mission

This place, Saint Louis...not the place I thought I'd land. I'm here though. We're here. And we have a wonderful life here. And the promise of more good work...so much more. Pat's on the verge of a metamorphosis, work-wise. Eli just wants his blue blanket washed for tomorrow. And I am thinking that as long as we can show him, lean him toward the good stuff....THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF...not very subtle. But he can know it. What's good. The other night he asked Pat, "Daddy, when is my skin going to turn brown?" I love him!!! I'm so grateful for him...his mind. His heart. He's such a good person. And Pat. He has Pat. So does Owen. Owen is less known now. He's younger. Will it always feel that way, that we know him less well? If so,is it because we just haven't known him for as long, or is he more of a secret? Right now I'm tending toward thinking we are our complete family. Hard to imagine a 3rd child...a 5th person. I just don't know if we have it in us...and I know we have more than enough to be a great family just how we are. This awesome family I worked with today at Barnes was a perfect match. Strange...when they have something serious going on, I appreciate them more. The pt.'s brother was shot last night at 3am walking home on N. Grand. His mom was with my patient...the pt. is 17. So grateful to have had them there. I chose their night nurse. I hope it was a good fit. Patience. THE key to L&D. Need to work on it. If we stay, I'm considering working toward the well-women's birthing center. Maybe my mission? Not my frame of reference exactly (as in my conversation with Mary W.) Brian, Mary, Pat...work as framework for life. Pat, not exactly...he is humanist. Work is not paradigm exactly, but is extension of his worldview. Me...not so much. But it could be. Clinic.
Separately, the whole battery-op car for boys as gift from Cali...a mess. But honest on our part. We are trying to give our boys a good worldview. Trying to give them a reality based on who they are, not what they have. Tricky. And then the tv shows. Geez. We don't allow much tv, but we are allowing crap. Need to strive to allow the good stuff to permeate, while we still have a say in things.

Old habits,

they sneak up on me.

This is a time of transition. Of packing up. Of putting on a prettier face. Of being a little more efficient. It shouldn't, but it somehow makes me a little less present, especially with the boys. I'm more grown up now, compared to the old days of moving from place to place. But water is seeping into the cracks of me. And now a big freeze like those of the old winters is upon me. The cracks are expanding, for better and worse. I'm just hoping that when the thaw comes the cracks settle in the right ways and make room for growing things in others...a little moss here, some ivy there. Probably a little mold. Yesterday's damn spores are just waiting for the chance to germinate. Or whatever they do. Thankfully in the major cleanup the bleach is plentiful. And the spackle. Spackle spackle everywhere.

The e. had a hard put-down tonight. Just couldn't let go. And I just couldn't wait to have time to myself. I know it's okay to want this time, but I know I am less of a mom when I am so ready to bolt from bedtime that I can't even give him proper comfort.

I don't really want to bleach it all. I want to make it into something...room for everything to grow.

Whew. It's been a big few days for Eli's brain, our hearts. Struggling with the concept of death related to the people he loves in the wake of learning that the father of one of Pat's students was killed. With a gun. A bullet. To the head.

Right.

He probably didn't need to know the details. Maybe he didn't need to know the story at all. But Pat's reasoning was that he's been making guns of everything...puzzle pieces, sticks, play-doh. I know this is normal. Normal-ish. But we want him to understand the seriousness of gun violence. So we tell him regularly that guns are very dangerous. We don't want him playing like he's shooting people. Okay, to shoot at pretend animals, but not even pretend people.

He seemed to take this as fact, the news about the student's dad. Like he did with Inky. "Hi. My name's Eli. You have a dog. We had a cat named Inky. She died."

http://www.wnyc.org/shows/radiolab/episodes/2009/09/18

Lovely words that aren't my own

Be still, my love. Open up your heart. Let the light shine in. Thanks, Colin Hay.
P.S. I took a yoga class with a different instructor than I normally do; I really like my usual so much. Didn't realize what a great teacher he is for the beginner that I am.

Note to self:

Love does not have an agenda. You too often do, Jess.

Love

my job/ my life. PAC was good to me today. Worked with a logical and decisive MD, a great nurse and an awesome secretary (thank you DC, WL & DJ!) Interesting patients, many preterm, 3 rushed to L&D. 4 for 4 on IV starts and kind of getting the hang of the rhythm over there. Also, Pat brought the boys to work. Pat and the guys are a snuggle for soreheart when they visit, and the order of the work gives me counterbalance to our lovelymessy home life. Overall, very grateful.

2 days in a ROW!

Well, I never.
I also never had a dream like the one I had last night. In it, I received the best hug of my life, waking or dreaming. And it was from a stranger. A MAN stranger. Don't worry, Pat. I don't remember his face. And he didn't make me ribs, he just hugged me. Held me, rather, but not in a lustful way. And we were both standing. It was a protective, loving, liking, wanted hug. Not wanting. Wanted.
I've sort of been wondering all day what it meant: Is he actually out there somewhere? Is he next to me in bed every night? Is he my grown-up sons? Was it the closest to hugging Jesus I'll get in this lifetime? Am I totally nuts?
It was kind of loverly. And kind of fatherly. And kind of brotherly. And...well, it's either sounding incestuous, or it's sounding like I should have been a nun. Yep...nuts.
So other items of note: I love Saint Louis today. After stopping at World's Fair for donuts on our way to Eli's First Day of his Second School Year at City Garden Montessori, Pat went off to work, and Owen and I went to Art Hill and then to the art museum. He was more exuberant about his echo than the art, but it was just lovely. We saw the plans for the museum's coming addition (so odd, because it looked at quick glance like they were going to add a boxy, modern structure to the very front of the museum...I hope I just misunderstood.) And then we saw 2 tour groups getting led through the large empty quarters of the museum, empty in preparation for the renovation. Then Owen climbed some large marble stairs, yelling, "DADDY!" at the top of his lungs with each step climbed.
We left the museum and went to Schnuck's. We witnessed a man steal what others believed was a bottle of alcohol. I know Pat would think this was depressing, and I would on some days, but today it just seemed funny. He walked out the easterly door of the building, but he had parked on the west side, so he walked totally conspicuously, looking back at the store the whole way and holding the side of his jacket, across the parking lot to his car. He sped off while the employees chased (v. slowly) and watched him get away with it. I was reminded of my own such similar historical moment, which also made me chuckle. I feel lucky to have been caught and in that way (with $70 in my wallet.)(Dumbass.)
After the store run (where I forgot the raising bran Pat asked for), we spent 30 minutes at Tower Grove Park on the playground. Again, lovely, and interesting people-watching. Owen's good at sliding.
We returned to CGM (after a quick SBucks run...I know, I'm weak), and Eli was ready as ever to roll. He seemed happy, and very adjusted to having returned to school. And grateful for the chocolate milk. Naps enveloped both boys immediately upon our return, and I made hummus. So yummy.
Owen awoke, we played. Eli woke up, and we headed to the CENTRAL BRANCH LIBRARY, finally. Eli's been asking to go for more than a week. We're not bad parents, I swear. It's just been busy, and a holiday weekend, and whatnot. Ahem. So we chose 13 books, 3 of them superheroish, and 1 Scoobyish. The rest better literaturish. There are so many great kids' books out there. I need to compile a list of our favorites to post. 2 of them we checked out today for the first time. Love the library. Also, at the library, we ran into a local celebrity, who also seems like a nice guy. He invited us to a Cuban Missile Crisis Party on Oct. 24. We'll be out of town (Pumpkin Party in SPFLD), but he told us to dress in a way as to appear prepared for the end of the world.
Pat, who had slipped away to meet us, returned to work for a late night...Open House. And boys and I went to City Garden, the awesome park. We waded, we splashed, and Eli made a friend named Patience. Owen stubbed his toe. He's really the bruiser.
We came home, we read and played. Owen had a couple of time-outs for hitting. I tried to put him down for a second nap since his first was only 1.5 hours. It didn't take. Then I warmed up risotto for him, cheesy mac for E. They ate well. And the grapes were super satisfying to bite into.
Tandem bath, so fun. I folded towels and pulled the cloth dipes out of the dryer. Dressed Owen, Eli dressed himself in 3 layers, the top with a zipper he could pull down to prove he's Superman in there. We read books together. He excused himself for O. and I to have a few private moments. O's so snuggly with the fleece at bed time. I basically made a nest of fleece with only his little face with his two little sucking fingers peeking out. Long gone is the barren crib of the early months.
Eli and I plugged in, he to the Land Before Time, I to my ipod on the treadmill. We each had 30 minutes. Then book time. Then bed.
Now ribs and writing and beer.
Kick me hard when I complain about my life.

PMB of JCG

Well, once per month, it seems.
So, this has been a full and messy month. Inky died...we had to euthanize her. On Eli's 4th birthday. Dad was here and we were having our faulty windows replaced, and we had to say goodbye to the gentlest girlcat. One of the workers asked me about a groove that should have been carved into the bottom of a new sash, and I just started bawling. Poor guy. I think I haven't written since then because I was sure I'd absolutely come apart. Now, well, not coming apart. Too "nasty." Tonight Pat said I was being nasty when my tone was crappy because he's got a couple of evening school events and is going for a boys' weekend in October. He was right. So I'm in a bitchy mood. He used to just make fun of me and make me laugh to pull us both out of it. Maybe that gets old.
I had a run-my-ass off day at work. I felt like I was running in the water. And trying to minutely write about every little move, while the pen just kept running out of ink. I hope those babies are okay. My job is so heavy for me sometimes. And today I really felt like I was on my own even though so many folks did really helpful things for me/my two sweet, bad strip, long-a*# induction patients.
I've started doing more yoga. And, apparently eating more French fries (3 servings!!!) These things seem categorically opposed to each other. Also, I have been cooking a lot more veggies than meat. But the other day I bought some ribs, and I could not get them down my gullet fast enough last night, starting with the moment they came out of the oven. Om.
So Eli's 4. And Owen's just saying "NO!" most of the time. This is funny too often, and so now he thinks it's a joke. Owen signs for food. "You want food?" "NO!" But he says "now" instead of "no." It's cute. Eli's learning to ride a bike. And I made Pat give him a buzz cut. He looks like a tough kid. First day of his second year of pre-school at CGM tomorrow. We're going for World's Fair Donuts en route. Om.
We paid a bunch of money for Inky's ashes, but we haven't picked them up yet. What the heckums are we going to do with them? What's meaningful, but not gross or weird.
Also, a number of people who we know (RS, LF, JS) are pregnant again after significant losses. Praying for them wholeheartedly.
Need to find a good meditation for the yoga. Kindness? Open heart? Loving? Giving? Balance? Need it all. Grace, maybe. I think this incorporates it all. And will help at work, both r/t the giving of care and the keeping safe from damaging others/self. Also, will help at home, where the most important folks in my life are.

Thanks, Bebo

I really wish I could type while driving. And while walking on the 'mill. So many of my best thoughts (I think) occur to me while I'm moving through space and/or am in motion. I'm horrible at writing while driving, although I sometimes try. Not so good for the safety, plus I can almost never read what I wrote.

So this is merely a recounting, a few days later. There is probably less clarity now.

On a recent solo roadtrip (incredibly rare these days) I had a moving relationship with a Christian rock musician's very Christian album. I was borrowing my brother- and sister-in-law's car, and flinched when the cd player starting playing this music. But I was off the grid, so the tuner wasn't working well, and it was the only cd I could see. The musician's name is Bebo Norman. The song that first brought me to tears is called, "Britney." It's about Britney Spears and how she's been used and abused. And about how we should all love each other. After getting over how wierd it was that I was crying for Britney Spears, I realized that I have been mostly too insecure to think of the people around me as my brothers and sisters. I'm overly protective of myself and family. I act without love often.

But that is exactly what all these people are, and if I was smart, I'd let Jesus be my primary example for how to live. I mean it. (It's hard for me to write these words because I'm worried I'm going to be perceived as someone who is delusional. And that I'll turn into a Republican.)

But I am a believer. I am. I believe in God. And the devil - but this part is new for me, and is an acknowledgement made while listening to Mr. Norman's music on the drive. I remember thinking in grade school that I believed in God, but not Mr. Satan. And I have held that belief, that God is real and good, and that people make good and bad choices, and that those bad choices are THE cause of what's wrong with the world. I do believe we are in control of our choices and need to hold ourselves accountable for their consequences. But I also believe that there is evil (which makes me sound like "W," who I loathe. I know this is not very Jesus-like of me, but I just do. Working on it.) I was thinking about how old religion is, and how it's people's actions related to their religious beliefs that are the source for a wholelotta enmity and some of the worst of human behavior. And how we hurt each other in both small and carnal ways, we people all over the world. There are so many things beyond our control. The human capacity to love and hate are both so humongous. There are so many things that are beyond our control. People become so desperate, and sometimes hope just isn't an immediate option. But hopelessness shouldn't necessarily cause malice. Fear, sadness, anger, anxiety - sure. But not malice. And malice is real, so the devil must be, too. Right?

To believe in evil is a tiny relief and a hugely terrifying thing. It's a tiny relief because it gives me hope that we people can be saved. I mean, if there's a force for bad that arranges circumstances to encourage bad decisions, we are salvageable. If we're coming up with all that terribility on our own, we don't deserve to be saved. Now, it's a skinny, faded, tortuous line, the one between believing in the power of evil and accepting responsibility for our choices while learning from the mistakes that History wants to teach. For me, it's so easy to let all kinds of things distract me. I let the fog settle in, or the sunshine pour over me, and I can hardly see that line at all.

So right now I'm praying every time I think of it for a hospitable, open heart so I can treat the people around me like the sisters and brothers they are to me. And for some metaphorical tinted, diamond-coated, prescription goggles to protect my eyes from the fog and the sunshine, to help me stay focused on this.

the awakening "mommay", the sheet fwiffing back, the one-foot-high-heeled toddler clonking toward me, the washing machine humming and gurgling, the wooden stair creaking, the cereal tinking into the porcelain bowl, the milk getting sucked into the cereal, the coffee machine choking out its last drops, the harsh sound of my voice saying "no" almost first thing, the back door criching open and closed again, the cats meeeewing, the car engine clearing its throat, the sink rushing and dishes cathunking into the dishwasher, the telephone twonhwonhwonhwonhing, the sound of my mother's voice, the sound of my own harsh voice again, my swallowing coffee, the gate crunking closed, the washer still humming and gurgling, the sink rushing and my hands in it splashing my face, WAKE UP JESSICA. This is your morning for which to be grateful, and instead you wasted the day being grunchy and short. You have one motherhood, one wifeness, one July 23, 2009, and now it's about over (just the July 23rd). And you did okay, but man, you could do so much better. Grow, girlfriend. And just be better, especially to those little people who have no choice but to live with you. Talk better, more gently, and be gentler. LISTEN instead of remembering the sounds later.

wormholes

almost indescribable, not in a good way, today. seriously. here my pregnant patient was exposed to bacterial meningitis at an osh and f*ing MJ has a casket made of gold. what the shit. seriously. and i didn't even see o. today. and i can't stop this day from wearing holes in my brain. need some france.

Up and at 'em

We enjoyed an inspiring visit with friends who had traveled circuitously to STL from Maine this past weekend, punctuating road travel with overnight stays in the homes of old friends. They were here with their beautiful 6-month-old for two days/nights of lovely ambling, eating, drinking and conversing. These friends are impassioned academics who spoke so eloquently of their respective work endeavors that, after saying goodbye to them this morning, I found myself feeling less-than satisfied with my own current work/life situation.
I have a great husband. We have two beautiful children who are awesome. And I do work that I’ve found incredibly satisfying. But I’ve just kind of sunk into the easiness of my job now. Complacency – ick.
So I have two new challenges for myself:
1 Get the bikes ready for the summer. The longest day of the year is 8 days away.
2 Do something professionally enriching while outside of work ONCE A WEEK. And then try to share it with coworkers.

Note to self:

Hey Jess, this is yours.

soft

babies with the flu. not good. so soft, though, and really cuddly. i'm pretty sure the earnest puking hasn't yet begun. i've heard tell of this recent flu. i fear it. it makes me want to go out and buy 6 gallons of pedialyte. and some angiocaths, iv tubing and sterile fluids.

but i'm not a survivalist.

i'm really not, but having kids has swung me much further toward that end of society's spectrum than i ever thought i'd get. having kids and having read Stephen King's The Stand.

speaking of reading, i think eli's getting close. i think we need to read to owen more. owen who IAMSURE is saying "car." and "cat." and "clark," which is what he calls Eli (as in Kent). and they sound almost the same, but so what? we both know what he's saying. as eli says, "mom, it's the context."

bingo girl and a light-up shirt

three. it's such a great age...for watching your kid doing some (very special) moves, for language development and the happy word conflations that come with it ("appertizement" is one of my favorites - combo of appetizer and refreshment), for playground play advancements, for PLAY. it's really fun to play with a child who takes on an alternate identity for months at a time, who is unabashedly proud of himself and his accomplishments and acquisitions.

take the Batman...in line at the grocery store today to pay for his own box of Batman fruit snacks, eli looks up at the cashier, hands him the box and says proudly, "those are my bat snacks. i have THREE pairs of Batman pajamas at home. AND a Batman costume." nevermind that the costume has holes from being worn for so many hours. i'm planning on framing it to hang on his wall. or maybe in the living room.

today is the first day.

bingo girl, that's my horse name. not my horse's name, my horse name. my 3-year-old son elijah (his horse name is "benjianna") gave it to me. we'd never pretended to be horses before today, but benjianna is grey with grey hair and bingo girl is blue (a nice pigment-dyed blue, sun faded--i got to choose my own color.) his 10-month old brother, owen, is "owenboy" and the leader of our herd. his color changes often even though he is the most even-tempered among us. today we also erupted our first homemade volcano, before we were horses. supplies: beer bottle, clay, food coloring, vinegar, dish soap, warm water and baking soda.  it was a really great day.