Messing with his Seoul

I will fully admit it...I mess with my kids. ALL. THE. TIME.

I think you should keep them guessing. I think they need to be prepared that their loving mother will suddenly yell their name at the top of her lungs while we are quietly watching tv, just "cuz" or that I will wait, ever so patiently, outside the bathroom door, just to be able to yell and jump out at them the second that door swings open.

I call it love.

And no one is easier to mess with...errr, sorry "love" than Joshua. Man, that kid is easy bait. And I know he is the middle kid and those poor middle kids have it tough, but DAMN! It is so easy and so much fun.

The other night, snuggling on the couch with Josh was the perfect opportunity.

"Josh, honey, I need to tell you something" I get that serious mom voice, which I must say I NEVER use, and maybe that is the problem. When I use the "mom" voice, they KNOW I am messing around. But I hold it together. I look him right in the eye and take a deep breath.

"Josh, sweetheart. You....you....( insert dramatic sigh)...you are adopted"

"MOM! I know I am not adopted" I assure him, yes, he is. He offers proof that I am mother, among the facts he presented was that I was 23 when I had him and "who gives a baby to a 23 year old to raise?". I tell him it was my maturity that tipped the scales, and gave me little baby Josh.

I tell him he should be glad, I picked him out of all the babies at the orphanage. He was the cutest. (honestly, he was my cutest baby. Pictures of him at about a year old make me still all mushy and giggly inside)

"Honey, we went to great pains to make sure we hid it. I am so sorry and...( another dramatic sigh and pause...maybe a fake tear in my eye) there is more, honey"

At this point Josh is flipping between semi-shock and annoyance.

"Josh, baby...you are really Korean"

"MOM. I KNOW I AM NOT KOREAN. Good God!"

He storms into our room and tells Adam what I told him.

Adam, in a VERY well played move, says "yes, Josh. We are sorry. Just watch an episode of M*A*S*H. If you tear up at all, you will know what we are saying is true"

"Nice, mom. Not only are you INSANE, now you are dragging dad into this crap"

"awww, Josh don't be mad at me. I am taking a Korean language class so I can finally talk to you and you will understand me"

"mom, I doubt that is EVER gonna happen cuz you are CRAZY! I will never understand you"

next I heard Zach talking to him in some "Asian" sounding language and following it with "You know what I mean, Josh??" and I was again proud. The torture is so much better when you have a group.

Rest assured, I will make Josh feel at home. I found a recipe for Korean kimchi. I might make that for him for dinner. I told him he has to embrace is culture and get back to his roots. It is only right.

Right??

As much as I don't want to say good-bye...

So you can't turn on the TV or pick up a paper since Friday without seeing the story about Tim Russert.

I happen to live in his home town...and even more than that, I live across the street from his father, Big Russ. Zach started off in the same elementary school that Tim attended, and we all met him when he came home for one of his frequent visits. When our town finally cleared the land at the end of our street and built a park, it was the brother of my son's best friend who suggested it be proclaimed Tim Russert Park. Several of my friends attended Tim's high school, Canisius.

There is not a person in this city that is not sad about the loss of our friend. Tim was just a down to earth guy. One of the last gentlemen. When you talked to him, he was just a Buffalo guy, like his father.

I would be lying if I told you I didn't tear up that afternoon, when I got several calls at work about Tim. And then again at the news compilation of Tim's hometown spirit and another about his son, Luke. And all of us cried at the picture of Luke touching his dad's Meet the Press chair, on a darkened stage.

I am sure many other people can put it more eloquently. To say Tim will be missed is an understatement. I take comfort in the fact that part of him will go on in his son, Luke. The Russert's have done an amazing job and raised a mature, intelligent and incredible young man. I watched his interview with Matt Lauer again this morning and he just blows me away with his grace and confidence. I am glad Tim and his wife gave us that gift, his son.

I am not good at good-byes. I hate them actually. I guess I am like my grandmother, Betty. She would NEVER say good-bye..always "see you later"

So, I say "Good Journey, Tim"
When I get to heaven ( if I make there ..it is not looking too good so far) I wanna see you interview quite a few people. I am sure they have re-runs up there.

Tim, you are loved and greatly missed.

Stepping up the Vocabulary

I encourage the boys to use more colorful vocabulary in their everyday life.

today overheard:

Josh: Zach, man, you smell like the inside of a colon.

Zach: Thanks, Josh. You are just like Abraham Lincoln. You know why?? Cuz I am gonna shoot you in the back of the head.

That was history and creative language. A parenting job well done I think. Yes. I am quite proud of myself today.

Brotherly love.

I am sure Adam is so happy I made him a father. ;-)

Isotopes in the air.

I dunno why I thought my day was going to get better than the elevator ride to my floor.

I get on the elevator this morning, bright and early at 6:20. A man with a dolly, loaded with two metal ( lead) boxes gets on with about 10 or so elderly people and a woman from our admissions department leading them to the same-day surgery floor.

side note: as I re-tell this story to my co-workers, Mary Anne says "the guy had a baby dolly??" No, a pully thing for dragging heavy shit here and there. See? Where I work a man carrying a "baby dolly" would not be too weird or strange. It would just make a really good story.

So anyway, we get to the 3rd floor and the guy says ( VERY loudly) "Coming through! This stuff has to get off! RADIOACTIVE. Radioactive coming through" He moves through us, all packed asshole to bellybutton with no room to spare. I reach through two people and hold the "Door Open" button for the guy. He proceeds to say again "RADIOACTIVE. On your legs there, radioactive!!"

really??

No we use dyes and such that are marked with VERY low levels of radiation all the time in certain patient tests. Pretty common. And these were in lead lined boxes. Give me a freakin' break. Someone has some overblown either fear of the job or sense of importance. Good lord, there is NO reason to say "RADIOACTIVE" at the top of your lungs 15 times and scared a bunch of poor old people.

As the door close one man turns to me and says " Would have been nice if maybe he told us before we were all smack up against that stuff!" Good point, sir and why are your eyelashes glowing??

sigh

So I punch the button for my unit and as I walk though the double doors I say to the bunch of nurses standing there "You do know this place in an insane asylum, right?"

My friend Laurie looks up and says "Yeah, and she has only been here 20 seconds. Baby, give it time. It grows on you. Just like mold"

I bet a little radiation would kill that mold. Or was that make it stronger? I forget.

More near accidents...

So last night I take my 80 yr old grandmother and her 85 yr old sister to the casino to meet up with my parents.

My parents, my great aunt and I ate dinner together ( my grandmother could not be bothered to take time away from gambling)

My octogenarian casino partners have a little habit of sneaking cookies out of the buffet and hiding them in their purse for later. Since babcia ( grandma) had not had dinner, she complained on the HOUR ride home she was hungry. Auntie dug through her purse and produced a napkin wrapped cookie for her.

Grandma: No, Helen. It is too dry. I can't eat that. I need milk or something.

Aunt Helen: Well, I am sorry Emma, my boobs are all flat, I guess I am out.

car swerves.

my god

Later that trip:

Aunt Helen : Hey! Is that rain on the windshield, Heidi??

Grandma: well, it is not piss, Helen.

Yup, I am in the right family. Oh yeah.

This is what happens...

when you have too much "playtime" with your kids. I don't even have an excuse like "I was drunk" (cuz I really never have been truly drunk)

I am gonna say that he held me down and I stopped struggling so that his hand was steady and it didn't look like complete crap...before I washed it off. But not before we posed for a series of ridiculous photos, of course.

;-)

YAY!! Summer is coming. Late night playtime for months!! It can't come soon enough for me!

There's a Moon Out Tonight.

You know why many nurses are superstitious?? Because it is ALL true. The full moon and the days preceding and the days after make people nuts. If you say the "Q" word (quiet...ahem) all hell is going to break loose. If you reminisce about a "frequent flier" patient that was particularly horrible or had an insane family ( or both) they WILL be admitted within the next week to the floor and YOU will have them as your assignment. This last one actually happened to me THREE times. I kid you not. One time, one of my adorable co-irkers ( NOT a typo) said "You guys remember blah, blah, blah with the crazy sister who broke down and told us they were MORE than siblings? what ever happened to him??" I swear to you not two days later I was suctioning orange and black sprinkles out of him from a donut he was force fed at the rehab facility. It was October, hence the black and orange.

So when you get smacked in the head enough with these "truths" you have to believe it.

And I made that mistake this past week. I was thinking..."you know, I have not had a REALLY sick patient in a while." Enter the ICU gods. You want a REALLY, REALLY, REALLY sick patient, chicky, you are gonna get it. I dared to think it. And I only thought it...I never said it aloud. I wouldn't dare!

I was up for the "hit", meaning I had one patient and should there be an admission from ER or a code blue in the hospital...I would be the nurse taking that patient. Now, many times this is a "roll the dice and take your chances" position. Many times the supervisor likes to leave us with an open bed, in case there is a code in the house. So you could cruise through the night with only one patient and not get anything, OR if you are me, you get a broken person, who needs to be fixed or patched the best you can.

Now, we work 12.5 hours shifts. Admissions are quite a bit of work for the most part. Charts to put together, blood work, assessment of the whole patient, teaching with the family, questions, phone calls and the is on top of the PHYSICAL caring for the patients EVERY need..on and on. Me? I would rather get the patient early in my shift, so I have time to wade through the crap and pull it together by morning. I will admit that I am not the best nurse when it comes to charting. I find it boring and tedious. I would rather be doing ANYTHING else. Plus, it is pointless for the most part. Checking boxes, writing the same things over and over.

Anyway, the other night I got a "train wreck" of a patient. Having a HUGE, HUGE heart attack right in front of my eyes. And really, she was so sick all I could do was chase my tail all night and put out fire after fire when they came up. Her heart rate would be high, her blood pressure low, her blood sugar high, her oxygen saturation low. I never got anywhere. I was struggling and the quick sand was covering me. I thank heaven my co-workers kept throwing me a rope and letting me know I at least asking the right questions, doing the right things.

I am not a person who gets frazzled easily, that night was one where I was on the verge. It only happens from time to time. That night was a doozy.

But I need nights like those. They remind me..goddamn, I do not know it all, I need my co-workers more than I can imagine and that I really like busting my ass every now and again. Now listen up ICU gods...I do not need a night like that all the time, but it does remind me that I know more than I think I do ( sometimes) and I am not bad at my job ( most times) And you know what...I get PAID to work, not sit on my ass. Sometimes I need to be slapped around with that fact, even it I feel like puking in the morning and my legs are jumpy in bed cuz they are not used to being still.