Our new names

This 2 year old age is such a fun part of growing up. My youngest is learning new words at such a quick pace, it is hard to catch up. She's renamed a few people in the family. Uncle Nofre is named, "Nana." Those of you who know any Ilocano are aware that nana = auntie, but tata is uncle. I think he's just tickled that he's got a name. My mother, who should be referred to as, "Lola," is now, "Mom." That hurt a little, but I'm over it. My other daughter has been renamed with a 'd' as her first initial instead of a 'c'. But my son is known as, "That."

My son was feeling a little bad because he's not being called by his name, but I figure it is okay. Think of the possibilities. Every time somebody says, "That's cool," they would be referring to him. How about, "That's awesome! That's amazing! That's my boy!" See, it's not all bad.

So when he starts grousing about how the baby won't say his name, I commiserate and say, "That's a bummer."

A private funny

My brother and his wife invited us over for a pumpkin carving party. It was a blast. My sister-in-law has an awesome green thumb and her pumpkin harvest this year was amazing. She set up a vinyl tablecloth on the patio and put the pumpkins along with tons of tools and patterns out there for the pumpkin fun.

I really liked the pig/dog her sister Colleen made. I asked her boyfriend to mention that I'd like to take that one home with me, but I guess it was already spoken for.
My son worked all day on his, and as soon as it is finished, I'll take a picture of it. My 6-year-old didn't fare as well because she lost interest after the guts were pulled out of the pumpkin. But today's post isn't really about any of that. It is about a little funny that nobody but one person noticed.

One of my brother's guests was wearing a pair of pants that rides a little low on the derrière. It is very fashionable now, and this guest looked perfectly smokin' in these pants, so it wasn't a muffin top situation. Problem is that when you're carving pumpkins on the floor, you kind of bend over a bit. My sweet toddler was walking around, observing all the great carving, when she spotted this little bit of plumber crack. So she walked behind this person, pointed at (and maybe even touched) the crack, and with her little barely intelligible 2-year-old speak said, "Tinky butt." (translated = stinky butt)

What is priceless about this moment is that it was only witnessed by one person and that witness related that story to me. But when the incident happened, the owner of the low rise pants didn't even notice. So a private funny was kept private until just now, when the whole world can read it.

Right now, I'm wondering if this is only funny to me. Ah well. Happy Halloween!

Cookies, anyone?

We had our first Girl Scouts meeting this evening. What a blast! It was a parents with kids meeting. Most of the time we spent speaking with the parents while one of my co-leaders worked on some Halloween crafts with the girls.

But what was most fun was talking about cookies. See, here's the thing. I don't think people know how big a deal the cookies thing is. As an organization, Girl Scouts doesn't turn any girl away because they can't afford to pay. And where exactly does that money come from? That's right, you clever cookie, it comes from those Thin Mints you ate last year. But aside from that, the girls get to keep about half of the money they earn from the cookies to pay for whatever they want to pay for. One of the high school troops last year took a trip to a foreign country. I thought that was pretty cool. But you should have seen how enthusiastic some of our moms got at the mention of maybe TRAVEL from selling cookies. They were on fire. I think we'll have a great year and I think also we're going to have some moms who will sell cookies until they're sunbathing in Tahiti! (We did consider Tahiti. There's a lot the girls can learn about by visiting Tahiti. Like the health of coral reefs and how to speak French. Not to mention the importance of sun screens and how to cook out on the beach. These are all important life skills that can be achieved by cookie sales.)

So since you've read this post, how many boxes can I set aside for you?

Short attention span readers

Okay, I've heard enough whining about how long my blog posts are. Here's what I've done. I've gone through all the vacation posts and put in little headings. This way, if you are overwhelmed and cannot finish reading one of the vacation posts, you can just go back to the heading where you left off last time. See. Don't say I never did anything for you.

The truth about television

Today the local national public radio station was doing a show on television. They do this every now and then. Must be a slow news day. Anyway, as a preemptive strike I sent in a quick email to them and it got read on the air! Pretty sweet.

See, when public radio listeners start talking about television, there always is a snooty air of, "How plebeian to watch television. That is only for the uneducated masses. Why would my public radio station ever discuss television here?" (If you read the previous line in a fake British accent, it's even better.)

So I got the hugest kick from my email being read on the air. The host started with an email from one listener who grieved the television season ending last year. That she felt like her friends had gone away for the summer. The next 3 or 4 emails were along the vein that I referred to in the previous paragraph. And then he read mine, which went like this:

It always strikes me as funny when NPR talks about television. There are always dozens of self congratulatory people out there professing that they've kicked the t.v. habit. That it is a boob tube. That they never let their kids watch t.v. and if they do, they never change the channel from PBS, Discovery, Animal Planet, etc. You would think that there is no one watching TV at all.

I don't watch network news. I don't just watch PBS, and because I don't have cable or satellite, I don't watch any other educational programming. That isn't what my *relationship* with TV is. I watch to escape. I watch to distract myself from the other constant noise of life. For that 30 minutes or maybe 60 minutes, I don't think about my own stuff. And I love it. It is helpful and I appreciate the entertainment. I like watching pretty people. I like not thinking about what I have to do tomorrow and I really don't care to learn anything from TV. I'm there purely for entertainment.

I watch TV. And I'm not ashamed. Shocking, isn't it?

And I know I probably came across as somebody who watches all the time, all day long. I don't. I have a full life -- always busy. But every now and then, it is nice not to have to work too hard and let the television do all the heavy lifting.

Summer Vacation 2007, pt. 6 -- last one

JASPER

Gerry came home early on our last day there. We were able to plot out a course home that would shave a whole day on our journey. Instead of going back through Banff and through Idaho, he suggested we head due west through Jasper. I'm so glad we did so. It was an amazing ride.

Jasper was such a great drive. We're definitely going to camp there next time instead of Banff. It was there that we saw moose chowing down on some vegetation not 3 yards away from our car (what is that, about 2.7 meters?) and we saw a bear come up to the guard rail, consider crossing traffic, and decide to turn back and swim a little more in the lake. I don't even have to tell you how beautiful it was. I have no good words to express how much awe we experienced going through there.

THE QUEST FOR A BED

Gerry gave us a list of hotels for us to consider on our journey. He suggested we telephone along the way so we could arrange for accommodation the one night we'd have to sleep over. We made amazing time so when we got to the town Gerry had suggested we get a hotel in, it was only 7pm. My husband decided to keep driving a little bit longer.

We realized our error at around 10 pm and the cities were scarce and the hotels few and far between. We stopped at one little lodge that said that they had a room for about $140, but they only had 1 full sized bed in it and a couch. And by the way, it is a smoking room but the upside is that there was a jacuzzi. I didn't think I wanted to sleep in a jacuzzi while breathing in stale cigarette smoke. 5 people on a full sized bed didn't seem like it would be remotely restful. Might be better to stay in the car. I just wanted to sleep.

So we were on to the next town, Avola. When we stopped in front of the hotel, we didn't think that it was open for business because of the utter lack of cars out front. But there was a cheery neon "open" sign in an upstairs window, so my husband got out to check. While he was in the office, I soaked in the ambiance. Right next door was the Rednecks Roadhouse. I didn't know that Canadians had rednecks. I thought that was a purely United States American kind of phenomenon popularized by Jeff Foxworthy. Who knew? But that establishment too had only 2 cars out front of it. I was getting a little worried, but when my husband was taking more than a few minutes in that office, I knew we would be spending the night.

He got a suite.

In the suite, there were 2 double beds and 1 queen bed. There was a kitchenette and full sized refrigerator for our use. The kitchenette was fully equipped with china, pots, pans and utensils. There was no satellite television, but we were welcome to check out DVD's at the front office for no extra charge. There was room service which was provided by the Rednecks Roadhouse. How convenient! Out back, there was a kids' wading pool and also a hot tub. How great is that!

Imagining a 4 star hotel right now? Thinking there were satin sheets and mints on the pillows?

You would be wrong.

It was kind of like the Bates Motel because they were both built in the 1960's. The stairs were very rickety and I thought that I might break though a floor board because I was carrying the 30# baby with me. My husband walked on tiptoes so the extra vibration of his footfalls wouldn't shake the foundation and cause the whole structure to implode. We did wake the kids and ate a dinner of hotdog buns and canned chili which had been heated in the kitchenette. Nice not to use a camp stove.

The beds were as promised, but they also seemed to have been the original beds and bedding purchased to furnish the hotel back in the 1960's. I was thankful that each child would have their own sleeping area. Hubby and the toddler got the big bed, I got one of the doubles which I later ended up sharing with the middle kid, and our eldest got the other double bed to himself.

BACK TO THE USA

We awoke early because hubby wanted to get back to the US as soon as possible. We had hoped to grab breakfast before we left Avola but we were out of luck. Hubby announced that after a quick look at the surrounding eateries, "Rednecks Roadhouse is closed.
Gas Food Store Gas is closed. And sadly, Restaurant is closed." We'd have to get our food elsewhere.

Now I would be remiss not to add that it was really beautiful there. There should be a better tourist economy for little Avola, because check this out.
Plus, the Avola Mountain Motel a.k.a. Bayside Pacific Inn has this great promotion. As we were the only people who stayed there that we could see, we're probably shoe ins for this prize.


3 hours on the road later, the kids completely hepped up on candy, we finally stopped and asked some guy who was trimming the hedges next to the Tim Hortons where a good place to eat was. He suggested a Waffle Haus that served these amazing Belgian Waffles. It was a nice place to eat and we were glad for it. Hubby was not handling the lack of food and caffeine very well.

We stopped in Chilliwack and bought some corn at a stand at a gas station. My sister-in-law laughed at me when I pronouced Chilliwack like this -- Chilly-whack. How else are you supposed to pronounce that? She said it should be more like -- chill-lou-whack. But if it is chill-lou-whack, I say change it to be spelled Chillouwhack, right? Anyway, Chilliwack is known for its corn. It was pretty tasty when we cooked it up at home.

We had more fun at the border crossing -- again brought to us courtesy of my husband whose brain had been completely fried after driving for 2 days straight. The border agent asked my husband where he was born.

And my husband stumbled.

He said, "Oh, I was born in... uh, where was that again? Oh, ummm..."

I gave him, "Thousand Oaks, remember?"

Then he said, "Oh, right, Ventura County. Man, I just couldn't remember that!"

I was again thinking that I would be holding my husband while he cried crouched in the corner of the shower about how the cavity search had been so rough. "Couldn't they have used lubricant?"

But the crossing agent was super cool. He laughed and said that somebody who was trying to sneak into the country would *NEVER* forget which county they had been born in. They'd have memorized that. He figured, rightly, that my husband belonged in the USA.

I was glad that I didn't raid Cindy & Gerry's freezer for some moose sausage and moose roast. I had considered it, but the crossing agent did ask if we had raw meat in the cooler and I wonder if he'd have confiscated it. That would have made me cry like a baby.

We made it to Alderwood mall in Lynnwood, WA early enough to return our broken Yakima Skybox. It was pretty nice to get that $500 back in our pockets, even though they pretty much said screw you on the sleeping bag that we lost. Supposedly they forwarded our request for payment for our lost sleeping bag to Yakima, but I doubt that we'll be getting that back.

Anyway, since we're back in the states, I figure I'll stop regaling you with stories about our Canadian/Idahoan vacation. Thanks for reading.

Peace out.

Why making a bed matters

As part of our preparation for an upcoming clinical in Medical/Surgical nursing, my class has been assigned a group of videos on clinical nursing skills. I've been wading through stuff like how to take vital signs and how to administer injections. In between those items, there's how to fix a bed and how to give a bath.

I remember bristling at learning those skills back when I was a 20 year old nursing student and I felt those hackles rising in me again viewing these videos.

See, I guess I have a chip on my shoulder about nursing. We're expected to make nursing diagnoses and decide on nursing interventions. We're expected to assess for and recognize potential complications of any disease process. In medical/surgical nursing, we're expected to know the potential complications of dozens of disease processes and surgical procedures. And still, what the profession is known for is bed baths and bed pans.

It is funny. My mom is totally shocked at the amount of sheer information I'm processing these days. Like her amazement at how big my Medical/Surgical book is.

I asked her, "So Mom, was your Med/Surg book this big?"

Her reply, "No. Back then we weren't trying to be doctors."

I don't think I am trying to be a doctor. Or that we as nurses are trying to be doctors. I'm just trying to be a good nurse. I mean, who really ever wants to be sick, in pain, or simply be in the hospital? We nurses diagnose and treat people's reactions -- physical and emotional -- to illness and disease. We nurses try to make our patients' experiences more bearable, let our patients feel more empowered, and at the core, more like themselves. Sometimes that means giving a pain med, or advocating for more pain med. Sometimes it means frequent assessments and vigilance to recognize potential complications. And yeah, sometimes that means changing a bed for a patient so they can feel more comfortable in a decidedly uncomfortable hospital room. And sometimes it means giving somebody a bedpan -- all without making a face, without conveying that it is uncomfortable for both the patient and the nurse, but at the same time respecting that discomfort.

An aside: If you ever have the privilege to watch Taylor's Video Guide to Clinical Nursing Skills Student Set on CD-ROM, you must catch my absolute favorite scene. It is on CD 2 under the heading, "Preparing a Sterile Field: Pre-packaged Kits." The scene is an elderly gentleman being faced with the prospect of having an indwelling catheter inserted. Sadly, we don't get to watch the insertion (at least not on that video) but right before the end, the instructor says something to the effect of, "Now let's begin the catheterization." She says this in the absolute most cheery Doris Day voice. But right at the end of the scene, she takes a look directly at the patient with an inscrutable expression -- reminding me of Dana Delaney in Exit to Eden. I don't know why, but it just makes me laugh each time I see it.