A Story About an Ottoman

Early on in our marriage, every singe piece of furniture Hubster and I owned was a hand-me-down. One of those pieces was a very large, rustic planked coffee table. And by large, I mean taking up half our living room large (yes, the living room was barely the width of a hallway, but still.) Despite the size and the unattractiveness of the table, we didn't replace it because it was (nearly) better than having nothing.

Bug loved the table. It was perfect for doing Superman leaps off of. But then along came Monkey. When the kid started walking, he fell down and hit his head so many times on the hard edges of that table, I was convinced he would never be normal. That's when I insisted that the huge wooden structure go.

We replaced it with a nice, soft, padded ottoman. Nothing fancy, just a simple piece we found at Target that also had the added benefit of extra storage. Now when Monkey fell and hit his head, at least it was against something soft (except for the walls and corners and chairs and floor...there is only so much a mother can do.)

However, our pretty little ottoman was not to last. Monkey, in his typical monkey-ish fashion, used it for teething. Bug, his previous launching pad gone, continued to use the ottoman for superhero take-offs. Just a couple years use, and the ottoman was tattered. It didn't help that Monkey, well past his teething phase, continued to pull it apart, one handful of stuffing at a time.


Being the frugal people we are, we didn't replace it. After all, it was (nearly) better than having nothing.

But finally, I couldn't take the eyesore at the center of our otherwise pretty living room. We started looking for another ottoman. We ended up going to Target and buying the exact same one. It's affordable and cute and worked well in our space.


Instead of being all saggy and tattered and shreaded with stuffing hanging out at all sides, the ottoman is now clean and shiny and pretty again.


I had forgotten how nice it looked before kids.

Then I realized something...

The ottoman before kids...


The ottoman after kids...


I feel pretty much the same way.

Iowa Houses, Part 3

When my mother visited us last month, we did so many fun things. We explored graveyards, spent a day at a pumpkin patch, and made enormous leaf piles.

My mom and I share a love for little adventures.

But by far, my favorite thing we did together was spend a sunny afternoon riding bicycles through some of the prettier neighborhoods in my town. The air was perfectly fall, the sidewalks covered in a crispy layer of leaves. We rode slowly up and down the tree lined streets full of older homes.


We admired windows, archways, and brickwork. We discussed Tudor and Colonial and midcentury modern.


And I took pictures of all the pretty colored homes.




That afternoon, pedaling through the crunch of fallen leaves, every mundane side street became an adventure.


House watching is done best from the seat of a bicycle. And with your mother.

Regrets and Choices

At my work, when people find out that I have children, they are usually surprised. Apparently, I look much too young to have any children, let alone a 9 year old and a 5 year old.

I get asked a lot of questions. How do I do it? How do the kids manage with my work schedule? How do things work with Hubster's schedule?

One of the questions that I have been asked too frequently, especially by other physicians, is whether I regret having children. It's usually phrased differently, such as do I regret having children at such a young age, or do I regret having them so early in my medical career, or do I regret having children that distract me from medicine.

Regardless of how it's phrased, or how tactful the questioner attempts to be (usually failing completely), all they want to know is whether I regret my children.

Balancing medicine and family is difficult.

I find it a little ironic that I never once have been asked the reverse question. Do I regret going in to medicine?

After all, Bug was part of my life before medicine was. So asking me if I would choose medicine over my children is ludicrous.

I've answered both questions to myself, both the one I've been asked multiple times and the one I've only asked myself. I have never once regretted my children. Not once, not even in my worst parenting moments. But I have regretted medicine.

During the application process, I wondered if I was brave enough, outgoing enough. During medical school, I wondered if I was smart enough. During residency, I've wondered I'm dedicated enough. It's been a long process, and I've spent a lot of time, too much time, wondering if I made the right decision all those years ago.

I was driving home yesterday after a 90+ hour week, in tears because I was getting home too late to see my family, the family that I don't regret at all. I've worked so much the last several weeks that I feel I've become a non-entity in my family. I'm tired and frustrated and upset.

But I have come to terms with my choice. Just like my children, medicine was a choice. No one forced me to do this.

I know that I'll continue to be tired. And I'll continue to be questioned about my choices.

But I'm done regretting.

Leaf Pile

Our backyard is nearly circled by trees, meaning that in fall, our backyard becomes a thick patchwork blanket of leaves. Which really only gives you one choice...

Leaf piles!

It started out with me raking and the boys running around the yard, kicking soccer balls, swinging, and chasing each other with sticks. Then I realized that was a lot of wasted energy.



It only took a little while for them to put that energy to good work and make the largest leaf pile they had ever seen (which is good motivation to continue to make it even bigger!)


And after a leaf pile that big is made, there really is only one option...

Jump in it!




First there was just jumping. Then there was burying each other with leaves. Then, we would start at the back of the yard, all hold hands and run, yelling at the top of our lungs and jump all together in the leaves. We were loud, leaf covered, and happy.


While the boys were jumping in the leaves, they were required to hold still momentarily to let their crazy mom take cute pictures of them. These are the rules.



After we were all raked, jumped, and photoed out, we went inside for warm drinks, where we continued to pull bits of leaves and sticks out of our hair and clothes.


The one added perk of all these leaves? The city leaf program that came and vacuumed them all up the next day.

Tricks and Treats

I wish that I could tell you what a great time we had trick-or-treating, or how wonderful it was to watch my children finally be brave enough to ring a doorbell by themselves.

(Pictures by Hubster)

But Halloween handed out more tricks this year than treats. I was working a 28 hour shift yesterday, so I wasn't there. Halloween isn't like Thanksgiving or Christmas, where we could just celebrate on a different day if necessary. Halloween is pretty much just a October 31st thing.

I was keeping plenty busy, with barely enough time to think about the fact it was a holiday. But as I took some time for dinner, and saw that the sun was sinking low and the light was beginning to fade, I thought about my boys and hoped they were having a fabulous time.

However, despite the tricks of the schedule, there were still treats enough. After the candy amassing was over, my little ghost and boxer came up to the hospital to visit me. Every nurse and patient who saw them had to smile.


We shared candy, Monkey constantly trying to give me all the sour ones out of his pumpkin. They told me about the scary houses they wouldn't go up to, and how much fun they had had.

The pager went off again, and it was time for good-byes, and definitely time for bed for two sugar saturated boys.

Part of me wanted to cry for missing Halloween. But kissing goodnight to the Jolly Rancher scented boys, I realized that really all I missed was them.

Pumpkin Patches and Corn Pits

Those beautiful pumpkins we carved came from a local pumpkin patch. For us, going and picking the pumpkins is just as important as carving them.


I had been hearing a lot about this farm a little north of us, so we decided to made the trip. I was so glad we did.

This place was way more than just a pumpkin patch! (This also equates with way more expensive than just a pumpkin patch, since all the other places we have ever gone to, the only thing we had to pay for was the pumpkins.)

We ended up spending the entire afternoon.


There was a 10 acre corn maze.



There were piggy races (I cheered on Kevin Bacon.)


There were giant slides and tractor tire mazes.




There were corn cannons to fire and goats to feed.



There was a corn pit to roll in. We continued to find corn in the boys pockets and shoes the rest of the day.



And, of course, there were pumpkins.


We road the hay crib out to the pumpkin field. The boys strolled up and down between the pumpkins, trying to pick out the very best one. We then rode the hay crib back to the barn, with arms wrapped tightly around pumpkins.



This is how pumpkin picking should be. A pumpkin patch, between fields of corn, in the middle of Iowa. This not only makes for the best pumpkins, but the best memories.

Carving Pumpkins

Pumpkin carving is a big deal in our family. A VERY big deal.

It always starts out as all of us around the table, carving together.



This year, it also involved the boys being grossed out by pumpkin innards, squealing and running away from their pumpkins as I scooped out the stringy flesh and seeds.


That's how it starts. How it ends is all the pumpkins being finished, except for Hubster's. First, because he's helping all of us, and secondly, because his designs are usually so complicated that they take a long time. The the evening ends with me falling asleep on the couch and him waking me up some while later to take pictures of all the pumpkins.

That being said, I think the pumpkins turned out quite well this year. But then again, I say that every year.

Monkey, going along with his most recent obsession, choose an Angry Birds pumpkin.


Bug decided he didn't want any help with his pumpkin. He choose his design without help, transferred it onto the pumpkin without help, and then carved it out, without help. Although I hovered nervously over him the entire time.


I tried to break with my tradition of carving a feminine pumpkin (although I still love my Maleficent pumpkin from last year) by carving a scene from Nightmare Before Christmas.


And Hubster got to carve something that makes him giggle every time...Dr. Evil.


You can also check out our pumpkins from the last few Halloweens:
Pumpkins 2010
Pumpkins 2009
Pumpkins 2008
Other Pumpkins