Why I'm blogging

When I was young I had a diary. I loved the idea of being completly honest in writing, to express yourself where outwardly I sometimes struggle. I quickly learned that even that required a hiding spot... thank you sister. But the main lingering reason I decided to blog was a patient that I once took care of, that I have never been able to get out of my mind. I think of her often, and I like to think that she is still with us, although I don't dare ask the Drs for an update on her. Her name was Sarah. She normally stays at home on hospice;  She was experiencing complications and they were determining rather or not they were going to treat it or if it was just closer to end of life. I had the pleasure of being her nurse the day that she was admitted. I went in thinking that I hoped that I could do something for her... instead she did something for me. She was around eleven or twelve years old, frail but otherwise intact young lady. Her mother was with her and they were understandably very close. When the doctors came in to talk to the mother-- the patient took out her hearing aids. She said that she didn't want to know what they were doing or how much time that she still had. She smiled, closed her eyes and tried to sleep --- all while the mother and dr's decided her course. They ran tests, changed meds and went on, all the while she was the perfect patient. Her only request--- to have no information as to what was going on. I could do that. Her mother asked me if I could stay in the room with her while she ran to the cafeteria... we normally don't sit in the rooms when parents aren't there, but in this case I felt like I should, so I did. The minute she knew her mother was a safe distance away, she broke down.... completely. It turns out, she had forgotten her notebook at home. She needed something to write in. She had written to her mother almost daily for years since she was diagnosed, and hadn't came prepared for all of this. She wanted to make sure her mother knew all of her, and while she didn't want me to tell her... if she was truely close to death this time, she wanted me to tell her mother that her notebooks were for her. They were under her bed.  WOW. I got her a notebook... well... actually a packet that the chaplains hand out that has a diary in it. (which she was thrilled about) And thankfully, I didn't have to tell her mother about her notebooks. This was something that they could treat and she would go on about her way. This patient would stick with me, and probably will for the rest of my career and life. I was shocked that she was so caring and selfless at such a young age. She was more concerned for her mother's loss than she was of her own. She was an amazing young lady and I was lucky to have met her. And while I don't want this blog to be like a memorial to me, I do want a closer glimpse inside of my mind. If something should happen to me, I would want my children to know how much I loved being their mother, and my family to know how much I loved them.

Raising People

I am almost constantly thinking about the upbringing that my children will remember. There... I said it out loud. It is almost overwhelming at times. Every tradition, every family meal, even bad experiences, I worry about what they will "get" out of it. I LOVE my children with all of my heart. I love that people say out loud to "cherish these times" and that "they grow so fast" because it is so very true. I try constantly to be present in every moment. --- not that that always works-- but at least I try and remember. I am not sure when raising children changed so much, but maybe no one was saying it out loud. They are the best thing that has ever happened to me... period. They give my life meaning, and purpose. I want them to remember many of the things that I try so desperately to give them.This is probably the biggest reason that I want to move back. Some of the greatest memories I had as a child were simple walks with my grandpa or just being outside in nature. (things that you can't exactly have where we live right now, and I really don't want them to miss out on them)  One of my greatest fears is that my children will be those adults who blame everything on their childhood. I mean how many people do you know that had messed up childhoods? Please no... not my babies. It amazes me how unfair some children have it. Some parents could not care less what their children's experiences are... even though we have almost complete control over most of it.You can't help but just shake your head sometimes and think " poor thing doesn't have a chance."  Even at work (at the hospital) some children are so protected and love, and others have no one. I want my babies to feel loved, every day. To know how much they mean to me and how much joy they bring to my life. I want them to remember great things from their childhood and wonderful warm loving things about mom and dad and grandma and grandpa etc. I think that many of the things that are wrong with the world are from people not showing their love daily. I believe that God gave us children so that we can experience innocence and unconditional love.

Birds

I spent the better part of an hour this morning watching birds from my window. Watching the almost camoflaged wrens and chickadees filtter around eating birdseed from under my one and only tree where I live today. Occasionally there is a Robin, with its splash of color. Then a blue jay flew in and scattered all of the other birds away. I am immediately taken back to my childhood and can almost hear my grandma Virgie telling me about the birds. She loved them. She often painted pictures of them or drew sketches. When we were small she used to have us put peanut butter on pine cones and roll them in birdseed to hang in trees and sit by the window and just wait to see who came to eat. She told us stories about how the plain colored birds were sweet to each other and got along, but blue jays were mean birds, but no one notices because they are so attractive. I try to pretend that she wasn't teaching me a little bit about life that day.. that Grandma was just talking about a bunch of birds. Maybe I should have paid more attention.... but I was young.

Back to Simple

I cannot wait to move back to the country! Today would go very different if we were already there. It will be beautiful today... beginning of January and we are expecting almost 70 degrees.... crazy! I don't feel like I enjoy my days here. I long for being able to spread out and play in the yard; to sit on the front porch drinking tea while the kids play in the yard... (without neighbors so close that they hear your every word... or teaching my son how to ride a tricycle without constantly worrying that he will dart into the busy street and be hit by a car) No... the city is not for me. We are fixing up a little old house... so there is an end in site... Meanwhile I just bide my time, dreaming of the garden I hopefully will have by summer.

I wrote 3 letters yesterday (yes, the old fasioned kind... complete with stamps)  One to my aunt, who when I was younger I used to write once a week, and one to my neice and nephew. I want them (and my children) to know the joy of getting mail (that wasn't attached to an invoice). I loved everything about it when I was a kid. Choosing the stationary, using stickers, waiting for the mailman everyday anticipating a response. I mean I loved everything! It's not likely something most children of today will get to experience. But as long as I am in control of their experience... I am going to try and give them many of the simple pleasures that I enjoyed as a child.

I can't wait for my simpler life. I'm trying to slow down... our days are numbered... and they are rushing by.
Thanks for listening.

Tiffany                                                  One Day soon