The Battle of Wednesdays

Some people fought in the Battle of Bulge, Battle of Saratoga, here in our household, we fight The Battle of Wednesdays weekly.

Wednesday is just a crazy day, most because Aidan's kindergarten starts at 8 pm, instead of its regular time of 9:05. Sometimes, I make Wednesdays even more crazy, simply because I lack insight.

Our day today:

6:40 Hubby and I got up, about 5 minutes before the alarm. Why did we wake up before the alarm? No idea. But we did. I got ready, Hubby got ready. I packed lunches for Aidan and me.

7:20 Zoe and Aidan got up. They eagerly dressed themselves very quickly, they didn't ask to play, highly unusual...

7:35 Aidan was in the car, ready to go- to go to a special donut breakfast at school. Why would the school organize a donut breakfast when we are trying to make the kids eat better? Because, that was what the student body president promised she would do while she campaigned. Brilliant political move, actually, but seriously?! Especially because this event required so much work for her poor family and the teachers. They had to collect permission slips, passed out the appropriate number of tickets to each class, and well, purchased the donuts at the butt crack of dawn. In conclusion, Aidan went to school early, eagerly, because he wanted a donut.

7:40 After waving them off, I sat down to do some billing.

8:10 Ran around the house, found keys, threw myself in the car.

8:15 Saw Hubby driving on the street with Zoe, as they headed off to their special Wednesday morning date. Then I got a text message that Hubby and destroyed his iPhone...

8:30 Started working with patient #1.

9:20 Said good bye to patient #1, and found some donut holes from Hubby and Zoe by my office door. (They are such sweet people.)

9:21 Called Hubby to thank him, to find out that while I had planned for them to get lunch at the "Faculty Appreciation Potluck" that I had ordered a pizza delivery for, this "potluck" was not actually for people who brought food. It was actually more like a "food donation" than a "potluck." Choice words were spoken by me, and we came up with a plan, that Hubby needed his lunch hour to take care of his phone, and I would order a sandwich from the deli in the building and get it to Zoe before her lunch time. How will I find that time?!

9:31 Ordered her a grilled cheese, wondered, where was my 9:20, patient #2?

9:40 Patient #2 arrived, who thought she was early for her 9:45, and I thought I might die soon because Patient #3 was arriving at 10:00.

10:00 Patient #2 left and #3 came in. I had squeezed this person in, because he really needed to see a psychiatrist and couldn't find one, and it was rather urgent. Not hospital urgent, but urgent. He was ok about meeting for 1/2 hour to see how much we could accomplish, instead of my usual 50 minute first appointment. Before I got #3 from the waiting room though, I decided to call my 11:00, Patient #5 to see if he could come at 4:20 instead, because I was going to be late... Left #5 a voice mail.

10:30 Patient #4 arrived. BTW, I know people are waiting for me because I have a little light they push to let me know they are waiting. It is this nice blue light, except when I am running late, then it is this glaring blue light... But I was still with Patient #3, trying to wrap it up, but finding that to be impossible. Also, wondering just how am I going to get that sandwich to my sweet girl? Focus. Focus.

10:40 Patient #3 left. Patient #4 came in. I posted a note on my blue light button that I was running late by about 15 minutes. (Wishful, wishful, thinking.)

10:59 #4 left. I ran to get that sandwich and banana, sprinted to the car in my cute sling back high heels, drove to Zoe's school, prayed that I would make it through today. Got to hold her for a few minutes, explained that Mommy misunderstood the meaning of "potluck", saw her run outside to join her friends. Drove back to the office. Ran inside. Was #5 coming or not?!

11:16 #5 was chilling and waiting. He said he couldn't do 4:20 because a work meeting and was ok catching up on various magazines, so he came anyway for his 45-50 minute therapy time.

11:45 #6 was waiting. But I was still with #5.

12:05 #5 left. #6 came. My #7, who was scheduled for 12:00, also for a therapy hour, was not in the waiting room yet. Ok, that was good, if #7 was also running late, she wouldn't have to wait as long.

12:30 #6 left. Still no #7. I called #7. She completely forgot about our appointment. She promised to mail me a check for her 'no show.' I thanked God for this miracle. That I got to catch up, AND get paid, AND eat lunch! I removed the note about running late.

1:05 #8 came, but a little late. Would I stay on time for the afternoon? As the med check session went on, it then became clear, that I would not.

1:30 #9 came, but I was still with #8.

1:40 #8 left. I really needed to make a phone call for #8 to coordinate care, but no time. Get #9.

2:00 #9 left. #10 came for a therapy appointment.

2:51 #10 left. Hallelujah, I was back on time. Called for #8.

3:10 #11 came, a bit late, she came late, and so I was going to end on time anyway.

3:50 #11 left. #12 came.

4:20 #12 left. And I was done with patient care, because thankfully, #5 came at 11, and it all worked out.

4:50 I got Zoe and Aidan in the car, we talked about what we wanted to do when we got home, and we all decided, homework had to wait. We were TIRED.

Wednesday is also the day that Hubby has to do a weekly report for work, thus, he often works late into the night churning that out. I also go back to the office for more patient care some Wednesday evenings, to accommodate folks who simply can't make it during the day. Thankfully, today was not a day for evening office hours.

I am exhausted, and time to go to bed!

Next Step

Life is good. We are all healthy, Aidan is thriving at school, Zoe is growing up so fast, Hubby is doing well at work, and I am happy with work, too. Our marriage is solidly happy, we are active at church and building up community. But something is missing.

I don't know what we are suppose to do next. Specifically, I don't know what I am suppose to do, and in general, feeling that I am lacking in directions.

No one really prepared me for this. Except my friend from college, Jennifer, who wisely said, "You gotta slow down and smell the roses along the way, because what are you going to do when you get to your goal?" Rubbish, I naively thought, "Of course, I would then enjoy the fruits of my labor!"

I have always had a goal, or two. Get good grades, graduate from high school, go to college, do well there, get into med school, get married, get into residency, have babies. Get board certified. Buy a house. Now what?!

I tried to get my singing career back: it is not going so well, and frankly, so what if I can give recitals again? What good would that do? Besides, it would take me years to get my voice back in its fighting shape, and I am, well, in for instant gratification these days.

There is no where else to go in my career. I am already my own boss, so there is no sense in 'trying to get promoted.' I already have more patients than I have time for, and thus, no need to grow the practice. I can't do hospital work because of scheduling issues, so becoming the director of a department is a no go. I could, go do a fellowship, but why would I do that?! I already like my current set up. Board recertification won't come for another 9 years, and it is just too early to start studying for that.

I can make A&Z do more stuff, but they are already doing plenty of stuff, and yes, my life is full of their accomplishments, and it is great. But they will grow at their own pace, and I simply can't make them grow up faster, or make them get better grades, insist that they make more friends.

What I want is to go back to school. Not for new stuff, but to repeat my college years, exactly like how it happened, just one more time.

(This picture was taken my junior year, I lived on the third floor of a dorm that had a patio, and had these wide low walls. It was great for reading, and if I did roll over and fall, I would just roll to the second floor balcony. Really, totally safe. I hope you can see what I would love to go to college again, to spend lazy Saturday afternoons reading on the balcony.)

Scripps commencement was this morning for the class of 2010, and I was feeling wistful when I got the e mail notification about it. I graduated 12 years ago, and I can remember it like it was this morning. Hubby and I were dating, the roses were red, and we were so young, so expectant of great things! And it has been great! But I miss that sense of purpose, of somewhere to go, something to do.

I have no idea how stay-at-home mothers think about this, and if you are a SAHM, please do chime in. What goals do you have, for yourself, what are you working toward?

Shocking

I have had three voice lessons thus far, and my oh my, it is a bit shocking. Shocking how badly I sing these days, mostly. After studying voice in college, my music career essentially died. When I finished residency, I had thought that I would start singing again, with all the free time and money that an attending would have, surely, I could start this up again. Nope. Life, ironically, got more hectic, and there was just no time for this endeavor. Slowly, a piece of me was withering away. This spring, I finally decided to do something about it. I found a voice teacher through a local university (the only way I know how...) and my new phase of life begun. A phase of life that involves singing in the garage, after the kids are asleep.

I like my voice teacher, she sounds really, really good. Of course, I also respect her credentials- she went to a conservatory, a prestigious one. I wish I can sound like her. We chatted a bit after one lesson, and I found out that she grew up in my neighborhood and just a few years older than me.

Then, today, I went to see my dentist, the same guy who polished my teeth before I left for college, and every winter/summer break thereafter. I drove around the same roads where I had my driving lessons, and it was a bit spooky as I went down memory lane. Spooky how I thought I was so mature, however, now that I am a bit less immature (not necessarily mature at all), I recognize how immature I really was.

The scary part is, what if I am doing all this parenting, working, stuff, and I am actually really immature? Ah!!!

For instance, I dated this guy in high school, behind my parents' back. How I got away with it? No idea, although it definitely involved some lying. (Thankfully, Jesus already died for this.) I had thought that my parents were so old school, so dense, if only they could just live a little. Thankfully, God always kept me safe, and my parents' worst fears (truancy, drugs, straying away from the Gospel, teenage pregnancy...) never were realized.

Now that I am a parent, while I think that I rather know what A&Z are up to and will want to know if they are dating, and possibly even encourage them to date so that I can give them some guidance before they are off to college, I am sure, one day, they will think of me as old, dense, and nearly dead. My only hope is that God will keep them safe.

Back to my original point, what if I am doing all that I am doing, but I am no where near the maturity I delusionally think I have?

Please God, keep those children in your hands, keep my patients in your hands...

Motherhood Reflections

Mothers' Day is coming! I am excited, because A&Z are so sweet. Now that Aidan is in kindergarten, he is much more aware of the holidays, and so the other night, over dinner, he said, "We should do something for Mothers' Day." Hubby asked him what our plan should be. Aidan looked rather thoughtful, for a few seconds, and he said, "We should take her out to dinner. We should take her to Chinese food. Mom, do you like Chinese food?" I told him that my favorite food is Chinese food.

The other day while we were driving to get Zoe from her school, he and I had a great talk about how he and I are alike, how he is so alike Daddy, how Zoe is like me, how Zoe is like Daddy, and how they are alike, and how we are all different. It was a really cool conversation. He is growing up so fast.

Zoe is also growing up so fast. She is very into wearing dresses, and being a 'big girl.' The other day, while I was out moving garbage and recycling bins, she ran to the potty, but couldn't get her pants off fast enough, and had a flood by the potty- those are the saddest accidents, don't you think? And she was SO weepy, because she accidentally peed all over her new shoes. (Let me be honest, I was not pleased. Not really about the accident- just wipe it up and move on, but about her SHRIEKING. Good grief, just shoes, lady. However, to her, she was devastated.) Now, as I am retelling the incident, it seems so sweet.

That is just how motherhood, isn't it? In the moment, it is hard work. It is challenging, difficult to figure out how to handle each situation. However, with time, in retrospect, even the hardest moments become a story, a sweet one, usually. At least when they are 3 and 6. Possibly not so sweet when they are 13 and 16, but thankfully, I have ten years to learn about this.

I got my monthly newsletter from a mothers' club I belong to. "Belong" would be too strong of a word. For the last four years, the duration of my membership, I had never done anything with them, in person. I had used the yahoo group to get information, and I also got chided once, for 'mis-using' the group. Back to my point, there were a few articles about motherhood, being May and all. I had two observations.

Modern day mothers complain a lot. I am completely guilty of this, I mean, isn't that what this blog is FOR?! Hubby and I think, we complain a lot, partly because we have so many social medias to complain through: YouTube, Facebook, blogging...etc. However, is it a good thing? No one will deny that being a mother is hard. Clara Schumann, an accomplished pianist, and wife of Robert Schumann, had a LOT of kids. And her performing career essentially ended. (Probably didn't help that Robert was bipolar...) However, are we doing ourselves a favor by complaining? Motherhood is the most challenging calling I have ever had, and it will probably always be the most difficult part of my life. Yet, I made a decision, I chose this, and I gotta say, I can't imagine not having A&Z. Maybe it is also an expression of my generation: Things come too easily for us, that we only know how to live in a rosy world, and there isn't very much about motherhood that is consistently rosy, so we complain.

Secondly, it seems like as we thank mothers, we also make fun of how little fathers do. In the bulletin, there was this whole thing about how little a father has to do on road trips. Yes, there are some fathers who do not involve themselves, but there are also fathers who are super involved. Perhaps I am 1. taking this entirely too seriously, or 2. so blessed to have Hubby that I can't empathize. However, I don't think I am taking this too seriously, as there are a lot of dumb portrayals of fathers in our midst. It is highly possible that I can't empathize, however, shouldn't we then focus on helping fathers to become more involved, instead of stereotyping fathers and making fun of them? How often do fathers shy away from bonding with babies because mothers won't give them a chance? Jennifer Hall wrote about this very eloquently in her book, More Than One.

Anyway, my sweet schnookies are currently snoozing away, and I am going to go check on them, give them kisses, hold their soft, warm hands for a while. I know, a bit freaky, but seeing how sweet they are makes my day.

Competition

I am a competitive person. This is a fact, and I am admitting it readily.

Perhaps it is the middle child syndrome, I think I have always been competitive with my siblings, my friends, neighbors, random Jane down the street. If they can do something, then I am determined to do it with one hand, or upside down.

As an undergrad, because of this trait, I ended up double majoring, and nearly completing a minor in chemistry. (Come to think of it, I am not quite sure I didn't complete it, simply because that wouldn't be like me.)

I am so competitive that when I was in medical school, I couldn't imagine how my classmates could date/marry a fellow classmate. How could they not compare to see who did better on the anatomy test?!

At some point, I learned that I won't always win. GASP! It became clear, after the first quiz, that I won't graduate at the top of my medical school class, and I think my desire for sleep won in the end, and I managed to squash my competitive spirit into a little bottle and put it away.

From time to time, this trait resurfaces. Like when residency was nearly over, and my co-residents and I were all looking for jobs. Never mind that we all wanted different things, I wanted to 'WIN!'

At the present moment, I am thrilled to hear lots of friends are having babies. My sweet friend from undergrad just gave birth a few weeks ago. Aidan and Zoe's legal guardian, shall Hubby and I die prematurely, is about to deliver in the next few weeks. Another sweet woman from Bible study is about to give birth. A med school friend will be birthing twins shortly! My sweet sister-in-law is gestating, a beautiful co-resident from yore is growing a fetus. I am absolutely so happy for them. All these ladies are giving births to their first (set of) babies- how exciting!

Then, there are people having their thirds and fourths. I feel strangely competitive with these ladies, these women that I went to med school with. Women who work a lot more than I do, and they are having a LOT of kids! A, who is an ob/gyn, has 3. There is M, who is a surgeon, and she is about to have her third. There is E, who is an emergency room doctor, and she has FOUR boys, all under the age of 6. There is R, who is a division head with the navy and is probably going to have a third.

If I didn't have my competitive nature so neatly tucked away, I would have more babies, just to keep up with my classmates!