Green Lights

A beacon of hope. Hang in there kids, hang in there.

This Nurses Work

Oh, hey there. Its me, back from several years of living. I know there are a gazillion posts on partially abandoned blogs that begin like this. So, here's mine. I haven't felt much like expressing myself the last few years. I'm a crafter, can't craft. I'm a blogger, can't blog. I like Instagram a lot. If you scroll through these posts, there are so many images. Its clearly something I like to include in my stories. But Instagram doesn't lend to the long form story telling. Not on a phone. That's weird, fuck that. And then I remembered my beloved blog. One that I've manned and curated since March of 2009, a lifetime ago. So strap in, I'm still here.

I feel an urgency to write, to express and to create, because the world is so weird right now. It kinda feels like its falling down around me. Do you feel that way? Its a goddamned pandemic, our plague, and people are dropping like flies. So far, my family has been lucky. That could change in an instant.  I'm a nurse and work for a large university hospital in Kentucky and we are all preparing for this impending surge of patients in respiratory distress. I'm lucky in a way, because I won't have to care for many of these patients. Mostly what I will likely see are patients who are being tested for COVID.  If they were to test positive, they would quickly transferred to another unit.I work on an oncology unit and we are being diligent about keeping COVID positive folks away from these immune compromised folk. I also have to try to protect myself and my family (including an 11 year old and a baby) so that I can continue to come to work and be helpful at home. My wife is a nurse too. You never know who has what because it takes several weeks to incubate and some folks have no symptoms. The hospital is on lock down (no visitors), so that helps. I wear a mask into patient rooms, but how long can I do that? Don't want to be wasteful and honestly, after 12 hours in a mask I don't feel good. When we get home from work, we enter through the garage, strip naked and go upstairs. I then wipe down my phone, watch and glasses with bleach wipes and take a hot shower. I used to only wash my hair a few times a week but now I wash it every day I'm at work. We don't wear shoes throughout the house anymore. It all stays by the front door (work shoes in the garage), preferably in the closet. Everything in the house gets a bleach wash every few days, especially door knobs and hard surfaces. We open mail and packages with gloves and dump the contents out on a safe surface. We don't kiss the baby on the face.  We don't share food with the kids. Wash, wash, wash. Its. Fucking. Exhausting.

My little family is determined to stay home as much as is possible, with the exception of grocery shopping, the pet store and pharmacy. And we limit those as much as possible. We have lots of non-perishables at the house but we have to go every few weeks for perishables, fresh veggies, etc. In fact, I'm going this morning when I get off of work. I'll be wearing a mask my dear friend from college made me. I'm so thankful for it.

College students are still packing their apartments on the weekends having parties, acting invincible. So many people out and about driving around town acting like its normal springtime. Not enough people are isolating or respecting social distancing. If you are one of these people that just don't believe or take the time to understand the importance of it, what is wrong with you?? Healthy people are dying? Why take a chance? Why be an accomplice?

I am not ashamed to admit, I'm definitely self medicating. Aren't you? Its kind of pointless because half the week I'm at work and the other half I have the baby and can't fix a cocktail until my wife gets home. By then I'm so damn tired, I have to really work to be awake enough to make it worth it. But you can bet your bottom dollar that I am making the time, honey. Its just a brief and partial reprieve from the constant stresses of this new reality. Know what I really want? I want to pack up my family and drive home to WV. I want to see those blooms on those hills. I'll just have to go there in my mind.

All this to say: Are you ok? How are you getting through this difficult, weird time? How can I help you? How can we help each other from 6-10 feet?

National Lampoons Beach Vacation

9/27/17: I wrote this a few years ago before our last trip to the beach with dad. It ended up being a fairly rough week for dad. He had just finished 10 days of whole brain radiation, leaving him burned from the neck up, bald and fairly miserable. His mouth, eyes and scalp really hurt. Mom had a hard time keeping him comfortable. He was really dizzy, loosing a lot of fluid by way of urine. It was hard to keep his fluids up and pain managed. We all fretted over him all week. But there were some good moments too. I'll talk about those another time. So here's this pre-vacation, optimistic post about my favorite vacation spot. Its weird for me to read it as I was a very different person.
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6/30/15:  After a particularly rough water week at Nags Head, NC, my parents decided not to return. I got stuck in a rip tide and dad had to come and help me to safety. When you get caught in a rip tide you have to swim with the direction of the water until you make it back to shore.  It took a while. Luckily, dad was young and healthy and a damn good swimmer. But we both got beat up pretty good. That was the turning point for my parents. Vacation shouldn't be deadly. The following fall of 1988, Dad was mentioning the dilemma of where to go to the beach to a friend and they mentioned Sunset Beach, NC.

Over the years, we’ve collectively tried various locations and situations for our beach vacation. We’ve been to Pawley’s Island, Edisto Beach, Holden Beach, Duck, Carolina Beach and Rodanthe. We have had cousins, aunts, uncles and grand parents join us. In the end, there is only one place we want to plant our asses for a week: Sunset Beach, NC. Sunset is our home away from home. Its kicked back and anything you can't get on the island, you can get on a short car ride inland.

There are some specific things I'd like to describe for you in list form, in no particular order.

1. The Island Market: There's something about the smell of this place. It smells like salt, AC, and sunscreen. Always moderately friendly folks behind the counter. Always an ample supply of junk food, cheer wine/sundrop and t-shirts. 

2. The Sunset Beach Pier: Its old, ya'll. Its probably been rebuilt many times and it ain't fancy. Plenty of room for all the fisher-folk and their gear at any time of the day. And don't tell my mom, but you can buy beer by the can and junk food. 

3. The worlds last swing bridge: They built a new fancy bridge and retired the swing bridge back in 2010. They were smart, though and made it into a museum just off the island.  But if you never had a chance drive over it when it was in service, you missed out on lines of well dress, slightly burned, just starvin' folks in cars, waiting patiently to exit the island to go get some rockin' seafood platters on the mainland. And lets not forget the sound, that "kachunk-kachunk, kachunk-kachunk" as your car drove over the bumps of the old bridge. During high tide, the middle of the bridge would be elevated. If you were driving too fast? Airborne. 

4. Julie's Sweet Shop and Rentals: When I was a kid, half of this place was an old school arcade. Complete with rockin' tunes, dirty floors and barefoot, unattended kids in bathing suits. In recent years, its just a beach rental place and ice cream shop. This place is a true beach shack, probably held together with particle board and staples. We love it though. Tons of little kids sitting on the outside benches with way too huge servings of melting ice cream falling on the ground to the waiting, swarming ants in the sand. As far as rentals go though, I'd probably recommend someplace else. The bikes are pretty rough, the prices are a bit too high and if you go over to Yelp for a review, its not pretty. Other off-island places will still deliver to Sunset, with better customer service. You're welcome. (Update: This place was just a shell after years of termites. It is now just a little shack where you can rent a bike. The sweets be gone, but not the memories.)

5. Kathy: My mom is the baddest of the beach bitches on the block. Mom's been spear heading trips to the beach for most of my 35 years. Some have been better than others, but that's just part of the adventure. She would have that brochure in hand by January and would spend days scouring the pages for the perfect rental house. She would spend the spring counting the days, watching Summer Rental, getting a box ready with staples for the kitchen, planning the route, etc. It was a hunting and gathering extravaganza.  And somehow, for years and years, we made this trip, 3 then 4 of us, usually in a 4 door sedan. That's right, mom didn't move up to a larger vehicle until I was in high school. We are master packers, apparently. And when it came to loading the car, that's something I can only compare to putting the lights up on the Christmas tree: painful, yet beautiful.

6. Terry: My dad knows how to slow his life down for a week, which is such an important lesson to learn and pass on to my kids. Now that dad has cancer, its a lesson that is coming in very handy.  When we were at the beach, he would sleep in, go for long walks around the island, play in the water with us and go hunt up the best fresh seafood for dinner. In his younger days, back up on the Outer Banks, he'd rent a para-sail or water ski and ride the sound to his hearts content. Once or twice, he went hang gliding in the dunes of Kitty Hawk. He has many more adventures in store.

I realize that you can't have Terry and Kack for your vacation, but they wrote the book and I want to share their secrets. Here are the

• Vacation isn't always perfect, nor should it be.
• Its good to get the hell out of town. Staycations are very popular because travel can be expensive, but its so good for your head to get in a new space. There is a place for you at the right price, just keep looking. You don't have to spend alot of money for it to be meaningful.
• Some people can't sit still on vacation. This isn't a feeling I can relate to, personally. The journey is so long, I just want to sit still when I arrive. But everyone has their own ideas of how vacation should go. Do you. 
• Eat and drink what the hell you want.

Leo

Leo and Marilyn showed up at the hospital just as Mom and I were coming back from the cafeteria with our bland hospital food. We didn't even want to eat but it was a distraction, something to do while Dad was down in a procedural area. They were trying to tap some fluid off of his lungs for comfort.

We were coming off the elevator and there they were. I think we were both a bit crestfallen. We'd had so many visitors and just wanted a few minutes of quiet. But here we were. We went into this little silent meditation room with quilts on the walls and comfortable chairs. Marilyn is an old college friend of my Mom's. They lived together for a while after graduation and stayed close throughout the years. My memories of Marilyn are mostly of her long visits with us in the summer to get away from her husband, Leo. Somehow they prevailed.

We hugged and sat down and mom and I attempted to eat while explaining Dad's condition: cancer was everywhere, moving to comfort care. Mom was so polite, asking about the kids. Leo sat in the back, smug with his arms crossed. Not participating in the conversation but waiting. He was waiting for his moment. When it came, he crossed the room to sit near us and began to witness about how some shoulder injury was healed by the power of prayer. Folks, I don't object to any one's religion, do you. But I'm an oncology nurse and my dad was actively dying and from my experience, the lord can't fix metastatic melanoma just yet. I couldn't believe that I was sitting there listening to this bull shit. This visit by Leo was all about Leo, not about my Dad. I kept looking over at mom to gauge her reaction and she just kept looking at her food and questioning Leo about what exactly his intentions were. From what I could decipher from his ten minutes of bullshit was that he wanted was to attempt a fucking faith healing on my Dad. I was seeing white, hot rage. Mom was highly offended but was so polite. She told Leo that we didn't need a faith healing but instead requested continued prayer for dad's comfort. I was fucking rude and told him we weren't interested.

I saw them roll my dad back to the room so I had an excuse to leave.  I was so upset and crying, I just went to the end of the hallway and waited until they visited with dad a bit. I managed to walk back to give Marilyn a hug when they were leaving, didn't give Leo a glance. She was really apologetic and I told her how I felt. What I told her was that when family is suffering, you show up to be there, not to put on a goddamned show. Marilyn knew that, she's good people. But she's married to Leo and she lets him wear the pants. Her choice.

When they left, Mom and I kind of had a silent moment to catch our breath.  Puffing away on her e-cig, mom watched Marilyn and Leo walk in silence to their car and drive away. I joined her.  We were just like, "what the hell was that?" She said she was proud of me for speaking my mind. I said, "what an asshole." But I wasn't sure if I was talking about Leo or me.

Later that evening mom pulled out an envelope Marilyn handed mom before they left. In it was a really sweet letter and $1,000. Mom didn't need their money. So she handed it to me and my sister. We all had a good chuckle. Anytime we bought something with it we'd say "thanks Leo!"

Go piss up a rope, Leo.

This is me.

This is me. This is me forcing myself to write something. This is me forcing myself to take some time for me. This is me allowing myself to feel ok today.

I've had this blog a long ass time. I haven't written anything down for two years. Its been a long, hard two years. I'm not saying my life has been in shambles, but its been hard.

In the last two years, I've gotten divorced and remarried. My dad, grandfather and grandmother died. Then a shocker last summer when my SIL's husband died. Myself and bebe have moved three times. Some reality TV putz was somehow elected president and is making a mockery of our country, undoing a lot of good things the previous did. There is violent political turmoil. So much so that my wife started having panic attacks. My job is literally killing me, I'm overweight and have hypertension. I've reached a point at work where I never wanted to be: Dead Inside. This is someone who changed her whole life around and took on thousands of dollars in debt to do this job, but its a constant disappointment. Love the work and my patients, but don't love the politics. I don't think I've experienced more disillusionment and depressive episodes in my life than I have this year so far. Fuck!

I feel constant judgement from my former partner and his family. I was never sure if it was real or in my head, but now I know its definitely real. And that all recently came to a head when, granted, I made a really dumb decision. And I made it based on my inability to communicate with him/them or my wife. I won't go into details about that decision but it made for a really terrible week in my family's life that I'd like to forget. But I won't forget it because it kind of brought me back online as a human, wife and mother. All this life trauma has had me in a bit of a fog. I've been unable to be present. I've failed myself, my kid, my wife, my family. I've been unable to create a damn thing; not a pie, granny square or drawing. Including a few simple words on this blog.  I have so many stories to share, but can't get them through the mud for a clear, simple tale. All this has left me as a person with no outlet. All humans need some way to get it all out and I felt like I'd lost it.

I'm digging myself out. Day by day. Up and out of the damn hole. Life is hard sometimes, then it gets better. Then it gets hard again, then better again.  That's just how life is, right? That's what I tell my kid.

I need to tell myself too.

Lost Summer

This summer is a blur. I drove so many times back and forth to WV from KY, I can't even give you a number or play by play. I've tried writing many, many versions of a post about it. But I no longer feel the need to write details. That information is a part of me. It all pretty much sucks. 

Here is the heart of it, though. My dad had melanoma. By the time they found it toward the end of June, it was in his brain. He received one dose of IV therapy and ten doses of whole brain radiation. The cancer progressed despite these efforts. Over time he got weaker and more short of breath as the cancer took over his brain and his lungs. In August, he left this mortal coil. 

My dad was a big, strong guy. We believe it is his strength, after years of working construction and his natural build, that helped him to live as long as he did with the cancer. It helped his body mask the signs and symptoms that we are only now looking back to make note of. 

My dad was the guy.  He was the ultimate defender of the underdog. Protector of his family. He would do anything for anyone. He was the guy you could call who knew the guy who could do that random thing (you know, if he couldn't do it). He was always game for anything. He'd build you a piece of furniture, help you hang Christmas lights, sell girl scout cookies, or pick you up some maxi pads. Want some homemade spaghetti when you come home? He'll go to Sam Minardi's house to buy some homemade sausage and then this mic from Charleston Ave would make you the best red sauce you'd ever had. Anything mom ever wanted done to the house, he'd find a way to do. He was there. You could count on him. He lived life right. His kindness did result in his getting his ass kicked a few times professionally, but he always recovered and persevered. And in many cases he was forgiving. When mom was going through her dark days, dad filled in all the gaps as best he could. He wasn't perfect, of course, but he was perfect for us. 

The most recurring thought that comes to mind is "how can this be?"  But it is. We are all dealing with it as best we can. I've never experienced grief like this. It can break you apart, like pieces of a puzzle.  And then slowly, piece by piece, you put yourself back together. But there'll always be that piece missing, the one near the heart that you will never stop looking for. 

On Cancer

On Saturday I got a call from home. My sister is home visiting in WV, like she always does in the summer. Dad had been acting weird and spacey and hadn't been talking.  This is very unlike dad. He's a talker, always working on the perpetual to do list, always cracking jokes.  Lately all he could get out was the occasional smile. But he just kept silent and was very tactile, constantly feeling and touching things like the trim around the door. Mom had to go up to his office to make a copy of her drivers license. Mom asked dad which button to push to make the copy and he kept pushing the power button off.  She would turn it back on and say "No, which button do I push to make a copy" and dad would push the off button again.  Baby sister was actually ready to walk out the door to go to camp as a counselor for the week, but after watching Dad told mom she wasn't going.  So mom called his primary doctor and described his behavior and they concluded he may have had a mini stroke related to being recently shocked out of his chronic afib recently.  He said to go to WVU where his cardiologist is. So mom and baby sister packed dad up in the car and drove the 30 min to Morgantown. In the ED, if you mention anything about chest pain or anything heart related, they have you on an exam table faster than you can say "Go Mountaineers!"  They drew labs and they scanned him head to toe. But they didn't find anything heart related. Nope. They found masses on his brain and lungs and lesions on the pancreas and liver. What the fuck.

Baby sister called me once the docs came in and shared their findings. They immediately had internal medicine, neuro and oncology see him. It took until about 2AM to get him admitted, finish scanning him, and get some sort of plan in place. I was out on a date with my lady and some other friends for their anniversary. It was a surreal evening. I think I was just in shock. At some point, sister's text said "come home" and mine said "I'll be there tomorrow." 

I don't know if I slept at all that night. My lady had to work the next day, so once she headed out I dragged my ass out of bed, threw some things in a laundry basket and drove north. I averaged 90-95 the whole way. I was in Morgantown in 5 hours.  Longest 5 hours of my life. I was still getting texts from sister whenever doctors came in. Dad was so quiet when I got there. He just kept looking around and rubbing the sheets and bedside table.  It took him so long to answer questions, to get the words out.  Lots of family were there, made it all easier to bare. 

On Monday morning, they did a puncture lung biopsy. Dad said it was a really bad experience, they didn't medicate him for pain and sedation enough and they yelled at him to hold still. Fuckers. After about 4 long days, they had a result and it was Melanoma.  Stage 4 Melanoma. Dad had a spot on his shoulder in his 30s. The skin doc cut it out super deep and did chest xrays every 6 months for 10 years. 

Cancer of any kind is a sneaky, dirty little bitch.  I am an oncology nurse, so that statement is qualified. When someone gets a diagnosis of stage 4 of any type of cancer, its not good. But somehow, my brain has overridden this knowledge. I have to. This is my dad. I need him alive and in my life. So long as him being alive doesn't result in his suffering.  

The doctors are treating the brain mass as a separate cancer, with whole brain radiation. They are planning on treating the rest systemically with some trial immunotherapy drugs where they rev up the immune system to fight the cancer. Traditional chemotherapy doesn't really work on melanoma, so this is what we have and we are going to go for it. These treatments aren't going to cure dad, but they might give him time and comfort. I can't really allow myself to think beyond that. In fact, I'm fairly emotionally shut down, which I think is a result of being an oncology nurse for two years. Its protective. 

What I have found comforting over the last week is the support friends and family have shown by showing up at the hospital, sending cards and love and prayers on social media. I'm not a believer, but I'll take a prayer or the sending of good energy any day of the week. It helps everyone involved. I'm really thankful this week for those things. For nurses with a good sense of humor. For my ex-husband being so extremely supportive and keeping the monkey all week. For my partner coming to be by our side. I am so incredibly proud of my mom for being so strong and finding her focus so she can keep going.  I'm also proud of my baby sister.  She sent text after text of medical jargon and she nailed it every time. She was able to see the critical nature of the situation, give up a fun week away, and help mom decide to get dad to the ED. She was mom's rock. 

And then there's my dad. He's taken in all of this incredibly confusing and heartbreaking information this week and still decided to go through with this fight. I've seen him come back to life with the help of some steroids. I've seen his sense of humor and personality come back through, that zest for life. He's even working a few hours a day. He's a tough cookie.  

Summer Vacation Destination: NC

 

I've always thought that summer vacation should be at least 2 weeks long.  I'd stay in a less fancy beach house if it meant we could be there for 2 weeks instead of one. But alas, my mother still pays this bill so I don't get to decide. Mumsy simply must have a space that is pleasing to both eye and soul, so alas, one week it is. Next year though, 2.

We are doing the same old thang we do every damn year, but with a few alterations. This year I take my lady and we get to teach her all the things about our place. She loves fishing and I'm super stoked to spend every day getting up early with her and the monkey to hit the beach for some surf or pier fishing. Monkey is having a hard time with the idea of her daddy not being there. I think she will be OK by the time we actually get in the car to start the road trip. He'd just be on the computer all week anywho.  And who knows, maybe by next year he'll come along with all of us. That's what I'm working towards, staying a family.

Meanwhile, I'll start stock piling sun screen, hats, towels, flippy flops and fishing stuff. Next up, all the reasons why we love this beach and can't seem to steer away from it. Ever.

Summer Break is Upon Us

My ex and I totally blew it when we realized, with only weeks of school to go, that we had NOTHING planned for the monkey when school is out. Since forever, and until kindergarten started, we had preschool/daycare. I'm off 2-3 days of the week, depending on whether or not I work weekends, but the rest? The in-laws would only commit to one day a week, but we had to figure the rest out. Luckily there's the very expensive YMCA camps and we are signing her up for 4 weeks of those. It will be loads of fun for the monkey and she will make some new friends. Also, the in-laws are helping with some of the cost. We also signed up for the public pool, so that will help. Here's hoping the water isn't cold all summer...and that monkey and I don't get kicked out for shenanigans. What are you doing with your monkeys this summer? 

One Year Lease

On March 27th, I moved out of the family home. The home where we brought our daughter to from the hospital when she was born, the one I painted multiple times, the one I tried to decorate, the one I cooked many Christmas cookies in, welcomed family and friends, planted flowers, celebrated birthdays and hanged pictures in. Going back to the house since then has been real tough. If I have to spend a significant amount of time there, I spin into a dark hole that is difficult to climb out of. I just cry and cry.  Luckily I have some wonderful people in my life that I can just text and help me climb my way back out. It will get easier over time.

This brings us to my apartment. Two bed, one bath, eat in kitchen and a living room. It’s in an old apartment in an old neighborhood. It’s on a dead end street with a bunch of cute old houses.  To turn left from my street, I have to cross a busy four lane road.  There’s a hospital one block away so we hear every ambulance that drives up. We also live a block away from the fire department in the other direction, so we hear them too. There’s some asshole that honks every morning at 6am as he turns the corner (makes me feel like Andy Farmer and the crazy mail man in Funny Farm).  The neighbors to our left have like 6 dogs that although we’ve lived here 2 months, all bark at us in a frenzy even though they see us every fucking day.  They bark at everything. They bark at the wind.

This is an old house that was built in the 40s and divided into a duplex in the 70s.  Hard wood floors, an adorable (non-functioning) fireplace and mantle, all original windows and a somewhat shitty kitchen. When I looked at the apartment the first time, it had this big awkward island that the owner agreed to have some contractor re-do because it took over the whole damn kitchen. But the counters they put in were put together with bits of glue and cardboard. So much nickle and dime shit up in here. But they put in some new kitchen flooring to replace the shitty old shiny laminate. Of course, it’s super white and textured so it shows all the dirt.  This place was described as having “central air”, but of course it doesn’t push all the way to the second floor. Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for window AC units. 

This place also has a basement! It leaks when it rains. Like little rivers from all corners, straight to the sump pump. Also thankful for sump pumps! Every bug you could imagine lives down there and earlier this week I saw a little garden snake on the stairs. The basement is where the washer/dryer hook ups are.  We had to take out one of the counters to get them through the wonderfully designed kitchen and to the door to the basement. I’m hiring movers when we leave this bitch.

All of this aside, I have made it really homey for me and the Monkey.  She and I painted her room pepto pink, hanged curtains and pics and just jazzed her room up. I’ve not done much with my room but hang some photos. I decided not to paint over the beige walls. They remind me of sand at the beach and go well with my art. Also, I’m tired of painting. Did I mention I painted the entire first floor? I did and it’s a fabulous shade of light grey that really made everything feel fresh.

I’m good with calling this place home-sweet-home…for one year. One. Year.

Molly out. 

Christmas Was a Disaster...And Other Thoughts

Christmas. My sister, my girlfriend, my family, we all had a hard time getting in the mood this year for Christmas. I watched Christmas movies, I cranked up the tunes way too early for social acceptance, drove around the neighborhood with my daughter to look at lights, made cookies galore, wrapped presents, trimmed the tree.  Just...all the things. But for some reason, this year didn't really "feel" like Christmas. 

Here's an old post from December I forgot about. Cheers!

I'm a nurse, the lowest on the day-shift totem pole, so of course I had to work Christmas Eve. I won't complain about it too much, many co-workers had to work 24-26th.  I mean, come on. However, my schedule meant I had to work 22-24 and finish all the baking and wrapping and packing after working all day. Then drive to WV on Christmas day, where the running began and didn't stop until Monkey and I ran out the door to head home on Sunday. We were both so relieved. Sad and relieved. 

Upon arrival, we learned that Auntie's brand new oven caught on fire when she spilled chex mix in the bottom.  That meant mom, dad and sister had to prepare and schlep food to her house Christmas night. But dinner was divine and the company grand, despite the sweaty, hot, new kitchen only half of us could fit in. 

The real ass kicker of the visit was my cousins and their babies. When we were all kids, we all could fit in granny's house with room to play. But all the cousins are married with multiple babies. Screaming, ignored babies and one whiny, ignored granny. Sitting in that house two nights in a row...by night two we (myself, sister and parents) were all so emotionally and physically exhausted we could hardly talk. Monkey and her cousins had a total blast and I'm so happy they got some play time together. But the reality is that we can't ever do that again. And my cousins just seemed to be oblivious to what we were experiencing. I suppose people see what they want to see. Hell, we will probably just do it again next year. Stay tuned for repeat bitching next Christmas, folks! 

It takes courage to be happy.

When I look back at old posts, I see a search for joy. If we can just get to ______, that's when things will get better. Once I finish my degree, things will get easier. When the monkey is out of daycare, meaning we don't have to pay for it anymore, that's when we can relax. If we move to North Carolina, life will make sense. Vacation. Christmas cookies. Goals.

All of those things are great, don't get me wrong. They are all turning points. Some of them have come and gone. I completed my degree and have the job I want. I really love my job. Monkey is out of preschool and is gearing up for Kindergarten ($700 dollars back in my pocket, BTW). We went on vacation. Christmases have come and gone. But even with all of these hallmarks, one important thing didn't ever get even remotely better: my marriage. After many years of not being happy, after awhile I figured that it was what it was always going to be. I figured everyone's marriage was like that at some point.  Eventually I came out of the fog of school and of orientation and started feeling all that depression I've been distracting myself from with said school and new job for 5 years. Then something happened that kicked my ass even harder.

I fell in love.

With a girl.

I felt all the things I've been wondering for years if I'd ever feel, emotional and physical. It was exciting and wonderful. I was honest with my husband and asked for the freedom to explore. It was granted under the agreement that it not end our marriage. She and I agreed that we would continue this wonderful thing as long as we could with no expectation of anything long term. It went on. I didn't want it to end. Love grew. For a good month or two I didn't have an appetite and slept way more than I needed.  My husband and I would touch base once in a while about where I was with everything and I'd say something reassuring. He and I would go on dates, the same quiet dates we'd been going on for years and years. Then we'd come home, he to the computer, me to the TV. I was a mess the whole time. Just so depressed, crying at work or in bed at night unable to sleep, didn't eat much, unsure of what to do. The idea of ending our marriage, our partnership, was completely overwhelming. However, I was completely unwilling to end my other relationship because it was fulfilling. I didn't think I'd be able to not live with him, leave this house, to upset my daughters world so much. What would that do to her? You know, I'd better stay in this unhappy marriage for her. So many people do that. Being so unhappy kept me from being really present and patient with her. He and I finally came to the conclusion that we needed to end our marriage. It sucked so hard. It sucks now. Its a scary thing being quiet homebodies, about to re-enter the world. But we keep talking about it, what we would like it to look like, living arrangements, how to stay a family. We are both much more at peace the idea of it now. We get along really well, like old friends. We don't want it to be an ugly, hateful thing. We still love each other, after all. Even in divorce, we are still in this thing together.

Telling the family, his and mine, was tough. I basically had to come out of the closet after being married for 10 years. My parents were really supportive. My father said "it takes courage to be happy." He couldn't be more right. Seeing our strained relationship through their eyes has been really enlightening.  His parents are taking it hard, but love me anywho. We know both sides will be there for us and Monkey and that is a relief. After dealing with it solo for 6 months, its a relief to have some support on both sides.  I've yet to tell my friends, the ones that matter. They might read this before I tell them, but I hope they forgive me. We will talk eventually.

I have a calm about me now. The tears have eased up. Monkey and I are spending lots of time together. More presence, patience and fun. Less stress and frustration. I'm starting to look at little houses to rent. I'm spending time with my Lady. I don't have to continue an endless journey to find or make joy anymore.  Its right here. It was always right here.

With courage,
Molly

Partner in Crime

Jesse and Frank

When it comes to making big family decisions and you have a life partner, you work together with said partner. Sometimes you agree, sometimes you don't. The major decision that is weighing heavy on my heart right now is whether or not to have a second baby. I'm ready. My husband is very reluctant due to our current financial situation. We have a credit card to pay off and I have student loans to figure out and start paying down. I'm happy to pay down the credit card. The student loans are another story. I'm working on finding government student loan forgiveness programs and utilizing tuition reimbursement at work. Basically, I'm giving it 6 months to a year to make a major dent in those things by working overtime twice a month. That should give me reasonable ability to make large payments.  But in the mean time I'm pretty heart broken about it. Well, less heart broken, more major depression. Time is ticking away faster than I want. The age gap between my first and my second (if we get there) is getting wider and wider. This reality adds to the stress of the whole thing. What I know in my heart of hearts is that my kid needs a partner in crime and the only way to give her one for life is through a sibling. Now, I just have to work toward making it happen.

A Garbage Tale

You see, when you have a kid, you have (well, most people) have a fundamental shift in how they see the world. You basically go from "I wonder what I'll do with all my free time this afternoon after work. I wonder how I"ll feel about it. Ohhh, I'm going to stop at the library and piddle around and maybe I'll try a new recipe and have a drink...or maybe I'll work out for 2 hours." to someone who thinks, mostly, about nothing other than how to protect and cultivate that child in to someone who has a healthy level of happiness and can go out and handle the world without becoming an embittered cynic. You have to be clear with people, lots of people, about what rules are in place when dealing with your kid and about the barriers you have set in place. These people could range from close family members to teachers to friends and neighbors. Then you have to enforce those rules and barriers, regardless of how those things make anyone of those people feel. That last part is the hardest part for me as a parent. I don't like confrontation, especially with family members. I also don't like to hurt people and sometimes during confrontation, I just fucking blow it. I've done it with my sister in the past and now I've done it with my sister in law.  The words don't come out right and they come at me swinging and I can't take it and....it just is a horrible situation. Let me explain it.

My husband confronted my sister in law about how we aren't yet comfortable with Lilly hanging out with her new boyfriend. We just aren't ready. We have only been in the room with this guy twice. I'm not saying that my husband had this conversation to the best of his ability. Naturally, it came out alllllll wrong. My SIL has translated this in to "We don't trust you. We think you have poor judgement about people. You are a horrible person who dates potential pedophiles." She thinks that because she undoubtedly trusts this guy that she's been dating for 6 weeks that we should automatically trust him too. But you see, when my kid is involved, I don't have to trust anyone. Anyone. Its not about her, its about my setting some clear boundaries.

Now here's the garbage part. We were desperate for a baby sitter this weekend. Her boyfriend is in town, which I didn't know. So Derek asked her to watch Lilly on Saturday for a few hours while I slept and he went and made a video. I wasn't aware until a few days ago that she was planning on taking him, the boyfriend, along. She basically said that he goes or she's unavailable. And so of course, he said he wasn't happy but he didn't feel he had a choice.  I would have asked if she could leave him at the apartment for a few hours, but that didn't happen until the pinnacle of our horrible conversation on the phone today. So our willingness to go along with it this one time kind of reneged the whole premise of our concern. Does that make sense? I agree. Its stupid. In the end, after much ado, tears, compromise and some really horrible texts, we cancelled. Derek changed the time of his gig (imagine the horrible situation that could have saved us). So, we're taking a little break from all of this. Putting some time and distance between us might help us heal. My fear is that we have irrevocably ruined our relationship with her. But hopefully, like with my sister, it'll get better.

30 Helens Agree, Fall is Awesome

Who doesn't love fall?  Fall is refreshing and full of sun, blue skies and cool air. For all my pals on FB, fall = stuff in crock pots, pumpkin scented candles, and some fancy drinks at Starschmucks.  For me, Fall = The Pretenders blasted loud in my car with the windows down, Kids in the Hall, pumpkins in the front yard and being outside. It also means my kids birthday, she was born on a hot fall day 5 years ago today. Despite my husbands insisting there was 0% chance she'd be a redhead like her mama, out she came with a wisp of red hair and lots of attitude. She has been rocking my world ever since.

Becoming a parent has been difficult on many different levels. Its been hard on my bank account, hard on my marriage, resulted in a desire for a career change and, subsequently, the need for a new degree. I wanted to do something she could be proud of. The path I was on was not leading toward growth, career opportunities or job satisfaction. I didn't want her to see me at 50, bitter, in the same dead end job. So off I went, back to college. I can honestly say I did it for myself and for her. I love this job so much. It was the right move. And when its time to do something different, there will be plenty of options: Educator, Administrator, Management. My daughter will get to see me move into different jobs, utilize my brain, continue my education and hopefully make a difference.

Almost all of the women in my family are career women. My mom's mother, Mary, went off to Business School after high school in the 40s. She worked, helping to support her family, until she got married.  When her kids were small, my grandfather got cancer in his leg and had to have it removed. For a period of time, his income as a salesman stopped and my grandmother went right back to work. Her mother and aunt were educated and were teachers. My mother is a nurse. My aunts have careers in law, IT, education and banking.  My dads mother raised 5 kids and did hair on the side. If you look at my family tree, on both sides, the farther out you go on both sides, the more clear it is = I come from a long line of career minded women.

Of course being a parent with a career has certain sacrifices and guilt involved. And I think that guilt element is more specific to women. Men were never told they were supposed to be home with the kids, not out trying to be like a man. But even now, we all still have to work past that bullshit. I may not get to spend every day, all day with my child, but the time we do spend together is full of love...usually. And now that I have school behind me, I can enjoy my kid a lot more and with less stress on my shoulders for the first time in 4 years. Hopefully she doesn't remember my absence too much, just the good together times.

Happy Fall, y'all.

Rock n Roll Nurse

If I had a million bucks, I'd create a Rock N' Roll school for kids and adults where they could come and play instruments in sound proof rooms, take classes, attend panels and special lectures by industry people and educators. We would have a room filled with records, record players with head phones and big comfortable chairs.  It would be fun.  It would cost almost nothing to be there. I could still be a nurse. Please give me a million dollars.

Musical Time Travel

When it comes to music, I tend to find something I really like and then over do it for a while. Then I stop listening to that for a few years because I can no longer stand it. I've burnt my self out on it. For example, in high school, I was in deep for U2.  I was madly in love. I had every album. I listened to every album.  They could do no wrong. Then I went to college. I would walk by myself all over campus in the middle of the night with my diskman (a giant contraption by today's standards) listening over and over again to that Best of the B-Sides album. However, one day, I could listen no more. That lasted until about this year, which was 1999-2013, just to help you with the math. I can finally, in small doses, listen to my once favorite band. The band that changed the trajectory of my life. The band that lead me to this place, right here and now. Their music takes me back to the 13 year old girl, stowed away in her room, listening to Achtung Baby!, and for the first time having a tearful reaction to a song, Wild Horses. I knew right then and there that I had to do something music related. 

Today I was at the library and came across a Fiest album. Fiest is someone I was listening to the year my baby was born. When I put the CD in my car and the music came on, it took me back immediately. It took me back to that dreamy young woman, driving to Cincinnati to look for cool nursery decorations at antique malls and Old Time Pottery. A girl dreaming of what it would be like to finally be a mother. It also hit home just how much I want a second baby. I have an amazing child, so perfect and full of love,  and she deserves to have a life that includes a sibling. Someone to roll her eyes with when her mom and dad are not being cool and someone to help make important decisions with regarding our end of life care. She needs it. I see it more and more every day. She asks for it once in a while. One way or another, I am going to make it happen for my girl. Now, I just have to talk my old man into it.

Do you experience musical time travel? Tell me all about it.

I don't know what to call this post.

It's been a while. How ya been? Howsyamama?

Lets catch up. The last time we met I had sworn off the internet. I had nothing left to say. I was about to enter my final and most difficult year of nursing school. I was coming down from a somewhat let-down vacation. I was flat broke. You know, life stuff.

Well, I graduated from nursing school in May and successfully passed the NCLEX.  Not long after that I got the job I wanted, a great new grad nursing position in oncology at a highly respected cancer center. I can't tell you much about being a nurse and that's OK. What I can tell you is that nursing is fucking hard. Every nurse I've ever met says that first year of nursing is hell. I usually don't sleep much the night before a shift because I am anxious about it. I am anxious about the level of stress involved, about having to make decisions and trying to keep incredibly immune suppressed people on the right side of the teeter-totter. It is a tough job, but it is what I am supposed to do and my heart knows it. It knows it hard.

As far as all that other shit goes, here's the sweet and skinny version. I still hate facebook, but its where everyone I know and love is. Its annoying, but I can see baby pictures and say Happy Birthday and know what in the hell is happening in peoples lives. I've shut down tumbler and retired from podcasting.  Twitter is happening, but only a personal account, nothing associated with this blog. I just want to continue to try to unfold myself from these stressful years.  I wanna do shit like sleep and go to the library.  I mean, I've lived in this town for 7 years and I've not even been to a horse race, let alone the Kentucky Derby. Hell, I've not even been to a Derby party. It is time to channel my inner whatevers and live like a whatever. 

Now, about this blog. In the end, I need an outlet to get out some of these things on my chest and just do some fun writing. There's no place I'd rather do that very thing that right here.

Same Ocean, Different Beach

We had a great week at Edisto Beach.  Its a sweet little island in South Carolina.  No hustle and bustle, just families, beach houses and ocean. The actual beach sucked because the beach it self was super short, meaning we were cramped with everyone else on the beach, and the sand was super saturated and shell-covered as hell, resulting no non-optimal beach strolling conditions.  But it had a great bike path all the way around the island and tons of trees and foliage, especially those big cypress trees with the hanging moss.  I took pics on the old Canon A-1, keeping my fingers crossed that they turned out alright.  The food was amazing, but I did not get enough boiled peanuts (my own damn fault).

We had a rainy yet beautiful drive back to Kentucky.  Whats not to love about driving through the Smokey Mountains?  You can't turn around and not see lush green jutting toward the sky. One of these days, we are just going there to vacation. As is expected, I had a  little time to reflect and get some perspective.  Vacation is my new years as far as those things go.  The result is that I feel like I'm too tied into the internet.  I really don't know what to do with myself here anymore.  I know I have some things I want to journal and say but I don't think it makes sense to do it so publicly.  I have even started the process of eliminating myself from Facebook, a challenge that I'm sure just about anyone can relate to. Facebook is something I used to revel in, but I don't get anything out of it but that constant pull to see if anyone sees me.  People just post random shit that I couldn't care less about.  I have over 200 friends, but I only want to hear from about 30 of them.  I know damn well that I could hide everyone, but there's still the issue of my personal damn business out there that makes me nuts, along with the pull of not being present in the world and the ability to just fucking looking up and out once in a while.  All I see when I walk around any public place is people looking down at the their screens and for what purpose? 

When I was a kid on vacation, some of the best parts of the trip were listing to my walkman/discman, reading a book and just looking out the window at the scenery. We drove through mountains, big cities, long bridges and rural beach towns to get to our vacation spots.  My parents took me to various spots on the Outer Banks like Kill Devil Hills to fly kites and for my dad to fly over the dunes and jet ski the sound.  And there's also Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, Avon, Duck, Sunset Beach and Pawleys Island, SC.  They are all treasured memories, even the bad parts.  I'm lucky to have had such wonderfully adventurous parents.  They gave me a world that filled my imagination...an imagination, dreams that are all still fresh in my brain but may be slipping away to make room for all the junk I have been filling it with via the internet.

The result of all of this pondering: I'm pulling out for now.  I don't think I add anything of use to anyone here on this blog for the time being.  At the end of this week, if I haven't changed my mind, I'm going to click the "un-publish" button in blogger.  I'm also going to turn off everything else as well: my old blog Funny Farm, Facebook, tumblr, LinkedIn, podcastin stuff and Twitter. 

I wonder how much brain power and time I'm giving myself.  Maybe that'll be my first post on the next chapter of this or a new blog. In the mean time, put your phone down and look up once in a while, would ya?

Until we meet again, 
Live long and prosper,
Molly

Some Thoughts for Friday

Since I don't have time to record this for the podcast, I'm going to type out these most urgent thoughts for the day: 

1. Scientology is a religion thing created by a science fiction author.  Science. Fiction.

2. Tipper Gore, Democrat or not, can still suck my dick over this and I don't care that she's dating (Damnit, DailyBeast. Stop it.).

3. This is the kind of week that makes me think I can accomplish all of my dreams, far reaching as they may seem.

4. Andy Griffith/Taylor/Matlock was a wonderful man.  I don't' know what his politics were and I don't plan on researching them.  He brought some special things to the arts and I will always treasure him for it.

5. Awkward 12-year-olds can be assholes too, well meaning as they may think they are.  I schooled one at the mall yesterday and it felt kind of good.

6. Facebook continues to be a massive waste of time and I continue to want to break up with it. But breaking the addiction of social media is very, very difficult. 

7. I'm also thinking about shutting down this blog and, after archiving the posts, deleting it forever.  I feel the need to try to take some sort of control over my internet presence, but I'm not completely sure its possible.

Food for thought.  Now, time to go get my kid and load up the car.  Vacation is 14 hours away.