The Resonating "S"

I am a dog-lover through and through.  I love all animals, but dogs have always held an extra-special place in my heart.  I have actually never been without a dog.  When I was very young, we had large family dogs that stayed mostly outside.  When I was eleven, my parents took me to the IKC Dog Show at McCormick Place on Easter Sunday.  We saw hundreds of breeds and I left the show determined to have a small lap dog to call my own.  My parents told me that before even considering it, I must research dog breeds and find one suitable for our family.  They also wouldn't spend more than $200 on a dog.  

So, the following weekend, I headed to the library and checked out several books on dog breeds.  I spent hours researching breed characteristics, grooming needs, training tips, and compatibility.  I finally decided that I wanted either a shih tzu, pekingese, or a pomeranian.  The following Thursday, when the Advertiser was delivered, I scoured it for available dogs.  Much to my excitement, I found a male pekingese pup, immediately available for $200.  True to their word, my parents let me call and arrange to meet him.  As soon as I met the sweet boy, we all knew he would be coming home with us.  We named him Casey, and he was the adorable lap dog I had wished for.  He was a good boy and tolerated me constantly doting over him.  I was absolutely in love with him.  

Tragically, he died just a few months later and my heart was shattered.  Seeing how distraught I was, my mom found a cute little shih tzu puppy.  He was another adorable bundle of energy, obsessed with any kind of shining light and empty plastic bottles.  We named him Zigiferd Marley Oreo Benz , but just called him Ziggy.  He let me dress him in doll clothes, put bows in his hair, and any other ridiculousness I subjected him to.  When he was just over two, I found a beagle pup and begged asked my parents if I could have him.  I used my personal savings to pay for him.  On July 5, 1997, we brought him home.  Since then, I have always had more than one dog.  Until now.  

For 17 years and 1 day, I have had the pleasure of referring to my dogS.  On July 6th, we said goodbye to our boxer, Slevin.  He was a dog bounding with a frenetic disposition from the very beginning.  In all honesty, he was an awkward addition to our family.  When we brought him home, our first boxer, Mackie, wouldn't go near him.  It took a month before they would sleep within five feet of one another.  When he got excited, Slevin could easily jump with all four paws six feet off the ground.  He had an affinity for pooping unlike anyone I've ever met.  We repeatedly joked that he had an iron stomach, as he ate the strangest objects.  The week before Danica's first birthday, he ate 40 uninflated green balloons.  It took a week, but he managed to gleefully expel all of them.  Over the course of his life, Slevin continued to eat diapers, crayons, paper products, entire loaves of bread, whole bananas, a one pound bag of Hershey's Kisses (giving a whole new meaning to Hershey squirts), and several random toys.  Amazingly, though, he never destroyed a single shoe.  

In a way, I think I had expected that Slevin's unique interest in eating non-food items would be the cause of his eventual death.  Instead, it was progressing Cushing's Syndrome, and likely metastatic cancer, that had me grasping for straws in an attempt to prolong his life.  Unfortunately, these two big C's are forces greater than my stubbornness.  Prolonging his life only meant prolonging his misery.  I am grateful that Mike helped me see the foolishness of my attempts.  Together, in a hectic animal emergency room, Mike and I held our Puddy as his body was released of pain.  And now, we have only one dog in our home.  Our sweetheart, Dominoe, is relishing in being our only, but I wince every time that missing "S" resonates.  

The Moment He Became "Daddy"

Growing up in the 90's, my summer breaks always included indulging myself in fine programming such as Jenny Jones and Maury. Both shows often spewed some variation of the idiom, "Any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a daddy." It was always used in some mildly entertaining, and largely disturbing, situation. It wasn't until I saw my husband transform into "Daddy" right before my eyes, that I truly understood the depth of this overused statement.  Amazingly, I have that very moment captured forever.  

After I delivered Danica, I needed a little extra tending to and could not hold my newborn baby girl right away.  She was swept off to the other side of the delivery room to be weighed, measured, and evaluated.  My already-spirited little lady screamed through the entire process. Loudly. The pain of the doctor mending me did not compare to the agony of hearing my brand new baby cry inconsolably. 

Mike has always had a difficult time seeing me in distress.  He would move a mountain, or at least pry open the door of a car engulfed in flames, just to ensure I am safe. But, in the moments that we listened to our firstborn child wail, he decided to leave my side to meet our sweetheart. He reached out his finger, and her tiny hand grasped on. A calm settled over her as he spoke to her, with the same soothing voice he had used to calm me just minutes before. He was no longer only my husband, my friend, my partner, or even just the father of my child...he was Danica's Daddy.  

Happy Father's Day, Michael Bruce. I am humbled by your love for me and forever grateful for your adoration of our girls. I love you. xoxo 

Happy Birthday Interview with Adelyn!

Starting this year, I have decided to do mini "interviews" with each of the girls on their birthdays.  I think it will be a cute commemoration of how much they grow and change with each year.  Here is Addy's!

What is your name? Addy
How old are you? 1-1/2 ... 2
Who is your best friend? Danica!
What is your favorite food? Dog Food Strawberries and pizza
What is your least favorite food? Dog food 
What is your favorite color? Blue
What is your favorite song? Turn yourself around (aka If You're Happy and You Know It)
What is your favorite book? Cookie Monster Book
What do you love to play with? My guys
Name the people in your family. Mickey and Goofy

My Life's Greatest Distraction

My happiness and contentedness has been at an all-time high over the past year. I've thought long and hard on why that is. Not because I'm surprised by it, but because I want to harness it and keep it so, as long as possible. I have realized those feelings come from the strength our marriage has derived. Most importantly, I have realized our marriage is thriving because we refuse to treat one another as an after thought. When life gets the better of us, we sometimes see that we are neglecting each other and our marriage. When that happens, Mike and I stop, redirect and remind each other of our love. We remind each other that we need more patience. And mostly, we remind each other that we both choose "together" each and every day.  

To my Mike, on our anniversaries,

You are so much more than just a husband to me. You have always had a natural ability to distract me from anything else in the world. Your words can calm my nerves. Your smile can cut through my anger. Your touch makes me feel safe. Your love makes me feel whole. You are my life's greatest distraction.

When my anxiety steals my breath, you hold me until I feel safe enough to catch it. When I am frustrated and overwhelmed, you allow me to vent it without judgement. When I'm feeling ridiculous and act like a dork, you laugh right along with me. When I birthed our children, you laid your hands upon my back ever so gently and whispered your love and encouragement so only I could hear. You gave me strength and courage when I wasn't sure it was possible. When I worry too much about our future, you bring me back to our present. When I dream wondrous (and unattainable) dreams, you hop right into the fantasy with me. When I sit on our bed and sob that I can't be a mom and do well enough in school,  you are the voice reminding me that I can. For better or worse, you exist in every corner of my existence. I could never be all of me without you.    

Today, after 14 years together, and 8 years married, I still do.  

2000

2006

2014

The Little Home We Outgrew...

We purchased our little townhome in 2005 and quickly outgrew it.  As the burden of it's ownership grew over the years, I became less sentimental about it.  But there are some irreplaceable parts of our life that couldn't exist as-is without it...


These walls have witnessed emotions from me that so few know I experience.  

They have heard friendships ended, and laughter abounding.  
They have seen sleeplessness nights, and days filled with play.
They have seen puppy accidents, and the melody of a welcoming trio of dogs.

They have seen heartache, and they have seen new life created.
They have heard moans of defeat, and those of ecstasy.
They have heard me weep, and they have heard my babies cry.

They have heard countless "I love you's", and a fair share of less pleasant utterances.
They have heard dreams spoken, and disappointments shouted.  
They have worn my memories, and housed my secrets.

It is the place where I finally stopped being the person I thought I should be, and became the place where I reclaimed my path to being the person I need to be.  

In the end, it was my home.  Our home.  The place where I grew from a 20 year old girl lost in my own small world, to a wife, a mother, and a confident nearly 30 year old woman.  The place where we grew into a family, from a couple lost in love, but struggling with diverging plans.  This is the end of an era and the beginning of our next.  We are beyond life-creating mode and into life-living mode.  In the words of my wise and poetic husband, "let's do this shit!" 

Photo courtesy of Mike Akers

Raising Freethinkers

When I was ten years old, I heard the word "agnostic" for the first time.  I asked my dad what it meant and he gave me a brief explanation, but encouraged me to look it up myself.  In the archaic age of paper-based research, I did just that.  As a naturally inquisitive child, I immersed myself in that research.  My focus wasn't just on agnosticism and atheism, it was on theology.  It was on the world's religions.  

I began reading the Christian Bible and requested my mom take me to the church services of a few different denominations.  None of it clicked with me.  Over the years, I consistently found so many disparities between myself and any deity or organized religion, that I nearly certainly considered myself agnostic.  I wasn't sure that a deity outside of the those in mythology and tall tales existed, but I couldn't bring myself to think one certainly did NOT exist.  

I traveled through adolescence on a quest to find something that made me feel differently.  I was almost always the odd one out.  So few of my peers could fathom my disbelief.  That adversity caused me much introspection and even more knowledge-seeking.  I continued to read the Bible, I continued to learn, I watched religious-based films...I was searching to be proven wrong.  But, I wasn't.  As I became a young adult, I realized that I am an atheist.  I am still fascinated by religion, but it is not mine to have.  

I refuse to baptize my children "just in case", because I think it is preposterous to consider that a child even has the capacity to "sin". 

I do not fear death without an afterlife, because I know that the true "afterlife" is the memories we gift to those still living.

I do not need salvation, because I live an imperfect life that I am proud of.  

I know that my children are not deprived of the valuable lessons that can come with religious affiliation, because I lead my life as a role model that I am comfortable with them emulating. 

We learn so much more by what is modeled for us, than what is merely spoken to us.  So instead of regaling life's lessons through age-old stories, I do it with my words and actions each and every day.  I am not necessarily raising Christians or Muslims or Buddhists, I am just raising good people who are free to think as they choose.  So for any religious-based worries for my children, I bid a sincere "no thank you".  Mike and I long ago chose to impart our children with knowledge, rather than religious affiliation.  We will let each of our daughters check-mark their own boxes when it comes to spiritual identification.  

  

The Wrong Twenty-One

I have received the familiar green postcard I see every other year.  It is time to renew my nursing license.  This is my fifth time receiving this little card, and I've decided it will also be my last.  I have chosen not to renew my Registered Nurse license.  It is a dichotomous pull for me, but I have realized at this point I'm only holding on to it for the off-chance I may need it.  I've learned over the years, that off-chance isn't coming.  I have been asked numerous times, by a variety of people why I left my job as a nurse and haven't gone back.  Here is my why...

In May of 2005, I was newly engaged, weeks away from closing on my first home, and being pinned as a Registered Nurse...I was also twenty.  At twenty years old, I knew I had adulthood by the horns and I was certain I would succeed.  Before I graduated, I already had a great job offer: a full-time day-shift position at a fabulous hospital, working on their medical-surgical floor!  I was thrilled and felt ready to take my NCLEX (the computerized nursing license exam).  Since this is the test I'd spent the previous two and half years preparing for, I booked a hotel next to my testing facility to take make sure I wouldn't be late for the exam.  Mike accompanied me and even drove me to the facility.  Twenty-five minutes after dropping me at the doors, I called him to say I was ready to be picked-up.  A few weeks later I learned I had passed and enthusiastically started my nursing job in late-June.  A few weeks later, on July 15, we signed on our little townhouse.  It was going to be our starter home for the next three to five years.  I was doing this adulthood thing!  I was able to check all the boxes I had assumed entailed being adult.  So I worked and planned our wedding.  All the while, I was rapidly approaching my twenty-first birthday.

Reality was slowly rearing it's head to me, and my twenty year old self was too naive to understand or adapt.  I was a good nurse and I was frequently commended by coworkers and patients.  I was requested by patients that were admitted to our floor regularly, and I put my nursing school knowledge to work.  What was missing, was life experience and personal confidence.  I knew pharmacology like the back of my hand, but what does a newly twenty-one year old young woman say to a fifty year old woman dying of cancer?  I remember working a PM shift and being assigned a patient with metastatic pancreatic cancer, awaiting her consultation with hospice the next day.  She had morphine infusing through an epidural, but was still in an immense amount of pain.  I looked at her chart and saw that she had an as needed order for buccal morphine: in essence a morphine lollipop.  So I went to my Pyxis (the computerized medicine vending machine), and dispensed one for her.  I brought it to her and she silently cried.  She would be facing tomorrow's consultation alone.  Her family refused to see her, and  she knew that she would also likely die alone.  I sat with her far longer than my supervisor would have liked, and just held her hand.  At twenty-one, I could feel compassion for her.  That was never difficult.  But I couldn't really wrap my brain or heart around her reality.  Nor was I sure I wanted to be exposed to those realities yet.  But I kept on trucking, because her thank you and kiss on my hand, encouraged me that I was doing something right.  

A few weeks later, I was working an overnight shift on a Saturday and was assigned a post-surgical patient.  There is protocol to follow with post-op patients, and I usually looked forward to them because the care expectations were very clearly defined.  I met the patient and noticed a cot on the floor of her private room.  She told me that she had trouble sleeping without her fiance present, and the previous RN said he could stay the night.  I said ok and kept making my rounds.  A few hours into my shift, around 2:30AM I heard yelling and a crash come from the room.  I signaled to my nursing supervisor and went into the room.  The fiance had thrown the cot against the wall and assaulted my sleeping patient.  I stayed in the room until Security came and tried to gather details.  After everything settled down, I asked my supervisor if I could go out for a break.  By this time, it was nearly 4AM, but I knew that Mike was still up.  I called him, because I needed to hear someone familiar.  He couldn't talk then because he was playing poker and it was down to him and another player.  I hung up the phone and stood outside in the stark quiet of the four o'clock hour and realized I was living the wrong twenty-one.  I was too young to handle this.  I was too naive to be an adequate caretaker.  I was not ready to help other people live, or die, through the ugliest parts of life.  I needed some irresponsibility that I never allowed myself.  I needed to slow down.  I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I would have heard those exact words. 

In late-November of that same year, I resigned my position.  I did not have another to replace it, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew I didn't want to keep working as a Registered Nurse for that moment.  The problem, is that with nursing, so little experience means nearly no future job potentials.  Looking back, it was probably foolish.  Looking back, I would do many things differently.  But I'm not looking back, I'm looking forward.  And because of this time, my life is being lived the way that fits me best for now.  I have let go of the guilt and settled into my confident adult self.  Now I just have to figure out, what I really want to be when I grow up. ;)