It’s funny how I haven’t updated my blog since I’ve started working. I thought that I would have tons of time on my hands, and thus be given ample opportunity to write until my heart’s content. Funny how the mirage of adulthood is never quite what it appears.
When I was a little girl I would lay awake at night, thinking of how my life was going to end up. I would plan out my daily schedule. This is what it looked like:
5:00am Wake up, going running with my dog
6:00 Take shower & get ready
7:00 Have devotions & eat breakfast
8:00 Leave for work in my fancy business clothes and high heels
12:00 Go out to lunch at cute restaurant with my best friends
5:00pm Get home to change
6:00 Have dinner with my husband (or boyfriend) out or in
8:00 Straighten house
10:00 In bed
Seriously. I would dream all about how glamorous my life would be as an adult, and how perfect my schedule would be. How humorous this looks to me now! It looks a little too much like the life of heroine from some romantic-comedy...
During nursing school I also had an idealistic view of what being a nurse was like. However, as much as I love my job, it just doesn’t compare to my pie-in-the-sky, optimistic and typical Larissa outlook.
Being an adult simply does not compare to what I’ve always imagined it would be.
The other day I was thinking about how much I couldn’t stand politics and how thankful I am to have avoided it. But after talking to a friend I was struck, this is adulthood Larissa, everything is political in the adult world no matter where you go or what you do- because what it comes down to is everybody is out for their own good. Period. End of story.
Blah. I hate politics.
There are so many expectations that we have in life don’t we? Expecting to stay best friends with childhood friends, expecting to be married by 22 to Mr. Perfect, have a job that you love, and be treated politely and fairly. Suddenly we wake up estranged from our used-to-be best friends, married to some selfish jerk or not married at all, work in a job that sucks- or doesn’t at all seem enough, and finally realize “fair” doesn’t exist and that the humans will crawl all over you to promote themselves.
What happened?! Disney, you lied to us all.
If this is life, what’s the point? Why should we go on dredging through all this crap, working hard, not sleeping enough, and rarely having any of those “My life is so perfect” moments. But wait... there is hope.
Hope comes in the form of a Savior. So much of my life is caught up in the expectations of things that I believe will make me happy- here’s the thing; friends, a job (no matter how perfect), family, riches, things, and romance will never make me happy... all of these quench the thirst in my heart as temporarily as a celery stick satisfies a starved human.
Many times have I heard our souls being compared to a bowl, able to be filled up with things such as friends, family, etc. Only when the dish is full can we reach our soul’s true satisfaction. We try and try to fill it. But the people around us will always disappoint us. Always. As will anything else that we try to fill our souls with. What a hopeless and tiring cycle this puts us on. Again and again we are disappointed, angry, and lonely. Too many times do we lie in bed and think, is this it? This is life?!
Suddenly though the cycle is broken as Christ enters a life. Friends, family, relationships, job... doesn’t matter as much anymore... all these things have simply become overflow.
And then there is peace. Sweet rest.
If you are reading this and haven’t given your life to Christ- then you do not know the incredible peace of a fulfilled soul. If only you could grasp how much He wants to satisfy that part of your soul that nothing else touches. I want you to be able to understand what I mean when I say that all else is overflow. I want you to lay in your bed at night with a mind at complete rest and a heart at peace.
If we are friends and you don’t Christ as your Savior, then know that I am and have been praying for you as long as I have known you. I will not stop because I know what your heart needs. I know what satisfies your soul... because it has already satisfied mine.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Grandest of all Lists
I love lists. Love them. I’m the girl who will make a to-do list for the day, and if I accidentally did something in addition to what was on the list, I must add it, simply to have the gratification of checking it off again. Almost every night before I go to bed, I give myself 5 minutes to make a to-do list for the next day. When I empty my mind of all my plans for the next day, it allows me to go to sleep much quicker.
Well, it’s that time of year to make my big-daddy, and grandest list of them all… my resolutions list…
For most of the years of throughout high school I commonly included losing weight, getting in shape, etc, on my list of “to-do’s” for the year…. Since I’ve grown up a bit I have stopped putting it on my list. Why? Don’t I have those same goals? Of course I do. However, I was just tired of not being able to cross it off the list- so I’m just going to start leaving it off… perhaps if some miracle happens and I end up 15lbs lighter and able to run a marathon, I will simply add it to my list just so I can cross it off… until then though… I’ve moved on to bigger and better things...
One resolution that keeps showing up on my annual list though is ‘become an avid reader.’ Now this one started in high school... I looked around at the most intelligent people around me and tried to figure out what they had in common… sure enough all of them were readers. Thus, I decided I will become one as well. It has been a slow process- but 5 years later I would like to say that I now am what you consider a “reader”. Starting with classics I have slowly developed the discipline to read, and enjoy it. This year I have changed it up a bit and placed certain requirements on what I read. Here’s what it includes:
-Read at least 35 books in total
-5 biographies
-2 history books (this is going to be the hardest to make myself do)
-2 from NY Times Best seller list
-11 classics (including, the Art of War, Don Quioxe, Moby Dick, Robinson Crusoe, Lord of the Flies, The Great Gasby, 1984, Sherlock Holmes, & Catch-22)
(If you have any suggestions of books I need to read this year, let me know!)
In addition to the above goal I have the following:
2. Become a better long-distance communicator
3. Be involved in ministry, and put my roots down in my church
4. Buy a car with cash
5. Get my BSN online
6. Travel outside the country
Well, I leave you to finish my first book of this year, which not only knocks my goal down to 34 books, but this book also qualifies for the biography category as well… in the end though- it’s all about crossing things off a list…
Well, it’s that time of year to make my big-daddy, and grandest list of them all… my resolutions list…
For most of the years of throughout high school I commonly included losing weight, getting in shape, etc, on my list of “to-do’s” for the year…. Since I’ve grown up a bit I have stopped putting it on my list. Why? Don’t I have those same goals? Of course I do. However, I was just tired of not being able to cross it off the list- so I’m just going to start leaving it off… perhaps if some miracle happens and I end up 15lbs lighter and able to run a marathon, I will simply add it to my list just so I can cross it off… until then though… I’ve moved on to bigger and better things...
One resolution that keeps showing up on my annual list though is ‘become an avid reader.’ Now this one started in high school... I looked around at the most intelligent people around me and tried to figure out what they had in common… sure enough all of them were readers. Thus, I decided I will become one as well. It has been a slow process- but 5 years later I would like to say that I now am what you consider a “reader”. Starting with classics I have slowly developed the discipline to read, and enjoy it. This year I have changed it up a bit and placed certain requirements on what I read. Here’s what it includes:
-Read at least 35 books in total
-5 biographies
-2 history books (this is going to be the hardest to make myself do)
-2 from NY Times Best seller list
-11 classics (including, the Art of War, Don Quioxe, Moby Dick, Robinson Crusoe, Lord of the Flies, The Great Gasby, 1984, Sherlock Holmes, & Catch-22)
(If you have any suggestions of books I need to read this year, let me know!)
In addition to the above goal I have the following:
2. Become a better long-distance communicator
3. Be involved in ministry, and put my roots down in my church
4. Buy a car with cash
5. Get my BSN online
6. Travel outside the country
Well, I leave you to finish my first book of this year, which not only knocks my goal down to 34 books, but this book also qualifies for the biography category as well… in the end though- it’s all about crossing things off a list…
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
2 Years in 20 minutes
Well, I am back from my holiday break. It was wonderful to have three glorious weeks off to enjoy my family and rest.
So I’ve graduated.... It’s done. Nursing school is over....and I have three words to describe how I feel... PRAISE THE LORD! What a journey.... I figured I would give you guys the high/low-lights as I look back on the past 2 years.
....
-Buying my first pair of scrubs. I thought they were the coolest thing I had in my closet... little did I realize how terribly uncomfortable the teal polyester clothing would become... by then end my scrubs were so well worn that they had a grayish appearance...
-First day of orientation- I drove up from Orlando in the midst of my cancer treatment. I had just had my thyroid removed so I had to constantly wear something to cover my neck to prevent people from thinking I had been jumped in some back alley.
-First semester- while it was by far the easiest, I was struggling with my health as I slowly adjusted to thyroid medication. They combination of hypothyroidism and narcolepsy was miserable and left me having to walk to stay awake to study.
-First clinical day- I was so nervous. I stood outside of my patient’s room taking deep breathes... finally I managed enough courage to go in and introduce myself... all I was responsible for was a head-to-toe assessment and a bed bath, but it might as well have been rocket science... determination, prayer, and a lot of fake confidence got me through these first days at the hospital.
-Second semester- the hardest of nursing school. I still have PTSD from this semester. The brutality and degradation of my nursing professor/s was appalling. Someone described us perfectly... abused dogs- full of fear while earnestly trying to pursue favor with our instructors... all the while being kicked at every opportunity- deserved or not. This was also the semester that I had an anaphylactic reaction at school- helpless and scared I went to my nursing professors to seek medical counsel only to be scoffed at and abandoned. To make things even worse, the one nursing instructor that helped me, lost her job because of it... While I will never forget the horror I felt when I realized that no one would help me, it has been one of the things that have driven me even more in my career of nursing... that I may never become nurses like them- cold, calloused, and selfish.
-Second semester clinicals- the goal of clinical went from “show up, don’t throw up” to “Don’t get any ‘U’s’ otherwise YOU FAIL!” Every move was watch by an instructor breathing down our necks. It is a miracle that I didn’t stab myself with a needle... all the times I had to draw up a medication I was so nervous that I would make a mistake that my hands would shake terribly... On a more positive note though, it was this semester that I watched my first birth and realized I wanted to be a L&D nurse. I couldn’t imagine anything could ever be as incredible as watching a human be born, and I’ve never looked back since.
-Third semester- Mental health. Yuck. My least favorite semester. Studying all of the mental disorders had me more nervous for my own health than anything else I had studied. I would find myself praying in class, “Lord, please, please don’t let me get this disease!” Going to an observation day at Florida State Mental Institution confirmed my utter dislike of the field. I remember it was like a thiller/horror movie as I walked through and watched patient’s strange and yes, crazy, behaviors.
-Forth semester- the turning point of nursing school. Suddenly there was some respect for us measly little nursing students... material started coming together and we were able to relate disease processes to each other...
-Forth semester clinicals- I remember dreading this semester because of the doubling of paperwork required between clinical days that was due. I prayed and prayed that the Lord would help me finish everything on time before clinicals and that I could get sleep. I had no clue if my narcolepsy was going to prevent me from making it through this semester. The Lord was so good to me and despite all of the paperwork I got 8+ hours of sleep.
-Fifth semester- the light of the tunnel was clearly before us... all we had to do was make it through 3 more months. Class was spent learning fun and interesting topics like bioterrorism, and ER nursing. By far the best semester.
-Fifth semester clinicals- We started out with 3 patients and learned how to multi-task and what it meant to cluster your nursing care. Second half of clinicals we were on our own with a preceptor. I learned so much. For the first time, there was no anxiety in passing meds, there was no shaking hands in the med room, and no dread of the day. I loved the relationship that you develop with a patient that you’ve had for three days in a row... I loved how close you could get to them in those short days- and how many times by the end of your last shift, I received hugs and kisses of thanks...
Some of my favorite memories:
-Growing in my faith. Coming to terms with the fact that my life is all in God’s hands and I have no reason to fear. I’ve realized that if this is the basis for my life, no matter what happens- my life will not fall apart, for it is set on a firm cornerstone... worrying is a waste of the precious time I have on this earth.
-Studying with Monali, Angela and Carmen for countless hours. We have formed a lifelong bond that cannot be broken. Thank you ladies for all your support. We’ve done it! Remember all the times that we would study until we couldn’t think straight? We would end up in a hilarious brain fog that ended up with us laughing at the stupidest things.
-Developing relationships with many of the coffee-shop workers- they’ve probably seen me more in these two years than my own family has.
-Sending out prayer requests for each and every test. My parents and grandparents have literally prayed me through nursing school.
-Lastly, my patients- I remembered thinking at one point as I helped clean up one of the most precious patients I will ever have, “I am so honored to be here right now. Thank you God, thank you God.” Nursing can be one of the ‘grossest’ jobs as we tend to really get into our patient’s “business”... however, how could I ever do anything else? I have had the privilege of seeing someone at their most vulnerable and been entrusted to maintain their integrity. I have been able to hold the hands of grown men and women as they cry and pour out their heart to me. I have been able to go the extra mile to bathe my patient and have literally been thanked with tears for what I had done. I have helped support women as they go through labor and bring life into the world. I have been there to see tears flow down the faces of grandmothers as they see their grandson for the first time.... I have also heard a mother’s agony as she’s learned that her baby is no longer alive...I have held bereaved babies and walked them down to the morgue... Life... death... and everything in between... What a privilege and responsibility it is to be apart of it.
So I’ve graduated.... It’s done. Nursing school is over....and I have three words to describe how I feel... PRAISE THE LORD! What a journey.... I figured I would give you guys the high/low-lights as I look back on the past 2 years.
....
-Buying my first pair of scrubs. I thought they were the coolest thing I had in my closet... little did I realize how terribly uncomfortable the teal polyester clothing would become... by then end my scrubs were so well worn that they had a grayish appearance...
-First day of orientation- I drove up from Orlando in the midst of my cancer treatment. I had just had my thyroid removed so I had to constantly wear something to cover my neck to prevent people from thinking I had been jumped in some back alley.
-First semester- while it was by far the easiest, I was struggling with my health as I slowly adjusted to thyroid medication. They combination of hypothyroidism and narcolepsy was miserable and left me having to walk to stay awake to study.
-First clinical day- I was so nervous. I stood outside of my patient’s room taking deep breathes... finally I managed enough courage to go in and introduce myself... all I was responsible for was a head-to-toe assessment and a bed bath, but it might as well have been rocket science... determination, prayer, and a lot of fake confidence got me through these first days at the hospital.
-Second semester- the hardest of nursing school. I still have PTSD from this semester. The brutality and degradation of my nursing professor/s was appalling. Someone described us perfectly... abused dogs- full of fear while earnestly trying to pursue favor with our instructors... all the while being kicked at every opportunity- deserved or not. This was also the semester that I had an anaphylactic reaction at school- helpless and scared I went to my nursing professors to seek medical counsel only to be scoffed at and abandoned. To make things even worse, the one nursing instructor that helped me, lost her job because of it... While I will never forget the horror I felt when I realized that no one would help me, it has been one of the things that have driven me even more in my career of nursing... that I may never become nurses like them- cold, calloused, and selfish.
-Second semester clinicals- the goal of clinical went from “show up, don’t throw up” to “Don’t get any ‘U’s’ otherwise YOU FAIL!” Every move was watch by an instructor breathing down our necks. It is a miracle that I didn’t stab myself with a needle... all the times I had to draw up a medication I was so nervous that I would make a mistake that my hands would shake terribly... On a more positive note though, it was this semester that I watched my first birth and realized I wanted to be a L&D nurse. I couldn’t imagine anything could ever be as incredible as watching a human be born, and I’ve never looked back since.
-Third semester- Mental health. Yuck. My least favorite semester. Studying all of the mental disorders had me more nervous for my own health than anything else I had studied. I would find myself praying in class, “Lord, please, please don’t let me get this disease!” Going to an observation day at Florida State Mental Institution confirmed my utter dislike of the field. I remember it was like a thiller/horror movie as I walked through and watched patient’s strange and yes, crazy, behaviors.
-Forth semester- the turning point of nursing school. Suddenly there was some respect for us measly little nursing students... material started coming together and we were able to relate disease processes to each other...
-Forth semester clinicals- I remember dreading this semester because of the doubling of paperwork required between clinical days that was due. I prayed and prayed that the Lord would help me finish everything on time before clinicals and that I could get sleep. I had no clue if my narcolepsy was going to prevent me from making it through this semester. The Lord was so good to me and despite all of the paperwork I got 8+ hours of sleep.
-Fifth semester- the light of the tunnel was clearly before us... all we had to do was make it through 3 more months. Class was spent learning fun and interesting topics like bioterrorism, and ER nursing. By far the best semester.
-Fifth semester clinicals- We started out with 3 patients and learned how to multi-task and what it meant to cluster your nursing care. Second half of clinicals we were on our own with a preceptor. I learned so much. For the first time, there was no anxiety in passing meds, there was no shaking hands in the med room, and no dread of the day. I loved the relationship that you develop with a patient that you’ve had for three days in a row... I loved how close you could get to them in those short days- and how many times by the end of your last shift, I received hugs and kisses of thanks...
Some of my favorite memories:
-Growing in my faith. Coming to terms with the fact that my life is all in God’s hands and I have no reason to fear. I’ve realized that if this is the basis for my life, no matter what happens- my life will not fall apart, for it is set on a firm cornerstone... worrying is a waste of the precious time I have on this earth.
-Studying with Monali, Angela and Carmen for countless hours. We have formed a lifelong bond that cannot be broken. Thank you ladies for all your support. We’ve done it! Remember all the times that we would study until we couldn’t think straight? We would end up in a hilarious brain fog that ended up with us laughing at the stupidest things.
-Developing relationships with many of the coffee-shop workers- they’ve probably seen me more in these two years than my own family has.
-Sending out prayer requests for each and every test. My parents and grandparents have literally prayed me through nursing school.
-Lastly, my patients- I remembered thinking at one point as I helped clean up one of the most precious patients I will ever have, “I am so honored to be here right now. Thank you God, thank you God.” Nursing can be one of the ‘grossest’ jobs as we tend to really get into our patient’s “business”... however, how could I ever do anything else? I have had the privilege of seeing someone at their most vulnerable and been entrusted to maintain their integrity. I have been able to hold the hands of grown men and women as they cry and pour out their heart to me. I have been able to go the extra mile to bathe my patient and have literally been thanked with tears for what I had done. I have helped support women as they go through labor and bring life into the world. I have been there to see tears flow down the faces of grandmothers as they see their grandson for the first time.... I have also heard a mother’s agony as she’s learned that her baby is no longer alive...I have held bereaved babies and walked them down to the morgue... Life... death... and everything in between... What a privilege and responsibility it is to be apart of it.
Friday, December 02, 2011
From 0 kids to 4... Overnight
Some of you may not know this, but after all my roommates moved away the Mitchell family offered to take me in and let me live in their guest bedroom until I finished school. Carey and Spencer are this wonderful couple who were my “adopted parents” from my church. They have always been wonderful about having me over and feeding me throughout college (not such an easy task when you have as many allergies as I do). Anyway, they allowed me to move into their house, and take over their guest bed/bathroom. Not only that, but they decided they wanted to bless me and not charge me any rent or living costs (despite the fact that they feed me at least 5 meals a week). Needless to say, they are WONDERFUL and I have been so extremely blessed to live with them.
Oh but it gets even better. They have four children. Yep. Four.
Let me give you the break down...
Ellie- 9 years old, in 4th grade and lives mostly in her own dream world. Mind you, this girl is totally brilliant, top of her class in both math and reading... yet about 75% of her time is spent in her head... life’s just more interesting there...
Clark- 5 years old, in Kindergarden and the policeman of the house. Clark loves rules and will make sure that everyone of his siblings are abiding by them. He is always on top of the schedule of what needs to get done. Don’t you be caught doing something you’re not supposed to when Clark’s around...
Wyatt- 3 years old, one of the twins. While all of his siblings have dark brown eyes, Wyatt has big blue ones. Wyatt is by far the most emotional one of the family... he quickly goes from screams of joy and laughter, to tears of utter anguish, back to laughter all in the span of 30 seconds... Wyatt has also always been the messy one of the two. Ever since he was little, anything that he ate ended up everywhere... for a while any sort of sauce that was for a meal (ex: spaghetti sauce) ended up all smeared into is curly hair and all over his face and even eyes...
Owen- 3 years old, the second twin. Owen is definitely the steady one of the twins. While his brother experiences the highest highs and lowest lows Owen watches with amusement, plotting along his own course, not easily thrown off the deep end of emotional chaos. Owen will finish the job, whereas Wyatt will try for a few minutes and go on to find bigger and better things to do. Owen and I have always had a very special relationship from the time he was very small. He’s my faithful Owie and I’m his “Ressa.”
Going from living with college roommates to four children has been quite a trip. Most of the time I just sit back and laugh at the chaos around me....
Now that you have a pretext for each of the kids and their personalities I thought you might enjoy a few stories...
Dinner time... Now as unrealistic as the stereotypical scene from a romantic movie is where the boy asks the girl to dance in the rain on some park bridge, is about as unrealistic as the movie representation of what a “family dinner” looks like. In the movies the children are clean and dressed cute. The table is fully set. Each person takes turn talking and laughter ensuing when the youngest says something cute...
Reality check.
By the time dinner is ready, and everybody sits down to eat, blood sugars are running low... a little too low if you know what I mean... Here is a typical scene from dinner time.
-Prayer- (the quiet before the storm)
-Clark “Mom how many bites do I have to eat?”
-Wyatt “ketchup!”
-Clark “What about 10 small bites”
-Ellie “what if there is aliens living on the moon?”
-Wyatt “KETCHUP!!!”
-Owen “Cut up please”
-Clark “Okay, 15 small bites?”
-Wyatt “MORE SAUCE MORE SAUCE”
-Owen “Look Ressa, Owen eat all green beans!”
-Ellie “If I eat everything can I have some I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?” (mind you she learned early on that she couldn’t say the world “ice cream” because the twins would freak out and want some too)
-Clark “Oh! Can I have some I-C-A-E-A-M-E too please?!” (Clark knows he is asking for ice cream, but just can’t get the hang of spelling the words out yet...)
-Wyatt “HELP HELP... MORE KETCHUP”
-Clark “But I don’t like this!!! I don’t want to eat 15 small bites”
-Owen “ALL DONE... Owen messy... owen wash hands?”
-Wyatt “MOOORE MORE!!!!”
Now during this Carey and Spencer dutifully try to answer everyone’s questions, get more of what everybody needs... meanwhile trying to eat their own dinners and stay calm...
.............
I have to say today was especially humous. I was watching the twins for a few hours while Carey was at work. The weather was perfect and thus it was decided that we would venture out of the house and have a picnic at the park.
For the first 30 minutes it was movie perfect... The boys ran around squealing and laughing... they even managed to eat their picnic lunch setting their sandwiches down on the nasty picnic table only twice with me freaking out and telling them to put them back on the paper towel... after lunch they went back to playing, cue cuteness and lots of running around...
5 minutes later Wyatt comes to me, “I have to go potty.” Owen also chimed it “me too!”
Uh oh. I thought... public bathrooms and two three years olds who are just learning how to the “put the pee-pee in the potty”...This is not going to be good.
They follow me into the large handicap stall and I tell them not to touch ANYTHING. Wyatt is first and I cover the entire toilet with toilet paper, rolling up his long sleeves (much to his dismay) to try and prevent them from touching the seat.... He manages to go alright and I scoop him up to wash his hands. Afterwards I put his hands under the automatic dryer... however it isn’t one of the wimpy ones, its one of the super-powerful dryers that sounds like a jet engine.... Of course it scares the poor little guy half to death and instantly ensues screaming and crying... it only took a few seconds to calm him down... although I think he was a bit traumatized because for the remainder of time while we were in the bathroom he kept telling me “No fan Ressa... no loud fan...” every 30 seconds... just in case I had forgotten...
Owen’s turn.
Once again I used a half roll of TP to cover the toilet. Success. Not too many germs, and two pairs of dry pants. Score! I foolishly thought I was in the clear...
We returned to the joy of the playground for another glorious 15 minutes... all of the sudden I heard the dreaded words from Wyatt... “Ressa! I wet!!! I WET!”
Sure enough... apparently, he hadn’t let all the pee-pee out... and in the excitement of returning to all the slides and swings he hadn’t realized that he needed to go potty again... perhaps this was my fault though... maybe I scared him so badly with the automatic hand dryer that he chose to wet himself rather than face the scary loud monster fan...
Something I have learned about being around kids so much. All joy can turn to utter distress and chaos within one second. Just one second is all it takes for all manner of organization to fall apart and for one or all of the children to lose it.
We headed back to the van Wyatt repeating the whole way “I wet... I wet...” Owen, on the other hand, repeating “No, I no go home... I slide... no Ressa! No go home!” I turned to Owen and said, “Owen, Wyatt’s pants are wet buddy... we have to see if we have more pants in the van. If there aren’t any pants in the car we have to go home because Wyatt can’t play in the park naked can he?” He looked at me and simply said, “No naked...”
Upon getting to the van I realized to my luck that there was one solitary diaper that would suffice for the remainder of the trip home. As I went to take off Wyatt’s wet pants and underwear he all of the sudden decided it would be a good time to pee again. Of course my own screaming ensued “No Wyatt! Don’t pee!! Stop peeing!!” as I tried to catch it all with my one dry diaper... But the poor little 3 year old didn’t quite have the capability to stop on command.... I quickly decided that him standing in the van was not the best option. Instantly I set him down in the dirt and told him to let all the pee-pee out. It lasted for about 5 seconds until Wyatt realized that the pee was trickling down his leg, making a puddle at his feet, “No Mud!!! NO MUD!! NOOO MUDDDDD!!!” What was I going to do? Suddenly it hit me. I sat the boy down on the edge of the van and used an empty Starbucks cup as make-shift urinal. Wyatt in utter distress cried “No Pee-pee in cup!! No pee-pee in cup... I pee-pee in potty!” I looked at him... “Wyatt, there is no potty... you just need to pee-pee in the cup, okay?”
Sure enough, much to his breaking heart... he managed to do it...
Now what? I had no dry clothes. The one diaper I had was now wet from trying to catch the pee rather than letting it soak into the van carpet... I guess he’s just going to have to ride home naked. Poor kid.
While he was quite upset about it, I explained to him that there was no clothes for him to wear, he looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and in his broken-hearted manner said “Oohhkay....”
............
In the end I know that no matter of pee, poop or snotty noses could ever make me love these kids any less. I love turning the key in the door and coming home to screams all over the house “RESSA HOME!!! RESSA!!!!” I love the hugs and kisses I get before bed, or I leave to go anywhere... I love them.
How lucky am I to be apart of their lives?
Oh but it gets even better. They have four children. Yep. Four.
Let me give you the break down...
Ellie- 9 years old, in 4th grade and lives mostly in her own dream world. Mind you, this girl is totally brilliant, top of her class in both math and reading... yet about 75% of her time is spent in her head... life’s just more interesting there...
Clark- 5 years old, in Kindergarden and the policeman of the house. Clark loves rules and will make sure that everyone of his siblings are abiding by them. He is always on top of the schedule of what needs to get done. Don’t you be caught doing something you’re not supposed to when Clark’s around...
Wyatt- 3 years old, one of the twins. While all of his siblings have dark brown eyes, Wyatt has big blue ones. Wyatt is by far the most emotional one of the family... he quickly goes from screams of joy and laughter, to tears of utter anguish, back to laughter all in the span of 30 seconds... Wyatt has also always been the messy one of the two. Ever since he was little, anything that he ate ended up everywhere... for a while any sort of sauce that was for a meal (ex: spaghetti sauce) ended up all smeared into is curly hair and all over his face and even eyes...
Owen- 3 years old, the second twin. Owen is definitely the steady one of the twins. While his brother experiences the highest highs and lowest lows Owen watches with amusement, plotting along his own course, not easily thrown off the deep end of emotional chaos. Owen will finish the job, whereas Wyatt will try for a few minutes and go on to find bigger and better things to do. Owen and I have always had a very special relationship from the time he was very small. He’s my faithful Owie and I’m his “Ressa.”
Going from living with college roommates to four children has been quite a trip. Most of the time I just sit back and laugh at the chaos around me....
Now that you have a pretext for each of the kids and their personalities I thought you might enjoy a few stories...
Dinner time... Now as unrealistic as the stereotypical scene from a romantic movie is where the boy asks the girl to dance in the rain on some park bridge, is about as unrealistic as the movie representation of what a “family dinner” looks like. In the movies the children are clean and dressed cute. The table is fully set. Each person takes turn talking and laughter ensuing when the youngest says something cute...
Reality check.
By the time dinner is ready, and everybody sits down to eat, blood sugars are running low... a little too low if you know what I mean... Here is a typical scene from dinner time.
-Prayer- (the quiet before the storm)
-Clark “Mom how many bites do I have to eat?”
-Wyatt “ketchup!”
-Clark “What about 10 small bites”
-Ellie “what if there is aliens living on the moon?”
-Wyatt “KETCHUP!!!”
-Owen “Cut up please”
-Clark “Okay, 15 small bites?”
-Wyatt “MORE SAUCE MORE SAUCE”
-Owen “Look Ressa, Owen eat all green beans!”
-Ellie “If I eat everything can I have some I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?” (mind you she learned early on that she couldn’t say the world “ice cream” because the twins would freak out and want some too)
-Clark “Oh! Can I have some I-C-A-E-A-M-E too please?!” (Clark knows he is asking for ice cream, but just can’t get the hang of spelling the words out yet...)
-Wyatt “HELP HELP... MORE KETCHUP”
-Clark “But I don’t like this!!! I don’t want to eat 15 small bites”
-Owen “ALL DONE... Owen messy... owen wash hands?”
-Wyatt “MOOORE MORE!!!!”
Now during this Carey and Spencer dutifully try to answer everyone’s questions, get more of what everybody needs... meanwhile trying to eat their own dinners and stay calm...
.............
I have to say today was especially humous. I was watching the twins for a few hours while Carey was at work. The weather was perfect and thus it was decided that we would venture out of the house and have a picnic at the park.
For the first 30 minutes it was movie perfect... The boys ran around squealing and laughing... they even managed to eat their picnic lunch setting their sandwiches down on the nasty picnic table only twice with me freaking out and telling them to put them back on the paper towel... after lunch they went back to playing, cue cuteness and lots of running around...
5 minutes later Wyatt comes to me, “I have to go potty.” Owen also chimed it “me too!”
Uh oh. I thought... public bathrooms and two three years olds who are just learning how to the “put the pee-pee in the potty”...This is not going to be good.
They follow me into the large handicap stall and I tell them not to touch ANYTHING. Wyatt is first and I cover the entire toilet with toilet paper, rolling up his long sleeves (much to his dismay) to try and prevent them from touching the seat.... He manages to go alright and I scoop him up to wash his hands. Afterwards I put his hands under the automatic dryer... however it isn’t one of the wimpy ones, its one of the super-powerful dryers that sounds like a jet engine.... Of course it scares the poor little guy half to death and instantly ensues screaming and crying... it only took a few seconds to calm him down... although I think he was a bit traumatized because for the remainder of time while we were in the bathroom he kept telling me “No fan Ressa... no loud fan...” every 30 seconds... just in case I had forgotten...
Owen’s turn.
Once again I used a half roll of TP to cover the toilet. Success. Not too many germs, and two pairs of dry pants. Score! I foolishly thought I was in the clear...
We returned to the joy of the playground for another glorious 15 minutes... all of the sudden I heard the dreaded words from Wyatt... “Ressa! I wet!!! I WET!”
Sure enough... apparently, he hadn’t let all the pee-pee out... and in the excitement of returning to all the slides and swings he hadn’t realized that he needed to go potty again... perhaps this was my fault though... maybe I scared him so badly with the automatic hand dryer that he chose to wet himself rather than face the scary loud monster fan...
Something I have learned about being around kids so much. All joy can turn to utter distress and chaos within one second. Just one second is all it takes for all manner of organization to fall apart and for one or all of the children to lose it.
We headed back to the van Wyatt repeating the whole way “I wet... I wet...” Owen, on the other hand, repeating “No, I no go home... I slide... no Ressa! No go home!” I turned to Owen and said, “Owen, Wyatt’s pants are wet buddy... we have to see if we have more pants in the van. If there aren’t any pants in the car we have to go home because Wyatt can’t play in the park naked can he?” He looked at me and simply said, “No naked...”
Upon getting to the van I realized to my luck that there was one solitary diaper that would suffice for the remainder of the trip home. As I went to take off Wyatt’s wet pants and underwear he all of the sudden decided it would be a good time to pee again. Of course my own screaming ensued “No Wyatt! Don’t pee!! Stop peeing!!” as I tried to catch it all with my one dry diaper... But the poor little 3 year old didn’t quite have the capability to stop on command.... I quickly decided that him standing in the van was not the best option. Instantly I set him down in the dirt and told him to let all the pee-pee out. It lasted for about 5 seconds until Wyatt realized that the pee was trickling down his leg, making a puddle at his feet, “No Mud!!! NO MUD!! NOOO MUDDDDD!!!” What was I going to do? Suddenly it hit me. I sat the boy down on the edge of the van and used an empty Starbucks cup as make-shift urinal. Wyatt in utter distress cried “No Pee-pee in cup!! No pee-pee in cup... I pee-pee in potty!” I looked at him... “Wyatt, there is no potty... you just need to pee-pee in the cup, okay?”
Sure enough, much to his breaking heart... he managed to do it...
Now what? I had no dry clothes. The one diaper I had was now wet from trying to catch the pee rather than letting it soak into the van carpet... I guess he’s just going to have to ride home naked. Poor kid.
While he was quite upset about it, I explained to him that there was no clothes for him to wear, he looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and in his broken-hearted manner said “Oohhkay....”
............
In the end I know that no matter of pee, poop or snotty noses could ever make me love these kids any less. I love turning the key in the door and coming home to screams all over the house “RESSA HOME!!! RESSA!!!!” I love the hugs and kisses I get before bed, or I leave to go anywhere... I love them.
How lucky am I to be apart of their lives?
Monday, November 21, 2011
"Oh Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts"
Like a movie scene (minus the emotional music), I found myself engrossed by my surroundings as my body was propelled forward on the swing...
Now if you are a professional ‘swinger’, such as myself, you know that there are many different levels of swings ranging from lame to super cool. This just happens to be an awesome one. Not only is the rope really long (which leads to extra length that you can travel both forwards and backwards) but it also sits on the top of a hill (this adds an extra special dynamic to the ride as it creates the illusion of flying). The swing was calling to me as there was a perfect mix of cool, crisp autumn air with a slightly warm breeze to rustle through the leaves. Throw in some brightly painted orange, and yellow trees and you have yourself a perfect scene. Without hesitation I threw down my NCLEX book excited for some time completely dedicated to swinging and deep thought...
I got myself comfortable in my seat... backed way up, and let myself go to be lunched forward over the hill... back and forth.... back and forth... back and forth... the only sound to be heard was the rattle of leaves as the wind passed through them... back and forth... back and forth... back and forth I swung....Now what to think about, I thought... Okay what about nursing school and the drama amongst my classmates... Blank. Okay, a different subject... hmm.... my family, and all the stuff that is going on with my Dad’s eye... Blank. How to make new friends?... Blank. Okay... I know! I will stoop low and think about what exactly I need to do to get a man... Still blank. Then it hit me. Oh. My. Word. I have an inability to spend time in “deep thought”!
Now this brings about a serious dilemma... if you know my mother, you would know this is especially a problem. My mom is the QUEEN of deep thought, and is constantly lost in it. She is always wrestling with issues- usually pertaining to theology, women’s issues in the church, how to counsel women better, etc... you name it and I can guarantee that my mother has spent time pondering it... Then there is me. Her daughter with the blank mind.
From a young age I can remember my mother trying to train me how to ponder issues... but it always lead to complete frustration on both our sides... How can I be completely unable to spend time in “deep thought?” Is this a lack of intelligence on my part? Am I just lazy? Shallow?
But alas, I don’t believe so. I am now completely convinced that I have the inability to mull over/ponder/wrestle based on my personality. I don’t really need to, and never had needed to go off by myself to gather my thoughts and come up with a conclusion. I simply make a decision and am done with it.
Haven’t I ever laid awake at night with my mind racing? Absolutely. However, it is ALWAYS about the same things. Schedules, and to-do lists. I am completely wired for organization and the immediate detail of life.
Let me give you an example. You are staying by the beach and you decide to go for a moonlight stroll by the water alone. I’m sure you’ve probably done this before... what did you think about? Did you come back more refreshed? Did you resolve any issues that were going around and around in your head just by getting time away to “sort things out?” Now let me give you my thought process, which up until recently I thought was perfectly normal. Oh wow, the moon is pretty, the stars are so bright...... lets see if I can make a perfect footprint in the sand... I wonder if there are any sharks watching me right now... I’m going to count shells, 1, 2, 3, 4........ oh look a person! I wonder who they are, what they are doing here, do you think they could be a murderer? Don’t make eye contact... oh good he is gone... actually he was kinda cute... Man it is dark!...... I wonder how long I have been out here...... Was that a shark that just jumped out of the water?..... I guess I won’t need a pedicure if I keep walking in this sand..................... okay, where are my friends, I’m bored...
Maybe this is the reason why I need so little “down time.” I don’t need anytime to sort out my emotions or thoughts... when issues come up I simply deal with them right then and there and decide where exactly to file it in my brain. Done. Easy.
Call me shallow, slow, or lazy but I am convinced that my personality is not suited for being lost in “deep thought”... Sorry Mom... you DID try...
So there I was... swinging back and forth on the perfect autumn day... trying to come up with what in the world I should occupy my mind with as I physically enjoyed the activity... So you know what I did? Prayed. Now that is something that I have the ability to do, and thoroughly enjoy...
Now if you are a professional ‘swinger’, such as myself, you know that there are many different levels of swings ranging from lame to super cool. This just happens to be an awesome one. Not only is the rope really long (which leads to extra length that you can travel both forwards and backwards) but it also sits on the top of a hill (this adds an extra special dynamic to the ride as it creates the illusion of flying). The swing was calling to me as there was a perfect mix of cool, crisp autumn air with a slightly warm breeze to rustle through the leaves. Throw in some brightly painted orange, and yellow trees and you have yourself a perfect scene. Without hesitation I threw down my NCLEX book excited for some time completely dedicated to swinging and deep thought...
I got myself comfortable in my seat... backed way up, and let myself go to be lunched forward over the hill... back and forth.... back and forth... back and forth... the only sound to be heard was the rattle of leaves as the wind passed through them... back and forth... back and forth... back and forth I swung....Now what to think about, I thought... Okay what about nursing school and the drama amongst my classmates... Blank. Okay, a different subject... hmm.... my family, and all the stuff that is going on with my Dad’s eye... Blank. How to make new friends?... Blank. Okay... I know! I will stoop low and think about what exactly I need to do to get a man... Still blank. Then it hit me. Oh. My. Word. I have an inability to spend time in “deep thought”!
Now this brings about a serious dilemma... if you know my mother, you would know this is especially a problem. My mom is the QUEEN of deep thought, and is constantly lost in it. She is always wrestling with issues- usually pertaining to theology, women’s issues in the church, how to counsel women better, etc... you name it and I can guarantee that my mother has spent time pondering it... Then there is me. Her daughter with the blank mind.
From a young age I can remember my mother trying to train me how to ponder issues... but it always lead to complete frustration on both our sides... How can I be completely unable to spend time in “deep thought?” Is this a lack of intelligence on my part? Am I just lazy? Shallow?
But alas, I don’t believe so. I am now completely convinced that I have the inability to mull over/ponder/wrestle based on my personality. I don’t really need to, and never had needed to go off by myself to gather my thoughts and come up with a conclusion. I simply make a decision and am done with it.
Haven’t I ever laid awake at night with my mind racing? Absolutely. However, it is ALWAYS about the same things. Schedules, and to-do lists. I am completely wired for organization and the immediate detail of life.
Let me give you an example. You are staying by the beach and you decide to go for a moonlight stroll by the water alone. I’m sure you’ve probably done this before... what did you think about? Did you come back more refreshed? Did you resolve any issues that were going around and around in your head just by getting time away to “sort things out?” Now let me give you my thought process, which up until recently I thought was perfectly normal. Oh wow, the moon is pretty, the stars are so bright...... lets see if I can make a perfect footprint in the sand... I wonder if there are any sharks watching me right now... I’m going to count shells, 1, 2, 3, 4........ oh look a person! I wonder who they are, what they are doing here, do you think they could be a murderer? Don’t make eye contact... oh good he is gone... actually he was kinda cute... Man it is dark!...... I wonder how long I have been out here...... Was that a shark that just jumped out of the water?..... I guess I won’t need a pedicure if I keep walking in this sand..................... okay, where are my friends, I’m bored...
Maybe this is the reason why I need so little “down time.” I don’t need anytime to sort out my emotions or thoughts... when issues come up I simply deal with them right then and there and decide where exactly to file it in my brain. Done. Easy.
Call me shallow, slow, or lazy but I am convinced that my personality is not suited for being lost in “deep thought”... Sorry Mom... you DID try...
So there I was... swinging back and forth on the perfect autumn day... trying to come up with what in the world I should occupy my mind with as I physically enjoyed the activity... So you know what I did? Prayed. Now that is something that I have the ability to do, and thoroughly enjoy...
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
"Smile and DON'T lock your knees!!"
So this past weekend I was exposed to yet another potential career for myself. While nursing is my #1 pursuit right now these are all the others that I have stashed in my safe, just in case I need to use them one day: singer, painter, dancer, photographer, writer, organizer, decorator, and CEO. However, along with all my string of accomplishments and talents *cough, cough*, I have decided to add in all seriousness, “Wedding Coordinator” to the top of the list (second only to nurse).
About three months ago or so I received a call from my childhood friend Shannon who was getting married soon. She said, “Larissa, I wanted to ask you a favor- I need a wedding coordinator for the day of the wedding to make sure everything runs smoothly. The person needs to be bossy but nice and organized- and you were the first person who came to mind. What do you think?” What do you think I said? “I’d be Honored Shannon!! I am so glad you thought of me first!” (Please take note that there was no argument in whether or not I could be bossy enough...)
Now, about this time many of you are thinking, “What qualifications do you possess to think you could just step into this role and run the show?!” Therefore, in order to proceed I will list my qualifications for this position:
I am bossy
2. I am organized
3. I have been in A LOT of weddings
4. I am bossy- and ENJOY being so...
Moving on.
The rehearsal was my first taste of power. As I whirled around everyone organizing people, working on timing, who does what and stands where... I thrived. Weddings I think are more fun than any other events to be in charge of, mostly because it is a celebration and happy time. (Well, I guess that can depend on the bride- but for the record, Shannon you were a doll.)
Wedding day finally came. I stepped into my element. Just like an actress steps on stage and thinks, “Yes, this is it.” So also, I easily embraced the role, put my gears into 5th, and made sure everything was in place to have a kick-butt wedding. It went by almost flawlessly. Not to brag, by any means, but I was lucky enough to work with a wonderful crew of individuals from the catering company, to the venue to the DJ. Funny thing was, everyone thought I was a professional wedding coordinator/planner. While my parents sat at the dinner table with a group of strangers, one of the ladies started to tell them how usually the wedding coordinators were so snippy, and rude- but that the one Shannon hired was so nice- so much so that everyone just wanted to help her and do whatever she said just because she was so sweet. Naturally my parents burst out laughing- making sure they clarified that she was indeed talking about me- the very bossy, but not always so sweet Larissa.
In all, this was one of the most fun experiences I have had in a long time. While I readily collapsed upon arrival at the hotel- I could not help repeat over and over again, that indeed I had found my new calling.
Now why hadn’t I found this BEFORE I went through all the laborious pains of nursing school?!
All that aside, I have a few notes I have made for myself for the next time I get the privilege of being a wedding coordinator...
1. Wear more sensible shoes- 3 1/2 in heels are cute and all, but when you are running around (especially outside in gravel)- stilettos are not the wisest pick.
2. Know more about proper wedding tradition- for instance, which side is the brides/groom, which side a man stands on to escort the woman, etc... gotta work on my etiquette.
3. Have a better notebook put together- I had far too many loose papers flying around with important info on each of them
4. Wear clothing that has lots of pockets to be sure to have enough room to carry any necessary items (cell phones, pens, emergency safety pins, etc)
About three months ago or so I received a call from my childhood friend Shannon who was getting married soon. She said, “Larissa, I wanted to ask you a favor- I need a wedding coordinator for the day of the wedding to make sure everything runs smoothly. The person needs to be bossy but nice and organized- and you were the first person who came to mind. What do you think?” What do you think I said? “I’d be Honored Shannon!! I am so glad you thought of me first!” (Please take note that there was no argument in whether or not I could be bossy enough...)
Now, about this time many of you are thinking, “What qualifications do you possess to think you could just step into this role and run the show?!” Therefore, in order to proceed I will list my qualifications for this position:
I am bossy
2. I am organized
3. I have been in A LOT of weddings
4. I am bossy- and ENJOY being so...
Moving on.
The rehearsal was my first taste of power. As I whirled around everyone organizing people, working on timing, who does what and stands where... I thrived. Weddings I think are more fun than any other events to be in charge of, mostly because it is a celebration and happy time. (Well, I guess that can depend on the bride- but for the record, Shannon you were a doll.)
Wedding day finally came. I stepped into my element. Just like an actress steps on stage and thinks, “Yes, this is it.” So also, I easily embraced the role, put my gears into 5th, and made sure everything was in place to have a kick-butt wedding. It went by almost flawlessly. Not to brag, by any means, but I was lucky enough to work with a wonderful crew of individuals from the catering company, to the venue to the DJ. Funny thing was, everyone thought I was a professional wedding coordinator/planner. While my parents sat at the dinner table with a group of strangers, one of the ladies started to tell them how usually the wedding coordinators were so snippy, and rude- but that the one Shannon hired was so nice- so much so that everyone just wanted to help her and do whatever she said just because she was so sweet. Naturally my parents burst out laughing- making sure they clarified that she was indeed talking about me- the very bossy, but not always so sweet Larissa.
In all, this was one of the most fun experiences I have had in a long time. While I readily collapsed upon arrival at the hotel- I could not help repeat over and over again, that indeed I had found my new calling.
Now why hadn’t I found this BEFORE I went through all the laborious pains of nursing school?!
All that aside, I have a few notes I have made for myself for the next time I get the privilege of being a wedding coordinator...
1. Wear more sensible shoes- 3 1/2 in heels are cute and all, but when you are running around (especially outside in gravel)- stilettos are not the wisest pick.
2. Know more about proper wedding tradition- for instance, which side is the brides/groom, which side a man stands on to escort the woman, etc... gotta work on my etiquette.
3. Have a better notebook put together- I had far too many loose papers flying around with important info on each of them
4. Wear clothing that has lots of pockets to be sure to have enough room to carry any necessary items (cell phones, pens, emergency safety pins, etc)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Suddenly Breathing Underwater
Have you ever gone away on vacation, only to arrive more stressed than when you left? Now please note that this is not necessarily due to an in ability to stop thinking about work. For me it is quite the contrary. When I go away, I distance myself from my real life, and almost become a different person, enjoying every activity, and every night of peaceful sleep... But of course, vacations always end don’t they? Sure enough, you end up back in your own bed, trying to sleep meanwhile your mind races about how much you need to get done.
Yesterday I could feel the stress start to creep over me. While my family and I were loving our time, touring Charleston, a feeling of complete dread started in my toes. By 1PM, I was knee deep, and 8PM chest deep. It wasn’t until this morning though that I woke up, completely drowning in stress, nervousness, and dread. Nothing like a morning stress attack to welcome you back home.
Along with a lousy morning, I ended up finding out some really bad news about my dad. Basically, the surgeon permanently messed up his eye, and the damage to his optic nerve is irreversible. Great. Further disappointment in the day alloted me a well deserved bowl of ice cream. But as I scrapped the last of the creamy goodness from the bottom of the dish, I am moving on. Here is my simple list of reminders for myself:
1. Whip my butt back into school mode, reviewing all preceptorship material, and cardiac meds
2. Know that God is in control of mine and my Dad’s lives. He sees the best for us (not always referring to happiness, but holiness) and will work in our lives however He chooses, which may include my Dad going blind at a young age- oh to Him be the Glory.
3. Pray. A lot.
Yep, that's all I got. But you know what? That is all I need... for tomorrow anyway...
Yesterday I could feel the stress start to creep over me. While my family and I were loving our time, touring Charleston, a feeling of complete dread started in my toes. By 1PM, I was knee deep, and 8PM chest deep. It wasn’t until this morning though that I woke up, completely drowning in stress, nervousness, and dread. Nothing like a morning stress attack to welcome you back home.
Along with a lousy morning, I ended up finding out some really bad news about my dad. Basically, the surgeon permanently messed up his eye, and the damage to his optic nerve is irreversible. Great. Further disappointment in the day alloted me a well deserved bowl of ice cream. But as I scrapped the last of the creamy goodness from the bottom of the dish, I am moving on. Here is my simple list of reminders for myself:
1. Whip my butt back into school mode, reviewing all preceptorship material, and cardiac meds
2. Know that God is in control of mine and my Dad’s lives. He sees the best for us (not always referring to happiness, but holiness) and will work in our lives however He chooses, which may include my Dad going blind at a young age- oh to Him be the Glory.
3. Pray. A lot.
Yep, that's all I got. But you know what? That is all I need... for tomorrow anyway...
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