Twisted thought spirals and sparkling commentary on nursing, adulting, mothering, and life in general.
My life is bookmarked by a collection of moments. Most are awkwardings which I can never un-feel. Like the time the paint flapped straight off of my car. For shame! Or the time my gut rumbled and gurgled, aggressively echoing around an otherwise silent classroom during a test. That one comes with residual cringe. But there are a quiet few moments that mark a shift. A turn, taken long ago, that now stands tall as the obvious origin of this day.
My husband and I had a wreath conflict over the holidays. I made the wreath a few years back with a gold bow on top and a Christmas Bulb hanging from the bow. Nothing fancy, but I like it. When questioned about this years wreath placement, my husband informed me that I’ve been hanging it wrong all this time. The picture above has the recently modified, correct bulb placement. It’s a guy thing and it involves dangling. Apparently bulbs should also work on the buddy system. I get it. My bulb sensitivity horizons have been expanded, thank you Love.
I’ve never been one of those people who thought a better life could be had by anyone who was willing to go to school, get an education and subsequently a better, higher paying job. It’s true that an education is helpful in improving your life, but my point is, I know it’s not that simple. There’s so much more to it than that, and there have been times in my own life when it was impossible for me to go to school, for lack of a support system. It truly does take a village. I tell you all this just to say that it’s not lost on me, all the countless things that had to go exactly right in order for me to be graduating tomorrow. There were countless pieces to this puzzle and if even one had not been in its place, the entire picture would be skewed. So today, in honor of all the awesome pieces that came together to build my village, I’m taking a moment to be thankful, acceptance speech style.
Nursing school is like the tree of knowledge of good and evil. You learn amazing things about life and preserving/restoring health, but you also learn the daunting array of things that could go horribly wrong. Do my immunoglobulins smell necrotic to you?
My dad has been after me for awhile to start a blog. I think he’s a touch addled, but given his swiftly advancing age, (he’s about two years away from being crotchety), I thought I should grant him this bizarre request. I’m disclosing all of this to you upfront so that:
1. You can blame my father for what follows, and
2. So that I can tell you how much it means to me that my dad thinks I might be that cool.
Now that you have my references, let me introduce myself.