Birthday

The Princess turned 22 today;

When she was born, Hubby and I were newly married. We lived in nice two-bedroom apartment on the North side of Chicago. We had Blondie, who was 4 1/2 years old. I quit my job to stay home with the kids and Hubby made $22,500/year. We thought we had it made.

We were poor (relatively). We were happy. Hubby travelled a total of two-and-a-half hours a day to and from work. On Friday nights, I would have the laundry all packed up for him, and he’d spend a few hours at the laundromat. When he came home, I’d do all his ironing.

For a while, I didn’t have a car. If I wanted to go to the store or anywhere, I’d put The Princess in the snugli and Blondie in the stroller. We couldn’t get too many groceries or Blondie would tip over. Sometimes, I’d put both girls in the stroller, go to the park and hit tennis balls against the fieldhouse wall for exercise while Blondie ran around. When Bro came around, I’d have a baby in the snugli and two in the stroller. Never stopped me.

Hubby and I were too young and ignorant to realize that things were tough. It never occurred to us that what we were doing was hard.

We were in love and we were so happy with the kids and our little family life.

Now The Princess is on the cusp of her new life. We gave her everything she ever wanted, materially, since we knew how hard it was to do without. We wonder in retrospect if she would have been better off if we had given her less and made her work harder.

I guess the point is moot now. When she moves out, she will be poor. She will do without. Will she notice? Will she be unhappy? Will she rise to challenge, like Blondie has?

I’d like to think that although she is accustomed to the finer things in life, she has a good enough head on her shoulders to be able to see that the trade-off will be worth it. She may do without, but she will know that what she has is hers, and what she does is what she decides, and no matter what, she will always have love.

And she will always have a safety net. Just in case. As will all our other children.

Starting out from nothing has made Hubby and me so grateful for what we have earned and achieved. I can only hope that someday my children will feel the same way.

Happy birthday, Princess. With heartfelt wishes for the life you want to have. We love you.

Got my ass handed to me today

DISCLAIMER: The events and characters in the following post are fictional. They are merely composites that represent many different fictional events and characters that of course never happened.

————————-

Today was slow and steady for most of the day. Then 4:00pm came along, and the shit hit the fan.

Ambulance #1 had a post-seizure patient who was combative and very ill. Truckloads of meds, five people laying on him, intubation, and tons of nurse work, and he’ll be transferred out to a facility with a higher level of care.

Ambulance #2 and #3 came in at the same time shortly thereafter. The first was an old man with a laceration, who we pretty much ignored, because #3 had a BP of 40/25 and a pulse rate of 32. And she was mine.

One-on-one nursing care in two different rooms, a waiting room full of patients, and oh-by the way, that guy with a laceration also has a broken neck.

Jesus Christ. By the time I left (late), the cardiologist wanted to put a pacemaker in patient #3. In the ED. We talked him out of it, thank God. Patient #1 was almost ready for transfer, and #2 had a hard collar on.

Oh – and there were NO beds in the whole hospital, so we had to hold all the admits in the ED. Which is a bad thing to do – for the patients and the staff alike.

We call this kind of day a clusterfuck. All we can do is hope it’s not going to be as bad next shift we work.

Ugh.

Schadenfreude

I am so amused by the fact that the brand-new senator from Massachusetts was voted World’s Sexiest Man by Cosmopolitan magazine in 1982, and was featured in a nude centerfold.

And his daughter, who is a contestant on American Idol, is singing with the Doug Flutie band.

And now I’m listening to commentary on the race by Sarah Palin.

It’s all a dog-and-pony show, and I am so perplexed by the turns of events that I can only laugh.

I just can’t stop shaking my head. Talk about implosion.

Workin’ on my fitness

We bought ourselves a wii fit plus system a couple of days ago. And we’ve been using the heck out of it.

The person who has made the most use of it is Bubba. He played the various games for two hours yesterday, and for an hour today. I’ve used it quite a bit too.

I think that Bubba was made uncomfortable by the fact that the wii evaluated his weight and deemed him ‘At Risk of Overweight.’

I admit our boy is big. He carries eighty pounds on his 4’8″ frame. He has a little winter pudding encasing his torso right now that he usually sheds easily when the weather warms.

But we’re very attentive to Bubba’s need for daily exercise. Hubby is usually the one who aggressively works him out on the weekends, making him run on the treadmill, taking him swimming and biking, etc. I try to get him to gym classes, sports, and I shove him out the door as frequently as the weather allows.

We know that he needs the exercise not only for his physical well-being, but for his mental and psychological health as well.

And he keeps us active too. We have been more directly involved with his upbringing than with any of our other children. And we’re the lucky one on that point.

Anyway, we encourage Bubba to play on the wii as often as he wants to, after chores and other requirements are met. And we encourage him to pace himself, and repeatedly tell him how wonderful and perfect he is exactly the way he is. We tell him we wouldn’t change a thing about him.

But we set the example of healthy people getting regular exercise and eating right (mostly). That’s the best thing we can do for him, I think.

Superficial

I got a new haircut today. It’s layered and slightly past my shoulders.

I look like Florence Henderson from the Brady Bunch in the seventies. Remember that very blond shag with the flippy-uppy ends?

Yep. That’s me.
Well, not quite, but you get the idea.

It’s cute and fresh and different. And tomorrow it will look nothing like it does today, because I will have made it my own.

And I’ll probably look exactly like I always do. Which is fine I guess.

But it must look good, because some random guy followed me all around the Hen House today while I did my grocery shopping.

Weird.