On consent

The other day I was on a date with a boy I had been liking quite a bit. He touched the top of my bum. And I said, "Don't touch my butt." He said, "That's not your butt, that's the small of your back." 

Later I said, "Let me explain this to you: from here to here is my butt. This is where you don't touch." And he said "Okay" and then literally grabbed a handful of my bum and started laughing. 

Can we all be clear that this is not okay? When I tell someone not to touch me and they continue to touch me that violates my boundary and violates consent. I literally had to push the man away from me and say, "That was not okay." While he continued to laugh, I began to cry.

I hope you are never in a situation where you don't feel physically safe, where you wonder if someone will take physical advantage of you. If you've ever been in that situation, I'm sorry that happened to you. 

The saddest part of all of this is that the guy thought it was really funny. I tried to explain. But he didn't get it. He thought I was being "sensitive." But let's be clear: when someone asks you not to touch them and you continue to do so, that constitutes assault. And that is not okay. Period. 

The cutest tiny humans on the planet

 

 

Anxiety and dogs and such

My dog. She has anxiety. Here she is as I got home one night: panting her brains out after she shook the bottom out of her crate. 

 

The other day when she broke out of Janae's metal crate I had had enough. 

 

 

This is my girl at the vet. Thinking about what she did as we decided to put her on daily medication. 

 

You guys. I know she isn't a human. I used to make fun of this, but really, my dog is on anxiety meds. And I don't even care because it's either her, or me. Or maybe both. 

Love and loss and moving on

In the process of moving out I changed the name of my Pinterest board "Love" to "Love and loss." And then as I realized that I wasn't in a dark tornado of death that would never end, I created a new board, "Love and loss and moving on." It's interesting because this process of love and loss and moving on has been so educational. I've recently started socializing again (sometimes even with men!) and each new experience I have or person I talk to teaches me something new about love, loss, moving on. Everyone has a story about each of those things. But the stories that cut me the most are the ones about the losses of children. Kids in divorce who have to move away, children who are killed by cars, children with cancer. There's something about children, the way they embody love and forgiveness. The way they model who to be. It makes their loss hurt so much. So much more than we even knew we could feel. 

The first pediatric trauma I took care of was a boy whose foot had been severely injured when it was run over by a truck. He was screaming and it made me cry. (I cry a lot. It's a thing. I cried the other day on a breakfast date talking about how much I love and miss my nieces). Staci, teaching me who I wanted to become as a trauma practitioner taught me. "I love it when a kid is screaming. A screaming kid is breathing." I spent an entire session with Kate in therapy asking "How can I take care of a traumatically injured child and maintain a sense of composuse?"

Two years later, a little boy was hit by a car. Severely, but not critically injured, he looked up at me and said, "Could I be dead?" That moment the tears were not because of the pain but because of the gentle innocence as I said, "No bud, you're gonna be okay." I learned to hold it together. 

The thing I've learned about love and loss is we don't feel loss unless we've loved. Real love. Strong love. Transcendent love. Love helps us grow, expand. Loss wrings out our imperfections, and if we let it, loss leaves us better than it found it. It's a hard way to learn, but in the end we can minister to those around us, love them more genuinely when we have learned through our own losses how to sit with people in theirs. How to just be there. To say yes. Yes it hurts. It hurts so much. And I am here. You don't have to be alone while you feel this. I am here with you and I hear you. 

I thought for me that love and loss and moving on would be about my marriage, but really for me, it was about my Toby. That bright eyed five year old who just wanted me to get married so I could sleepover. The six year old who left me notes in the mailbox to find as I came home from work at 4 am to tell me that he liked me, loved me. The seven year old  who wanted to sit next to me me in the quiet and color because it was so peaceful. That is my loss. But it is also my gain. My growth. My love. My expansion. That is the hurt I carry in my heart. That my Jesus carries in his. That my Gracie carries when she is alone. But man. I am so glad I feel that loss. I think this is different than love, loss, moving on. This is love, loss, and keep on loving and living. I know the sting will lessen over time, but I will always have a space for the love that Toby taught me. The loss that I felt in having to leave him behind, and the growth of my heart from the terrible and lovely process of learning that I had no regrets because I had learned to love him with my whole whole heart. 

Dog pictures

Gracie has a best friend named Koda. He's a border collie aussie mix and is smarty mcsmarty pants. He can climb a chain link fence. Gracie likes to steal his bones and hide them all over Janae's yard. She buries them like Scottie on Lady and the Tramp. Here they are being besties. 

 

And here

 

Sometimes when Janae is being really mature she throws a blanket over Gracie because Koda hates hates hates it when she does that. Turns out Miss Grace Face doesn't care because she's so sleepy. 

 

Did I just write an entire post about my dog and Koda? Yes. Yes I did. 

3 AM Stream of Consciousness

It's 3 am and I just put down the book I started tonight. It started with a chapter before dinner with Taylor. Dinner that was real. Dinner where I was me and he was he and authenticity was conversation. It continued while I talked to my dad in the living room after the Cubs game. Talked for hours. Talking about all of the hard. Life is hard sometimes. It is hard, and it is not fair. I told him if I could do my life over, I would marry L_____. L______ would never have done what S______ did to me. He would never have betrayed or hurt me. My dad listened. He said what he needed to say when he needed to say it. My dad is good like that. I told him that's what me now would do, but me then couldn't. Didn't want to. Maybe if I had known about anxiety, about medications, about therapy. But things happen the way they do and someday looking back we understand why. Not to mention that there is Toby. I regret nothing about having Toby in my life for the short time that I did. My soul is overwhelmed when I think of how much he changed me and taught me. (Hand on my heart. Help him please God to feel loved and secure). I told this all to my dad. There were lots of tears. Eventually my dad had to sleep, but I wasn't done. There's so much of me bursting to get out.

I picked up the book. I proceeded to read 200 pages. It was perfect and intense and connected to the part of my soul that was needing connection. I put the book down, crying like I do so often now (although less often than before I left my terrible marriage) as the author had described herself sitting in hot yoga literally sitting on the mat not moving and letting every terrible and scary and overwhelming thought hit her with full force. And she didn't die. And it is the same for me. Feeling my feelings, all of my feelings (and there are so many now) will not kill me. It will overwhelm me. It will hurt me. It will make me come up gasping for air, but feeling my feelings will eventually leave me face to face with myself, exposed and comfortable. 

I got up to get a drink of water and there was Gracie in her crate. Asleep like the dead. So asleep that she didn't move even as I turned the light on over her head, didn't even open her eyes. That dead peace is what I seek. The ability to sit still and face disturbance, to be disturbed sufficiently that I need not even open my eyes to see things as they really are. 

Part of it needs to happen for me as it happened for the author: on a yoga mat. The rest on a blank page, on a bike, at my new job - the one that feels almost like a calling. There will be many ways in which to face myself. To forgive myself. To let my hurt go. To keep reminding myself that I have already chosen to let my anger go because it no longer suits me. There is a new me inside, smaller but more substantial and settled. She needs to be heard, and facing her, discovering her, is now my story. 

On Sleep

I'm a strong advocate for sleep. I'm pro naps. I still have a sign in my room that says "I like you and naps." So when I was 20 and Carlos told me he wished he didn't have to sleep because he would get so much more done, I respectfully disagreed. I love sleep. I love taking a break from consciousness. In college, when studying was overwhelming, John Burton said you could do one of three things 1) take a nap 2) go for a run 3) drink a diet coke. That has become a bit of a life mantra for me, although go for a run was eventually replaced with going on a bike ride. 

Tonight I had a fleeting glimpse of what Carlos meant when I had to put down my copy of China Rich Girlfriend by Kevin Kwan. It's the sequel to Crazy Rich Asians, which if you haven't read, you ought to. I literally thought, "Man, I wish I could already be awake so I could keep reading this." 

 

I guess he had a point, didn't he? 

I'm still going to bed. 

Homemaker

I am a boss homemaker. 

 

 

Roasted veggies and banana bread. Yum. 

How to spot a true friend.

Rachel came to visit. She brought froyo because my hip is a bit flared up and walking is, uh...difficult. She's the best. But then I wasn't feeling great. She is fantastic because 15 minutes later. 

 

I don't care who you are, that's friendship. 

The Love of my Life has Returned!

You guys. I picked Gracie up today from Maligator kennels. My heart. My soul. 

 

Cinnamon Rolls

Great news! I finally made cinnamon rolls. 

 

Sugar overload. I have to figure out how to have less sugar the next time because *sugar cough."

Studying up

I've been studying up on ENT, and finally came across some familiar territory. 

 

I embark on my ENT journey on October 10. 

News to come regarding emergency medicine... 

Dragon Cat Toothless

He has those days where he looks very dragonesque. 

 

The Scientist

This song. It still has to be one of the best songs ever written. What will we say about it 30 years from now? 

 

Awake

I'm awake. I'm listening to this song on repeat. The beat is nice and repetitive. Good for lulling me slowly back to sleep. 

 

Please notice the time. Yikes. 

What I Don't Miss

You know what I don't miss about being a nurse? Spending an awkwardly long period of time trying to get meds out of these packages. 

 

There's also a funny story in here about how after surgery I accidentally filled an unnecessary prescription for Zofran ODT that cost me literally $50. Whoops. 

Also please note the black fingernail polish. It is one of my simplest joys in life. 

Don't Mess With My Matchy Matchy Game

 

 

Also, the ol' hip is feeling great,thanks for asking. 

You Guys Know the Drill

It's time for a little positive body talk. So here we go again. 

 

I have a #RockingBody. I can stationary bike for 20 minutes without resistance. I only need one crutch to walk. I can sleep through the night. I can walk in the pool. My incisions are healing nicely. Today I drove a car. My body is the business. So don't mess. 

Taking a Rest

Somebody delivered some mail for a person with the same apartment number but in a different building to me. Tonight I went on an excursion across the parking lot to take it back. I stopped on the way home to take a break. Because surgery. 

 

I forgot how much I love summer nights. Fall nights. Whatever you want to consider tonigh. It's lovely. 

Brock Turner and The Guy In This Book I'm Reading.

Today I learned that convicted rapist, Brock Turner, who received an appallingly short sentence of six months in prison for his 3 felony count convictions of rape, was released after 3 months because of good behavior. (One per felony count). And then I learned about how Time reported it on Twitter.

As if poor swimmer Brock Turner went to jail for swimming instead of for raping a girl. As if it was just because they were drunk at a frat party and that that's what happens when two people drink at a party. The guy chooses to have sex with the girl whether she likes it or not, whether she knows it or not, whether she is conscious or not. 

I responded to Time in similar fashion to multiple other twitter users, I think you meant, "Convicted rapist," not "Swimmer." Time has yet to change the headline. 

It's probably not coincidence that today I'm listening to an audio book by Josh Sundquist. He describes this scene in which he and his college freshman buddy sneak into a frat party through a basement window. Everyone is grinding. He sees a girl he's hung out with a few times. She waves at him, so he decides he wants to dance with her. Not grinding per se, but real close. He walks up right next up to her and puts both of his hands on her waist to dance with her. She pulls back quickly and says, "Sorry. I just don't wanna dance like that." He then goes on for minutes (it's an audio book) about how it was so hurtful to him and how he can't believe how badly she rejected him. She tells him afterward, "Stay and dance with us." But he keeps going on and on about the rejection. He literally storms off and leaves the party. 

I just want to say something. Why does he think that he can walk up to a girl he barely knows, who has literally done nothing but smile and wave at her, and invade her personal space in such a way? Why doesn't he step back and think, "Hey, maybe I just violated her boundaries and came on too strong?" It's all about how he can't believe she was so repulsed by him. Even though she said she just didn't want to dance like that. There is absolutely no thought of, "Maybe I shouldn't have done that." "Maybe I should apologize for making her uncomfortable." I'm not saying some girls would have been into that. But she wasn't. And that's okay. She handled it kindly. He could have responded in kind. She apologized, but he didn't. 

The lack of insight into her feelings is much like Brock Turner's lack of thought about what his victim would want. Much like his lawyer and family all played it out like, "Well, she was drunk and she was at a frat party, so how could she not have wanted that. This is all just alcohol and frat parties and he's just such a nice guy." Why is it so hard for these guys to take a step back and just think, "Maybe I should have considered what she wanted and how uncomfortable I just made her." "Maybe I should say, 'sorry.'" Instead of playing it out like somehow they are the victims in these stories. A poor swimmer who had to go to jail and a poor guy who got rejected by a girl. It just makes me crazy.  That's all. 

Finalized

My divorce was finalized today. It's a mixed bag of emotions. Last week when I learned that it was close, I started sobbing. I called my mom. She was supportive. And then she said something profound. "Remember when you used to cry like this every day?" And that's true. I cried like that multiple times a week until I moved out. The crying didn't stop completely when I moved, but it sure slowed down. 

Today when I got the news, I didn't cry. I was glad to feel some relief. I sent a text to Janae telling her it was official with a fist emoji. She said, "fist like you want to punch some one or like pound it?" And it was more like pound it. Look. I made it out alive. 

I managed to stave off tears listening to this song on repeat until I didn't want to hear it again. 

 

She got me through breakups in college, so why not now? 

Traci and Maizy brought me a BLT, which might sound surprising since I don't like bacon. But it's what I felt like eating today. And they chatted and lifted my spirits and it was just all in all nice to have some company. 

And if nothing else I've learned, it's that there is something so liberating about going through a terrible experience, one that is so hard you aren't sure you'll make it through, and then coming out on the other side alive. Touch my arms, legs, torso...intact. I mean, definitely damaged a bit. But also more substantial. And knowing that the damage won't last forever. It's reassuring. It helps you believe in your own strength more than just about anything other than being able to bench press like 200 pounds. Which is basically impossible, so we take our strength where it comes. Even if it comes in struggle. 

Resistance-Free Biking

 

Biking without resistance today, but guess what?! I got to start pool therapy yesterday. Celebration like mad followed by a-get this- 15 minute pool session after which I was so tired I had to lie down before I could walk back up to my apartment. So that's fun. 

Also, I just received word that my divorce is finalized, so I guess you could congratulate or console me if you want. Depends on the day. 

Spiralizer

I finally bought a Spiralizer online. It's probably one of my better decisions in life. I'm trying to work toward eating more whole foods, and zucchini and squash noodles are one of the best ways I've found to do so. 

Not to mention, look at how fun! 

 

I'm still up in the air about the brand that I chose, but give me a few weeks and I'll let you know. 

My Cat

When Gracie and I moved out, she became really anxious. She had never been alone before. She had always had Sarge. The adorable and fun and cuddly boxer. 

 

And a seven year old Toby, who loved to play and cuddle with her. 

 

She had a backyard to dig in. (She loved to dig). And then we moved to this lovely new apartment. she got anxious. They say that's normal given the situation. We tried some herbal supplements. We tried some doggy Xanax (it's a thing). We tried the dog park. We tried taking her to doggy day care while I worked. We tried hiking and running and keeping her so worn out all she could do was sleep. And yet, when I would leave, she wouldn't eat. Left alone in her crate she would pant until her paws were saturated withsaliva. Eventually it was too much. Something had to be done. So I got her a cat. Enter Toothless. 

 

Adorable eight year old adoptee. Neutered, declawed, house trained, good with kids, good with dogs. FREE. He didn't much help with her anxiety, but he turned out to be the world's friendliest cat. Like legitimately. I have always been sort of indifferent to positive towards cats, but he is so cute and cuddly and sweet. And kids love him. And when I was in pain after surgery, he could totally tell and would make sure I wasn't alone. And then it turns out he's just a cute sleeper and he's just really grown on me. 

 

 

 So now I'm a cat lady and a dog mom. But you guys. I still have social skills and even though I wear sweats a lot because, I could blame surgery, but really just because, I still wear lipstick. And that has to count for something. 

 

My Heart

There's a Toby sized hole in my heart. God has helped to fill it with his love and his care, to soften the sharp edges, to lessen the sting. Still, sometimes I feel it. It happens suddenly. I'll see a picture. I'll think about something he said. Today it was the time we went to Hunter's soccer game and Toby wanted to make him a sign. We had done that for one of his friend's games and it was his idea. We made it in the car. 

 

Naturally, Hunter loved it. This was maybe the last time they saw each other, I don't remember. All I do know is that when I moved I left a sign on Toby's wall. 

 

You guys, he doesn't deserve this life. This life where there's no sense of permanence. Where he doesn't know how long someone will be there. Where just when he feels secure, his life is uprooted again. 

How do you explain that instability to a seven year old, or if you're like me, hope that someone is explaining it to him because you don't get to. I left a note in every book I gave him telling him how much I love him. But will he remember? 

I got some advice that every time I think about him I should put my hand over my heart and send him some love, say a prayer that he will be safe. That he will be well. And I do. And I hope he can feel it. But oh, my heart. A piece of me will always be with Toby. 

Real Chocolate Covered Cinnamon Flavored Candies: Artificially Flavored

 

What does that even mean? Whether they are real fake or fake real, I still like them. 

That Commercial with the Bouncy Balls

Do you guys remember that Sony Bravia commercial circa 2005? The one with the bouncy balls to Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez? My college roommate, studying film, showed it to us because it was in her eyes genius. I happen to agree. If you haven't seen it before: 

Today while participating in my favorite postoperative past time, browsing Etsy, I came across this necklace:

 

Which is basically that commercial in necklace form. 

You're welcome. 

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice – – –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!’
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations – – –
though their melancholy
was terrible. It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do – – –

determined to save

the only life you could save.

From Trauma to ENT

I can't remember if I already blogged about how I'm switching from an inpatient Trauma job to an outpatient otolaryngology job. It was an interesting experience, as as over the course of multiple months, I had the impression multiple times that I needed to consider taking a part-time job in an ear nose throat clinic. I began thinking I should talk to a certain Doctor. The thought was on repeat. You should talk to Dr. so-and-so and see if he or any of his partners is hiring. So, I waited until he took a week of trauma call, but I didn't see him, so at the end of the week I sent him a text message asking if he or any of his partners was hiring. He said he would check with them and get back with me. Often times in Dr. speak this means "See you never." But this time he sent me a text a day or two later telling me that one of his partners wanted to meet with me. I met with the partner the following day, and left the office with a new job. A part-time job that provided health insurance. A rarity in clinical practice as a nurse practitioner. After accepting the position and telling people about who I was going to work for, I have heard nothing but good things. The OR nurses say he's good in surgery. The PA US nurses say he's nice to them. The patients and families love him. The emergency department loves him when he's on call. It is rare to find a physician with all of these qualities. Additionally, I have never felt quite so directed toward a particular position at work, and I have this overwhelming sense of calm and certainty that I am moving in the direction that my Heavenly Father wants me to. It's a nice feeling.

Moving from Trauma to ENT is not only a change of pace, but a whole new canon to learn. I have always loved learning, and as I lay on the couch recovering from surgery, I've been learning more and more about otolaryngology. Today while studying tympanic membrane (eardrum) anatomy, I looked at pictures of ruptured eardrums. I found it ironic that after going from trauma: broken femurs, open fractures, facial trauma and many other graphic injuries, I  cringed at every picture of a ruptured eardrum.  I guess I was imagining how bad it would hurt? It reminded me of how little tolerance I have for pictures or videos of violence, gore or injuries. I think it must be that when I have a patient in front of me there is a task at hand, but when I'm looking at pictures I just imagine how bad that would hurt if it happened to me. I can stomach most things in the trauma bay, but show my a picture of a broken arm, and I'm highly disturbed. 

The great news is that if nothing else I will now have empathy for people who have what appeared to be terribly painful ruptured eardrums, and at best, I have a lot of learning ahead of me, and I'm excited to see where my path takes me. 

Little League World Series

I'm currently in the middle of my favorite activity of my postoperative days: resistance free stationary biking. 

 

Sideways picture alert! 

But the really great news is that not only can I see the pool outside, the Little League World Series is on ESPN. I was mourning the loss of the Olympics, but this is a nice way to ease slowly back to real life. Does Little League count as real life? I hope so. I aspire someday to be a healthy and happy baseball mom. If you ever want to do something fun, check out how many major leaguers (sic) played in the Little League World Series as kids. It's a bit crazy.  I'm not saying I want my kids to be major leaguers (again, six) necessarily, but I would never say no to free baseball tickets for life, you know? 

Obedience School

I realize she's only gone for a little while, but I miss sleeping next to this face. 

 

Also, isn't it funny when dogs sleep like humans? 

And one more thing, you don't realize how much you love how happy your dog is to see you every time you walk through the door until your dog is at obedience school. So much absurd and ridiculous and wonderful excitement. 

On that note, you should probably get a box of kleenex and then watch this movie. 

"When someone you love walks through the door, even if it happens five times a day, you should go totally insane with joy."

And here's another picture of my dog just because. 

 

The Most of the Time

When we told Toby I was moving out, we told him we were having a hard time talking nice to each other and we were going to see if moving back to an apartment would help. I told him, remember when I lived in an apartment before and me and your dad could talk really nice to each other? Well we're going to see if it will help if I move back to an apartment. I told Toby that he could come and see my apartment whenever he wanted.

He said, "I'll just come with you right now." 

On the way to the apartment, he told me, "I'm just going to come live here with you the most of the time, and we can go visit my dad with Gracie sometimes."

I have never in my life experienced such an overwhelming mix of emotions as in that moment. When you become a step parent, you don't really think "if this marriage doesn't work out, I will happily take the kiddo with me." I mean, I know you don't really go into a marriage thinking that it won't work out, but you know what I mean. 

I had to play the child's advocate and say, "but your dad loves you and he will want to see you and he would be so sad" and "kids get to live with their moms and their dads," while I cried in the rear view mirror. I would have happily taken him and raised him by myself. 

And that is something so special about what Toby and I had. We were so secure in one another's company that if we could have, we would have stayed together for eternity. So don't you try to tell me that blood is thicker than water. If there is one thing I have learned, LOVE is thicker than water. 

Updates on Surgery and Such

 

Surgery this time has gone much better than the last. I spent the first night at home, cared for by everyone's favorite Grammy Helen. I've taken it much easier than the last time, taking the surgeon's word for it that I should remain on bedrest for the entire first week with my ice machine on 24/7. On crutches for a full month, whereas last time it was for only a week. Progressions made in the rehab process while this surgery continues to undergo adjustment based on research of what best aids in speedy recovery. 

Not to mention people have been so helpful. There are so many people who are inherently good, willing to help. Multiple people have offered to walk Gracie. I received a blessing from two gentlemen I know from the dog park, I know their wives, fellow dog moms as it were. Flowers, an edible arrangement, etc. I feel inspired to do and be better. To jump in and help when others are in need. Although, to be honest, it'll be awhile before I'll do any jumping. 

Jeans

Look! I wore jeans! I'm not sure what it says about my state of adulthood that I felt jeans were so momentous am occasion that they warranted a photo and a blog post, but for the next 8 weeks it will be sweats and t-shirts while I lounge around with ice on my hip. So, here it is: Liz in jeans. 

 

Bouquets of Newly Sharpened Pencils

Well, Tom Hanks. I put these colored pencils in this little black vase just so I could fulfill your request from you've got mail. Look how lovely this bouquet is. 

 

Foreboding

A brief note from my phone. Months ago.

February 25, 2016 to be exact.

I miss the Husband who was responsive to my concerns, who helped me when I was sad. Who didn’t ignore me when I was crying. The Husband who told me I was beautiful every time he saw me. The Husband who was so certain about our relationship. I miss the Husband who told me that no one would love and cherish me like he would. I miss the Husband who told me he would never leave. That Husband hasn’t been here the last year or so and I miss him. I miss the Liz that I could be when I was secure in knowing that Husband loved me and would keep me safe. The Liz that was looking forward to having kids with Husband. The Liz who worked through hard things with Husband by her side. I’m still that Liz. Just really sad and really insecure, and a lot more angry. I don’t like that I’m angry Liz. I don’t like how mad I have become and how insecure. I don’t like feeling like Husband will talk to his friend's wife or his friend's widow about our relationship before he talks to me. I don’t like that Husband feels like he can’t and won’t talk to me. I don’t like that Husband won’t commit to work on things and make them better. I don’t like that things are so good with Toby, but I don’t know if Husband will take that away from me and it’s scary. I’m really scared about how things will go. I’m really scared about how hard it is to trust Husband. I really really want things to get better. For Husband and I to be a team again. For Husband and I to work together on things. To be empathetic and to be safe. For me to feel like I can ask Husband for help when I need it and that he will be there for me.

Personal Assistant

I don't know how working moms do it. Or stay at home moms either actually. How do you all get so much done?? I feel like I need a personal assistant to help me do things like grocery shop and clean the litter box and remind me not to forget my medicine or my keys. Today is one of those get off at five and head straight out of town days. Except that I can't actually do that because prior to driving for 4 hours, I have to sleep. It's not optional. Especially because there is no DDP in my house because #quitcaffeine2016. So. Goodnight morning world. I'll wake up in a few hours, pick up my favorite dog from boarding and embark on a weekend adventure with my dog, my nieces and nephews, and my family. It will be lovely. But darn it I wish my personal assistant could clean my kitchen while I sleep and go buy food for the Friday family lunch. Maybe pack my clothes for me. I'm not picky.

One last thought for the night. Tonight was my last shift as Trauma Liz. It was bittersweet. So many dear friends. I've felt like work was like play because of how awesome the people I work with are. I also feel an insane amount of peace about the road I'm taking and the current trajectory of my life.

Also I didn't spell check because it's 0557 in the morning and it's bedtime. Please avert your judgment.

The Time an Eight Year Old Girl Saved the Day at Church

Today in Relief Society (the women's meeting at my church), our lesson was about the importance of counseling together as families. We divided into four groups to discuss the different types of family councils. 

My group was selected to discuss executive family coucils. Those that consist of a husband and wife meeting together to discuss their relationship as well as their children. Naturally I began to feel sad. 

I left the room and went into the Mother's Room. I sat down alone on  an armchair and cried. 

A little girl entered the room and looked at me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sad."

"Why are you sad?"

"Do you know what divorce is?"

"Yes"

"Well I'm getting divorced and it is sad."

She sat down on the chair by me and started talking. She had a 19 year old sister who has a new husband and she's pregnant, two brothers-ages 16 and 14. Then her. She's 8. She has a step dad now. Her mom is pregnant and is going to have a baby at the same time as her sister. She thinks her mom will get divorced from her stepdad soon. Her stepdad is a little nice, a little mean, and a lot sad. She is visiting her dad today who lives in my congregation. 

I told her that my husband had a son, 7 years old, my stepson. We talked a bit about how he would be starting 2nd grade and she would be starting 3rd. She already knows how to write her name in cursive.

I noticed a cute little purse on her lap. I told her I liked it. 

She opened the zipper. "I have something I want to give to your stepson." 

She found it in the road once and a car almost ran over it, but she saved it because she wanted to have it.

I told her thank you. Then I said "Did you know that before you came in here, I was crying and I was sad, and I said a prayer that someone would come in and help me feel better. And do you know who came in?"

She pointed to herself. "Me?"

"Yes."

Standing up, she said with authority "I think you should go back to class now."

And I did. 

And that my friends is how it's done. Kids for the win. 

CTR Gummies

In my church we have an acronym we learn in Sunday School "CTR." It stands for "Choose The Right," and becomes a bit of a mantra, something we remember when we think about making a bad choice. When we are officially baptized at the age of 8, it's common practice to be gifted a CTR ring such as this one.

Everytime we see the ring, it's supposed to remind us to choose the right-make good choices. Well today I was at Deseret Book looking at candy because sometimes I do that at bookstores. They had these delightful little gummy candies that made me smile. 

That cute little saying from my childhood. 

I went to buy a bag of the candy, but bad news, they tasted terrible, terrible. I did however get nostalgic and remembered how glad I am that the grown-ups in my life taught me such powerful lessons about how to live while I was a child. And I felt a whimsical desire to buy myself a new CTR ring, because really, who couldn't use a little support in choosing the right? I know I could. 

Tired

This is how I feel pretty much all the time lately. 

Puppy Best Friends

I had to get through so many dog pics to get to this one from last night. I'm still trying to decide how embarrassed I should be about that. Gracie and Koda had a reunion straight out of Homeward Bound. Tears were shed, tennis balls were stolen, slobber was shared, a child's face was puppy kissed. You know, just all the best things. Summer breeze. Gym shorts on the grass. Catching up with a good friend. Life is okay sometimes, you know?