Front Doors of Iowa: Part 1

People seem to like their color here in Iowa.

In Utah, I felt like I was surrounded on every side by monotonous, uniform subdivisions. (Not that there's anything wrong with a subdivision...it's just all the houses tend to look similar.)

There significantly fewer subdivisions in our town in Iowa. Instead there are more what I call neighborhoods.

And in those neighborhoods, people are not afraid to show a little personality. Or a lot.

Instead of uniform brown, cream, and white, there is blue, purple, and yellow.

So, as my happiness photo this week, I bring you the first installment of "Front Doors of Iowa."


Because it's impossible not to smile when driving past these home.





There are lots more...I just need to get my camera out.

Stop by Leigh vs. Laundry for The Happiness Project and post a photo of what makes you happy.

A Super-Mom Moment

Yesterday, I felt like a supermom.

No, let me clarify.

Yesterday, I was a supermom.

I woke up early for a six hour shift at the hospital, and was home by noon. Hubster left to go help with a Habitat for Humanity build, and so the boys were mine for the afternoon.

I've mentioned it before, but when the weather is wonderful, it is hard for me to stay put. I want to be out and doing. So the boys and I headed downtown. We went to the playground, where we ran around for an hour. Then we shared a gelato and played some more. Well, Bug and I shared gelato. Monkey could barely be convinced away from the playground, even for cold creamy mango and strawberry. We then strolled to the library where, finally, some books I requested were in!

Even after that, no one was ready to go home. We decided to go explore a greenhouse we had seen on one of our drives. We wandered through greenhouses, decided on some beautiful chocolate coleus to add to the flower pots on the front porch. They also had snowball bushes, which I have been dying to have. The price was reasonable, so after talking it over with Bug, I decided to get one. (Yes, I need to justify my purchases with my 7 year old son.)

We then went home, where I did dishes, swept, mopped, vacuumed, and dusted. Did you catch that? I actually dusted.

The rest of the day was finished out by playing baseball in the backyard, cooking blueberry waffles for an al fresco dinner on our new picnic table, (Yes, I love breakfast for dinner!), board games, story time, bedtime for the boys, exercising for me, and then a movie with Hubster.

I went to bed late, but feeling completely amazing.

I was truly a supermom yesterday.

I am absolutely exhausted today.

I've always set very high expectations for myself. I had this idea that I could be all things, all at once. That I could be mother, doctor, wife, and myself all at once. And not just that, but I could do all things equally and excellently.

I've come to realize that it's not possible.

Trying to do everything, things slip through the cracks. Yes, there are days like yesterday, where I feel close to invincible, no one fights, no one yells, everyone eats all their food and goes to bed on time. But most the time, days aren't like that. When work is more demanding, things at home suffer. When home is requiring my attention, things are work slip.

The important thing is finding that delicate balance that allows enough time for each area of our lives or recognizing which thing we have to let go of.

The other thing I've learned to recognize at the people who allow me my supermom moments. I wouldn't call them sidekicks...they are superheros of their own accord. Hubster, who continues the baseball game while I cook dinner. Bug, who willingly, without a single word of complaint, cleaned up all the toys in the playroom and cleared the table. Monkey, who ate all his dinner.

I'm not a super mom. I'm part of a super family.

So, about yesterday...

I have a hard time explaining to people why I blog.

Things I've heard about blogging...So, isn't it just like Facebook? or What? You mean, you don't actually know any of these people? or Aren't you busy enough without blogging?

If you are not a blogger, it's hard to explain that it's not like Facebook. And although I haven't physically met any of you (except you, mom!), I feel like I do know you.

Sure, I might have more time to do other things, like clean toilets, there is no way I'm giving up blogging.

Today has shown me that.

Trying to go to sleep yesterday, all I could think about is how I shouldn't have published yesterday's post. First of all, it will make my mom worry more than she already does. Second, I shouldn't unleash my bad days on the blogosphere; it hasn't done anything to deserve that.

But maybe, more than anything, I was just plain embarrassed.

For the love of all that is holy, I'm a effing doctor. I should suck it up and deal and stop moaning about the whole thing.

I thought about erasing the post, but that would have involved getting out of bed. So I let it stand.

And this is why I love blogging.

I don't know you. But that hasn't stopped you from sending me words of encouragement and support, from sympathizing with me, and for being wonderful blog-friends.

Because that is what I call you to Hubster, "So, my blog-friend said...." He knows what I mean.

It's strange, but the people I've "met" from blogging have become better friends than many I have in real life. I guess that could be read as I have a pathetic social life (which may or may not be true.) But I think I speaks to the amazing people that are part of this community.

And I just wanted to say thanks.

Approaching The Burn

I have just over a month to go before intern year is over, and the only thought I have is I don't know if I can keep doing this for three more years.

Between the third and fourth year of medical school and one year of intern year, I've already been doing this for three years.

And I'm not sure I've come out better on the other side of those years.

Right at this moment, I'm so beat-down and burnt out that it's hard to care about anything. I'm tired. It's hard to sleep at night, because all I can think about is that I have to get up and go to work. Again. And again. And again.

It's been months since I've had two days in a row off.

I know what the signs of burn-out are, and I'm pretty sure I'm checking off the boxes. My performance at work is suffering. My motivation to study is minimal. I'm just doing what is required of me and not much more.

And the thought that I'll keep feeling this way for three more years makes me just want to quit right now.

Except I can't. Because someone has to pay the mortgage and bring home food.

As I was having a mini-meltdown last night, Hubster made a remark about regretting going to the particular medical school I went to. I told him it wasn't the school I regretted, it was medicine in general. I've become a statistic, one of the many doctors that say, given the chance, they wouldn't do it over again.

I resent what my education and training have done to me.

I like to think of myself as an optimistic person. I like to think that I'm an idealist, a dreamer, a hoper. But I'm not sure how much of that person is left. My training has been the optimism and joy right out of me.

There is a reason the depression rate and suicidal ideation are so high among physicians (Great article about it here.) The path through this is difficult. Like a fellow resident-blogger wrote once, "When it is bad, it is very bad. And when it is good, mostly, it's just OK."

But don't worry. I'm okay. I may be burned out, but I'm not depressed. I may not be happy at work. But I still have plenty to have happy about.

See, things at home, well, they are the best they've ever been. Even if Monkey is going through a particularly naughty phase that includes dumping all the drill bits under the deck. The boys are happy and healthy. Hubster and I have reached a new level of communication and love in our relationship. Coming home every day feels like reaching harbor after a journey. I feel like a different person at home. One that has nothing to worry about except being tackled during a game of tag.

Maybe it is the happiness at home that makes going to work so very hard.

There is a resident that I'm working with right now that is still so happy and thoughtful and energetic. I don't know how he does it. Maybe his training up to this point has been different than mine. And then I am envious. Envious that he is happy, when I just can't seem to be. Envious that he is content, while I am trying to survive. Envious that he is still optimistic, idealistic, and hopeful.

But there are times, even when I'm not sure how I can keep going, there are small moments, that I think, maybe, the old girl I was is still in there.

Alfresco

I've been so busy making the thing that made me happy today, that I almost didn't have time to post it.

But 8 hours later...

...Happiness is...

the chance to eat alfresco. At our new, blue, picnic table.


Although not today. Because the stain is still wet.

The citronella candles are ready, the table is (almost) ready, and soon we will be enjoying dinner with views like this.


Stop by Leigh vs. Laundry for The Happiness Project and post a photo of what makes you happy.

A rabbit, a mouse, and some opinions

I realized that I have been completely delinquent in my book reviews. Since the time I posted my last review, I've read 3 more books.

Two of those books, I'm going to talk about at once.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and The Tale of Desperaux, by Kate DiCamillo.



I guess it's really not fair to lump this two books into one post, just because they are by the same author. But the real reason I'm doing it is because my feelings about both books are very similar.

After Bug and I read Because of Winn Dixie, we were very excited to read more of DiCamillo's books. She is an amazing writer. Her stories are captivating.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane follows the adventures of Edward, a large china rabbit. He is the toy of a little girl in a well-to-do family. And he thinks very highly of himself, so much so that he is annoyed with the attitudes of those around him, which he finds condescending. He wants nothing more than to be admired. It is obvious that Edward is about to be toppled from his high horse. After becoming lost in the sea, then in a dump, passing hands from a fisherman to a hobo to a backwoods boy, Edward slowly changes. He comes to understand that love comes from unexpected sources.

DiCamillo's metaphors are beautiful. This book made Bug's and my heart ache along with Edward's. The final chapter, I'll admit, made tears run down my cheeks.

The Tale of Desperaux, a story of a mouse, a rat, a servant girl, soup, and a princess named Pea, is intriguing. Desperaux, a small mouse with large ears and bigger dreams, falls in love with a human princess and because of this love, is banished from the mouse kingdom. When his beloved princess is captured by a vengeful rat and a desperate servant girl, Desperaux faces all his fears to rescue her.

The story plays with light and dark, both literally and metaphorically are well-done. Desperaux is the hero that you can get behind. He is good, and brave, and, well, like the author herself would say, maybe even slightly ridiculous.

While Bug and I enjoyed both stories, and I feel that they were excellent books for us to read together, I don't think that either lived up to Because of Winn Dixie. Both lacked the haunting writing that pulls you in. The honesty, the pain, the beauty, while approached, were not quite as gracefully obtained.

In all of her books, DiCamillo shows that she's not afraid of children. She's not scared to talk about big things, about fear, about death, about abandonment. She does so openly, but in ways that doesn't offend childish sensibilities. All of her books have given us the chance to talk about things we wouldn't have otherwise.

I do want to read more of DiCamillo's books, but after reading the synopsis of several, I think the stories may be too complex and the subject too mature for Bug at this moment. So, we are holding off, and moving towards other books are the moment.

The Smarter One

Monday marked a huge milestone in our house.

Hubster took the DAT (Dental Admission Test), the first huge hurdle in going to dental school.

Actually, the biggest step on this journey was the decision to go down this path at all.

Hubster was one of the top students in his high school, receiving a scholarship to a local college. But he couldn't stand the community and area, so he moved away from home to Salt Lake City. Instead of going to college right away, as his mother hoped, he worked odd jobs and then started doing construction, framing houses.

Being the incredibly smart person he is, it didn't take him long to realize that without education, he could possibly spend the rest of his life framing houses.

He enrolled in the local community college and started to work on a major in his favorite subject from high school: Physics.

Along the way, we met, got married, had kids, moved eleventy billion times, etc, etc, etc. Through all this, Hubster stayed in school, eventually transferring from the community college to the state university I was attending.

It took him nearly 9 years, but he eventually graduated with a double major in math and physics. Only to be met with the question of "What now?" Everyone who knew us asked what you could do with a math and physics major, what Hubster was interested in, what now?

And Hubster didn't know. He liked his current job, but there wasn't a lot of room for upward mobility without a PhD.

I always suggested, he being the smarter, more outgoing one of us, that he should go to medical school. His reply to that? "Oh yes. You look so happy."

Touche.

And then some how, over a conversation over a random dinner, the idea of dental school came up. And it was like a light went off. He immediately enrolled back in school to complete some prerequisites.

Did you read that? After NINE years of college, he enrolled in school again!!

When I tell people that Hubster is going to dental school, they grin. "You're right," they say. "He is smarter than you."

And for the last 5 months, he has been studying intensively for the DAT, needing great scores to have a chance at getting in. (Not that we (meaning I) have any doubts.)

How Hubster had looked for the last 5 months

It's been a trying time for us. I've been working 80 hours weeks with 30 hour shifts, while he's spent nearly every day since January over textbooks and review books. And I'm pretty sure this was the easy part of the process.

Hubster took the DAT Monday. (After he tossed and turned all night and then woke up at 3:45 am, too nervous to sleep.)

He came home with a huge grin on his face.

And this is part where I get to brag about my husband. That studying completely paid off, with a composite score in the 99th percentile.

He really is the smarter one.

I'm so proud of him. Not only has he supported me through my aspirations and trials, but he has continued to pursue his own dreams, despite all the crazy looks from his friends and family that he is still in school over 15 years after graduating high school. I'm glad that I now have the chance to support and cheer him on.

And he has promised to finally clean up all the papers on his side of the bed.