To Think: I've Slapped a Bear!

Our family was given a copy of Cherry Jones reading "Little House in the Big Woods" by Laura Ingalls Wilder exactly one year ago. We love the tapes so much we've all listened to them at least forty times. I know. That's bizarre. But we all love the world of Laura, Mary, Ma, and Pa, Jack the Bulldog, and Sooky the Cow.

There's one scene in particular where Laura and Ma go out to milk Sooky in the snowy dark. They find the gate is blocked by a dark form, and Ma, thinking it's Sooky reaches over and slaps the animal. Just then, Laura and Ma realize it's not Sooky at all; it's a bear that's blocking the gate!

Well, today at church, I thought I slapped my husband on the behind. Only, it wasn't Richie; it was my pastor. Thankfully, we're good (not that good) friends with our pastor and he's a very cool guy. I felt just like Ma only I couldn't pick up Laura and run away. Since one of my common greetings for Richie is slapping his behind, I've had close calls in the past. But I think now I need to reserve my most familiarest greeting for home life - I clearly cannot trust my man-shape intuition if I mistook a six-foot, two-inch man for a five-foot, ten-inch one. Both were wearing orange outerwear, but no matter...bottom-slapping will have to stop.

This morning during the time when we have an all-call edification time for the congregation, a dear friend leaned toward me and gestured for me to get up - presumably to share the news that I had been accepted to medical school. I've been accepted to two schools so far - Emory and EVMS. It had crossed my mind to share the news, and I had fully intended to, but I hadn't yet formulated what, exactly, I wanted to say.

First, I knew I wanted to thank my church for all their support and love in big ways and in small. For instance, a group of people from our church helped us last time we moved...all day. Our church has helped us in every way imaginable. Practically, emotionally, spiritually, and maritally. We have just gotten to a point where I think we may be able to give back - and to a point where I suddenly see how integral stable families are to a church. Moreover, our church in particular has experienced a difficult contraction. I think we're healthier but more beat-up now than ever. The last year has been hard on the church leadership, yet I personally (am I the only one?) see that the church has enormous stability and potential right now.

So, since we are leaning towards Emory, and since neither EVMS nor Emory would let us really stay part of this church body, church is the only place I feel conflicted about acceptance. It's not out of guilt, just out of genuine sadness that if we go, church will take a hit. So I, personally, am praying about this conflict. I'm praying for church to thrive, for new people to come, for church to get sturdier. I'm praying to be humble and led by God. I wanted to ask church to pray, too. Not for advice, necessarily, but just to pray.

Instead, I stood up and said in a mousy tone that I'd been accepted, and thank you all for your support. Like Wilfred Brimley. None of the nuance of what I'd been thinking or feeling made it out. None of the joy, nor of the conflict. Just neutrality. That seems a shame to me. I'll have to give it some thought this week and return with a bulleted series of things NOT to forget.

And then I whacked my pastor's behind. Overall, not an outstanding performance.

Poseur

The title of this post is referring to the fact that this blog is all, "Mommy's headed to med school," but, really, Mommy's just Mommy for now. Mommy's headed to the laundry pile. Mommy's headed upstairs to enforce a rule. Mommy's headed to the grocery because she forgot a crucial ingredient.

Today we began Christmas prep in earnest: taking Christmas photos for Christmas cards. Maybe next year we'll institute a virtual card policy, but for this year we're still in eco trouble. As usual, about 20% of those pictures we took could be useful. I'll take this opportunity to upload one of the photos we won't be using this year.

Mazie and Vivian were initially glad to be on a photo shoot, but quickly tired of the relentless flow of instructions emanating from both parents simultaneously: "Mazie, stand still. Vivian, look at the camera - and keep your tongue in. Mazie, smile. Smile, Mazie. Both girls, stand still. Move back one step. One step. Move back one step. Not forward - good, now hold still." Between this barrage of instructions and the day that was colder than we thought, sourness soon set in.

But all is well. "Polar Express" is rolling and I have actually reached the bottom of the stack of papers on my desk. I am super stoked about this latter point, as the papers occupy approximately 30% of my brain even when I'm not actually thinking about them. I've got a day or so respite before some stray notes or Xeroxes from someone's school coalesce into a stack and then I forget exactly what's there and I neglect it for another several weeks. Alas...I have read Getting Things Done and Sink Reflections, yet this cycle persists. Any ideas?

Catch-as-catch-can night tonight (a lovely staccato way of saying "leftover night" that I absorbed from my stepdad's family). So soon the detritus will have cleared from my fridge as well, including the two-week-old jell-o unwittingly concocted in Raspberry in anticipation of the Tonsillectomy. Apparently, raspberry is unpalettable to my five-year-old, so there it rests. Lidless. Drying. Still as red and jewel-like as the night I made it. I almost want some, but I know better. It will have absorbed every free odor floating around the fridge by now.

By the way, "Polar Express" is weird, is it not? Anyone else think the imagery is a little edgy for a three-year-old? Unfortunately, I'm just noticing this.

Here's to parenting mistakes, small and large.

"If you fuss at me, all my hair will fall out."

Richie said it. To Mazie. Because ever since her tonsillectomy, Mazie's been whining like her voice is permanently caught in the top of her throat. She CAN talk normally; we just weren't sure at first, so we didn't crack down until it was (apparently) too late. She shocked me today by admitting, "I like it when I don't whine, too." WHAT?

A huge portion of my energy goes towards trying in vain to parent wisely. I frequently feel inadequate as a parent. Mazie and I sort of feed off of each others' frenzies sometimes - even when I'm trying desperately not to join in. I find it easier to keep my emotional insulation from Vivian's ups and downs, perhaps because she's a second child, and perhaps because she's wired differently. Either way, I love my children for who they are. I see that Mazie will be well-served by her sensitivity, tenacity, and energy. I admire her gumption, and I can't wait to be her friend when she's an adult.

One thing that freaks me out is when I help Vivian go pee, which only happens in public because she's relatively bathroom-independent (thorough wiping notwithstanding), she starts tinkling IMMEDIATELY after she mounts the toilet. No waiting period whatsoever. I find myself thanking my lucky stars that she made it on board fast enough because one false move would surely result in urine-soaked clothing. I think I'll resume carrying spares.

Crafting for Christmas

Today the girls and I had a fantastic morning. We visited the deserted (for Thanksgiving) William and Mary campus and gathered wonderful reproductive organs of trees. We found three types of delicate but sturdy pine cone to make little ornaments. I have something in mind that involves wiggle eyes, but we'll see what actually happens. Wiggle eyes aren't exactly a natural material, are they?

We have also realized that our neighbor-through-the-wall's friend has turned into a boyfriend. I'll leave it to your imagination. So far we've not had to explain it to our girls.

My dear husband stayed at work to finish the jobs he had lined up EVEN THOUGH his boss is far away and everyone else in his division quietly snuck out early. He's soooo awesome. (Those among you who have memorized Monsters, Inc. will quickly recognize this quote). It would be one thing if we were currently lacking for family time. But right now we are all full up on each others' company, so I admire his work ethic.

The girls have discovered Silly Putty, strands of which are embedded in the burbur. Vivian just pronounced, "Our job is to Play With Silly Putty!"

Hats off and much thanks for a low-key Thanksgiving week. Though we'd love to have seen family, I think Mazie's recovery from the tonsillectomy has been taxing enough on us all to have made a traveling Thanksgiving officially Too Much.

Over and out.

The Girls

I just realized I've managed to fart away about a zillion words without one about the loves of my life: Mazie and Vivian.

Mazie just had her tonsils out six days ago. She recovered remarkably well. She was back to herself within a day, if somewhat subdued. She does have the "dragon breath" Dr. Jacobson warned us about. It's a little bit pitiful for a five year old cutie pie to have the halitosis of an Irish Wolfhound, but it does seem markedly better today.

Mazie is sensitive, smart, moody, and persistent. When she gets into something, she doesn't want to quit until she's finished. If she doesn't get a word right away when reading, she flies into a minor panic. She remembers events more clearly than I do, which explains why lots of times she appears to be just observing. She is observing, and she's saving it all up for later. Mazie has a highly developed sense of justice - she'll remember the precedent set at an earlier instance and then invoke that precedent if she feels she's been treated unfairly. I'll try to give concrete examples; they happen all the time. I just can't remember any right this minute.

Vivian is a little sunbeam...except when she's not. And then the storm doesn't last long and her bushy bushy blond hairdo makes it kind of cute and forgettable. She flits through life. Vivian drops pearls of wisdom constantly and I hope this blog can catch some of them. She also absorbs the facial expressions, even the postures, of others until you can trace things she does back to a particular person. It's super hilarious to see Miss Maggie's scrunched-up nose or Skylar's (a girl at the bus stop) shoulder shrug get sucked up and used by Vivian.

Another thing about Vivian: she's a professional cuddler. She requests cuddling at least once a day, sometimes twice. We could farm her out to those in need of the human touch for a princely sum (but of course we wouldn't dream of it). Every evening I join her on her baby bed for a minute or two. First I accidentally lie on her trailing hair and she says, "Ow!" Once we have that worked out she asks me about the following day's plans, and I tell her. Then we rest a minute and I almost fall asleep. She tells me she's not going to eat her boogers tonight and that she doesn't want a blanket. Then we're done.

Mazie, on the other hand, has to be seriously compromised to cuddle ( I confess I snuck in some illicit cuddle time in the brief space between when she had taken Versed and before she went for surgery). But Mazie is a story hound. She loves stories: The one about the first time I did research, the one about the chipmunk trap, the one about when she was born, the one about how she bit Daddy's toe (when she was very very little). I'll try to save some of those here for her to see later.

Over and out, gotta go get Mazie.

Pre-Studying

Okay, so I confess I'm concerned I won't be as capable as other medical students, so I'm introducing myself to some of the texts before school rolls around. Today I started Essential Clinical Anatomy and I love it! I also brushed up on animal phys respiration. I remember learning about gill countercurrent systems and about bird respiration, but it's super fun learning that stuff again. Of course, I'll soon have to zero in on humans, forsaking all others, but I'm indulging this broad look at animal phys, as I believe that comparison deepens understanding. Animal phys also has a problem-based approach and then it meticulously chronicles all the solutions animals have evolved to solve problems.

A word here. I am Christian, and I think with my entire brain that evolution is the soundest model we have for how life came to occupy the niches we see and for explaining the relative fitness of these organisms to their habitats, etc. (BTW, I'm sure I'm dogging several ecological terms here.) I also believe God does it...and that He is outside time and far far bigger than human brains. I will probably offend some Christians by agreeing with the scientific community but frustrate lots of scientists with my...belief. Belief that God is good, that life is an outpouring of creativity. I imagine the universe in slo mo (in the limited way in which my brain can comprehend). If you think about the coolest time lapse photography you've ever seen of an acacia blooming or a landscape changing through the seasons. I don't know about you, but I respond to these little packaged shifts in perspective with a thrill that gives me goosebumps. Just imagine this blooming, growing, withering, then add all the ridiculous complexity of every corner of the earth, sky, and ocean, then make it microscopic, then make it huge (like a whole biome) and you'll blow your own mind. How beautiful! How amazing! How alive!

"Praise God!" is my personal response. Gratitude and praise, rendered to a God whose mind is unfathomable and who I'm certain is burping out creative bubbles all over.

And I'm sure I haven't satisfied Dr. Heideman (not that he'd ever need satisfying, such a kind and generous soul is he), whose class showed beyond logical doubt that organisms may seem to be perfectly suited, but are actually just doing well enough to get by...squeak by in some cases. And they were never "perfectly" evolved, even in the most stable of situations, though they may seem to be perfect. All I have to say is...WIP: work in progress for its own glory, sucka. Hats off to Dr. Heideman for approaching these puzzles with genuine curiosity.

Obviously, logic butts heads with my clinging to God's creative hand: Does the ebb and flow of species mean that God sees the inevitable death that clears the palette as neutral? All I have to say is that no question can rock the boat of God's love and unfailing compassion, His comfort to those that cry out for help or forgiveness. Does my brain give up? Sort of. I no longer think all things have an explanation, let alone a neat explanation. Some don't even have an explanation that fits with two realities I see. The connections are hidden. All these questions resist solid answers. But they're titillating, profound surprises we'll get in heaven. Like an impressionist painting or a poem by Rumi, reality isn't nailed down. Even science eventually gets to this point (see: Copenhagen Interpretation). Let it be loose. So I say to the artists among you, doesn't this ring true to you? That resonance ceases when you clamp it down? I don't know. But I do see it happening in my own life - I mean I witness the buzzkill in my own irritated or controlling actions - and then I know more than ever that God doesn't give all the answers or make all the decisions; it can be loose.

Anyway, I need to get to work.

Four Years ago.

It Begins!

Wonder of wonders - I have recently been informed of my admission to medical school. I type that, I say it, but still I cannot believe it. I am not sure whether to capitulate to the impulse to chronicle the entire process of my deciding to pursue a career in medicine.

I was an English Major (nod to Garrison Keillor). I love to write (though I am woefully out of practice and feel I've forgotten every bit of useful ruthlessness I learned in college). Of the entire litany of hoops one jumps through to apply to medical school, I dreaded the personal statement the most. Once I began work on the thing, it became so distasteful to me that I almost couldn't bear to look at it. The problem was, it was all about me and it had to fit in everything I needed to say to the app committee and it needed to fit within a character limit and it needed to ring true to the heart of who I am and why I am pursuing this.

I will sum up:

Science is wonderful.
I like people.

And there is so much more - so many people who have helped me, some PROFOUNDLY. But I realize that I'm (in theory) writing for an audience, so I'd like to avoid navel-gazing here and stick to what edifies, what informs, and what amuses.

I spent a year or so thinking about health professions, a year or so getting my feet wet with science again, and a year or so in outright pursuit of medicine.

I could not have done this without help. Help from my husband, from my church, from my family, from advisors and professors, and from some who will remain unnamed but who know who they are :).

So I write in gratitude.