Thar She Blows

It's been over a week since I left my brood in Idaho and I have noticed a pattern:  I'm an emotional wreck for a week, then I settle into my Rhode Island routine where I feel almost normal, then I wait for my next visit to my family to ruin me emotionally again.

To make things worse, I'm obsessing about the house I'd like to own here, so it doesn't help that my home in Idaho still isn't sold.  To combat my helplessness, I decided to do some worshipping at the LDS Boston Temple:

It was lovely, peaceful, and calmed down the inner turmoil I feel almost constantly these days.  I felt like I was bargaining with God in a way; begging him to bless me since I was worshipping in the holiest place I have available to me.  I considered promising to stop swearing in exchange for an offer on my house, but I'm not ready to change that much, so the battle rages I guess.  

After the temple, I knew I was close to the Minute Man National Historic Park, so I decided to swing on over and check it out.  On the way, I managed to find this delicious steak sandwich shop that served me a "small" chipotle steak sammy that weighed more than Bubba.  Here I am crying tears of joy over their tasty fries...

And 15 minutes later, crying tears of agony over my discomfort in consuming a sandwich that big...

I also shed extra tears since I couldn't finish the fries and sandwich and had to throw the remainder away.  I'm a committed hippy and throwing food away bugs me to death.  I'm also a committed eater and throwing food away feels like a failure.  Needless to say, my soul died a little dumping that piece of art in the trash.

I thought the food waste crime was going to be the low point of my day, but I underestimated how awful I would feel in 80+ humid weather with a gut full of spicy beef.  It was downright awful.  I felt like a poor bloated whale with very sweaty crevices, and sure wished I was back in New Bedford where they would know what to do with a languishing whale!

In an attempt to work off the steak sandwich debacle, I walked a goodly portion of the Battle Road.  I had no idea it was where Paul Revere's Midnight Ride ended.  I also didn't know it was the start of the Revolutionary War.  Where have I been?!  Listen, I don't know!  I sent incredulous texts with lots of swears to people who wouldn't judge me about my ignorance, but they didn't know most of the information either!  Holy cow was I embarrassed!  However, I got over it quickly since it was so cool to learn about Paul Revere again since I just recently saw the North Church in Boston.

Speaking of Paul Revere, I found this lady working out on purpose on the site of his capture.  It was almost as if she wanted to rub in my intestinal discomfort as well as my poor tolerance of humidity:

Why in the world would anyone do push-ups on purpose in this hot, muggy weather?!  I wanted to beat her up, but my stomach hurt so bad and my pulse was racing so fast, I had to hurry out of her sight so she wouldn't see my shame:

I'm practically dying here!  I felt horrible!  Thankfully I muscled on a little longer, then hoofed back to the visitor center to watch a cool movie about the whole Battle Road story while my belly of cow finally finished digesting.

Despite some setbacks, my day was not wasted because I learned three important facts today:

1.  The Revolutionary War started on the Battle Road on the way to Concord, Massachusetts, not "somewhere on the east coast" as I previously thought.

2.  The humidity on the east coast is overwatering my desicated western soul.  Surely it will kill me soon!

3.  Eat your giant steak sandwich AFTER walking the Battle Road you idiot...

Although these three lessons were tough to learn, there is one spiritual truth that trumps all:  a diet fountain soda rights all wrongs...

Tears, Swass, and Fire

I flew home from Idaho on Monday and have spent 75 percent of my time since, crying.  I've been gone from my family for about two months and it's been unbelievably difficult.  I found a home this week that I want to buy.  A classy old gal that needs restoration and I'm itching to get to it.  Unfortunately, my hands are tied because my home in Idaho is still up for sale.  Despite the reassurance pouring from my parents and my lover, I'm descending to a dark place of hopelessness.  

In an effort to feel better, I visited the whaling town of New Bedford, Massachusetts today.  It was once the whaling capital of the world and one of the richest cities as welI.  I found a park ranger there who refused to come out of character:

We visited about old New Beford and then I walked around the town and one of the visitor centers.  I even found the church that Herman Melville talks about in Moby Dick...

It was a lovely way to kill some time, but as soon as I got home, my sadness descended again, so I did this to cope:

That's a bowl of Fruity Pebbles.  I bought a family sized box with the intent to eat my feelings away.  I didn't make it halfway through and felt even worse about being an eating failure.  Thankfully, I managed to plow through a medium bag of peanut butter M&Ms, so all was not lost.

I laid around for awhile on my bed, the breeziest room in my apartment, and willed the humidity to leave me alone.  In case you were wondering, it didn't help.  My butt checks have been well lubricated  with the generous swass the east coast has blessed me with these last few weeks.  My sugar coma kept me placated in my misery until I received a surprise phone call from my landlady asking if I wanted her husband, Joe, to put in the air conditioning units.  My cheapo nature wanted to refuse, but I was so miserably sweaty, I let him in.  

I've been trying to keep my guard up because it's still possible Gail, Joe, and their son downstairs, are rapists and murderers.  However, as usual, Joe was so nice and kept talking about God and how he has a plan for us that we don't understand...  I'm beginning to think they are all normal people who are only renting me an apartment.  It's almost disappointing to think they aren't nefarious after all.  

I wanted to lie around and feel sorry for myself some more, but I decided to go to Water Fire in downtown Providence instead.  Let's just say it reminded me why I was so excited to try a new adventure in the East.  There's a bunch of braziers along the river and they fill them with fire for hours.  It's pretty awesome:

I'm home again in my underpants, lounging on my bed, letting the air conditioner dry up my swass.  It's chilly and heavenly, and the most comfortable I've been all day.  I'm probably still going to spend most of my days feeling down until my family can get here, but I'm hoping that's pretty normal.  Moving to Rhode Island has been one of the hardest and bravest things I've ever done, but as my sexy lover reminds me, that doesn't make it wrong.  Maybe I need to call him and ask how wrong it is for me to finish those Fruity Pebbles...

Mommies

This weekend I not only got to hang out with my sweet lover and kids doing things I enjoyed, but I also had some crappy mom duties to complete.  The most interesting one?  Getting my two eldest through their wisdom teeth removal.  

I am well acquainted with "hangry" because of my lovely Hannah.  What I didn't have words for, until my brother coined the phrase yesterday, was, "paingry."  This situation is very similar to hungry anger, but instead involves pain anger.  Let's just say my two eldest were in fine annoying form.  Check it:

Norco and Ibuprofen around the clock along with endless Mac and cheese to also keep "hangry" at bay were barely enough to keep them from killing everything in their path.  I decided I probably deserve their abuse seeing as how I'm not a very tender mommy.  Need yet another example?  Check out my response to Hannah using her IPod to find me the other day:

I know.  Mother of the year coming my way...  My kids really shouldn't complain. There's LOADS of sweet, supportive, homemaker type moms out there, but only one of me.  They've had an eccentric and very interesting upbringing that I'm hoping they'll thank me for later.  I can only use my own mommy for comparison.  She is not the tender type either unless there's a grandbaby around, but she is wise, down to earth, independent, and not afraid of anything.  I will take those qualities over a sloppy kiss any day of the week.

You think I'm eccentric?  Check out how happy my mom is with the Mother's Day gift she got this year:

My dad is finally figuring out that the way to this lady's heart is not with diamonds or chocolate, but with kick ass power tools that her children want to borrow as fast as she gets her hands on them.  

And how about her ability to fix anything?  And I do mean anything and everything.  This Sunday in fact, we nearly had a disaster when her pastry bag split open in the middle of our churro production line.  Her solution?

Yep.  More duct tape than anyone should be allowed to own.  She's laughing because she thinks it looks like a penis with ED.  That means a penis that can't get a boner in case you have no idea what Erectile Dysfunction is.  Thank goodness the flaccid pastry bag lasted long enough for me to eat churros until I wanted to puke - just like my sister Briana in Tiajuana a few years ago.  

Yes, my kids don't know how good they've got it coming from such a long line of eccentrics as they do.  You know who else has got it good?  Me!  Because the girls are four days after surgery and I left all the "hangry" and "paingry" in Idaho for my poor husband.  Sorry my love, Rhode Island never looked so good!

No Way!

I got to come home again this weekend and was able to finally celebrate Lily's birthday as well as help with some chores around my home.

I was disappointed, though not surprised, to find that Jared has not been weeding all of my flower beds as I would have liked.  As such, we spent some of the day today working in the yard.  I actually really love planting, weeding, harvesting, and generally touching the earth in any way I can.  It is restorative and healing for me to care for plants of any kind.  I didn't realize how much I've been missing the growing season until I drove my fingers into the patch of earth that still belongs to me.  

As I sat taking a break at one point,  I noticed this on the back lawn:

Since there's a moratorium on animals at my house, I couldn't figure out what caused these dead spots to be present so late in the spring.  I asked Jared what in the world he thought was going on.  He told me he had noticed paint flakes in the spots so he thought it was from when I fell off the ladder painting my house this summer (see my Couple of Amateurs post).  I responded with a big "NO WAY," followed immediately by, "really?"  He advised me to try it out.  Here I am reenacting the view he had when he found me after the disaster.  Imagine paint up to my elbows slowing dripping off my fingers into the lawn...

See the spots under my hands?  I totally believe him now.  I couldn't continue postulating different scenarios because someone wanted to look at my house so I had to beat it.  Sure hope the people looking today don't have "no symmetrical dead spots on the lawn" on their home wish list...

2 Legit 2 Quit

I have been a Certified Nurse Midwife for 9 years now and have been aware through the years that I am not a very legitimate one.  I keep meaning to work on my flaws because I secretly want to be as awesome as some of the other midwives I have known in my life.  The problem is, I have so many other things vying for my attention, that I just haven't been able to focus on changing my uncool vibes.  Since landing in Rhode Island, I have been working so much less, that I am painfully aware of what a lame midwife I really am.  This week alone I have been reminded of three traits that I need to hone in order to boost my midwife street cred.

The first is knitting.  Go to any gathering where there might be a congregation of midwives and you will see hundreds of ladies click clacking away on some project.  I absolutely am not kidding and I do mean ANY gathering of midwives where their hands might have 2 seconds to be idle.  Two of my past partners knitted and two crocheted.  I used to crochet but I gave it up years ago after a failed attempt to create a blanket and a rather interesting pillow in the shape of a bear.  I know that I need to get serious about either learning to knit or taking up crocheting again, but I'm just too lazy to get started.  I haven't polled all 6 of my new partners, but at least 2 are knitters and odds are good that at least half to three quarters of them knit.  I refuse to actively investigate the actual knitting number because I already feel horrible enough about myself.

Second deficit?  This:

I had heard whisperings in Idaho recently about Kombucha, but I had never actually seen it, and wasn't completely sure some of my more crunchy patients that mentioned it weren't brewing it at home in some weird commune situation.  Apparently it is not only real, but comes in various flavors.  I tried it for the first time a few days ago when one of my partners brought in a ginger flavored one.  I won't say it was absolutely offensive, but it did arouse some feelings inside of me that I don't know how to deal with just yet.  It vaguely reminded me of the "root beer" my maternal grandfather, Bernie used to brew.  His stuff was potent and depending on the siutation, it sometimes exploded in his basement as it fermented.  I personally think that stuff tasted nothing like root beer and I would often avoid the elixir if I saw it at family parties.  To me, it tasted like a glass of liquid yeast that someone colored brown to trick you into thinking that it was something yummy, which of course, it wasn't.  My grandpa's home brew will live in infamy in my family because of a particular family reunion we attended.  After the festivities, us kids got paid a dime for every cap we picked up at the campsite.  My dopey sister, Briana, saw her chance to get rich and promptly hid behind a garbage can and drank all that was left in order to collect the caps.  The result?  A bad tummyache.  Someone asked her why she didn't just pop the caps, pour the vile liquid on the ground, save the caps, and collect her loot.  She had no explanation for her crazy behavior.  What a tool!

Needless to say, the pic above was sent to all the midwives tonight and everyone got really excited but me.  I think it tastes like spicy B-U-T-T myself.  I censored what I really said for my mommy just now because I'm tired of her judging me and thought maybe she could give it a rest for once!  Her next thought when reading this?  How do I know what spicy B-U-T-T tastes like?  Newsflash:  there are some things you can just assume taste like something else.  Example?  Sen Sen mints.  My friend gave me one once and then asked if I thought it tasted like licorice.  Umm, NO!  They taste like sucking on a hippy - a legit hippy, like maybe Janis Joplin.  I have never sucked, licked, or smoked a hippie, but trust me, that's what Sen Sens taste like!  Final rant about Kombucha?  Jury is out, but I think I might be able to develop a taste for the stuff.

Final behavior?  Yoga.  That's right, Yoga.  I have a deep religious belief that any professional, especially midwives, should be engaging in Yoga of some type in order to be truly genuine.  Again, at least 2 of my partners do Yoga.  Odds again are good that at least half to three quarters enjoy that type of exercise.  The Rhode Island library system happens to have several instructional videos that you can download for free.  I watched a huge snorefest about composting that just didn't hold my attention so I figured now was as good a time as any to try out a Yoga video:

I propped my phone up and did some Yoga... for five minutes.  Between my knees cracking and my nether regions barely holding in my urine due to the effects of some of the moves on my bladder, I decided to be safe, quit the Yoga, and continue being my unlegitimate self.  I'm like 1/2 for three on the legitimate scale this week.  I'm pathetic.  Guess I'll crack open another diet soda and start thinking about a career change...

Insert Quarters

There's a small list of things that I hate about not living in a house of my own.  The ultimate detestation that tops the list is represented here:

What is going on?  It's me waiting for my laundry to finish as I sit in a local laundromat.  Let me be clear, I HATE USING THE LAUNDROMAT!  Sure, it's nice getting all the laundry done at once. You could also argue that the people watching afforded one who sits in a laundromat is unequalled in nearly any other venue.  However, pluses aside, I detest the laundromat for the following reasons:

1.  I am cheap and can think of loads (ha ha) of other ways to waste 10 bucks

2.  I hate watching my quarters drop into the washers and dryers because I use quarters to fill my fountain drinks, and therefore, it translates into 9 Diet Dr. Peppers I now won't have the money to drink

3.  I obsess and worry about total strangers catching a peek at the crotch of my underpants

In an effort to shake things up, and because I think the laundromat I've been using has the dryers set too low in order to bilk me outta extra quarters, I found a new laundromat today.  At first, I peed a little when I saw the washers were 25 cents less and also took wash cards that make the loads even cheaper.  However, when I used one of my winnings in the skittles machine I got this:

7 damn skittles?!  I felt my ire rising but tamped it down when I noticed that the bathroom didn't require an act of congress to use!  I got excited again when I noticed a really tall magazine rack that the other laundromat did not have.  My excitement was short lived however, when I noticed the glaring lack of a single People magazine.  I researched how to have mind blowing sex from the lone Cosmo they had, but I've been around the block a time or two, and their suggestions were laughable, impractical, and downright dangerous for this 41 year old woman and her fat (but very sexy) lover.  I slid that smutty Cosmo back into the rack and felt a twinge of embarrassment when a creepy man folding underpants noticed what I'd been reading.  I wanted to assure him there was nothing useful in that stupid magazine, but it took all my effort not to stare at the crotch of the underpants he was folding. 

Thankfully, before I could think of anything else to condemn on the premises, my laundry was done drying.  Guess what?  I was right about the other laundromat!  They have rigged their dryers!  All told, I saved about 3 bucks going to the new laundry facilities.  I was so happy about all the loot I saved that I felt extra happy relaxing with the Diet Dr. Pepper I got on the way home.  It was also wonderful because I brought back my metal chill straw home on the airplane this week.

We won't talk about how angry it made me that airport security thought this baby was some sort of dangerous weapon and that it delayed my entrance through the IF airport.  We won't talk about it because I'm high with riches, caffeine, and not being in the laundromat anymore...

Visitors

This week I've received some visitors that have reminded me just how small this world is.  Several years ago, I worked with a midwife who trained me in my last semester of school before becoming my colleague.  She was a lawyer as well as a midwife and this lady was and still is a ball crusher!  She was hard on me but taught me so much that many of the things I know and like to do with my patients I learned from her.  She moved to Seattle a few years ago, but her stepdaughter is dying and lives in Massachusetts so Kathleen came to visit.  Of all the places on this earth to meet up with her again, I never thought it would be in Rhode Island!  Here we are getting lobster rolls together:

And here's me finally enjoying my first lobster roll!  Delicious:

We met up with one of her midwife friends and I listened to these two go on and on for a couple of hours.  I had a great time and hope I'm still kicking ass and taking names when I retire like Kathleen!

My week was also blessed by a visit from another friend, Alyssa!  Her grandpa is dying in Rhode Island so she came to visit him.  And no, I had nothing to do with either of these sad illnesses, I have better ways to get visitors!  

Given that I still had Alyssa's bear suit, I picked her up at the train station wearing it:

I got lots of stares, a few condescending comments, and one dude who video taped me.  Here I am with Alys who loved my idea:

She's staying a week but I ditched her today to become a visitor myself.  It's my 18th anniversary tomorrow and the stars aligned for me to come home for an extra visit.  Although the flight was long, my layover in Chicago gave me something to laugh about:

IT'S A TOILET THAT AUTOMATICALLY CHANGES THE SEAT COVER!!!  This sucker blew my mind so completely, that I peed three times in one hour just to see it work!  I felt like a hayseed seeing more than 10 people at once.   I was agog at the technology.  Thankfully I could lock the doors so no one could see me admiring the potty!

After some nice airline snacks and two cans of Coke Zero, I finally landed in Salt Lake!  I kissed my hubby with no tongue (that's for later) and did something I've been wanting to do for weeks:

I made a Bubba sandwich!  The other kids had school so they're waiting for me at home, but they'll get their sandwich later, including Hannah.

It's weird that I'm the one visiting!  It is lovely seeing mountains again, but I'm actually missing Rhode Island.  I feel like I belong there!  It just so happens I'm only here a couple of days and then will head back where I have Alyssa waiting in East Providence to visit a bit more before she heads home.  I just hope the neighbor downstairs doesn't decide to become a rapist and/or murderer and visit her before I get back...

Baby Catching

After a month long hiatus from baby catching, my privileges for Woman and Infants Hospital came through.  Therefore, I was rewarded with an official badge:

Once you have an official badge, on call resonsibilities are close behind.  As such, I found myself starting a 24 hour call shift with one of my new partners, Nicole.  I've been feeling a little nervous about starting in a new hospital because I was so comfy where I was and liked the nurses I worked with so much.  However, midwifery runs through my veins, and the need to touch a fresh baby was more important than any anxiety I felt, so off I tripped to WIH.

What happened?  I delivered three babies and was up all night!  It felt just like being back in Idaho, but at least quiet Chelsea, one of my other partners, was on call the next day instead of me again!  

I also got to do some other things like call some mommas back about some questions they were having.  I even got to tell a lady her water wasn't broken.  Here's proof I checked:

No amniotic fluid, just lovely, healthy, vaginal discharge.  I love healthy vaginal discharge.  In fact, I love vaginas in a totally platonic way!  They make the world turn, discharge and all.  Google it, I'm pretty sure there is scientific proof I'm right about this.

Know what the best part of the night was?  Some diarrhea followed by nausea I had from about 10 pm to 2 am.  I tried to nap in between deliveries, but I was so worried the relaxation would cause me to excrete a brown pool while I slept, that I couldn't fall asleep.  I also was so worried about someone hearing me down the hall from the bathroom I was using, that I felt like I couldn't relieve myself like I should!  These trots were so loud, I was afraid someone would announce a bomb threat!  That's a Code Green at my new hospital BTW.  As if the explosions weren't enough, I then worried the stench would provoke a Code Orange which warns of a chemical hazard or spill!    Here I am hunkered down listening for decreased foot traffic in the hallway so I can dash back to my bed in shame:

It was horrible!  I don't mind people judging me on my character flaws, but I'd really like to earn a proper bad reputation for myself, not one related to super diarrhea!

I ended up being awake for the full 24 hour shift.  It actually felt good to be back in the groove, but I am looking forward to understanding how everything works because I certainly wasn't my best self yesterday.  I'm hoping my new partners will be patient with me!  I really do know what I'm doing, but I have so much to settle into!  I managed to get a nap in for several hours this morning once I got home, and my raging gut inferno is more like a grumbling nuisance right now.  I'm also feeling pretty stoked that I didn't leak or outright poop in my pants.  I have struggled with this before you know!  I'm supposed to go get lobster rolls with a friend whose visiting from Seattle today and considered cancelling to give my intestines more healing time.  However, since skipping great food opportunities is abhorrent to me, I'm going to take my chances.  Maybe I should bring a change of underwear just in case...