Seven Days of Family Love, day two-ish

I've had an entire week, here at the House of Hall. Complete with my son, daughter and husband. We've kept our schedule light and breezy. Plenty of time for my kids to spend hours in their own little playworld. They create entire scenarios with their dragons, reptiles and assorted lego figurines. For hours and hours they'll play. Their dynamic works quite well, my daughter is a leader and my son follows. They love each other so much.

This summer they were in two weddings. Each time a flower girl and a ring bearer. It was awesome. Especially during the receptions. My son is a chick magnet and worked the room. Pulling reluctant party goers from their tables. Dancing up a storm with lots of middle aged ladies. When the song was over he'd tell them, "I'll call you!" (No really, he did. Daddy told him to say that! :)

My daughter danced too. Swaying in her pretty dress, all silly with family love. I held her and we swayed together. My kids danced together too. It was wonderful, each of those weddings.

Given that, imagine my surprise to hear them playing a game called 'divorce' during one of their marathon playing sessions. In their pretend world, two of their plushy dragons had had a fight. My son was beside himself about it all. He didn't like that game one bit!

I went upstairs to check on things. See if I could help the dragons get back together. However, by the time I got up there, the dragons had reconciled. "They're back together Mommy," my daughter explained, "The fight is over." My son was much relieved by this. He wiped his tears and hugged his sister.

"I don't wanna be divorced.", he said. "I always wanna be married to Pancake!"

Which means during those weddings, he thought he was getting married too. :)

Seven days of family love, day one

Pancake and her Daddy were making Lego castles today. Her little brother was down for a nap. I was about to go up for a nap when the phone rang. It was an automated message informing us that one of the school teachers had passed away. We didn't recognize his name because he wasn't Pancake's teacher. I asked her if she knew what had happened. "He got sick, in his brain.", she said.

Then her Daddy asked her, "So, what are your feelings on the matter?" I loved the way he asked it. He was asking her opinion on the matter, the pros and the cons. Maybe brainstorm ideas on how to handle the sad of the situation. It was loving, thorough and efficient. Which explains a lot of Mr. Hall.

Then we asked Pancake about the teacher. Again, she didn't really know him. She described him though, she said, "He had blond hair and he was big. Not as big as you Daddy, but close."

Daddies are huge. So is their love :)

My thoughts on Newt Gingrich

You'll have to excuse this very watered down version of what could have been a very well researched and informative post.

I know of Newt Gingrich, by various news outlets. I had watched an A&E's biography on Newt, way back in the day. He became speaker of the house because of the power attached to that position. And in fact, that made sense. We live in a country ruled not by a dictator, but by a majority.

Next, I remember him resigning. Can't remember about what, but he's kind of a jerk so he probably deserved it.

Then, I remember reading a 7 page article from his former wife in Esquire magazine. See now, this is why I'm not a good political debater. I don't care about politics, I care about the stories of people. I love autobiographies, memoirs, blogs . . .

I remember his x-wife talking of how he would call her 6-7 times a day. How magnetic he was. How he spoke of high ideals and lofty goals. How he was largely missing such things in his personal life. I think he served his x-wife with divorce papers while she was in the hospital. While she was getting treatment for cancer no less. YEP. He's kind of missing some moral fiber. He's all clogged with gluttony and greed. Seems he's using high minded talk and using the buzz words of Christianity to fulfill those needs.

This doesn't really bother me though. What bothers me is that he is the face of white Christian man in power. And while I'm not one to judge (SHUT UP I AM NOT!) I really feel he needs to focus more on getting right with God then seeking office. Plus, he's saying some boneheaded things lately. This is where people get there ideas about Christians.

Look. We Christians are not a perfect people. I am perfectly capable of doing bad, selfish, mean and ugly things to my fellow man. I'm not proud of this, but I need to fess up and ask forgiveness now and again. I really, really, really try to base my actions, to root them if you will, in the ground of God. To do things in His glory.

Which is what my husband and I prayed about last night. We prayed about stopping the birth control. We prayed about our blessings as man and wife, of our children, of all that we have. We prayed that we would be blessed with another baby so we can raise them in His name, according to His word. We prayed that we would be doing all of this in His name.

It was a really good prayer. We've stopped all birth control and are giving it up to God.

THAT BEING SAID.

Wait, let me back up and completely change the subject first.

After we lost the last baby I disconnected myself from all the websites I use to go to. I stopped my account at babycenter dot com, etc. AND as I said in my last post. I won't be going to them anymore. God doesn't want me to be all hunched over, scouring websites for information. Spending hours in doctor's offices. God wants me to be happy.

Then, THAT BEING SAID.

Today, I went to the mail box and what did I spy with my little eye? A free sample of baby formula. Just like the one pictured above. Again, random free samples of baby stuff stopped when I disconnected myself from all those websites.

So why now? Why a bucket of powdered hope?

Because God loves me. He loves us! He loves all of us.

I realize breast is best but!!!


I totally believe it's a sign!





:)





WOOT!

getting my hopes up

I've been neglecting yon blog as of late. I just don't have much to say. My real life has picked up, which is nice.

The foster parent journey continues on. Met with the social worker and she had me explain myself for about 45 minutes. Kinda like a free therapy session really. It's been a while that someone new wanted to know every last detail about me. Of course, she's interested in me as future foster mom for the foster kids in her charge. But still, it's nice to be asked.

Then . . .

We got the bill from our recent adventures in birth control. Thank GOODNESS AND GOD ABOVE we have insurance. Seriously, the entire bill was about a 1000 dollars and we paided about 20% of that. That's right. Co-pay of about 2 hundo!

Holy CHIT!

THEN . . .

There are talks. Husband and wifely talks. Of craziness . . of the last six months post miscarriage. Of body, mind, soul and God. Of what if we . . . . wait . .

what if we . . .

try again?

What if we let go of the birth control? What if we don't try to prevent a pregnancy.

This (of course) unleashes yards and yards of crazy inside. It was good crazy though. Healing crazy. Soothing tears and hugs and what if's that make me us happy.

So we discussed all of this for long amounts of time. Months go by. We revisit. We think and pray and think and pray and hold each other. And wow. It's crazy and calm now.

SO . . . .

even before the check clears from our co-pay, we'll be trying again. Which wow, really? Now we have to tell the social worker we still want to sign up for a foster care liscense but- we can only do respite care for other parents for now. I feel really bad about this part. I didn't realize what I was feeling as I felt it and I didn't realize my husband was still feeling his feelings and OH MY GOODNESS.

Then the craziness starts in a whole different way. I've been through five pregnancies, two live births and three miscarriages. Yet, during the last lady part exam, I was told I was healthy and awesome. Well, not awesome per se, but healthy at least.

Then----well, NOW actually--my task is to figure out how to negiogiate this. How do I get pregnant again? I realize how, but how do i deal with my crazy? I can say that I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE ANOTHER OB GYN AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I DON'T WANT ANY STUPID TESTS OR PEOPLE TOUCHING MY JUNK. I DON'T WANT TO BE TOLD I HAVE TO TAKE EXTRA STUFF TO KEEP MY PREGNANCY HEALTHY AND I'M NOT GOING TO STOP DOING YOGA.

Of the list above, I think I can avoid OB GYN care until maybe the 20th week. Then I don't have to see them until the birth. And nobody has to touch my stuff. I can say no.

Mr. Hall and I will be employing a doula (kinda like a midwife) because I want my care to be from someone who doesn't triple book me into a 10 minute time slot.

And last but not least, I'll turn towards God during all of this.

Because God wants me to be happy, happy with my bible studies, happy with my church family, happy in His word. Happy with my children and blessings and happy happy happy. God designed women to be fruitful and let His blessings grow. I can get pregnant, grow a beautiful baby and birth them. He has given me two before. Miracles can happen, they've happened to us! This is how I'm dealing with. I'm choosing to be happy!

He doesn't want me to be in some doctor's office, chewing my nails and looking baleful. So, I won't!!

So, let's raise a glass shall we?

Here's to getting my hopes up!

Someday, this will be normal

That's a nice photo isn't it? It's Sgt. Hall and the wee Mac. He's now retired from the Air National Guard. He is home all the time now, which is a new normal. Which means I'm free to never again schedule our lives around guard drill weekends, two week guard excursions or tours in Iraq. It's a nice, new normal. Awesome even.

Also, health wise, things are getting back to normal. I've been stalling in fits and starts with my new healthiness. Losing and gaining the same 10 lbs over and over again. I made an appt with a dietitian and realized that I need to be more responsible. I'm logging my food at sparkpeople.com (it's free) and getting back to reality.

The reality is, is that I have no idea how to eat healthy. It's like building this whole new skill set. I'm learning that my entire diet cannot be centered around lean cuisine meals and diet coke. Learning that I don't have to do things I use to-- but how I use to do things was so normal. And this is how I came to be 172 lbs. I'm now down to 168. I say this on purpose. I don't like saying it , but saying it is one of the ways I can keep accountable.

Oddly enough, the more I keep track of my food, the less I think about it.

It's still kind of weird, not eating my former staples. It's odd not craving sweets or rummaging through the fridge for a late night snack. Also, I don't eat out anymore. That is just sad! Well not sad, just not worth it. There are no restaurants that serve quality choices on the healthy side of the menu. It's all fake sugar and low fat blandness. Nobody can do a decent salad around here without it being bullshit iceberg lettuce and a single sad tomato.

Then there are the social gatherings. I eat a balanced yummy dinner before the pizza parties and potato bar bonanzas. My absolute adoration for diet coke has now faded into a nostalgic murmur. I really like drinking water. I focus on chatting with the others during these gatherings. It makes them more fun really. In fact, I'm having more fun overall. :)

Which is fine.

I give up. I'll eat the earthy bounty before me so that I may enjoy the taste of life. I'll exercise not to get in shape but to thrive in my life. And soon, these habits won't be so strange. Someday, this will be normal. :)

Stuff I don't feel guilty about

RW did a post about things he doesn't feel guilty about. I don't feel guilty about stealing his idea.

1. Not liking Henry Rollins (who is pictured above)

I was once a fan of his spoken work, quick wit and funny stories. Nowadays, I find him grating. I can't take all the f-bombs and assorted swears. I just can't take it. Plus, I believe there is a time to be a punk ass then there is a time to grow up. To revel in the complexity and beauty of life. And stop saying the f word. He is older than me, he needs to grow up. Until then Mr. Rollins, we'll always have 'Get in the van'.

2. Buying those stupid products from PAMPERED CHEF, AVON, MARY KAY, MICHE BAGS, SCENTY OR ANY OTHER CRAP from my friends who are 'selling it'.

I am a girl. I have friends that are also females. Females think that if they sell things like pampered chef or avon, they will make money. IT DOESN'T WORK LADIES. These types of sales are pyramid schemes. You need to rope people in to be your sales staff and take a cut from their sales to even break even. So no, I won't be supporting that kind of scam. Plus the prices on that stuff is overpriced. I realize they are trying to generate a second income for themselves but just ask for money instead. Be honest with me and maybe I'll help.

And stop inviting me to your 'parties' with these products. A real party is a gathering of friends with wine, cheese and giggles. Where you don't try to sell me anything. :(

3. Saying no to stuff like PTA

I like my life on the lazy side. I will only give so much to extracurricalar activities. I really, really like my family. I like lounging and relaxing with them. I like not having my kids in three sports each. Sure, I co-lead some church groups, work almost full time and work out. But, beyond that, I need time to decompress and have quality, monkey love with the Mister. So no, I'm not volunteering for anything more.

4. My religion

Like any group of people, Christians conjure up a lot of images, thoughts and stereotypes in peoples' heads. These are influenced by the images in the media mostly. The media has a job to emotionally provoke the viewer by showing them images of hate, fear and intolerence. If the media can scare you, or make you mad . . . . you'll watch longer. And thus buy more products. . . It's a fact jack!

So, when people think about Christians, sometimes they think not so nice things. But here, in this cyberspace, let me be a shining example of God's love towards all my brothers and sisters. Let me show what God has done in my life, how rich and awesome His power is.

So there ya go.

Stuff I don't feel guilty about!

What don't YOU feel guilty about?

A wink, nod and a dream

Mr. Hall and I filled out the 30 or so pages of foster parent paperwork. It was fun actually. We just took a deep breath and filled it out. There were all manner of personal questions, like how was my relationship with my mom. Are you willing to work the birth parents in the reunification process? How is your marriage? Are there any family members who would object to a child of a different race? It's a lot of questions that are hard to answer in two or three sentences.

We try to be as truthful as possible. Like with the last question. I say, "I use to have a racist uncle, but he's passed on now."

Anywho . . .

Went to the doctor to be medically cleared. She thankfully eschewed the lady part exam, for which I'm eternally greatful. I'm tired of people looking at my lady parts. I've had way too much doctor related activity with my junk on account of the miscarriages. I say no more! I want to be back to normal with doctors. I don't want to see them anymore 'cept once a friggin year. Or never again in my life would be good too.

I was pronounced normal. . .

YAY!

Anywho . . .

In addition to the paperwork, interviews and mandatory classes; we've been emotionally preparing ourselves for this foster parent journey. As much as we can anyway.

Which brings me to Thanksgiving. I was holding my new baby nephew and getting annoyed at his Mom because she was all up in my grill. "Hold the baby like this," she says, "Hold the bottle like that! Careful for his head!" GAH!!! I've held babies before ya know!! (I used my inside voice to say this.) I started to get pissy-- but then I remembered. I was the exact same way with my daughter. Nervous, hovering and needing her in my arms at all times. :)

Then, after we got home, I felt a balloon inflate, right in my chest. It hardened to a plastic gallon of milk. It hung there, suspended by an axle and cable system from my ribs. I was just so sad, it hurt to breathe. When I breathed, I started to cry.

I am about three weeks from my now useless due date. I had decorated December 18th on my calendar with a red heart and stickers. I should be round and plump. Whining about how I can't breathe or eat because baby is taking up space.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'm learning how to live with this sadness when it wells up. A good eighty five percent of the time, it's not here. I know it will never go away though. I believe it will ebb and flow for the rest of my life. It consumes me sometimes. That's rare, the consumption. So, I'm learning to feel joy and sadness all at the same time.

I pray with Mr. Hall and try not to swim in the sadness when it comes. I purposefully tell God I am surrendering to His will about all of this.

Becoming a foster parent is a process of letting go. I am scheduling our lives around the paperwork, examinations and classes. We are not in charge of any of this. It's becoming more fun though. The more I let go, the more giggles I produce. ;)

I can say this. We are starting to work with a social worker. OH MY GAH.. I love our social worker. She lets me ask all sorts of questions and has a very pragmatic and kind way about her. Social workers are the best!

And that may be the key to this. Reaching out and leaning on people as much as I can. Which is why I'm writing this. I need to tell the stories about my life. Especially the parts that mean everything to me.

thank you for reading :)

Digging deep and napping hard

Like most moms, I use to stare at my babies while they napped. I think it's normal, this behavior. New moms tend to be nervous and want to make sure everything is ok, especially when their babies sleep. Hence the staring.

Of course, it didn't occur to me to NAP while my baby daughter napped. I wanted to be awake-just in case she needed me. After my son was born, I learned that I can be in a deep, coma like sleep and still rise up like the dickens at the sound of his cough. I learned napping is ok. It even helps me be less yelly with the kids! It was then my love of naps began in earnest.

Nowadays, both kids are big enough that they don't need naps. My daughter Pancake is nine, my son Mac is four. Sometimes we force the issue with Mac. He can be a crank and spank without proper rest. Sometimes, Mommy needs a nap, so Mac gets one as a bonus.

hee hee hee

Then.

Sometimes, Mac will ask to snuggle and nap with me. Sadly, it almost never works. He just squiggles and whispers to me while I try to sleep. This is the cause 99% of the time.

But sometimes, it works.

It happened yesterday. Mac just passed out in my arms! I was so excited!! Then I started to get twitchy. My legs twitched, my back itched and I felt like I had glass in my veins. I new I had to do something to fix it and fast. Otherwise, I would miss it! Or wake him. Then my chance would be gone.

So I hunkered down and dug deep. I forced myself to breathe deep and relax. Then I slept all intertwined with my little boy. We napped hard.

When I woke up- I just about died from all the nuggle awesomeness!!

One of the best naps EVAH!!

Lots and Lots

Lots and lots of things have been happening in my life. All of which have made me aware of this: I can't do this alone. For instance, I can't fill out the foster parent application alone. I have bad handwriting and can't spell worth a fudge. However, Mr. Hall can fill it out. His handwriting is aces!

I can't study God's word alone. It's easy to draw your own conclusions when reading the bible. So I read it with groups. That way, not only am I held responsible for actually reading the reading, but I hear what others have to say. How the passage affected them. It's a win win really.

I can't parent alone. Not only is Mr. Hall fully invested and involved with his children, he acts a sort of "Mrs. Hall Whisperer" when I am going off the deep end. Which happens more often than I would like. I am prone to being fearful, overwhelmed and befuddled. Not to mention short sighted. Mr. Hall has the long view, he guides me to better places as a Mom.

I also gather with other Moms. We moms are not meant to mother alone. And while Mr. Hall can guide our family, he can't guide all my mom-ness. If you gather a group of mothers together, with the intent to grow in God's word, it's pretty powerful. I highly recommend it.




I can say this. My emerging faith is like a big experiment for me. I feel like a scientist, testing what will happen if I purposefully reach out and grow my faith with others. In these groups, I feel my faith grow in leaps and bounds. It's pretty amazing.

Then, this morning, the Tribe Called Hall all gathered in the four year old room at church. The four year old room is Mac's room. Mr. Hall and I volunteer to help teach the four year olds once a month. Pancake forgoes the eight year old room to be with her family. SO, we all gathered together. Churching in the same room.

I saw my daughter gather 'round the littler four year olds, hugging and cuddling them. She colored with them. All the while praising and cheering them on. "You are coloring so GOOD!!", she'd say :). She even pushed out of her shell, dancing and singing "Jesus is my superhero!" with them. She loved on them something wonderful. :)

I saw Mac stand next to his Daddy while he taught the bible verse to the kids. Mac was Daddy's assistant. Which means he was being bossy and getting in the way :) I sat near the back, helping the shy kids speak up and use their voice. Also, my lap was free for kids who missed their Mommies. My arms were good for hugs too. :)

So there we were, talking about God and Jesus and the Bible to little four year olds. We are not trained to do these things. We just raised our hands and volunteered to do it. And they let us.

It felt wonderful. It felt whole and home. It was awesome. :)

SO, what was the verse you ask?

"Be kind and loving to each other"

It's as simple as that!!

An email to a friend

"Hey guys!!

The social worker came and went--we've been deemed an appropriate family for the special needs adoption program of this state. Yay!! What that means is that we can start the application process to adopt a child from the foster care system. OR We can start the paperwork to become foster parents. OR we can not do any paperwork and go back to trying again. OR we can do nothing, lounging our lives away in the level of bliss to which we've become accustomed.

My head hurts!!!

So much to think about, consider and mull over."


yep. mmhhmmm. that about sums up my day.

how was yours?

:)

A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas Movie (review)

Unexpectantly, Mr. Hall and I had a night to burn by ourselves. No kids. Just us.

So, we took advantage of it by going to a movie and getting a bite to eat. Naturally, we choose A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas Movie. I haven't seen the first two installments of Harold & Kumar, but I had faith this movie would get the job done.

And it did. While we watched two hours of marijuana jokes, penis jokes, beer pong, pretty ladies in lingerie, more penis jokes and naked nuns showering together- I dare say I was very entertained.

Plus, Harold gives a big speech about how does things to make his wife happy, even things he doesn't want to do. Because he loves his wife.

Which is so touching.

Then, Neil Patrick Harris appears and does what he does. I love me some NPH. sigh. I need some gays. Then, more marijauna jokes. And penis jokes. Which gets funnier each and every time.

Then, we went to the melting pot and had a dinner of cheese, wine and chocolate. Which I must say, AWESOME!!!!!

The best part? The entire time I didn't think about the social worker whose coming to our house next Tuesday. She'll be interviewing us for the foster-to-adopt program. AKA adopting from the foster care system. It'll be a meet and greet mostly. But, it's a meet and greet I'm nervous, scared and thrilled about. All at the same time.

SO-at this point. It's best to steep myself in movies like Harold and Kumar. And now that we've watched this--it's time for me to finally watch Up in smoke!

:)

funny family photos

The one in the middle is my mom.


just like every other person on the planet, or rather, every other WOMAN on the planet, i have issues with my mom.

until I gave up life to Jesus anyway.

After I was dipped, I prayed. I prayed to heal stuff from my childhood. Like my relationship with my mom.

AND NOW even though we fundamentally disagree on pretty much everything, we don't fight anymore.

Which I've tried to do before, I've tried not to fight. Tried to use all my mental health provider skills on me and/or my mom and we would still fight. I'd yell at her and be bossy.

I'm not proud of these things, but they are what they are. I was borne of a selfish mom, and i grew into a selfish girl.

BUT

then. as I said.

I gave up my life to Jesus.

Nowadays, when she struggles, and gets bossy---- she can't help but call herself out in front of me. She'll know when she is selfish and she'll feel bad about it. She'll verbalize that she is being a meany bossy pants, and feel bad about it.

She tells me these things because she knows I am changing. Jesus is by my side every day, changing my life in every way. Prayer is changing everything. This faith I have is blossoming and I am becoming more than could have by myself.

SO.

When she realizes she's being mean, petty and selfish. Instead of yelling at her, or belittling her (these things I am not proud of btw), I launch myself at her. Hug her. Love her.

Because God loves her and so do I.

amen to that :)

Miss Jamaica is NOT Amish

Mr. Hall & I on our honeymoon. Snubing . . . :)


Had a dream I was in Jamaica last night. I was a waitress in a cafe, totally feeling the warm and love. I've never been to Jamaica, but it sounds fantastic. :)

Anyway, today I'm heading a Christian retreat for a few days. Driving to a church about two hours away. I'm not sure what to expect but I suppose it'll be like going to church for three days. They've asked we not have our cell phones on us. And no computer access either. This is the scary part for me. But, I've made my peace with it. It makes sense. Texting and facebooking while one is at a retreat might be counter productive. :)

THAT BEING SAID.

We are to sleep in a common room. They said they have cots. I said, "Can I bring my queen size blow up mattress?" Because I'm Christian, NOT AMISH.

SO, wish me luck!

Ezekiel's hobby

Now that my peace has come, what am I to do with such empty space?

Get a hobby I suppose.

And that may be the key to everything.

I am busy minded woman who is lazy by nature. As such, my head does a lot of living. If I am bored, frightened, scared or left to my own devices- my busyness becomes amplified. Which is no good.

A hobby will help. More hobbies help even more. I'll yoga, use sparkpeople to keep track my diet, start cardio work and be healthy that way. I'll co-lead two bible study groups, play Mah Jong and angry birds. I'll hang out with the kids, do more chores around the house. I'll engage in my own life even more.

That way, when the thoughts kick up, about what to do about a next child, I can let them fade into the ether while I focus on my hobbies.

I do have visions though. I see everything working out ok. I see myself having a full, healthy pregnancy and me not being scared at all. I see myself embracing pregnancy with full, clear eyes. I see happiness and joy. I feel happiness and joy. I see doctor appointments as accessories not necessities. I see a new baby coming and nursing like a champ. I see us holding the baby and feeling such love. I see this all in context of yoga, keeping track of my foods, cardio, leading bible study groups and hanging out with my kids. Which is wonderful. I see it all. I see myself doing it all in God's name.

So wonderful feeling this of peace.


:)

Hushing the Holler

Behold! My blue yoga mat, red yoga towel (to catch the sweat drippings and help me NOT slip off my mat), and black sweater in our sun room. Pancake's yoga mat is the pink one. The flowery thing is my purse, co-sewed my daughter and I.

When I woke up this morning a small voice spoke in my head.

It said, no, don't go to yoga at 7.30 am. Stay in the nice warm bed, you can go later. Or, said the voice, don't go at all, you can always use your treadmill.

That voice is bullshit. If I don't go, I don't do anything.

But, it got louder the closer it came for me to leave.

It started yelling, then hollering.

And for one brief moment I almost gave in.

But I didn't. I just got my yoga clothes on and left.

And ON this day, hushing the holler,

well,

It was huge!

Then I came home all sweaty an hour and half later. It felt wonderful.

GO ME!!

my roaming profile problem

SO.

let's discuss my roaming profile. What is a roaming profile you ask? Well it has to do with my work computer. I'll use my own special, non technical language to explain, because hey, I'm a girl and math is hard.

I'm a Nurse Practitioner-Mental Health Outpatient Care. I work at two different clinics throughout the week. Thus, I need to log onto two different computers. Once I log in, I get access to my clinic's computer charting system and a company outlook email. The health clinic I work for is a nation wide organization. When I log in, I log into my 'roaming profile'.

My profile is based out of a facility two hours away. I'm assuming there is a special computer there that keeps it warm at night when I'm gone. So when I log in, I log into a roaming profile. (Because it roams from the facility two hours away and meets me at the clinic I'm at.) All bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8 am.

BUT THERE'S A PROBLEM.

MY STUPID ROAMING PROFILE DOESN'T FRIGGIN WORK HALF THE GD TIME. I get all these error messages. Plus, iffn I do log in, sometimes stuff gets put on my profile WHICH MAKES IT GROW SO LARGE THAT IT SHUTS ME DOWN. Sometimes, out of nowhere, I'll get a message that says, "your roaming profile has exceeded the limit" Then my computer will crash. And I didn't do anything!! I didn't download anything. I have basically stopped blogging at work. Because ya know, my job has gotten so busy I can't blog at work.

which is sad.

BUT. then there's this problem.

The IT guys, that fix this kind of thing, I can't get at them. They're at the facility two hours away. We can't contact them directly. We can't call them, we have to call a national hotline and maybe two weeks later we'll here something back. AND they can't access my profile remotely. So I'm kind of f*cked.

Yes, I realize I can swear-- but I don't think it's appropriate.

I'm f*cked because iffn I can't get at the computer charting system I CAN'T GET AT MY PATIENT'S CHARTS. So they come to me and I have no idea what I am prescribing for them. I have no idea what we did last time and I feel like an idiot. I need the chart BECAUSE I HAVE ABOUT 300 PATIENTS NOW. I can't keep everybody straight.

ug.

then, sometimes, I'm able to get into the charts but not my work email. Part of the problem is that there are 45 Holly Hall(s) that work at my organization. I'm not kidding either. So when they reset stuff, they sometimes reset stuff for Holly Hall of Texas. Which is fine, but I'm not a janitor at the Wichita Falls location.

So no work email. Which is ok really. There are too many ways to get ahold of me. Email is a big time suck of suckage. And if one more person forwards me an email that those stupid fluffy bunnys and GIF smiley faces and has those stupid paragraphs at the end--where it says send it to five more women or your arm will fall off . . . so help me . . . So, yeah, I don't miss it.

AND I'M DONE COMPLAINING.

HAVE A NICE DAY!

I washed people's feet all day, then this happened

(this post is a long one, but if you stay to the end, it will be worth it :)

I recently took part in an event sponsored by "Samaritan's Feet". This organization hands out socks and shoes for free. All you have to do is show up to the tent.

In the tent there were ~ 150 volunteers. We all had different jobs--foot washers, runners, ushers, greeters etc. I volunteered for 'foot washer'. My choice surprised me. I'm not a fan of feet. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized-

I'VE BEEN DOING FOOT CARE ALL MY NURSING CAREER. Of course I should be a foot washer.

People sat down in front of me and I'd say, "Welcome, my name is Holly. Thank you for coming. Today we hope to provide you with a new pair of socks and shoes." Then Mr. Hall would ask what size shoe they needed and would run to get it. (He was my runner :) Then I'd say, "While we're waiting, can I wash your feet?"

Why wash the feet? Because Jesus did this.

This was my day on a Saturday. Greeting people and offer to wash their feet while we were waiting for their shoes. Some people didn't want their feet washed, some didn't want the shoes we brought, some didn't have any idea what we were doing. What we were doing- was spreading the love of God.

It's important to note, they didn't have to have their feet washed. They didn't have to do anything to get the shoes. Except show up to the tent :)

While I was washing or just waiting, I'd ask them if they went to church. I'd ask them what brought them to the Samaritan's Tent. I'd get a variety of responses. Some would be upset, some would be confrontational. Some would embrace the experience and share their journey with me. Some would tell me about their baptism. Before everyone left, I would ask if I could pray for them. And if they said yes, I'd give it my best shot, take their hands in mine and pray my heart out.

It was a day of awesomeness, this day of washing feet. It was very natural and easy going too. I like volunteering. Especially with Mr. Hall.

Then.

This happened.

The next day, in church, at the very end, I was drifting off in my thoughts. The service had gone long, something like 2 hours long. The pastor of my church can get quite worked up. :) Then, I felt something like a shift. Like an opening inside and I thought to myself, "I'm done." It was just like that: "I'm done.", painted in gentle, yet unmistakable letters in my brain.

It took me a moment. I had to figure out what I was done with.

I figured it out. I flashed to an image that's been haunting me. I see myself, laying there, on the exam table, getting the ultrasound and not seeing my baby's heart beat. Then being told her heart wasn't beating. This is how I learned of both my miscarriages, through ultrasounds.

But, I was done. And this image, it was different. It was like I was in the room with my former self. Like I was standing next to me. I could embrace myself. I could comfort myself as I spasmed and choked on my tears. And that scene, it no longer haunts me. Because I'm done. I'm done hurting about it. I'm done. I'm not the same woman laying there on the table. I am healed.

And I figured out even more.

I've been cranking my thoughts like a spinning top, cranking on it so hard. My thoughts have become torturous, thoughts of "Should we try to get pregnant again?" or "Should take the IUD out?" or "We need to stop trying/wait no. . . " These thoughts, they would scare me and drive me nuts. BUT I AM DONE. I took my hand off the crank. I am done. I am not bound up in want and fear anymore. I'm done. Just done. I am healed.

So we drive home, and I feel calm, peace and happiness. I feel 500 pounds lighter. I praise Jesus for this. It is amazing the relief I feel.

Then, I put the kids down for the nap. I curled up to Mr. Hall and told him all of this. And I said, whatever you need, how ever you need it, I am here for you. And we hugged and wept.

reasons I need to yoga number 7879

Day 10 of the 21 day challenge yo. (where I go to hot yoga every day for 21 days).

There are about 6 different teachers at my yoga studio. Some of crisp and fluent. Some are more stoner. Feel the energy dude. Which irks me, the stoner teachers don't run the class fast enough. Which made me realize something. I DIDN'T THINK THE YOGA CLASS WAS MOVING FAST ENOUGH. Then I thought, wow, I'm a special kinda crazy. So yeah, need more yoga. :)

I can say that yoga is gluing me back together. Walking with my shoulders back and everything.

moving the body is awakening the real Mrs. Hall.

down 15 lbs too.

BABE STATUS...

here I come.

Obsessions are the best

Thank you all for the comments on yesterday's post. Little Mac is getting good reports these days. All sorts of listening. :)

I have to remember when teachers approach me about my child's behavior, I can gently take the reins. I can model calmness and appreciation. I can talk them through what I know of my child and how to help bring out the best in him. If I stick with my strengths-compassion, empathy, warmth and a healthy sense of humor, I can set the tone. Then, we can collaborate.

SEE THAT RIGHT THERE??!!!

That kind of thinking happens when I yoga a lot.

Yoga is kind of a bait and switch. I started practicing yoga, lo these nine years ago, as a way to help lose weight. Turns out, it grabbed me in all sorts of unexpected ways. It teaches me to slow, to lean in and divide up the bits that hurt and the bits that give joy. It calms my ADD-addled brain. It allows the hands of God to reach in and sooth my sore spots.

It also gives me a focus right now. Because my brain is a busy brain that thrives in obsessions. Right now, this 21 day yoga challenge is my obsession. But, the more I go, the less obsessed I become.

Like with this pose, called the extended side angle with a bind. The bind part is the arms.


TODAY, I ALMOST BINDED. MY FINGERS TOUCHED!!!

And i've never felt more unbound!
:)

En route to babe status, tenderly

Picked up my son from preschool yesterday. He was all snotty nose and face down. I could tell it was a bad day. Which one has when one is four. Then his teacher came out and talked about what happened. He wouldn't line up, gave her lip and was disrepectful.

First off, I don't really deal well with teachers telling me bad things about my kids. I go into this shame-embarrassed-then hyperdefensive spiral. It's a spiral where I feel embarrased and ashamed then get really mad because he's my SON. And how dare she talk smack about him??

He's four, he is learning how to listen. She's with him for only 3 hours a day, he's a good boy, he just needs TIME. JUST LIKE AT SWIM CLASS, JUST LIKE AT GYMNASTICS!!! HE IS A GOOD KID!!!! HE HAS A BIG GIGANTIC HEART AND CARES A LOT!! AND HE'S SO SMART!!! HE JUST HAS PROBLEMS FOLLOWING RULES!! (just like his momma ;)

And she's talking to me, and I'm feeling my way through the spiral and I realize I'm getting way too worked up. I realize I'm about to cry, just like Mac. Then I cut her off and say, slowly, "Well, it's a work in progress." And she nods, we exchange polite smiles/shoulder shrugs and I leave because I don't want to listen to her anymore.

This is why Mr. Hall deals with the teachers.

So, I think about this. I realize that I had yoga class right before I picked him up. My yoga practice is coming back to life. Not only am I feeling my emotions again, I'm feeling all sorts of muscles and moving around like I own my body. I'm kind of exploding on the inside.

Which is great, cause that means I'm en route to babe status. Lost about 13 lbs so far. Size 10 jeans here I come.

Except I've signed up for a challenge. I've signed up for 21 straight days of yoga. Which should help shrink my chubby quite nicely. I'm scared though. There is an emotional aspect that comes roaring to life when I yoga regularly.

Not sure what will happen when I do yoga 21 days straight.

wish me luck!

Not overthinking the crow

Haven't had much to say lately. So, let's talk about crow.

That up there, my good people, is the crow pose. I've been practicing yoga at a new studio. I hadn't been at my old yoga studio in a year. I've been avoiding it because they knew me when I was pregnant. I thought a lapse in classes would cause them to forget me.

So I called and asked if I had anymore classes on my account. They not only remembered me, but they asked about Mr. Hall. I don't know why I think people don't remember me. People always tell me that I don't have to reintroduce my self. Maybe I like to hope I'm anonymous.

I think most bloggers are introverts. This is why we have a blog. Yet, I am actively challenging this. Each and every day I am breaking the wall between me and the others. THE OTHERS I SAY!!!

ANYWHOODLE

I went to my old yoga studio and there was a new teacher.. She was kinda loud. And funny. Then, she looked right at me and said, "HOLLY, WHY DON'T YOU TRY THE CROW POSE." She didn't really shout it or ask it. She just sorta told me, in no uncertain, yet very friendly terms, that I would be doing the crow pose. Which I've tried for years but can't seem to do.

But I did it.

The key is not thinking, not analyzing, just going for it.

And while I only held the pose for 2 seconds, I did it.

BOOYAH!!

:)

Such drama, such histrionics

When babies learn to poop they often go display super twisted facial expressions and sound all manner of grunty noises. They are learning how to balance the urges and minimize the effort. Once they have mastered the task, the dramatics are lessened.

The same process can be said of learning to deal with owly feelings in the am, espcially for children Mac's size. (LOOK HOW CUTE MAC IS!! ALL VISITING MOMMY AT WORK!! WITH HIS WEE VELCRO SHOES!!). Mac is not a fan of waking up. Well, he likes waking up, but he DISLIKES changing out of his pull ups and putting on underwear. Sadly, until he does this, his acess to the morning oatmeal is blocked.

We are strict parents. Oh yes, it's true.

Thus, the morning requirement of changing one's drawers is met with much protest. Copious displays of dislike! There is falling to the ground, wailing and whining. All while he clutches his wee poo-bear blankie and big bubble tears fall asunder. Such drama, such histrionics.

It gets old.

My usual approach is to get bossy and threaten the time out. It's not a productive strategy. It just makes him dig in deeper.

SO this morning I joined in. I yelped, "I CAN'T FIND MY SOCKS!!" and "MY HAIR IS STICKING UP!" Then, I dropped to floor and starting wailing. Pancake joined in, "MY SWEATER IS ITCHY!!" and "MY BACKPACK'S SO HEAVY!!" Then she dropped right next to me.

And we wailed, and rolled and laughed and wailed some more. And Mac took notice. He stopped for a few minutes.

And it didn't really stop his whining, but it made the morning fun for us :)

hee hee hee

hand-foot-mouth

That up there, is my daughter's snake. It's a corn snake. She loves Sunset with all of her big, big heart. She named him Sunset because the clouds at sunset are pink. That's my hand though.

But, this post is not about Sunset.

It's about this one time, about 10 years ago, I was driving to the doctor's office because my hands were itching something fierce. I was a wee CNA (nurse's assistant) at the time. I worked at a nursing home, helping the elderly.

SO-I'm driving to the doctor's office, literally rubbing my hands on the steering wheel as I drove. My arms and neck itched too. I was living in this old house, renting the top floor while I went to nursing school. There was NO air conditioning in the house. It was summer, so the temps were in the 90's most days. Sticky hot.

Mr. Hall would visit on weekends. We slept on this old, scratchy, pull out couch. We'd wake up in a hamster pile in the sunken center. Cupfuls of sweat would pool under his Adam's apple. It was miserable.

I think about this and I think, wow, Mr. Hall really loved me. He drove two hours to see me on those weekends. All to sleep in a horrible, scratchy, broken, pull out couch. :)

So of course I would have a heat rash from the couch.

Turns out, it was hand-foot-mouth disease. Google it if you want. Go ahead, I'll wait.

GROSS RIGHT???!!!

Totally contagious too. Which is why I got it working at nursing home. I also picked up scabies from there too. Working at hospitals and nursing homes is dangerous business. Lots of closeness, lots of shared, lots of hosts for viruses and such to thrive.

I was thinking about this today, as I am running a fever and have a sore throat. The kids are back in school. Which is why we've been sick the last week. Kids are vectors.

YET

The thing is, Mr. Hall never once caught anything I ever caught. He never gets sick from anything we ever have. Or. . . maybe he doesn't complain about it :)

Come come, oh light

This blog was started to show this little life of mine. To tell my story and let it all come to the light. While my story is not extraordinary, I find wonder in it. I find curious joy too. Even in the saddest of sad parts.

My innate sense of wonder and curiosity brings me adventure. I am a seeker. This leads to mini obsessions, things that become my whole world until I am done. Then they become something I did once.

There are many paths I've traveled and some have brought me great gifts. Like the music of Johnny Cash, the taste of spicy hummus and the sweet loving of Mr. Hall. These things I sought. They were not brought to me.

The life I lead now is beyond my wildest dreams. There are so many blessings my arms are sore from the carrying. The most blessed gifts of all are my children. And OH! What children I have. They are loving, kind, gracious and will do amazing things.

All of this swirls in my head as we get closer to the foster care system. When Mr. Hall and I were dating we decided to have a few kids, then adopt. We've had two kids and now perhaps, it's time. Time to adopt I think. We don't want to adopt babies, we want to adopt from the foster care system.

This sounds very noble typed out. It sounds reasonable and kind. It sounds merciful. However, there is abstract loftiness and then there is hard and heavy reality. The reality is sinking in these days, as we get closer to making this decision.

My fears are many. I fear that this will be another obsession, something I bring into my life for the wrong reasons. I fear that I cannot be prepared for this. I fear I don't even no where to start. I fear for my kids, that I'll bring something into their lives that is not good. I fear I am not healed enough.

My fears are not unfounded.

As I read about these children from the foster care system, I am learning to differentiate between diagnoses and behaviors. This is what I do, divide and conquer in my head. I do this because these foster care kids are hurting. They came into the foster care system because of great pain and sadness. For children, pain is expressed through behaviors. They haven't the words to say I'm hurting. Sometimes, they don't have the ability to accept love that can heal them. It's overwhelming, reading all of this.

Yet here I am, still reading. Reading foster parent blogs and articles on psychological issues common with foster kids. I read narratives from foster kids. I learn the story from a personal and clinical perspective. Some of it is so sad, I cry out loud.

Yet here I am, still reading. I do the reading because I have stomach for it. I can withstand reading through all of it. Mr. Hall is strong, but I am stronger in this way. This is how we can reach out towards this.

At my roots, I am a kind hearted Mom. I am hard wired for mercy. I am woman of faith. At my roots, I feel a pull towards these children. I've determined it's their needs pulling me, not mine. I'm not trying to replace the babies I've lost in pregnancy. I can say this with full confidence.

Yet, I am still scared. I am scared because once I begin this, I won't be able to stop.

I can say this will not be done alone, I will do this with my husband and my children. I won't be adopting alone, our family will be adopting.

This will take a gigantic amount of prayer and faith.

And so I bow my head.

Things I want to learn to do (or not)

Things I want to learn to do

in no certain order:

Sculpt wood

Kayak

Push ups

Hand glide

Blow Fire

SO-

Which one should I learn first?

and more importantly-

WHOSE WITH ME??!!

messing with my fertility

Warning: this post is a bit graphic, but power through and it'll be worth it.

So, last week came the time for me to FINALLY schedule the appt. The appt to stop my fertility-aka-have a mirena iud placed.

In the last two days, I've been kind of a mess. First off, I don't like going back to that place-the hospital where I learned of my miscarriages and where my d & c's were performed. I don't like dealing with my high powered OB GYN, I don't like her. It's not her specifically, it's that she never once gave me a hug during what was probably the most horrible times in my life. Not that I want a hug, in fact, I don't want anything to do with it at all. All of it, the hospital and the ob-gyn, it triggers large buckets of sadness and my heart to ache.

This doesn't change the fact that Mr. Hall and I are still fertile. But, we don't want to make any decisions right now-about having babies I mean. I gently suggested we just throw caution to the wind, not actively prevent any pregnancy. And he said no, that would be making a decision. We need to heal, he said.

SO

En route to the appt I was losing my shit. I was honestly second guessing everything. I was thinking-maybe just go on the pill for a few months-or-the depo shot, that's an option. Then I started to get really pissed off. Then I almost turned around. I don't want any of this. I still want to be pregnant. I was due December 18th! I still should be pregnant!

BUT I'm not.

This was horrible, thinking and feeling all of this. Especially the last part, where I realize I still want to be pregnant but I'm not. It's a horrible snap back to how I felt two months ago. I'm two months on the other side of losing the last baby now. It's still raw and tender.

Mr. Hall is right about the need to heal some more.

In the clinic, I was crying on the inside when the nurse called my name. I made polite small talk. Told them 14 times I hadn't had sex since my menses started. They asked 14 times and had me take a pregnancy test. Which was negative.

sigh.

What it comes down to is this, I AM NOT DONE ADDING CHILDREN TO THIS FAMILY. I AM NOT DONE AT ALL.

But.

Getting pregnant is not something I want right now. I don't want the scared, the sad, the frightened. I don't want the waiting, the positive pregnancy test, the throwing up and out of commission for two months. I don't want to go through another miscarriage. And even if I could possibly guarantee a problem free pregnancy with a bouncing healthy baby at the end. . . .

It's just not something we're capable of right now. I don't think we'll try to knock me up again.

SO

I layed back,and in the IUD went.

Then a funny thing happened. I felt better. I remember the OB GYN telling me it went well, no problems down there. She told me to make an appt in a month so she can check things.

To which I thought:

NOT A FUCKING CHANCE! I'M NEVER GOING TO SEE THIS CHICK AGAIN!!! OLLY OLLY OXEN FREE!!!

Mr. Hall can, ehem, 'check things' just fine.

Then, in the elevator, heading back to my car, I started giggling. I felt this rush of happiness come over me. I started dancing a wee jig. In the elevator. I felt free.

Then, on the way home, I felt even better. I got excited about going shopping for smaller clothes, I'm down 13 lbs now. Look below-only one chin!! I got excited about roller blading with my kids. I got excited about having more of my body back now that I have the wee IUD.

I'm so very thankful for what has been given to me, fertility wise. I'm so blessed to have all that I have.

And now, we'll give it a few more months and then pursue the other avenues of growing our family. :)

It's never as good as you think it's going to be

1. The cupcake.

Been feeling really well lately, eating right and exercising does wonders for everything. So, then, I spotted a cupcake. All little with frosting and sprinkles. I went for it. I went for it because if you eat healthy, you can eat these things once in a great while.

Turns out, it just about tore my stomach apart. STUPID STUPID STUPID factory made, bleached flour, artificial colored cupcake. NOT MADE WITH LOVE. My stomach hurt for almost two days. BAAHH!!

Stupid cupcake.

2. My husband left his email open.

It's not uncommon for my husband to leave his email open. And I have access to his texts. This should be fun, peeking into my husband's stuff. IT'S NOT. Men email like this-


(friend email)

"meet at sports bar at eight?"

"see you there"

OR

(work email)

"cathy client says her computer is running slow-maybe it's the server"

"will check server when I get there. should be there around 9"

OR

(family email)

(from his sister) "mom has . . . . FIVE PARAGRAPHS . . . and what do you think we should do?"

"will give her a call, maybe 6 tonight. shouldn't be too bad really."

I mean SERIOUSLY? That's all he writes?? Why do men have such derth of conversation? Why do I feel compelled to sneak through his email? Well, not really sneak, I mean, he is sitting right next to me as I go through them. And I've complained about this, that he doesn't write enough.

Well, then he writes to me. It tends to be a bit longer and more focused. Those emails are not for public perusal though :)

hee hee hee

They took my stapler. . . my swingline stapler

When I was rising up the ranks from nurse to nurse practitioner I had a mentor. He said, "Holly, you need to embrace the mantle of your authority."

He basically told me to be a badass, embrace the power of being in charge.

Then, I did, with those flu shots. It was a total accident but dang. GANSTA!

NOW

I am going to do it again. I've dealt with too much this week. And yes, some of it is my fault. But, it's also my responsibility to do something about it. I'm drawing some lines in the sand.

They took my stapler one too many times. They moved my office too.

So yeah, try to move me ONE MORE TIME. Go ahead, try and move me to the basement.

I need to knock off the mushrooms

So-in my women's bible study group, there are those that share with open and honesty, spill their guts and everything. Then there are those that sit quietly and share only when prompted. I'm kind of co-leading things lately. So I prompt those that are quiet, sometimes with a cattle prod.

I kid, I kid.

I am a natural sharer. SHOCKING. I KNOW.

I don't have a problem spilling my guts in groups. I don't particularly feel that my pain or joy is all that different than others. So really, why not share the guts and the glory?

Then, sometimes, we meet in smaller groups, just me and these ladies from my church. AND THAT'S WHEN I START TO CLAM UP. When things get one on one, I get nervous and stop sharing. I've never really had this problem before. I've always just gone for it in one form or another.

Ya see, I can be very social and talkative and charming. I can work it. But I don't these days. Sure, there is a layer of sad lately, what with the miscarriage. But there is something else.

I'm learning how to be real and giving and seeking in a very real way with these new people in my life. And I think I'm being a little judgey. I think that perhaps I don't always fit in with people around here. I'm in a unique demographic, Christian, Zombie fan, Nurse, Mother of Two, Whiskey drinker. Yet I seek. I seek peeps to call my homegirls. I am trying to make friends. Not just BFF FOREVAH ALL!! But genuine friends.

Friends you can just call up and chat about your week. Friends that return emails because they check their email more than once a week. Friends that say yes to things. Friends that you can meet at the park and watch our kids play. Friends that are open to stuff like rollerblading and feta cheese and foreign movies. Friends that make time for you and you make time for them because the love is growing.

wait . . . that's a lot to ask for people around here.

And friends are made based on stuff you have in common. And I don't want to be all judgey but maybe that's the problem, maybe I'm not common. I think (and I really think) part of the issue is educational level. Not so much that I have a higher education then most here, in this blue collar town, it's that I'm a seeker. I love experiencing all the awesomeness of this world, beit food, sports, family love, travel, rollerblading, feta cheese and foreign movies. My world extends way beyond the packers. and now I'm sad again because I look around and well . . . this is a common area.

But, I can be common, oooOOOoooo I can blend, but not for long. Watch long enough and my peacock feathers will come fanning out.

So, what am I to do with my uniqueness when most don't share my love of all of the above?

AND WHY DO WOMEN HAVE THESE TYPES OF THOUGHTS ABOUT BASIC STUFF LIKE MAKING FRIENDS?

I guess I can just put myself out there. Just put myself out there and let it all happen. Let things naturally grow over time, like mushrooms. Maybe I've just put too much emphasis on finding the right person first and then letting friendship grow. Maybe I can just hush and let it all just happen.

Here's hoping.

You make the call: Victory for me er no?

Welcome back to you make the call- Where I pose a moral question and you answer it.

This one involves my work. I am a mental health nurse practitioner. I work side by side with psychiatrists and do my best to help the crazy people. It's a good gig. I do love it so.

That being said, I was recently asked to start giving flu shots. Giving shots is what NURSES do. However, I'm more than a nurse, I'm a nurse practitioner. Which means I have a master's degree and a ton of special licenses to prescribe medication. Just like the doctors.

Which got me thinking. Flu shots are normally given by PRIMARY CARE nurses. I don't work in the primary care, I don't treat sinus infections, rashes or bronchitis. I treat depression, anxiety and schizophrenia. I certainly don't treat the flu. Why am I handing out flu shots?

I say this to my boss AFTER I'VE AGREED TO ADMINISTER SHOTS TO MY PATIENTS. I am the kind of nurse that says yes when people ask me to do stuff. I've got to stop that.

Then, I approach the doctors, the mental health doctors. And I ask, "Do you need to start giving shots too? " And they say, "Oh, HELL NO, we're doctors, not nurses!" (ok they didn't say that exactly, but they did say no, they wouldn't be giving shots.)

Here is two (of the three) psychiatrists I work with:

Again, neither one of them are willing to give shots. They say no, they're doctors.

That kind of pissed me off. There is another mental health doctor though, not pictured above, he was willing to pitch in and give the shots. Guess who is my favorite doctor to work along side?

So I say this to my boss. I say, "Why am I required to interrupt my patient care to give these shots? Why am I required to give these shots when the psychiatrists aren't? Also, the primary care nurse practitioners don't give shots, so why am I doing this?" He kind of blinked and then we changed the subject.

Two weeks later . . .my boss says . . . "I talked it over with my boss and we agree, it's not fair to make you to give the shots when we aren't making everyone [I.E. THE PSYCHIATRISTS] to give the shots."

I was kind of shocked. I mean, I was kind of kidding when I kicked up a fuss. I mean, I was willing to give the shots but I did feel kind of slighted. But I didn't really care because there are much bigger things to care about.

So I accidentally won one for equality- but I'm not sure I was suppose to. I mean, this may compromise, in a small way, patient care. A lot of patients never see their primary care providers. They see us though. So that could mean no flu shot for them.

Then again, flu shots are available everywhere, even walgreens. Our patients are adults who drive and speak English. They have the resources to get their own flu shot.

ug.

so! you make the call, victory for me er no?

rollerblading OH YON ROLLERBLADING

Yeah, see now, if I wasn't a working Mom, I'd bust out posts every day. But here I am, posting on a Saturday night, when noone reads them. Also, with my exhausted Mommy brain, I can't really write coherently. Yet, this does not stop me.

So-let's begin, shall we?

Started rollerblading again. Went out with the kids. They follow me like ducklings. Mac was on his tricycle yelling, "THIS IS AWESOME!!" We starting singing our favorite song. Then, we were shouting. And laughing. And shouting. Which is triple awesome. I've never had a work out that made me laugh or giggle or shout. :)

This is our favorite song to sing:

When I took my skates off, I looked at my toes. They're battered and chipping toenail paint and I was happy. Because I've lost ELEVEN POUNDS. I'm waking up and feeling more, especially happy more. I am starting to feel tough and normal. Which is nice to feel.

AND on that note. We are signed up for a "Adoption from the foster care system meeting" [note: not the real title of the meeting]. It happens next month.

Let me back up:

Before we were married, Mr. Hall and I decided that we would have have our own children, then adopt when we were done. We've been married 10 awesome years. We're most likely done having children. This advances the plan to adopt. We still have time though, time to change our minds.

Plus, we're still healing from the miscarriages. I think I'm done but then, during yoga, I feel this pool of sadness. Not in every yoga class, just some. After class I drive two blocks away and let the water out through my eyes. Not after every class, just some.

So, we'll start with a meeting. The "Adopt from the foster care system meeting". Which is two hours long- in the middle of a Thursday.

I told Mr. Hall -I'll take a vacation day to attend. Then, Mr. Hall said, "Or. I could just go alone." Which made my heart do a thousand leaps.

When we need him, he's there whenever, where ever, or however it's needed.

His love is a constant felt hum that gets all super sonic explodey when called for.

He's the best husband and father ever.