Love it

You’re not a kid anymore. You have the right to choose your own life. You can start again. If you want a cat, all you have to do is choose a life in which you can have a cat. It’s simple. It’s your right.

— Haruki Murakami
 
Love it!  Came across this while blog hopping.
 
After spending too much time with too many in-laws this Christmas, this rings more true than ever.  We can't live in the past.  If we are adults, we can choose to live our lives in the present or in the past.  We have the choice to start again.
 
So True.

Three Things Thursday

1.  We have the stomach bug.  I came down with it on New Years Day at 55 mph on a highway in Iowa.  And I kept the car on the road.  And kept driving to Texas.  And then repeated at 70 mph on the interstate in Missouri.  Yes, I am that crazy.

2.  I'm officially "that mom."  Hannah stayed home on Monday with the bug, and I sent her to school on Tuesday.  And got the call at 8:10 that I needed to pick her up and bring a change of clothing with me.  Lovely.

3.  I got about 4 hours of sleep last night.  Yes, Isaac has now come down with the bug.

Can you tell what is occupying my thoughts right now? 

One reason I love winter in Iowa.




Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing

Why aren't we as generous as our children?

I've been convicted lately of being less than generous. By whom? My children, specifically, Hannah.

After Trick-or-Treating, we got home and Hannah wanted to start sorting her candy. I mentioned that a friend was leaving on a mission trip and was collecting candy and shoes to take. I had thought this would be a good way to decrease the amount of candy in the house. Hannah got all excited and ran and got a zip-lock bag. I assumed she would start with, "I don't like this kind, so they can have that."

But no, my 6-year-old with a strong sweet tooth, turns over the entire contents of her pumpkin into the bag. And then runs to get a second bag because she had so much. And what was my thought? "Awww...but, hey, save some Snickers for me!" :(

The next day, she went through her closet and found 3 pairs of shoes to give away. That may not sound like much, but it left her with a pair of black Sunday shoes, her softball cleats, and two pairs of sneakers.

And her favorite? Buying things for her shoe box. Every year our church participates in Operation Christmas Child.

This is Hannah's 3rd year filling a shoebox. The first year, at age 4, she looked the cashier straight in the eye and said, "These things are ~not~ for me! They are for a little girl whose mommy can't buy her a present. Please be careful with them!"

And this year, she grabbed her purse before walking out the door, and counted out all her money at the register and paid for everything herself. She spend every bill in her wallet, and borrowed $0.23 from me. And came home and picked up the yard from the dogs to pay me back. That's dedication.

And she does it all with a smile on her face.

Why can't I do that? Why do I feel so torn about packing up a bag of out grown clothing for the battered women's shelter we volunteer at? Why is there a little voice in the back of my head that says, "But I could take these to the consignment store and make a few dollars?"

Why do I feel like I deserve more and others less? And when I do give, want recognition for it? The verses of Matthew 6 have been ringing through my mind for the last month or so.

2“So when you give to the poor, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be honored by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. 3“But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4so that your giving will be in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.

A hard pill to swallow....

Can he talk yet?

I love my brother dearly, but he can be a little spacy...despite being smart enough to have finished his PhD program in chemistry and landed a nice job in Oxford, England. I digress.

Michael spent the summer after Hannah was born in Boliva doing a medical missions service project. When he got back to the US, he called to check up on us. So Hannah was about 4 months old.
"Hey! What's Up?" Not much. "So, is she saying Uncle Michael, yet?" Uh, no. "Is she walking?" No... "Crawling?!" No... ....long pause, and quietly, "Is there something wrong with her?"

This story is told often and with much gusto in my family. :)

Isaac loves his Uncle Michael, or as he calls him, "Uncle Buddy." So it didn't surprise me all that much when the day after David turned 1, Isaac says to me,

"Can he talk yet?"

Oh the things they say...

1. Monday morning, while eating breakfast, Isaac said something about eating so much his head would explode. My response, "Oh, dear, we wouldn't want that to happen!"

When I turned around he was looking at me with a quizzical look on his face. "What's up, Isaac?"

Well...your mouth was kinda sounding like Grandma!

Okay.....

2. Wednesday night, Hannah is telling Isaac that he needs to be careful with her stuffed kitty (Spot) because he is the daddy kitty and there is no mama kitty. "What happened to her?" I asked.

Well....She's dead. She had 12 kitties in her tummy and her tummy started to hurt. Maybe she didn't drink enough milk...too much water. And so all the kittens died. Except for Spot. She got out okay. Soooo, Isaac's the daddy so....he has to take care of her."

Okay.....

Letters of Intent

I've been following this blog for a little while and decided today was the day to do my own letter.

Dear Dr. So and So,

I'm so glad that my name was referred to you by a clinic I actually like working at. Clinic "A" has a great staff, is an easy drive, and pays me as I walk out the door. They practice high quality medicine and have a great set-up. When they want to book me, they usually call 1-2 months in advance and call to confirm.

Now, I know you are new to the whole "scheduling a relief doctor" thing, but let me tell you how it usually works. If you call me, and ask on Thursday if I'm available to work Saturday, the answer is probably "no." Saturdays mornings, as I told you, book up pretty quickly. When I told you in early September, that I was booked on Saturdays until Nov 20th, I was telling the truth. So to call, on a weekly basis, to check my availability for Saturdays, does not endear you to me. Especially since you told me you would be paying 60% of what Clinic "A" pays!

You decided to call ~again~, this time about a week day, and my darling husband answered the phone and just passed it to me (!!), and I caved. Yes, I will work for you! But please, back off! You see, you are located 45 mins away, when there is ~no~ traffic, and I know that on a weekday, there will be! You are paying me less as well. So, my sitter will have to come earlier, leave later, but will still charge me the same rate. So on top of the pay cut you have so kindly extended to me, I'll be taking home even less.

And, no, I will not be making an extra trip down to your clinic to "meet and greet." Trust your referrals. I'm an excellent doctor. I will show up on time. I will practice good medicine. I will keep immaculate records. And frankly, the thought of loading up my kids for a 1.5 hour round trip, only to chat with you in between appointments for 5 mins....not that appealing.

And, by the way, after working for you that one time, I'm pretty sure that even if you have the best clinic in the whole world, we're "not going to be a good fit for each other."

So, enjoy your weekend away, I'll be there at 8 am, and I'll take great care of your patients and clients. But please, throw away my business card!

Sincerely,

Dr. D.