Walk in the Woods

Happiness is...

Mother's Day walks through my favorite park...


Hunting for jack-in-the-pulpits...



Wildflowers...




Happiness is easy to find this week. Easier than finding the jack-in-the-pulpits, that's for sure.


Visit Leigh vs. Laundry to join The Happiness Project and post a photo of what makes you happy.

Tulip Time

I've been busy this last weekend, learning words like "bergemeester," "kaas," "klokkenspel," and "klompen."

I've also been enjoying sites like these...



And, yes, I'm still here in Iowa.

We were at the 75th Annual Tulip Time in Pella, Iowa.


It was cold, breezy, and drizzling the morning we were supposed to go. But I was stubborn, and Hubster was obliging, so we made the nearly 2 hour drive, despite the weather.

I'm glad we did.

It turns out Tulip Time is a really, really big deal. And for good reason.

Pella, settled by Dutch immigrants and steeped in Dutch culture, is one of the most gorgeous towns I've ever been to. I want to live there now.


The streets are clean, the shops charming, the whole setting picturesque.


In fact, almost too much so. It feels a little surreal, almost theme-park in character. That may have been due to the hundreds of people dressed in Dutch garb.

Street sweepers, a Tulip Time tradition

And not just the people in the parades, but people in the shops, people in the crowds, people everywhere.

We enjoyed the tulips (even though the early warm weather meant that the tulips were just past prime, there were still enough to oh-and-awe over).

Yes, there is dirt on Monkey's face. I don't have time to Photoshop it off, so you get the real deal.

We enjoyed the windmills.


We enjoyed the parades. We enjoyed the wooden shoes.


So much that I had to get a pair to bring home. C'mon. They're wooden shoes. I had to get some!

It didn't rain on us. In fact, the sun broke through as we shared a funnel cake and watched Dutch dancers.

Even Monkey got in to the Dutch spirit.

Not sure what this dance is call, though...Don't think it's traditional.

It was a long drive. It was a cold, breezy day. It was absolutely worth it.


Especially because I have my own wooden shoes.

The Last Eight Years

Growing up, I wasn't sure how much I wanted to be a parent. I was pretty sure that I wanted kids, at some point. But I had big plans, and wanted to do so much, that initially any thoughts of being a mother were not a priority.

Even after Hubster and I decided to start our family, and I was pregnant with Bug, I had my own views on motherhood. Yes, I wanted to be a mom. But I wasn't going to let it get in my way, slow me down, or hinder me in anyway.

Those were my initial thoughts on being a mom...

Until 4:54 am, on a early summer morning nearly 8 years ago.


Holding my newborn son tight, tears running down my face, I felt every tie I had to anything else loosen. Every pull in other directions weaken. All my priorities, hopes, future plans... everything fell to pieces and reformed into the face of my son.

That pull only strengthened on a late summer afternoon 4 years later, when Monkey was born.


The love I have for these two boys surprises me nearly every day. Everything I do, it's really for them. All my hopes and plans are no longer for me, but for them.

I'm not the perfect parent, not by any means. I scold, yell, lose patience more than I should. I'm gone more than I want.

If I really think about it, it wasn't that my thoughts and feelings about motherhood changed. It was me. I changed when these children entered my life.

The last eight years have changed me. They have challenged me, frustrated me, exhausted me, and delighted me. They have been full of fatigue, long nights, temper tantrums, mile stones, bedtime stories, birthdays, and joy.


I'm grateful each day.

Happy Endings

I realized something about myself while watching LOST last night.

And no, it's not that I'm incredibly nerdy, and love thinking about the space-time continuum, or string theory, or throwing out facts about dominant hemispheres (did you know that the majority of left handed people are still left-hemisphere dominant?).

All that, I already knew.

What I realized last night was that I love happy endings.

As I watched in horror as more characters tragically died (no spoilers in case you're a fan, and haven't seen it yet), I realized that all I wanted was for them to escape and be okay.

I'm a happily-ever-after type of girl.

I hated the third Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, At World's End had the shocking ending that you didn't see coming. Yes, I realized how delicious Orlando Bloom can be.


But it wasn't how it was supposed to end. Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan were supposed to end up together. After watching three whole movies, I don't want to find out that the love story I've been swept up in didn't actually happen. Would it have been predictable? Maybe. But so much more satisfying.

There were many critics of J. K. Rowling, saying that she should have killed off Harry Potter in The Deathly Hallows. It would have been a more interesting story, a more unexpected ending, a less cliched "good conquers evil." I, for one, am glad that she didn't. Harry Potter had been my literary companion for years. I don't know if I would have ever been able to pick up the series again, if I knew the unwilling hero died at the end.

Unhappy, shocking endings, or the boy doesn't get the girl, or the hero doesn't save the day. Maybe the critics are right. Maybe it is more realistic. But isn't that the point?

There are plenty of sad stories out there. I work in a place were behind every single door is a another sad story. Some stories so sad, with no chance of a happy ending, that they take my breath away and leave me reeling. Life itself is so full of sad stories, with unexpected endings. I don't need real life from my movies, TV shows, and books.

If heroes and main characters aren't allowed their happy endings, what chance is there for the rest of us?

Maybe happily-ever-after is predictable. Maybe happily-ever-after is cliche.

Who cares?

I want my happy ending.

Bare Feet

Today is one of those days were it's pretty hard to feel happy about much. We've had some disappointments and some set-backs. The stress is pretty much at an all time high.

Today is one of those days where I would rather just start listing my stresses and problems. I want to rant and rave and vent. But despite doing a little bit of that already over the dinner table, I don't feel any better.

So I'm going to do something else. And something the same. I'm going to continue to my weekly photo of something that makes me happy.

And this week, happiness has definitely been the ability to run around in bare feet outside, enjoying the lush warm weather.



Ah, I feel better already. Just a little.

Stop by Leigh vs. Laundry for The Happiness Project, the weekly opportunity to post a photo of something that makes you happy.

Take Home Points: Vol 2

There are times when I feel that I haven't learned anything during my intern year. It's been ten months, and I still find myself wondering what I've learned. Most of the year was spent trying to keep my head above water. I spent my time floundering about in an awkward dog-paddle instead of immersing myself in scholarly study.

Then, I rotated through the surgical intensive care unit for the second time. I should have realized that the fact I didn't throw up on the way to work the day of my first call day meant that I had learned something. The first night I was on call, back in September, when my colleagues signed out their patients at the end of the day and left for the night, I was so scared, I wanted to throw myself at them, hang onto their leg and scream, "Don't leave me." I just managed in suppressing this urge.

It took me last month to realize I had actually learned something. It took me 24 hours in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) (my place of residence during the lovely month of May) to realize that I had learned how to learn.

Sometimes, it is all I can do to not share everything I've learned with pretty much anyone who will listen. I do realize that, while important, most things learned during an intern year do not make for good conversation topics. For example...Transfusion parameters in critically ill patients. Fluid resuscitation guidelines in sepsis. Antibiotic prophylaxis for neurosurgical patients. Symptom-based benzodiazepine dosing for alcohol withdrawal symptoms. Methods of maintaining cerebral perfusion pressure. It is dinner topics such as these that have lead to a significant shortage of dinner guests. Although, if you're interested, just let me know. I'll send the articles your way.

But I have learned other things. Things you might call "life lessons." Take home points. A way to summarize a month's worth of experience. Things that may possibly be interesting to the general public. Or those reading this. That's yet to be seen.

It started with trauma service in December. These stood out to me more than others.

But every service has its lessons.

So, here are my take home points for the last several months.

---

January: Radiology

Don't smoke.

I'm not saying this in a preachy or judgemental way. I've heard the spiel that smokers are starting to feel like social outcasts or discriminated against. But seriously, Don't Smoke. Radiology showed me what can grow in the lungs, the necks, the mouths, the noses, the throats of people who smoke. And even if it isn't a giant cancer that carves out of home in the right upper lobe of the lung, it's the emphysema. The chronic bronchitis. The turning of beautiful, clear lungs into hazy, blebby air sacs.

Don't smoke.

February: Internal Medicine

1. Don't smoke.

It's not just the lungs. It's the vessels. People who have lost circulation to their feet. People who are more prone to strokes and heart attacks. People, where it doesn't matter how healthy they eat, how much they exercise (if they are able), what vitamins they take. None of this matters, because it is overshadowed by the damage done by the cigarette in their hand.

2. Take your medicine.

I know. This also sounds preachy. It isn't' meant to. If it makes you feel better, I'm going into a field where the chance I ever write a prescription for anyone is next to none. However, if you've taken the time to go see a doctor, and the doctor thinks that you should take a medicine, you probably should. I know that you say you'll manage your diabetes through diet and exercise, that you will get your cholesterol and blood pressure down the same way. I know that you don't want to finish that course of antibiotics. I'm sure it's a inconvenience to take pills for your heart/kidney/lungs/...etc, etc. But we're not handing out medications because we think it's fun. It's because you probably need them. Half the people I took care of where admitted due to issues regarding "non-compliance." Blood pressures out of control, diabetic complications, recurrent infections. Please, just take your medications.

March: Anesthesiology

Wow, I love my job.

April: SICU

This is probably the most important lesson of all.

Take the time to talk to your loved ones about your wishes for the end of your life. Talk to your parents about what they want. Talk to your spouse about what you want. Does your mother or father want aggressive management? Or do they feel that, should the worst happen, they would rather limit their time in a hospital, on a ventilator, or undergoing procedures. I'm not going to say which is best. It depends on the person, the disease process, and the situation. But talk about it. Let your family know.

There is nothing worse than a disagreement between family members about how to proceed with treatment. Bedside arguments about withdrawing care or continuing shouldn't happen. It's already such a horrible situation. The worst thing imaginable has happened to these families. They should be able to be there for each other, a source of comfort and support. Don't be the next Terri Schiavo. Even if you are young and healthy, even if your parents are young and healthy. Talk about it.

---

Okay, I'll admit. None of these make really great party conversations either. But at least it's better than discussing the indications for selecting a vasopressor. Although, skimming through this, I'm starting to get a better grasp of my social awkwardness.

I've also learned that eating fried food at 11:30 pm will keep you up all night with heartburn.

May Day

Not May Day, as in help. But May Day, as in May 1. Flower baskets on door knobs, May pole dancing, and Maifest at the nearby German heritage based town.


After a heavy rainstorm yesterday, complete with hail, thunder that made the boys cling to my legs and shake like leaves, and a several-hour power outage that had us playing Scrabble by candle light, it was wonderful to wake up to sunshine and a bright blue sky.

I'm trying really hard to be involved in local activities, see local attractions, and do whatever is available. So after I heard about the May Day festivities occurring at a nearby town (from the dental hygienist at my last dental appointment, no less), I was determined we would go.

The boys weren't sure at first, but words like "parade" and "treats" enticed them out of bed, into their clothes, and into the car. I used similar words on Hubster, as well.

They ended up being glad we went. After all, it's hard to not be excited when lederhosen-clad men in wagons pulled by ponies throw handfuls of candy at you.

(Okay, sometimes even candy doesn't make Monkey happy.)

After the candy-fest, um, I mean, parade, was over, we watched the Maipole dancers.


Hubster had done a May Pole dance in elementary school. But I doubt he got to wear authentic dresses and flower wreaths.

The festivities over, we wandered the streets of the historic village, snacking on fresh kettle corn. It's a good thing Hubster was with me, otherwise I would have dragged the boys into every single one of the darling shops. Instead, I settled for taking pictures of almost every single darling shop.



This same town is having a Renaissance Festival in a few weeks. I've already told Hubster and the boys we will definitely be going.

What's a German festival without a giant barrel?

MaiFest was a perfect way to celebrate the spring that is already starting to feel like summer.