Rules of Engagement

Keith and I don't fight.

When I tell people this, there is usually the reaction that either I am lying or delusional. Some people have gone so far as to say that if we don't fight, it must mean that our relationship lacks passion; that fighting is "healthy" for relationships.

I disagree. Fighting is not necessary. Or beneficial.

When I say that we don't fight, I don't mean to imply that we never disagree. It would be unrealistic to think that two individuals would agree on everything. There are a multitude of things that we disagree about.

But we don't fight about it.

It's not always easy. Probably more for me, because I get very worked up over things and cry easily.

But we have rules. Rules for disagreements that have prevented us from fighting.

I'm not calling myself a relationship expert. And I'm not bragging. Or saying that my relationship is better than someone else's. But these rules have worked well for us. And I wanted to share them. Just in case.

Here they are..

1. Keep on subject. Don't bring up old arguments. Don't add, "And do you know what else bothers me...?"

2. Don't call names. Ever.

3. Don't attack the other person's occupation.

4. Don't attack the other person's education.

5. Don't attack the other person's family members.

6. Don't break things. Or slam doors.

7. It's okay to leave the room. But don't storm out.

8. If you need to, take a time out. If the conversation is getting heated, just stop talking, wait until you are calmed down, then try again.

9. Avoid talking about topics you disagree about in front of other people (related or not). It may just embarrass the other person and add more emotional fuel to the fire.

10. Don't yell.

I'm sure that I'm making this sound overly simplistic and easy. I'm not saying that. But it gets easier with practice.

Using these rules, we've gone eight years of marriage without a fight. (And please note: I did say fight, not disagreement. Just wanted to clarify that point one more time.)

I'm working on a list of rules about how to approach my children. Because I can get grumpy with them. More than I should. I've raised my voice to my children. While Keith and I have never raised our voices to each other.

(However, it is true that Keith does not color with marker on the furniture, or hit his siblings with baseball bats, or dump bowls of applesauce on the floor. He also does not try walking as slowly as possible when I am in a hurry. Or lick windows in stores.)

I realized just the other day that I need rules for me regarding them.

That's a work in progress.

There is one more things. For when all other rules fail. I love the person sitting across from me. Is winning this disagreement really more important than their feelings?

The goal of our marriage was not to sacrifice things we believe in or feel passionately all for the sake of just being able to say that we've never had a fight. I could just start agreeing with everything Keith says, for no other reason than to keep the peace. But that would make our relationship less meaningful.

The goal was to be able to trust each other enough to feel that we can express our opinion, even when it differs from that of the other person, without being attacked.

That in this world, so full of people treating each other so horribly, that our marriage can be a safe haven.


Cross-posted here.

Rules of Engagement

Hubster and I don't fight.

When I tell people this, there is usually the reaction that either I am lying or delusional. Some people have gone so far as to say that if we don't fight, it must mean that our relationship lacks passion; that fighting is "healthy" for relationships.

I disagree. Fighting is not necessary. Or beneficial.

When I say that we don't fight, I don't mean to imply that we never disagree. It would be unrealistic to think that two individuals would agree on everything. There are a multitude of things that we disagree about.

But we don't fight about it.

It's not always easy. Probably more for me, because I get very worked up over things and cry easily.

But we have rules. Rules for disagreements that have prevented us from fighting.

I'm not calling myself a relationship expert. And I'm not bragging. Or trying to say that my relationship is better than someone else's. But these rules have worked well for us. And I wanted to share them. Just in case.

Here they are..

1. Keep on subject. Don't bring up old arguments. Don't add, "And do you know what else bothers me...?"

2. Don't call names. Ever.

3. Don't attack the other person's occupation.

4. Don't attack the other person's education.

5. Don't attack the other person's family members.

6. Don't break things. Or slam doors.

7. It's okay to leave the room. But don't storm out.

8. If you need to, take a time out. If the conversation is getting heated, just stop talking, wait until you are calmed down, then try again.

9. Avoid talking about topics you disagree about in front of other people (related or not). It may just embarrass the other person and add more emotional fuel to the fire.

10. Don't yell.

I'm sure that I'm making this sound overly simplistic and easy. I'm not saying that. But it gets easier with practice.

Using these rules, we've gone eight years of marriage without a fight. (And please note: I did say fight, not disagreement. Just wanted to clarify that point one more time.)

I'm working on a list of rules about how to approach my children. Because I can get grumpy with them. More than I should. I've raised my voice to my children. While Hubster and I have never raised our voices to each other.

(However, it is true that Hubster does not color with marker on the furniture, or hit his siblings with baseball bats, or dump bowls of applesauce on the floor. He also does not try walking as slowly as possible when I am in a hurry. Or lick windows in stores.)

I realized just the other day that I need rules for me regarding them.

That's a work in progress.

There is one more things. For when all other rules fail. I love the person sitting across from me. Is winning this disagreement really more important than their feelings?

The goal of our marriage was not to sacrifice things we believe in or feel passionately all for the sake of just being able to say that we've never had a fight. I could just start agreeing with everything Hubster says, for no other reason than to keep the peace. But that would make our relationship less meaningful.

The goal was to be able to trust each other enough to feel that we can express our opinion, even if it differs from that of the other person, without being attacked.

That in this world, so full of people treating each other so horribly, that our marriage can be a safe haven.

Another list of Eight

My friend, todavine, tagged me on her blog with an 8 meme.

It's no secret that I love a meme, but I usually do them on my personal blog, since this is technically a blog for keeping in touch with family and friends.

But this one just works here.

So, Here are the rules.
1. Mention the person who tagged you (Check)
2. Complete the list of 8's (In progress)
3. Tag 8 other bloggers
4. Tell them they have been tagged

Eight Things I Look Forward To:
1. Moving into our first house
2. Not living in an apartment ever again
3. Finishing residency (I know that this one is four years away, but there was not a time limit given.)
4. Watching the boys play in their first backyard
5. Seeing my first firefly (I hear they have them in Iowa)
6. Finishing potty training
7. Getting a cat
8. Buying a digital SLR camera

Eight Things I Wish I Could Do
1. Travel to Europe
2. Take the boys back to San Diego
3. Sleep for two days straight
4. Get someone else to clean my house
5. Lose a lot of weight
6. Work part-time someday
7. Have a house on the beach
8. Be a better cook

Eight Shows I Watch
1. Lost
2. Survivor
3. The Amazing Race
4. Chopped (Food Network)
5. Monk
6. Psych
7. Mythbusters
8. Little Einsteins

Eight Restaurants I Eat At:
1. Sweet Tomatoes
2. Sconecutter
3. McDonald's
4. Wendy's
5. Olive Garden
6. Panda Express
7. Costco (okay, not technically a restaurant, but I do love their churros.)
8. Taco Bell

Eight of My Quirks:
1. I don't like ketchup and the lettuce on the same side of the hamburger
2. I occasionally talk in my sleep
3. Cooking stresses me out
4. I color-code everything
5. I organize things by color as well
6. I can't really spell, so I'm grateful for spellcheck
7. I have a hard time throwing things away
8. I hate clothes shopping

Eight Friends I Am Tagging:
I have eight followers, so if you all do this, I think that covers it.

Eight Things I Did Yesterday
1. Sign the papers on our house, then ship them back in time for the closing
2. Go on a picnic with my sister
3. Watch Keith take our washer apart
4. Make popcorn
5. Not blog
6. Go swimming as a family
7. Make fajitas
8. Sang along to Disney songs with my boys

Okay, your turn. (And please leave a comment here if you actually do it. Because I'm nosy curious.

Maybe I shouldn't, but I do

I'll admit it.

I get a lot of inspiration for writing from other people's blogs. I don't think this is cheating by any means. It just that people have ideas that get my mind going light speed, and then I need to write.

I read in several blogs lately about regrets.

Mostly, about how people were claiming that they didn't have any.

Not that they thought their lives were perfect or mistake free. But that they couldn't regret anything because it had made them the person they were today.

What's wrong with me?

I've finally gotten to a place in my life where I'm pretty happy with nearly everything.

But I still have regrets.

I've made it through medical school, and I think that I finally have stopped regretting going in the first place. But I will always regret how difficult I made the process for my family. I spent so much of medical school being completely miserable. And it didn't make it so I had to work less, or that people were nicer to me at work. All it did was make it difficult for my family.

I have a wonderful relationship with my boys. But I regret every time that I've lost my patience with them. There is never really a good excuse for it. And I know it didn't ever make me a better person.

I regret losing so many friends along the way. I could have done a better job keeping in touch, trying to be there for people, or just showing up.

I regret nearly every doughnut I have eaten on call nights and morning rounds. I might not have to work so hard to have something to report on Wednesdays if I had just eaten a few less of those glazed temptations.

I regret being so hard with myself when I was "younger." (It feels stranger to say younger when I'm only 27 and already young, but yeah, you know what I mean.) I beat myself up over how much I studied, about what I looked like, about how much I could get done in a single day. If I had just learned to relax and accept me for me, I would have not lost so much time being unhappy.

Maybe I'm over-reacting. Maybe none of these things are worth regretting. Maybe I need to work on letting go of these regrets and accepting that they have made me the person I am now.

But I don't think that any of those things benefited me. Just made me and those around me miserable.

And the regrets keep my eyes open to how to prevent those mistakes in the future.

Like my goal for residency.

My goal is to just suck it up. Yes it will be horrible. It will be much more miserable than third year or my fourth year sub-I could ever be. Will I want to quit? Yes. Will I probably cry? Yes (no probably about it.)

But I'm going to try to not be miserable. Because I have to do it. And being miserable won't make it so I have to work less, or my senior residents be nicer to me. And it won't make the process easier for my family.

I guess this is just a reiteration of my thoughts on guilt.

I don't dwell on my regrets. But I don't deny that they are there.

It was good while it lasted

It finally happened. I knew it had to someday. But I was in denial.

My brother-in-law finally asked for his Wii Fit back. There is not emoticon strong enough to express how sad I am about this.

I lost nearly five pounds using that balance board.

I've gained 2 back in the week since he took it. (Okay, it's not just because the Wii Fit is gone. It's also because I've eaten out twice, gone on a road trip that involved marshmallows, and visited my mom.)

Unfortunately, our financial situation does not currently allow us to replace his with one of our own.

However, the Wii Fit is no longer enough for me.

I have a new lust object.

The Wii Active.



I.

Want.

It.

Until then, it is back to my stationary bike and the sidewalk for me.

For Better or For Worse

Today is day that Hubster and I have been married for eight years.

Those years have flown by. Hopefully by saying that, you can tell how happy I've been during these eight years.

It is no secret that we are blissfully happy.

I've very lucky. I'm sure that there is no other person in the world like Hubster. No one else would have put up with me this long. He makes me happy every. single. day.

The way things started out, you might not have guess it.

And when I say started out, I don't mean how things were when we were dating, or when we were engaged, or when we were first married. We were just as blissfully happy during those times as we are now.

When I start "started out," I mean just that.

The wedding day.

Hubster and I don't go to a single wedding or reception without thinking of our own. And what a complete disaster it was.

Oh, my handmade dress was wonderful, the flowers divine, the flower girls darling, Hubster dashing in his tux, the cake delicious, the location beautiful.

I know, it sounds great, right?

Well, let me set the stage.

My parents filled for bankruptcy around the same time. Both Hubster and I were in college. There was no money for this whole affair. We briefly talked about postponing the wedding, but decided there was no real benefit for us in doing that.

So we did the wedding on a shoe string. As in, so little, I can't really mention it here (you would die of shock.)

And we did it mostly by ourselves. Make the food, set up the ceremony and reception location.

Which resulted in us walking down the aisle an hour late. After many of my friends had given up and left. In 100 degree weather.

The guy doing the ceremony talked about making up after fights and forgot the rings.

My dear mother in law had invited some of Hubster's relatives to sing (unknown to either of us.)

When we were going around greeting guests, people kept complaining about the weather.

Do I wish that things could have gone better? Yes. Do I regret some of the decisions and circumstances around the wedding? Absolutely. Do I feel sad every time I go to someone else's exquisite reception? Yeah.

After all, the wedding day is the one that nearly every girl plans for the moment she is five years old.

Would I trade what I have with Hubster, trust, support, and love, for the most amazing wedding of all time?

Not a chance!

Eight Reasons

Today is Keith's and my eight year anniversary.

The feeling that those eight years have gone by remarkably fast is an indicator of how great the last eight years have been.

The fact that we are both deliriously happy in our marriage isn't a secret. Keith is an amazing person. If I had to pick anyone on this entire planet to spend nearly every day of my life with and come home to after the worst call night ever, it would be him.

Here are eight things we have done during our eight years of marriage

1. Had a boy.

2. Been brave enough to have another boy.

3. Complete three bachelors degrees between the two of us.

4. Survived medical school

5. Bought our first house (we close on Monday!)

6. Decided to go back to school to prepare for dental school (Yes, Keith is in the process of applying to dental school!)

7. Have not asked our parents for money

8. Not fight!

And if one list wasn't enough, here are eight reasons (yes, I am going to limit it to eight, even though there are a lot more!)

1. He always knows when to call my bluff. I wanted to drop out of medical school. He casually reminded me of my student loans. I say I want to lose 20 pounds. He passes me a bowl of ice cream. He's supportive of my ambitions and ideas, but he knows when I'm serious and when I'm not (even when I'm a little confused.)

2. He is incredibly laid back. I used to be an extremely uptight, stressed-out individual (most people who just meet me think I still am, but I promise, it is nothing like I used to be!) Keith has helped mellow me out.

3. He loves being a dad. We have never divided parenting tasks. If the boys need a bath, who ever is available does it. Blaise needs a trip to the potty? Keith does it just as often as I do. He does horsey rides and story time and teaches the boys the subtleties of golf and football.

4. He never quits. It took him 8 years to get both his bachelors degrees. (He was going part time while working full time and helping with the boys while I was in medical school.) And if that wasn't enough, he decided to go back. That takes more guts that someone who is already in school to just keep going.

5. He never says no to friends and family. While this can be slightly annoying (really, you gave him money again) I really admire that he never fumbles around for a reason to get out of helping tow a car or frame a basement. If you really need help, Keith will always be there.

6. Despite how laid back he is in nearly every aspect of his life, he gets very psyched up by sports. I love watching him during a football game or NBA playoffs. I used to think it was strange (why should anyone care so much?), but now I just love it!

7. He's very protective of me. He gets mad when people hurt my feelings. He despised people who have used me. He is always in my corner.

8. He has always supported me in everything I've wanted to do. To have a spouse (especially a wife) decide to go to medical school (especially after children) is very difficult. He has never once complained about the all the times he has had to pick up the slack because I've just been too tired. He has not once complained about all my complaining and break-downs. I once apologized for how difficult things were. About how things would have been easier if he had married someone who was just a normal, stay-at-home-type-of-girl. He hugged me and said,

"I wasn't going for easy. I was going for you."

Bryce Canyon

Today is going to be a two post day.

Because if I don't, I'll never be able to catch up. But if this is the first time you're looking at my blog today, make sure you don't miss my sister's graduation.

And I could have made it a three post day, because we had an amazing Memorial Day at Red Butte Garden, but we'll save that one for later.

The Big Move is less than two weeks away now. Keith and I originally had these amazing plans that we were going to take the boys to all the amazing sights in Utah before we left.

Of course, our time and budget didn't allow us to see everything we wanted. Well, really, we realized only one trip would be possible.

So we choose what we thought would be the most memorable and striking.

Bryce Canyon.

Panoramic view from Bryce Point

We drove down early the day after my sister's graduation.

It rained nearly the entire drive. It honestly had never once occurred to us that it might rain on our trip. We hadn't even bothered to look at the weather. Silly us.

But when we arrived at Bryce Canyon, the sun had come out.



We were able to find a camping spot in the park without any trouble (I'm pretty sure the rain scared off the holiday crowd.)

Then we took the boys to Sunset Point for our hike.

Plenty of water and sunscreen!
Ready for our hike!

We really wanted to take the boys to see the canyon, not just from the view points, but from the floor. To look up at the amazing rock structures ("hoodoos") and be awed.

View of "Wall Street" from canyon floor

So we had planned a 2 hour hike on the Navajo Loop.

Only the rain had turned the trail into the most amazingly slick and sticky mud. Tromping through the mud went against everything that Blaise had every been told about mud. Normally, it is "Stay out of the mud!" But this time, it was "It's okay. A little mud won't hurt you. Isn't this fun?" Blaise was not buying it. He screamed and cried nearly the whole way down. We tried to carry him a couple of times, but his mud-covered legs and feet attempted to cover us with the same goo. We got a variety of looks from fellow hikers. The looks ranged from "You guys are crazy!" to "Good luck with that" to "You guys rock for doings things like this as a family." I guess Blaise's screams reverberating off the canyon walls didn't really help enhance the scenery.

On the trail
Get a look at the mud on our shoes!

Fortunately the trail was nice and dry at the bottom of the canyon. And the rest of the hike was wonderful.

Keith, Roman, and Blaise
At the Twin Bridges

The boys didn't complain once. Roman walked the entire 2-hour-nearly-2-mile hike. Blaise probably would have. However, we encountered a little more mud on the ascending loop, and Blaise lost his shoes in the mud. So walking was no longer an option.

We made it!
At the end of the hike!

After the hike, we enjoyed a few more view points, then headed back to camp. We had anticipated enjoying hot dogs and marshmallows over a campfire, but it started raining again. We got our tent up just before we got drenched.

The rain did let up just long enough for us to enjoy hot dogs, but as soon as we broke out the marshmallows, it started to rain again. It rained until 2 am. (Ask me how I know. Rain on a tent is loud.)

The boys slept great! Surprising considering the noise of the rain and the chill of the night at 8000 ft.

The next morning was a gorgeous day, complete with blue sky. After pancakes cooked over a campfire, we enjoyed some more canyon views.

We drove home through a small town where Keith's father has lived as a child. There was a mill there that Keith remembers playing in as a child. But it was all fenced off, supposedly because some endangered owls had been found there. But it still made for amazing pictures.



We may not have been able to take Roman and Blaise to see all the amazing things there are to see in Utah. But at least we took them on an unforgettable trip.

I HIKED BRYCE CANYON!

100

I feel that for my 100th post (which came faster than I had anticipated) I should have something profound to say.

I'm sure I could think of something. I could thank everyone for reading. I could talk about how great a release this blog has been. I could say that the best is yet to come.

But instead, I think I'll just share this with you.

Congrats, Sis

On Friday, my now not-so-little sister, Mercy, graduated high school.


I'm sure that this will embarrass her if she reads this, but I would like to talk just a little bit about how amazing she is.


Mercy, now 18 years old, was diagnosed in utero with a large diaphragmatic hernia. With this hole in her diaphragm, her internal abdominal organs had migrated upward and prevented her lungs from developing. At the time she was diagnosed, very few children with a defect as severe as hers had survived.

Despite physicians telling them that there was no chance she would survive, my mother decided to carry the baby to term.

However, they had gone to the cemetery to pick out a plot and headstone.

When Mercy was born, she cried. It should have been impossible without developed lungs. But that cry showed that Mercy was a fighter.

She spent months in the hospital. She had her lovely dark curls shaved off for IV placements. She had multiple surgeries to rebuild a diaphragm using her abdominal wall muscles. She was on ECMO. She received sheep surfactant to help with her lung development.

She still has significant scars on her neck, chest, and stomach.

But she is alive.

And she's still a fighter.

Now, she loves costume jewelry and ball gowns. She wants to be an actress. She's fiercely loyal to her friends.

I've been there to see her grow up. I was so glad that I got to see her close this chapter of her life, tears and all.



Good luck with everything, Mercy. We'll be cheering you on like always.

Change of mind, not change of heart

It has come to my attention as we make the round, saying goodbye to friends and family prior to our big move, that many are unaware of the change in my career path.

The majority of people still think (or thought, prior to being corrected) that I am going into pediatrics.

And when I tell them that, no, I'm actually going to be an anesthesiologist, there is the unavoidable explanation.

I'm always met with variations of the same conclusion.

"So, now you hate kids?"

I thought I would take this opportunity to explain why I changed my mind.

When I first went to medical school, I thought that I was going to be an anesthesiologist. For all of two weeks.

We had a lecture series for first year medical students that taught us about different specialties. I was very excited for the anesthesia lecture. But the physician giving the lecture ruined it for me. He kept saying how great it was because you got to be a doctor, but you didn't have to talk to people. I knew that I wanted to interact with people (if I hadn't wanted this, I could have just stayed in my plant lab.) So I left the lecture and never thought about anesthesia again.

After my first pediatric rotation, I was sure that I wanted to be a pediatrician. I loved the children. And the normal hang-ups that people have about pediatrics didn't bother me. Sick children didn't depress me. Demanding parents didn't irritate me.

(Okay, I also really wanted to be an OB/GYN for a while. But I had vacation right after my OB/GYN rotation, and realized how much I liked my time off.)

I also strongly believe in primary care. Being the portal into health care and the first point of interaction, continuity of care, and care of vulnerable populations all appeal to the idealist in me.

So, I created my schedule to best prepare me for pediatrics.

I took pediatric neurology and pediatric IV team. Then I took my pediatric sub-I. (Background: a sub-I is an opportunity for a fourth year medical student to act similarly to an intern (or first year resident) They get more autonomy and more responsibility.)

My sub-I was the most miserable experience of my entire medical school. I was abused by the other interns. I never got to sleep on my call nights. I was told that no one would cover my patients if I went home early on post-call and "golden days" (paperwork only days.) I was so emotionally beat down that I was close to a mental break down. I told my friends, my adviser, and my family that I was going to quit. I couldn't see any end in sight to the emotional disaster that my life was becoming.

One day, near the end of my rotation, I was rounding on a patient that had a severe intestinal condition. His parents had been at the hospital with him every single day since he had been admitted 13 days earlier.

I suddenly realized that I was envious of those parents. Yes, their son was sick. But at least they got to see him. I hadn't seen my children awake in over two weeks.

I came to a realization right there that I liked my children much more than I would ever like anyone else.

I knew that I couldn't do pediatrics. But I didn't know what else to do - besides quit.

About a month later, I rotated in anesthesia. I immediately was drawn in by how happy everyone seemed. Yes, they worked hard. Yes, the work was stressful and demanding (but honestly, in medicine, what isn't.) But they didn't have the same beat-down, lifeless look to them that other residents had. And they had a life outside of medicine. Residents and attendings would talk about movies during cases. Residents had time to see movies?!

And at the end of one day, when I was told that I could go home, I was shocked by how fast the time had gone. I hadn't been constantly checking the clock. I wasn't resentful of the time I had to spend at the hospital.

A week later, Hubster asked me what rotation I was on. Anesthesia.

"Well, you should do this. You haven't asked to drop out for weeks!"

Since then, I have completely fallen in love with anesthesia. The procedures, the physiology, the pharmacology. Everything was intriguing.

When I first told some of my classmates that I was going into anesthesia, there was disbelief. "But you have such wonderful bedside manner. It will be wasted in anesthesia!" "But, what about your feelings on primary care?"

I still get to talk to patients. The better the bedside manner, the fewer sedatives required before surgery. I'm the last one they get to talk to about their fears before going into the OR. I'm the last face they see as they fall asleep.

And I realized although I love the idea of primary care, it wasn't the right avenue for me. I may not ever practice in a small, rural clinic, taking care of people no one else would otherwise, but I still get to be an advocate for my patient. I can make suggestions for better pain control, for better nausea prevention, for faster recover.

I can still be there for them.

Nearly Summer

I love days like today.

Roman got out early, having a four day weekend for Memorial Day.

Instead of having our daily snack at home around the kitchen table, we took advantage of the warm weather and extra time by packing up our snack and taking in to Wheeler Farm. This is a working farm contained within a city park. It is truly wonderful.

We ate our snack of carrots, crackers, and cottage cheese under the shade of fruit trees. Or rather, I ate our snack while Roman and Blaise raced stick boats in the irrigation stream.


Afterwards, the main event. Feeding the ducks. I never throw out bread that is questionable, because it always good for an afternoon out.



We then strolled through the rest of the farm, climbing trees, petting baby cows, and "aww"ing over new chicks.




The day was very warm. I kept thinking that spring just started a few weeks ago (we got snow after Easter) so where has it gone to?

Seeing this made me realize that I have no reason to be
overwhelmed with my two ducklings.
I counted 16 babies, and the parents were running back and forth
trying to keep them from wandering off and
keep people away from them. 16! Whew!
And I thought I was busy!

After a trip back home for a much needed nap for Blaise, we all headed off to Roman's school carnival.

Roman surprised me with his bravery.
Blaise thought about it, but I helped him change his mind.
There were no other two year old's on the equipment.

As the sun set, and the day cooled, we headed home, slightly sticky from melted sno-cones.

When I said, "Thanks, boys, for doing so many fun things with me today," Roman gave me the best reply...

"I wouldn't miss it for anything!"


Neither would I!

Something's Gotta Give

I'm going to write about something different this Wednesday. Because honestly, you can only hear about someone's weight loss (or lack there of, or gain, etc...) so much before you want to completely skip the whole thing.

(And this isn't because I've given up on the diet, or I'm not having success. I'm still working at it. And I've lost 1 1/2 more pounds. Putting my total at 11 1/2 pounds so far. )

(But that's it. That doesn't make much of a post.)

So, this week, I'll talk about other things somewhat related to health.

And I'll start with a confession.

I shop at Wal-Mart.

This is either met with "So? I do to." Or "Gasp...How could you!?"

A little background.

A friend in medical school was married to an economist who studied the effects of Wal-Mart on small communities. He found a lot of evidence that after a Wal-Mart moved into a small community, mom-and-pop shops shut down at extraordinary rates, unemployment rose dramatically, and quality of life decreased slightly.

I also disagree with a lot of Wal-Mart's business practices. (Although this is not the time to get into all the details. There are plenty of links if you're interested: read here and here and here.)

Everyone knows that Wal-Mart sells a lower quality product than other chains. I would rather buy things for my home at Target than Wal-Mart any day.

And don't even get me started on their produce. I hate the commercials that say how wonderful Wal-Mart's produce is. Have you ever actually looked at the poor fruits and vegetables? Good luck finding a ripe avacodo. Or a non-soft cucumber.

Once I sent Hubster to grab some canteloupe for a party. He came back with canteloupe from Albertson's. When I asked why he had gone all the way to Albertson's when Wal-Mart is 2 minutes away, he said this.

"You know how grapes turn into raisins, and plums turn into prunes? Whatever canteloupe turn into, they're selling at Wal-Mart."

So despite all this, I shop at Wal-Mart.

Why?

After Monkey was born, I was lucky enough to stay home for six months with him. During this time, I decided that I was going to work on getting my family healthier. No more eating out. No more junk food. I was going to cook every meal. We were going to eat all organic, and local when we could. Everything was going to be whole foods.

I started shopping at this local grocer that sells primarily organic food and local products when there are available. The food was beautiful. Local corn, local heirloom tomatoes, organic onions, free-range chicken, certified hormone-free milk, wild fish.

In two weeks I had spent what we normally spent in two months.

It was not sustainable.

Our family budget is tight. There is not often room for luxury, and never room for extravagances. We just couldn't keep it up. I tried buying cheaper, not top-of-the-line organic. Still our budget wouldn't allow it.

So back to Wal-Mart we went. Back to where onions are 47 cents/pound instead of $1.75/pound. Back to where milk is $2.00/gallon and not $3.50/gallon. Back to where chicken is $5.00 for four boneless, skinless chicken breasts and not $8.00 for the same product at the beautiful store.

Do I miss it? Yes. I would rather feed my family the healthiest, most natural version of food that I can. (Even though Hubster is still a sceptic when it comes to organic food. He hears organic and he thinks carbon containing molecules and not pesticide-free food.)

I still try to cook at home every chance I get. I try to use fresh ingredients as often as possible. They don't say organic on them very often. And a lot are Wal-Mart brand. But we can afford them.

I guess this means that I'm a hypocrit. I put my budget before my ideals.

But sometimes, something's gotta give. And it's not going to be dinner.

Writing for Real

I know that every blogger, wait, every writer, has the same problem. Do you write what you really want to? Or do you edit yourself from what seems most popular?

In blogging, where the number of followers and comments you have often speak to your blogging "status" it is easy to feel the pressure to write what is popular, even though none of us are being paid for this. We don't really have anything to lose, except followers.

(Which, by the way, this isn't saying that I don't appreciate those of you who do read. It means a lot to me, and gives nearly every day a pick-me-up.)

But thinking about the blogs that are popular, although they vary dramatically in content, have striking similarities. The people who write them are either funny or sarcastic (which can also be funny.)

I'm not really that funny.

I try. But usually my funny lands on its face while people stare.

And I don't want to be sarcastic.

Although this is becoming more and more prominent a trait. Part of it I blame on Hubster, who is the most sarcastic person I know. It has worn off a little.

But the other source of sarcasm has been my training.

In medicine, idealism, optimism, and daydreams are quickly checked at the door for better survival skills. Namely, cynicism and sarcasm.

We see a lot of bad things. Things don't often turn out the way I would like them. Children don't always go home with their parents and families don't always get time to say goodbye. Inequalities and poor decision making become glaringly obvious. Bottom-lines replace ideals.

Five years ago, I would have described myself as idealistic, optimitic, and hopeful. Now, I am just clutching at those in an attempt to not let more warped characteristics completely swallow me.

Another thing that most bloggers seem to avoid is politics. I'm pretty sure that we all have strong opinions about one aspect or another. I've avoided politics on my blog, despite down right passionate feelings. And I think I do this from example.

If you avoid politics on your blog, why?

I started this blog to hopefully reconnect with traits that seemed to be slipping through my fingers as I progressed through my training. I'm not sure I always do a good job. But I'm going to here and now make a re-commitment to write what I came here to write.

A Case of the Grumps

A bad bug has been going through our family the last couple days.

That is...a bad case of the grumps.

The moment I walked into Blaise's room this morning, he started yelling. "I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want breakfast. Go away. Go AWAY!"

If I have the gall to say no to Roman, he has been falling on the floor in tears and screaming, "You don't let me do anything. You are always trying to keep me from doing anything!"

And by saying no, I mean, no, you can't stay up until 11 pm. No, you can't eat that entire package of Reese''s Pieces by yourself. No, we are not going to Disneyland this week.

Blaise's word of the week is "Stupid!" And he has been using it very generously.

Right at this moment he is screaming from his bed that he doesn't want to go to school. It's stupid!

And let's just say that this current bug is slightly contagious. It's hard to be screamed at all day for three days without, um, um... yeah.

I'm not going to deny that there have been very cute things over the last several days.

So, if you'll just all hang tight until I'm in the mood to share them.

A better introduction

Residency is just a little over a month away.

I've been trying not to think about it. I've been so happy during my time off. Playing with my boys, picking Bug up from school, reading to Monkey every night, catching up on my own reading.

I knew that it, like all vacations, wouldn't last. But it is so easy to pretend.

My first year, or intern year, contains a variety of clinical experiences. So that I have a broad variety of experiences on which to draw when I start dedicated anesthesia training during my second year.

I start in the emergency room.

I think my biggest fear about starting residency is being taken seriously. It never really happened during medical school. No matter how often I introduced myself as "Katherine, the medical student on the team," I was consistently called something else by patients.

Nurse.

Now, I'm not trying to belittle nurses or say that I'm better. Because without nurses, there could be no doctors. But the point is, I'm not a nurse. I'm a doctor.

Many school makes their medical students wear short, hip length white coats. This was to help differentiate medical students from residents and attendings. My school didn't do this. I wore a long white coat like everyone else. But despite this, I was never once "accidentally" called doctor.

Only nurse.

When people would ask what I was in school for, I would respond, "I'm in medical school." I got the same reaction from acquaintances, relatives, and strangers on the bus. "Oh, you're going to be a nurse!"

No. I'm not.

Once when I was admitting a patient from the emergency room, his cell phone rang. He answered it, talked for a moment, and then said, "Sorry. I need to go. There's a really pretty nurse here asking me some questions."

I know which emotion was stronger. I was flattered that he had referred to me as "very pretty" and not "nurse who looks like she hasn't slept in days, had time to comb her hair, and has the biggest, darkest circles under her eyes I've ever seen." But I was frustrated that he just assumed I was a nurse, despite my careful introduction.

It's not just my gender that have worked against me being taken seriously. It's my age. Or more accurately, my perceived age.

I think I can sum up this problem accurately with a single patient encounter. I had entered a room to place an I.V and take a patient back to the operating room. The patient turned to me before I had time to introduce myself and patted my arm.

"It's so nice they let high school students volunteer here."

Aww, thanks.

In the past, being seen as something other than I was and younger than I was made me timid. No one took me seriously, so I stopped seeing myself seriously. It wasn't until the end of medical school that I started to get a little confidence back.

This time around, I'm going to try to not let this past experiences hinder my confidence in anyway.

And this time, I can actually introduce myself as "Doctor Katherine." Maybe that will help.

Breaking Boards

On Saturday, Roman's karate studio had a large charity event.

The Break-a-thon, an national event, raises money for Break the Chain, a child abuse awareness, prevention, and intervention program.

And when they said that every single student would have the opportunity to break boards, there was no way Roman wasn't going.

After arriving, the students were paired with others of similar height (and hopefully, experience.) Then, they did timed blocks, four separate blocks called off by their instructor's "Ke-yah."

Lining up

Giving it all he's got

Holding strong for his partner

The kid who was holding for Roman struggled a little, resulting in Roman only breaking one board during the actual timed event. (But the other kid only had one break as well, as did most the smaller students around us did.)

Roman successfully breaking a board
with a palm strike.

But then, Daddy to the rescue. Keith held up all the unbroken boards for Roman. And he broke them all!!!

Breaking boards
Way to go!!

I can't really imagine anything cooler for a six year old to say than "I can break a board with my hand!"

Afterward, we watched the black belt students and instructors break more boards and bricks.




















We left, hours later, slightly sunburned, very tired, and for one six year old, much more confident.

Soundtrack

Part of why movies are so great isn't the story or the characters. It's the background music. It always lets you know what to anticipate. Is someone about to be kissed or killed? Just listen and you'll have a pretty good guess.

I always wished that my life came with background music. Not only would I have a better idea of what to expect in my own life, it would just be cool.

So, I've created the soundtrack to my life.

This is not necessarily my favorite music, or what I listen to on a daily basis. But rather, it is the background music of where I've been, who I have been, who I am now, and what I (hopefully) am becoming.

(I also had to cut quite a few songs out. Because after 27 years, that would be a lot of music. And no one would buy a CD that had 462 songs on it.)


1. Lemon Tree- Peter, Paul, & Mary: My parents would sing PP&M songs as we road-tripped between California and Utah. I always remember sitting in the back of the car and falling asleep to the sound of Lemon Tree, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, and If I Had a Hammer. My dad also would play them on his guitar, whether it was around campfires or in the living room after dinner.

2. Annie's Song- John Denver: If there is a singer that reminds me of my dad, it is John Denver. When I was little, my dad had a list of songs taped to the back of his guitar. This one was on it. It was one of my favorites. He would play it and my five-year-old self would dance. Years later, he played it at my wedding, and I cried.

3. I'm Only Happy When It Rains - Garbage: I know: a big jump from PP&M and John Denver to Garbage. Besides that this song is "about" rain, and I love the rain and songs related to it, this is just a good song. It reminds me of my period of teenage angst. Bad days and good days and drives with my friends at night. Don't we all have that song?

4. I Love You- Donna Lewis: I asked some of my friends what songs reminded them of our time in middle school. This song was on all of their lists. I guess it reminds all of us of sleep overs, way too much sugar and nail polish.

5. You're All I Need- White Lion: This was the first (and only) song that Hubster sang to me. Just once. Back when we were dating, on the way home from a road trip. In the darkness of the car, lit by the instrument panel, him singing to me. One of the moments when how much I loved him hit me like a tidal wave.

6. Can't Help Falling in Love- Elvis: There was no way a soundtrack of my life would not have an Elvis song on it. Enough said.

7. Cable Car (Over My Head)- The Fray: No kidding, the first time I heard this song was after a very hard day in the hospital. Now, regardless of what the song is really about, it has become an anthem to the moments that I'm not sure I'm going to make it. (And you all thought I would choose another The Fray song.)

8. Unwell- Matchbox 20: There were days during medical school that I was sure I was falling to pieces and was never going to make it. I would sit on the kitchen floor and cry and ask to be allowed to quit. While I'm glad (I think) that I finished, it's hard to speak to how difficult those days really were.

9. If I had $1000000- Barenaked Ladies: Every time Hubster and I start talking about all the plans we have for our future, it isn't long before one of us says this. And we can't never hear this song without looking at each other and smiling and thinking how much we want for each other and our family. This is truly an everyday song.

10. Suddenly I See- KT Tunstall: The perfect song for all of us overly-ambitious, dedicated females. I felt that I could hear this music in the back of my head when I walked across the stage to receive my medical degree.

11. I Don't Love You Much, Do I-Guy Clark and Emmylou Harris: Okay, like I said, a little cheesy. But still perfect. I hum this song to my boys, because it is true.

12. When You Dream - Barenaked Ladies: I can't listen to this song without getting a little teary-eyed. Being a mother to two little boys had been the most amazing thing that I can imagine. And it is hard to find songs that speak to the hopes and wishes and insecurities and successes that parenthood provides without them being a little cheesy. But this song is perfect.

13. Closer- Better than Ezra: Every time I hear this song, I get that tingly feeling and I want to run and hold my family and thank them for everything and tell them how much I love them. This song, every since I discovered it one day among a bunch of songs Hubster had dumped into my iTunes, has become the current theme song for my life.


I know that it is an eclectic (although not random) collection of music, but isn't everyday like that? It was hard to sift between all the songs that I love and those that have strong memories and emotions tied to them, but in the end these are the ones that made the cut. (I'm sur that there will be a sequel sometime in the future.)

Music speaks to me (or at least I pretend that it is). These songs in particular always have something to say.

Wednesday

I hope your Wednesday was as wonderful as mine...

Give it up

Like always, it's two steps forward, one step backwards.

I've gained 1 1/2 pounds this week (which is amazing that it is so little considering the amazing food I enjoyed over Mother's Day.)

But at least I haven't even approached what I started at.

A little weight gain like this doesn't extremely disturb me. Unless it is more next week. But I'm working on that.

Last night, curled up on the couch watching Taken, I decided to enjoy the movie with a huge bowl of popcorn.

I love popcorn. LOVE. Especially with lots of butter. It could be my favorite food of all time.

But I've really cut down. I don't even it is once a week. More like maybe twice a month.

And I don't feel sad about it. By only eating it occasionally, I don't feel guilty when I do eat it.

Other things that I have almost completely cut out of my diet are beef and ice cream. I still have ice cream, but we don't keep it in the house anymore. Which makes eating half a gallon of butter pecan right out of the box while watching When Harry met Sally... much more difficult.

However, I'm not willing to give up pancakes or waffles. Seriously, they're probably the best thing I cook, and I just can't give that up.

What are things you are willing to give up? And more importantly, what are things you aren't?

Our Problem Now

Two weeks ago, our dishwasher broke. As in pouring water out the bottom and forming the equivalent of Lake Michigan in our kitchen.

But we didn't stress too much. We grabbed several towels and a mop, mopped up all the water, and made a call to our apartment manager. 6 days later, we had a new dishwasher.

Yes, I know that it is slightly ridiculous that it took 6 days. But the only real inconvenience to us what that I had to do dishes by hand for those 6 days.

Things won't be like that soon.

In our new house, everything will be our problem. There won't be any apartment manager to call. There won't be any groundskeeper who shovels all the walks and mows the lawn and rakes the leaves.

There will only be us.

Mentally, I think we are completely ready. We've been ready for years.

But the thought that if the water heater goes out, or the dishwasher floods us out, or the air conditioner goes kaput, it is our problem.

I don't think I would be so worried about this if our budget wasn't so tight. I also think that knowing that I am going to be the only source of income also stresses me out.

Hubster has been the main money maker for our family, exclusively so for the last five years. And although I helped with the budget and took care to keep expenses in check, it never weighed on me like it does now.

Hubster has done such a great job providing for our family. I am just hoping that I can do nearly as good of a job as he has.

And I don't want a rogue dishwasher ruining it for me.

Okay, now back to my real life

It has been one of the best weekends ever.

Friday: drove the hour down to visit my mom. During the afternoon, we took the kids and had a picnic in an orchard that was in full bloom. During the quiet moments between the squeals of delight, the air hummed with bees.



One of my cousins got married that evening, and the wedding was absolutely beautiful. It took place in my aunt's amazing backyard. The yard was surrounded by lilac hedges that were at their peak. The trees were filled with lanterns. Between the lights, the flowers, the scent, and the great company, it was just magical.

Saturday: My mom, my sister, and I cooked ourselves a Mother's Day Brunch. (Yes, we had to cook for ourselves, but it was worth it). We had delicious pear, watercress, and pecan salad, risotto, citrus chicken, and lemon-berry angel cake. Fantastic.


Sunday: woke up to sweet gifts. And did not cook or clean all day. After a "traditional" breakfast of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and orange juice and a long afternoon nap, we went to dinner at The Mayan. I could have chosen a restaurant with better food or a more refined atmosphere, but I really wanted something that would be fun as a family. And The Mayan fit the bill. Besides quite delicious fajitas and margaritas for Keith and me, the boys were awestuck by the surroundings. After all, isn't it every 6 and 2 year old's dream to eat in a treehouse overlooking a waterfall, surrounded by butterflies and tropical birds. Blaise could care less if they weren't even real. And the cliff divers? Well, it was hard to keep the boys at the table long enough to get two bites of food in. But we didn't worry about having to tell them to be quiet, sit down, stop squirming. Which is what I really wanted.

Ahhh....it was perfect.


Well, now back to Monday.

Risen

Just tall enough to see myself,
a blue-eyed reflection on a large metal bowl,
waist high to the magical woman
that raised me, and bread.
That now raised me onto the cool ceramic-tiled counter top,
to sit cross-legged,
and watch.

Watch her floured hands
turn, knead, work that yeasty golden globe.
The same hands that mended the roof
when it leaked, and my heart when it cried.

Through the Nevada window, sunshine
buttered the flour air and afternoon
waited for dinner.

Mimicking the magic, I pound floured fists
into the sticky, smooth dough,
training my baby hands to raise
children and bread.

Best Mother's Day Gifts Ever

My boys have made today the most wonderful day.

Keith got me flowers (without even a hint from me!).


Blaise keeps coming up to me and saying, "You are my best fweind!"

And Roman gave me these.



Priceless. Each one.

Appreciation

Back when I was newly married, I had a job taking orders for national florist. (By the way, worst job ever, but not the point.)

Before this job, I always thought that Valentine's Day would be the busiest time of year for florists and flower shops. But, turns out, it's not.

It's Mother's Day.

Because not everyone has a significant other, but everyone has a mother.

My mom is spectacular.

She's the one who told me my kids wouldn't hate me if I wasn't there every minute of their lives. She's given me so much support during the years.

And the fact that she has been there when I need her is amazing. Because I come from a big family.

And when I say big, I mean "could have our own TLC show" big.

But even with all the "competition" for her time and attention, none of us ever felt slighted. She was always there when it mattered.

Now that I am just keeping my head above water with my own small family, I appreciate everything she does even more.

Thanks, Mom.

What Matters

Nothing seems to make women more defensive than a conversation about stay-at-home mothers versus working mothers.

These "Mommy Wars" have inspired books, TV shows, and blogs.

It is a mix between what women see as judgment from other women and our own self-imposed guilt.

If we are a stay at home mom, we think that working moms are judging us for not having a career, for giving something of ourselves up. We also have our own guilt that we could have done something else or more with our lives.

If we are a working mom, we think that stay at home moms are judging us for picking something else over our children, for having our priorities wrong. And we struggle with the guilt of not being there for our children ever moment.

I used to think that the perception of being judged by other women for the choices I had made was just that: my perception. No one was really judging me. It was just my own guilt that I projected on others.

However, that's not complete true. I've had conversations with other women, relatives, and friends. I've heard a lot of things.

Example: "I don't see how you do it all. My children are way too important for me to be able to do work and take care of them." So, are you saying I don't think my children are important?

Example 2: "I'm surprised you choose to have children at this point in your career. How can you focus on getting a good residency?" I don't know. How do you explain that you don't have kids and you didn't even get a residency spot?

Example 3: "I feel bad for your kids." Yes, they have spent time at daycare. But we have game nights and weekly outings. They are read to every night, given horsey rides to bed. What exactly do you feel bad about?

I can't understand why women aren't more supportive of each other, regardless of our choices. Motherhood is hard. Maneuvering through the professional world as a women is hard. Why do we have to make it harder for each other by heaping on the guilt?

I never wanted to be a stay at home mom. All I saw it as was a lot of repetitive thank-less work. I did not want that for myself.

Until I had my boys.

I love my boys so much, it approached Old Testament idolatry.

Given the choice, I would stay home with them every day, just playing, reading, throwing balls, racing cars, going on outings.

But I don't want to stay home with them in a tiny apartment, living paycheck to paycheck, knowing that the next time the car breaks down our savings will completely disappear.

So I'm doing my very best to have the best of both worlds. I'm hoping that when I'm done with residency and fellowship and all that goes along with it, life will be more comfortable for us. I should only have to work 2-4 days a week.

Hubster also loves our boys a ridiculously huge amount. He wants to be with them as well.

I don't think it would be fair for me to get to spend more time with them at his expense. I could be a stay-at-home mom, even now. But that would involve him working extra hard, including evenings and weekends (which he has had to do in the past.) I would get more time with the boys at the expense of Hubster having almost no time with them.

Neither of us wants that.

It's going to take a while for us to get to where we want to be. But when we do, things will be great.

Yes, it probably is unfair that my oldest son will have spent is youngest years during this difficult time. But he is happy. He knows he is loved.

And THAT is what matters.

Ta-Da!

(I know that this post should have been up yesterday, but I had internet problems which led to me doing all sorts of things I neither understand nor am qualified to do. But I do now have internet again. And I just can't wait a whole week to post this.)

Drum roll please.

I have now lost 10 pounds!!!

After my little temper-tantrum last week, who would have thought? But it's true. I had just reached a plateau, and although I knew that mentally, it was hard to cope with emotionally. But I'm now off that plateau, and back on the thrilling ride downwards.

I talk about my weight quite a bit. I think about it even more. But there is a good reason for this.

My oldest son will be turning 7 this summer. That means in the last 7 years, I had gained a lot of weight. Between two pregnancies, medical school, and all the stress that goes along with those, I had gained 50 pounds in 7 years.

50 pounds! That is a lot.

It was enough for me to not feel at home in my own body. I have spent the last several years not even recognizing myself. I felt like someone else. I had gained the weight so fast that my self-image didn't have time to keep up with my real image.

I was critical of my body when it was 50 pounds lighter. But this new body was one that I didn't even know. And I hated it.

My mom didn't keep any of her baby weight until her sixth pregnancy. My sister was back to her pre-pregnancy weight less than six weeks after her daughter was born. My grandmother probably weights as much now as she did when she was 18.

It hurt being the only fat one in the family.

The dieting and exercising have been demanding, both physically, but even more so, emotionally.

This 10 pound weight loss is a big deal for me. It's evidence that a lot of hard work is starting to pay off. That I'm on my way to being a little bit healthier.

I still have some more to go. Now I'm only 15 pounds over my medically ideal body weight, instead of 25.

During this process, I've come to look at myself a little differently. I've become a little more forgiving of myself. I'm starting to accept what I see in the mirror. To appreciate my new curves. To be less critical.

I know that I'll never be back to that size 4 girl I was before this whole process began 7 years ago.

And I'm starting to be okay with that.