I had the night to myself and went to work out (good), but then went to Wal-Mart (Not good. Not relaxing. Not where I want to be on a Friday night).

2) As I was standing in line I passed over Cosmopolitan to look at Better Homes and Gardens.

Whenever I try to convince myself I don't feel a day older than 22...something like this happens.

Although, if you can believe this I did learn from the Cosmo cover that pubic hair is back in style.

Just thought you might want to know. For further opinion on the subject click here


Why would the editors put that on the cover of their magazine?


3) I've been awake since 3 a.m. for clinicals and I couldn't figure out why people kept looking at me in Wal-Mart. Maybe it's the mascara smudged underneath my eyes. Or my t-shirt with a clorox stain that I work out in. I think I have something stuck to my butt too. Something I sat in, probably something Holden left on the kitchen chair.