Xmas

Well, I went to Memphis for Christmas. Hubbie, my aunt Mary, her husband Scott and my mother all trekked around to various and sundry church services, dinners and shin digs all weekend long. Some of the times were good, and some not so much.

But mostly I lived in fear of my mother. Would she bust out with her hover-y, nacroleptic self or would her born-and-bred Southern woman instincts kick in and produce a charming, entertaining storyteller? Who knew? Who could predict? No one - not even the woman in question.

Mostly, the Southerner in Mom won out. Which was great - she approximates the woman she was when she's in company playing 'charming visiting relative.' Unfortunately, the times and spaces when Mom was just with me, or with her sister, the crazy person I don't really recognize came out to play. It was sad and I hated it - I swear she used to be something like normal. I swear she used to be smart.

But based on those between-the-company interludes, I wouldn't be able to produce any evidence to support my claim. Anyway, even when I hate the way she acts, I still love her. She's my mother, how could I not?

So with all my conflicted feelings, I was really happy when she left today for the airport. Finally, I could relax. Aunt Mary and I had a good, long-time-coming talk... and then she bought me boots. Really really fabulous boots. What could have been better? What could go wrong?

Oh honey, I really shouldn't ask questions like that.

Even though my husband and my new uncle took my mother to the security line, even though they cagoled a very nice traveler to ensure my mother got to the right concourse, even though my mother has flown umteen bigillion times, she missed her plane.

She. Missed. Her. Plane.

The burden was returning. The sigh of relief was completely premature. And because her world had been thrown out of wack, she would be totally nutty when she got back... or so we thought. Thank goodness - thank goodness - we had company over when my uncle hauled her back from the airport. And thank goodness - thank goodness - the Southern manners born and bred into her came raging to the forefront.

Rob, you saved the night. My husband and I are in your debt. Mary and Scott, you saved Mom's travel. Thank you for that. Hubbie, you helped spread the pain. If I had been alone, I would have been sunk. Thank you.

And Mom - wherever the real you is - I wish you well. I just kinda wish you away from here.

Two a day

Okay, I'm not about to disrespect midwives. But I do want to comment on the midwife trainee on the 3pm (CST) House of Babies episode on Discovery Health today. Why? She's going through 'hell week' in midwifery school. Bascially, 'hell week' is the same as residency (the paid trainee stage of a MD's life) for midwife students.

But it only lasts three weeks. Total.

One week the first time through and two weeks the next.

WTF? Residency is at least three years, and this woman, who will be taking care of newborns and moms, is complaining about three weeks? Suck it up when you're on national TV! I know doing anything nonstop for four weeks can be hard, but if all anyone has to do is three (not even four) weeks, just deal.

Sorry. I know I'll piss off a lot of midlevel providers with this post, but damn, perspective, people! I have a lot of appreciation for experienced midwives, but now I'm not so sure about new grads.

Unless, of course, they didn't complain. If that's the case - more power to ya.

Blah blah blah

We went to Fogo de Chao last night. And it was good. We only ate for 90 minutes, but we consumed gi-normous amounts of meat. Oddly enough, two of the cuts of meat were WAY better than the rest. The Fraldinha was the best. And the sirloin was great. But the lamb was a little dry, and the filet mignon (spelling? I can't spell, let alone in French) wasn't as juicy as it could have been. And the salt - holy crap, I thought my feet were gonna swell outta my very cute holiday heels.

I've aways thought that the whole idea of going to a restaurant was to eat things I couldn't cook myself. Unfortunately, Fogo didn't quite live up to that standard. We've decided that Fogo is great for a group of 6+, but we're never going there just as a couple. The reason Fogo works for a group is that no matter what ya get, the price per plate is fixed. And if everyone is drinking more or less on the same pace, splitting the bill just works our perfectly fairly. So the food + drink + easy math works out well for larger groups.

But for my husband and I? We could cook a huge, yummy filet with two bottles of good California wine for the cost of a meal at Fogo. So no go.

I guess I'm conflicted about Fogo, but that's okay. I never said I was decisive... hehe!

Okay, it's been a week

Today was supposed to mark my return to doing my job - the job I've trained for since I was in high school. But no - the Texas State Medical Board is punishing me. I can't even tell you, dear reader, how much this hurts.

I just want to crawl under a rock and... I dunno. I don't want to die. But I do want all of this to go away. I want to do my job again. I don't want to be a burden anymore.

Is that too much?

Productive!

Today I've managed to:

1) Finish my orientation to my new work, which means AS SOON AS my license comes through I can work.
2) Go to the dentist, get a cavity filled and get my teeth cleaned WITHOUT ANESTHESIA.
3) Cleaned my fishtank.

I have to say, the last of the three is the one that has required the most effort. Mostly 'cause I've been ignoring my tanks for the last four weeks or so. Why? 'Cause I was depressed as hell. But now? Now I should be golden. The glass is nearly spotletss, the plants and rocks are rearranged, and the fish are swimming around with all their fins out.

Life is good. And hopefully, I'll have my real job back by the end of next week.

Please please please - I want to be a doctor again.

Let is be so.

Ow!

Why do I get such vicious headaches these days? Is it 'cause I'm over 30?

Youch.

Anyone got morphine?