Parenting

All Articles in the Category ‘Parenting’

Seeker.

Chemo SeekerSeeking perspective and cure. If it’s true that life is all about your perspective, I know this Friday sunshine will help.

This past week has been a total mind melting experience. Cloudy and cold, too. With my mom’s chemotherapy and subsequent complications, my perspective of medicine has changed again. Forever. Being the patient, or in this case the patient’s daughter and advocate, reminds me how hard it is to sit on the other side of the white coat. Power differentials, hierarchy, miscommunication, communication, laboratories, computers, research, trainees, and simple distance sit between the provider and the patient. They take up all sorts of space.

Invisible yet room-filing.

Above is a photo of my mom directing her chemotherapy. She felt that if she gave the chemo direction (via her powerful words and a Sharpie), the chemo’s accuracy would improve. Got to give her credit. Speaking up (even to your chemotherapy) is always essential in medicine. Read full post »

Doctor, Daughter, Mother, and Wife: Four Corners

MamaDoc and MamaMy mom starts chemotherapy tomorrow. It feels like my two feet are reaching to stand in four separate corners. Doctor, Daughter, Mom and Wife. Four corners. Except nothing about the sky looks like Utah right now.

I’m caught in the middle of a generational sandwich. I’ve started to understand that taking care of those older than me and those younger than me (while, at the same time, attempting to tend to myself) may define adulthood. This week I awoke to the sobering reality that I’m a real grown-up. Good morning, Sunday, meet me, Grown-Up number 221005. It seems I’ve finally earned the title.

Titles tend to follow set milestones in life. You finish your twelfth year and you’re a teenager. Eighteen and you’re a voter. Finish college, you’re an adult. Finish Med school and they call you Doctor. Yet often, these titles are granted asynchronously from earnest accomplishment or achievement.

Take the example of being called, “Doctor.” Read full post »

This Crockpot Is Gonna Save Me

Crockery PotGame changer in our house. Splurged on a fancy crockpot last week. Big news, I know. Should have sent out a flyer.
My beloved crockpot. Regal, able, and ready like any good army, boy scout, or Labrador Retriever.

This.crockpot.is.gonna.save.me.
Last week broke me a bit. We’ve not been sleeping again. Previous memo to the boys was received and then promptly forgotten. And I’ve been sick. After busy days seeing patients, I didn’t leave my office for more than 2 hours after I was done with appointments. Twice. Didn’t even make it home in time to kiss O before he was off to bed on my “early” day. Heartbreak city.

This.crockpot.is.gonna.save.me.

Buying it was one of those, “Ah-ha, this is how I am going to balance my life” moments. Do you buy those things? They can be anything from an orange pair of socks to a closet organizer to a jumbo bottle of Advil to a new can opener. They feel like triumphs in life when you find them. In my attempt to eat right, lower my cholesterol, and live a long time, I rationalized the purchase of the large pot now inhabiting my kitchen. Healthy food made easy. I remain hopeful this crockpot is worthy of its post. Read full post »

When Not To Work

Homemade Fun In The SunIt’s cloudy with a chance of clouds right now. Then a chance of rain. Then rain again this weekend. O is napping. F is at school. It’s still and cloudy here. Why not work?

I’m about to shoot my first ever, Seattle Mama Doc self-produced-self-filmed-self-created-video. Sounds a little like navel staring but will hopefully be more helpful than that. I’m turning a comment (about sleep) from this week into a video blog post. Stay tuned for the video. Production starts now. You can time me. (It may take me awhile…)

This photo from our trip to Deception Pass last weekend. A nice reminder of why we all live here in the Pacific Northwest. Homemade teeter totters. And a good reminder of when not to work.

Verbatim: 3 Mutterings From My World

1 “Daddy!” This from O when I say (and coach him), “Say, Mommy, O. Say, Mommeeeee.” Every time I walk in the door, same thing, “Daddddddeeeeeee!” He likes getting a rise out of me. Lovely little rug rat. Then F starts the day today clearing up what we call each other, “O calls you Daddy, I call you Mommy.”  True.

2 “Toddler Doula, where do I find one?” The husband said this to me after his cup of coffee on Sunday morning after another night of frequent awakenings in our house.

3 “Which brain did you put in this morning?” The husband to me, 7:43am today. I forgot where the oatmeal was after saying I forgot that I bought it while instantly forgetting what I was saying mid-sentence. I claimed I was distracted by all the sleep I got last night (8 straight hours, Sista). And a study this month said pregnancy or motherhood does not make us forgetful. What to blame then?

Valentine, Circa 2004

Sweet Boy Be MineTell me, shall I re-use this little valentine? Part of my efforts to reduce, re-use, & recycle? See, I’ve got these little boys now…

I make the husband a valentine each year. The valentines of the past few years have been less beautiful and less wondrous than the first few, some decade ago. The distractions of the-making-of-a-pediatrician (residency) and the-making-of-a-family (two boys) have influenced this.The valentine here was painted on a park bench halfway between the hospital and my afternoon clinic in South Seattle when I was an intern at Children’s Hospital, February 2004. No idea why I snapped the photo.

Re-use? Tempting. This particular valentine is so perfectly suited for these little boys I love. I’ll just water color in an “s” after “boy” and slip it under their bedroom door Saturday night. We’ll see how the husband takes it.

Dear Sleep, Come Home.

You’ll be pleased to know in response to the poor quality of sleep in our house, for 4 consecutive nights, due to colds and random screaming I’ve just sent a memo to the boys. It reads:

Beloved Boys,

Sleep starts at 8pm and no later.

We rise around 7am in our home, just after Mommy and Daddy are ready for the day.

Thank you for adjusting your schedules accordingly.

I love you,

Mama

I’m waiting for them to respond. A re-tweet or Facebook status update would suffice.

She-Woman Wednesday

She RaOur nanny called in sick yesterday. I felt like a She-Woman (think gender equal of He-man circa 1988) after making it through the day. Maybe it’s more, She-Ra. Between the hours of 7:50am when I got the call and 5:50pm when I sat down to dinner with my little boys I : Read full post »

Tape Measuring Time

I had a great weekend. Nothing truly spectacular happened. I, for the most part, tucked the blog away in my top drawer. I wasn’t on call and didn’t connect into my clinic computer. I tried to be really present with all 3 boys in my house.

I played with my kids. We did the typical things that dress up weekends for normal people: errands, a grocery store trip, naps, dinner, test drove a car, met friends and their kids for lunch, met friends and their kids for dinner, went to IKEA, had dinner with grandma, took out the recycling, rearranged the living room.

Usually, that little “trip to IKEA” sandwiched in there would be a back/mood/weekend breaker. This time, no.

In the midst of this wholly normal yet stupendous weekend, I had mentioned to a friend how F was having a hard time with the concept of single digits forming greater numbers, especially in the teens. That is, he can count pretty easily from one to fifty, but when I point to the clock and ask what time it is, he says “seven, one, three.” Read full post »

Wait lists: Be Careful What You Wait For?

Luna waitingWelcome to wait list country. That sounds like some bad pick-up truck ad. But it’s true; Seattle is known for mountains, water, coffee, grunge, rain, evergreens, and the Space Needle. And then as it turns out, wait lists. I know what it feels like being stuck on a list. Hip deep stuck. Somewhere between the Andersons and the Steins just above the Grahams on page 6. Buried with no chance for arrival or survival.

The wait list: are you on one of these lists?  Is your equivalent w-e-n-d-y-s-u-e-s-w-a-n-s-o-n spelled out and nestled nicely on some school, pool, or horseback-riding list? I think about these lists a lot more now that I have two kids. I generally let all people involved (the kids, the husband, the babysitter/nanny, the MIL, my own mother) down due to my inability to follow through and get on the list, let alone get off the list. Any list. I know you turbo moms and dads out there are really good at this. For me, it’s usually well after the list is formed, a true tardy, and only with 3 people telling me about an activity, that I get on the list. Precisely why I’m at the bottom, I suppose. Read full post »