Assorted Hippo Moments

This was quite fun for Hippo, and quite a mess for me. He is wearing a headband.

Hippo, and we, LOVED these cowboy boots. It took all of our willpower to not buy them.

Hippo thought this 'coon' skin hat was so cool he should have been employed by the outdoor store as a live model since many people stopped to admire him and his hat. It took no willpower to NOT to buy this.

Haircut

Hippo has arrived at a stage where he is too busy to hold still for a portrait photo and so I don't have any good pictures of his complete haircut.

It Has Started

He's began demanding things. Like, to wear these sunglasses to dinner the other day.

This Is As Good As It Gets

This is the very best he can climb. He falls off by the time he gets to the third step.

Indian Summer, Premonition, and Forward Thinking

Hippo still loves tractors. Until this weekend he has been able to either ride a tractor or inspect one thoroughly nearly every day through the spring, summer, and fall. Our Indian Summer is officially over, it snowed two inches this weekend.

How can you resist a pile of leaves like this one?

Each year, since 2001, November 1st hits and L wakes me up at the crack of dawn rummaging around in the basement to find a shotgun to clean to prepare for the pheasant hunt. Unfortunately, this year he got one.

Unfortunately, this is not the end of this unfortunate story. That morning, November 1, 2009, I awoke to L madly rummaging around for a shotgun, and piling on layers of warm clothing. He excitedly reminded me he was off to hunt. I rolled my eyes, and rolled over back to sleep. I then dreamed a disturbing dream: L shot his first pheasant in more than eight years, he called me up to exclaim the exciting news to the only person in the State of Utah who abhors hunting (except the ones in Sugarhouse) and to tell me that he is not coming home right away because he was stopping off at the local taxidermists for a consultation over his recently shot game. Then, I dreamed he displayed the stuffed bird on our mantle for everyone who entered into our home to exclaim over as I looked on in horror.

I woke up and quickly forgot the dream. I began my daily routine and at about 11:00 am L called to say that he had shot his first bird in more than eight years and he wouldn't be home right away because he was stopping off at the local taxidermist for a consultation.

If you think you know where this is going...

I told him that I would divorce him if he came home with a stuffed bird. OR, he could spend his Christmas money on the project just to have it burned, by me, the second he left the stuffed bird unattended.

Needless to say, a stuffed bird has not been placed on our mantle.

What will we do when we no longer have a farm to roam? We met with a real estate broker this week. Selling our home is a large bite to swallow and warrants its own post, to come.

Therapeutic Thursday: Fear

Who says therapy has to be all talk?

This was very validating to me.

I've written about my extraordinarily wise mentor in the past. After a 30 minute soliloquy about feeling afraid she responded to my long non-inclusive speech by saying, "You can't be brave without being afraid." I've spent a lot of time and energy thinking about that since. Maybe Legacy can relate...

The Dancing Monkey Goes Trunk-or-Treating

One of the lamest things about Utah is "trunk or treat." This is where, instead of the traditional trick-or-treating, church/community members gather in a large parking lot and hand out candy out of their trunks. Popular thinking, around these parts, is that trick-or-treating is dangerous. It's rather curious that the entire neighborhood, that knows each other well, shows up to participate. It makes no logical sense to me.

Being the chronically annoyed folks we are, L came up with a gory alternative to the "trunk."

We really stole the show. As you can tell it was a smash hit (har, har) that had everyone coming back to our parking spot several times over--hence, why we ran out of candy within 10 minutes of arriving.

You may be wondering why we would participate if we think trunk or treating is so lame. Because what is the point of going trick-or-treating with a 19 month-old? We will definitely be trick-or-treating when he is old enough to be as excited about candy as Jerry Seinfeld (seriously, if you haven't heard this bit you are not experiencing all Halloween can be). For more go here.

This is a picture taken while we were driving the tractor home, with our dead guy on the hood. We couldn't resist driving around the neighborhood, though, and to see unsuspecting stranger's faces...priceless.

The following picture is from our city's Halloween bash last weekend. It was super fun until I saw an old, very dangerous, client and I grabbed Hippo/Monkey and got out of there as soon as I could. He got his face painted--a snake.

Is There Anything Cuter Than A Dancing Monkey?

Therapeutic Thursday: Healing, One Type Of

In eight years, working with a particular dangerous clientele, I have heard some disturbing things. I understand it comes with the territory and I am not naive enough to say, "I've heard it all," or even, "Nothing shocks me anymore." I hope that I will never say things like that. I hope for my sense of humanity and sanity I will not hear it all. I hope to always be shocked by the shocking; to not lose a sense of horror when something is horrifying. To do so, I believe, would be a level of acceptance and we, as the world, cannot be accepting of some things--the things that hurt others.

Every once in awhile, despite the experiences I have had, I hear something that revolts me so thoroughly I have difficulty maintaining composure. Maintaining composure during therapy is quite important. It is most important during the first therapy encounter (or intake) as the therapist must build a sense of rapport and trust with the presenting client in order for the therapy that will follow to be effective at all.

Yesterday I found myself in one such appointment. I met with a young women who believes her child (under the age of 12) needs counseling. When asked why she believes her child needs counseling she related an appalling story where her child had hurt another child. I usually type, verbatim what the parent says, while they talk and I found myself so stunned I couldn't type. I could feel my eyes bugging out and wondering if, the details of the story continued as graphically as they had started, I would lose my lunch.

I told her I was more concerned than I have ever been about a child, on the first appointment. I didn't get the sense that she was as concerned, which heightened my concern, and horror, tremendously.

Thank goodness, when the appointment was over, my boss with 25 years of experience treating the same clientele was in her office and I spilled my guts blinking rapidly back tears which felt like skewers on the back of my eyes. She gave me needed direction and told me what I had already done was exactly right. When a crisis arises it is human to need reassurance and wisdom's guidance.

Then, she asked, "You saw Hippo during the story didn't you?" She was wrong and right. I didn't see him as the victim, per se, but I had a primal rage I had never experienced before in my life--a mother's rage.

Further, I am extraordinarily frustrated at the lack of consequences the perpetrator will experience due to his age, and hence, the lack of justice the victim will receive.

***

Tuesday, in my private practice, I had an intake with a deeply depressed woman. Though the circumstances surrounding her depression are very different from the circumstances that have surrounded my past depression, I was reminded. Throughout that 90 minutes I battled my old demons to listen to hers. I went home feeling exhausted and worried for her...and for me.

***

Needless to say, it has been a troubling week. Driving home yesterday, just hours after the safe and secure facade I had built around myself had been shattered like a broken tempered windshield, I figured I should pray. In the seclusion of the car ride home I allowed the tears to come and pondered my conversation with God. I came up with no words--just feelings, worries. I wondered, how do I have a conversation with God when I have no words to say?

Later, after Hippo was in bed and I pulled up my favorite show, Bravo's Top Chef, I tried to relax and clear my thoughts.

Suddenly, Hippo began screaming from his crib, I looked over and begged L, with a desperate look, to check on him. L reminded me that since he has coddled Hippo so much that if he was the one to lay him back down then Hippo would want to get up and play. So, reluctantly I paused TiVo, climbed up 32 stairs, two flights, and was slapped across the face by the pungent smell of bile as I opened the door to Hippo's room. It didn't occur to me until I put my hand in a wet, warm, and chunky pile that Hippo had vomited for the first time in his life. I screamed. L came rushing in and snatched Hippo out of the crib and ran him to the bathroom and began cleaning him up. "I don't know what to do" I repeated hundreds of times while alternating between pacing up and down the hall and rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

Soon enough I was able to snap out of my panic attack and yell instead, "OH MY GOSH, HE HAS THE SWINE FLU!" repeatedly.

Soon after that, I was able to snap out of the swine flu panic and remove Hippo's sheets, blankets, and mattress pad and disinfect the mattress, crib rails, and carpet. I didn't even dry heave. I replaced the soiled sheets with crisp new ones and retrieved, for L, new pajamas and a clean diaper. We put him back to bed after determining he had no temperature and no other symptoms.

L and I descended 32 stairs, two flights, back to the basement and played Top Chef again, as I snuggled deeply into my Snuggie.

Ten minutes later, Hippo began screaming. We raced, together this time, up 32 stairs, two flights and through one door to discover Hippo vomiting large quantities. We repeated everything we had done merely ten minute before--except this time I did not panic. This time, however, the barf was much more extensive and all over the carpet. After Hippo was cleaned off again I held him against my chest while sitting on the top stair. L cleaned the carpet in the bedroom and in the hall. Hippo leaned his head back to look at me and asked me to rock him. So I did.

And then...

It wasn't a voice, it wasn't a blazing feeling but a thought, an answer to a wordless prayer: IT IS FINE. And, I realized I can and will protect my family. And, by chance if someone is wounded physically, emotionally, or spiritually along life's journey they will be healed. Just like I just was.

Vomit and healing. I would have never guessed. It's been 24 hours and Hippo and I continue to be healed.

***

As to what caused the vomiting? Food poisoning? We threw away several things he ate yesterday this morning and so hopefully there won't be any ralphing tonight. Because I'm healed, and I really don't want to clean anymore puke up (all by myself since L is at work).

Jenny, This One Is For You

Freud says there is no such thing as 'accidents.'

SO, when I analyzed why I kept forgetting your question, "How did L do in Michigan?" I figured I was too afraid to talk about it because I was afraid I'd jinx him.

Well, whether I was right or wrong I was definitely wrong to blow you off, on multiple occasions. You are a good friend and you deserve better.

Soooooooooooo, here's the answer: Apparently it went really well because....

LUKE WAS ACCEPTED TO OAKLAND UNIVERSITY (IN MICHIGAN) TODAY!He will be studying to become a Certified Nurse Anesthetist.

Oakland University made a personal call to tell him the news, isn't that nice? And, when the lady called him do you want to know what she said to him? She said, "We thought you were so great we wanted to offer your acceptance right after your interview!"

Since the Saturday before he left for Michigan I kept questioning whether spending $50 on a Donald Trump brand necktie was really a good idea. It turns out it was a very good idea. AND, do you want to know another good idea I had while aiding L in the application process? It was that he would owe me Manolo Blahniks for all my efforts (and patience). The only problem is, I have to wait until he graduates.

Lastly, I do not want to live in Michigan, so maybe he should owe me the Manolo Blahniks AND Jimmy Choos for being willing to move to Michigan.

CRNA to be!

Click on photo to see Beaumont's main hospital

Finally after seven years of working toward my goal I have made it. In 2003 I decided to leave farming and look for a new career path. I soon chose nursing and found out about CRNA . I had many hoops to jump through to make it.

I had to first become a CNA (nurse assistant). This job usually includes a lot of wiping ASS. However, I was able to avoid this until I actually was in nursing school (To be continued). I started as an CNA in the operating room. Great place to not have to clean feces. Then I moved into an anesthesia technician position which was an amazing college job and gave me a great insiders view into the world of anesthesia. Then I was accepted into the U's nursing program on my first shot. Unlike other bachelor degrees nursing school offers many humbling experiences. I remember one experience like it was yesterday. The nurse I was working with told me to give the patient milk of magnesia (Diarrhea causing medication). Anyways, it was about 5 min. before I was going to leave and the call light went off. As I walked in to the room the aroma was powerful. Stinging to the nostrils. I help the guy get into the bathroom and on the toilet. I then realized I had nothing to clean him with. I told him that I would be right back with something to clean him up with. Imagine wipes for adults. When I made it back he was standing. He told me he was trying to get his prostatic bladder open. The valve was in his nut sack and he had to unlock it to urinate. Him telling me this was all a blur. All I could see was the crap oozing out his but down his clothes and his leg on to the ground. I thought OH SHIT! Yes that is right. And a lot of it. I began to clean him up. To get to all the poop I had to have him lean forward to. And that is when I saw these huge balls with crap all over them. It was and is the biggest non-edemic scrot that I have ever seen in my life. It took me 5 min. just to get the poo off of his sack. Ever since this epic moment in my life I have been cleaning up crapola on a regular basis.

After nursing school I was admitted to the Critical Care Internship. This was good and bad. Good because I needed ICU experience to go to CRNA school. Bad because I had to sign a two year contract which I will be opting out of and paying the U back about 5g's. Oh well. During the internship I wanted to work in the Surgical ICU. However, due to my honesty with the manager that I would be leaving after two years to go to CRNA school I was not admitted (along with a lot of other drama). I went to Neuro ICU which was my last choice to work in of all the ICU's. I was bent. Yet, it has turned out to be a blessing. My manager really took a liking to me and wrote me excellent letters of recommendation. She is also supportive, unlike the other ICU's managers. I have also been able recently to split my time between the Neuro ICU and the Burn trauma ICU.

Finally the application process. This was a huge pain in the nalgas. Every school had different requirements, different deadlines, different application forms, and the websites were most difficult to read. Not to mention when I called certain places they were so bothered that I took their time away from them to answer some questions that was "on the website". All I was asking is for them to do their job. I actually found one school's website contradicted itself several times.

Now let me talk about the ESSAY. If you haven't figured out yet by reading this post, I am one of the worst english writing people Myndi has ever met (This is why I have stayed married to her for so long. I knew I would need her essay expertise to get into CRNA school). After begging, pleading, fighting, bitting, and bribing her to re-write my essay's, I finally got things submitted.

After several weeks of waiting I received a call for an interview from Oakland. CRNA interviews run the spectrum for pain staking interviews. Mine for example. 90 min. long. I flew out to Michigan the day before so that I would be rested and have plenty of time to find where I needed to go the day before. On monday I arrived at 1100 for my 1130 interview. There was 2 others waiting to interview with me. Both from Michigan. We started promptly at 1130 with some first year students answering questions about the program and trying to relax us. Then we each went into a separate room for 15 min. and rotating between the rooms. Each had 5 people in it asking all kinds of questions. Questions ranged from what was the last peer reviewed article that I had read and what was it about, to name three of your greatest weaknesses. After the 45 min of questions we were put in a room with a simulation dummy with a two way mirror. Behind the mirror was the admissions committee evaluating how we (the three interviewees) could work together to save a dying patient. Then we had to write an essay. I thought well there goes my changes. Not only did I not have my wife to correct everything. I did not even have spell check.

Yet, after waiting 11 days for a phone call (talk about an anxious moment every time the phone rang), being one of the eighty out of 200 applicants selected to interview and one of the 20 out of eighty selected to be admitted. I am finally on my way!

Except I have to bag all of my crap and move to Michigan.

And yes I do have one other offer so far. Well, to interview that is. North Dakota wants me to interview. However, Oakland is a far better and bigger facility so I am going to forfeit that one. Upenn was a bust (Long story about that one). I am still waiting to hear from Mayo, Westminster and I am going to apply to Kaiser in California in November.

After Seven Years This Is How I Know L Still Loves Me

He was willing to take me seriously about what I REALLY wanted to celebrate our seven years of marriage. Sure, there was eye rolling and a few comments like, "I can't believe you're serious." But, his anniversary gift to me, today, my very own, as seen on TV, Snuggie in royal blue. It even came with a handy book light, for no extra cost.

When I first saw the annoying commercials for a blanket with sleeves I thought, 'How stupid." But then winter hit and I was cold. Really cold. Really, really cold. I was cold while watching television, while reading, while blogging, while surfing the net, while traveling. A Snuggie was the answer to all of my problems, seemingly. So, I warmed up to the Snuggie and eventually got the guts to tell L. It has taken me months to convince him I was/am serious, but the fruits of my labors were delivered today, purchased from the local Kroeger for a much better price than even Bed, Bath, and Beyond (even with the coupon).

Happy anniversary to me.

There Is A Little Bit of Genius in Everyone...

And every once in awhile it comes out of me.

This blog isn't a food blog, but what better is a personal blog than for self-promotion and bragging? This plum, bartlett pear, and walnut tart I made this evening just hit the top five best things I've ever made. And I make some fabulous things. Like:

-my conference cinnamon rolls. We love them so much I make 24, which are gone within 48 hours.

-my roast turkey, which is better than any other roast turkey I have ever tasted (and that includes Marie Calendar's).

-my neighborhood famous peach cobbler (impressive, eh?).

-my strawberry cream cake.

-my cheese fondue.

-my macaroni and cheese.

-my pesto.

-my stuffed pork chops, stuffing made of cornbread and cranberries.

-my summer berry and lime triffle.

-my chocolate tier cake.

But, this tart was AMAZING!

The rest of the meal wasn't half bad either: pot roast with braised carrots and fingerling potatoes with butter and home-grown herbs (the combination of parsley, rosemary, thyme, chives, fennel fronds, and kosher salt was so delightful I can't even tell you).

Don't you wish you lived with me?

Don't you think my cake/tart stand is perfect?

Cookie Decorating & Harvest Festival

Hippo was so excited about this animal train he got into this really serious mode where we could not get his attention and when it would stop he would scream hysterically, "MORE, MORE, MORE!" The second round I rode in the pig behind him and he, periodically, would burst out in excited cheers.

Tales of a Yellowstone Nothing

Last weekend we took a road trip to Jackson, Wyoming. Since I've never been to Yellowstone National Park and have always wanted to, and live closer in proximity to it than I likely ever will, we thought it was good timing.

The drive to Jackson was made bearable to Hippo by the fact that we discovered he loves the song, "99 bottles of beer on the wall." Unfortunately, this song made it unbearable to L and I.

We got up early the next morning, put on our warm snow gear and stopped off at the local K-mart to get Hippo some snow boots. Unfortunately, the cheapest toddler snow boots were ugly, and $30. If I'm going to spend $30 it better be on something good looking that I won't mind him growing out of them in five months. We passed on the boots figuring we can carry Hippo or push him in a bundled up stroller.

Off we were, in near blizzard conditions. We reasoned we would be okay because 1) we drive a 4-wheel drive vehicle with anti-skid technology 2) we're from Utah and drive in near blizzard conditions on a regular enough basis 3) we didn't have anything better to do since we were in Jackson, Wyoming in the winterish time 4) we figured the geysers in Yellowstone would be particularly amazing in such weather 5) we had a GPS to guide us 6) there was enough traffic to suggest we weren't complete morons (or at least the only morons).

Eventually we arrived at a Ranger Station about 15 miles from the south entrance to the park. The ranger was stopping cars and having a lengthy conversation with each one. "How friendly," I thought. Until he stopped us and informed us that the south entrance to the park was CLOSED! due to snow. We then had a length conversation with the ranger about when the south entrance would open. He didn't know. What were we supposed to do? Hang out on the side of the road in a blizzard and wait around?

So, here's what we did instead:

Went bear watching, from the hotel hallways

Walked around town where we bought these totally awesome moccasins for Hippo (pictured below).

Unfortunately we couldn't afford the $120 Stetson I wanted or the $625 cowboy boots L wanted or the $10,000 geode neither of us wanted and were shocked to think that someone would spend that kind of money on something so ugly.

Threw temper tantrums or jumped on the bed, however you see this picture.

Played with fruit snacks. Hippo was running through Albertson's when he stopped on a dime when he saw these fruit snacks with a tractor on the box. He just HAD to have them, and we could afford the $2.35.

And took a picture next to a sign.

Riddle: Who Am I?

Hint #1: A woman.

Hint #2: A woman who is reported upon by popular media, often.

Hint #3: A woman who is reported upon by popular media, often, due her recent divorce announcement.

Hint #4: A woman who is reported upon by popular media, often, due her recent divorce announcement from a man with whom she has had 8 children.

Hint #5: A woman whom is reported upon by popular media, often, due her recent divorce announcement from a man with whom she has had 8 children, six of which were from the SAME pregnancy.

Hint #6: A woman whom is reported upon by popular media, often, due her recent divorce announcement from a man with whom she has had 8 children, six of which were from the SAME pregnancy. Half of the star power of a popular show on TLC.

Scroll down for the answer

If you guessed Kate Gosselin, you are correct.

P.S. Don't you think the resemblance is uncanny?