moving away

I recently received an e-mail from the mother of one of my daughters' closest friends.  She told me that they are moving before the school year begins.  My heart sank.  I wasn't sure how to tell my daughter.  She adores this sweet friend; she has largely been surrounded by boys her entire life and was beyond delighted to meet this little friend in school this year.  My daughter walked in the room a few minutes later and I told her the news.  She lowered her head and drew close to me.  I was so sad for her.  We cried together, sorrowing for the loss of one of her favorite friends.

The topic came up again and again during the following days, her concerns about other friends moving, when we would be moving again, how far away her friend was moving and why.  It suddenly struck me one day that we had never had friends move away from us - we have always been the ones moving away.  We have moved often during the years of my husbands' undergrad studies, medical school studies, internship, and residency training.  

And, we will be moving again.

I decided in that moment that it must be easier to move, to leave others behind, than to be the ones left behind.  But, subsequently, I have changed my mind.  I believe it is always hard to be separated from others, those whom we have grown close to, the people that have made our lives a little easier and a lot better, those that have brought happiness and enjoyment to our daily lives, ones we have learned to depend on and give of ourselves to, friends we will never forget.

Yes, it is always hard to say goodbye - no matter which end you are on.

Wealth and Happiness

In a dream the other night I visited the home of an old neighborhood friend. His family was extremely wealthy. I have no idea why I was there. As I stood waiting in the entryway, I immediately noticed that the beautiful wooden dining table in the adjacent room was filthy. Impetuously, I walked towards it and proceeded to meticulously wipe away the dust and debris along the top of the table and hidden in the cracks along the edges; since I did not have a rag, I used the bottom portion of my shirt.

While dreaming, I remember feeling that I should not clean the table, but... I could not stop myself.

Suddenly, three of my friend's sisters came walking in, chattering away, each holding multiple fancy shopping bags in each hand. Everything slowed down. They appeared to be dancing, full of laughter, bubbles, excitement, and innocence. I smiled at them; I wondered if they remembered me. Then, it dawned on me that I was cleaning their table. I knew they would not recognize me. This was confirmed when one cordially half-smiled back. Suddenly I realized that I probably appeared envious of their wealth-derived happiness. I wondered if I should stop cleaning - I wanted to stop cleaning. I wanted to explain who I was and why I was there. But, I could not stop cleaning.

I felt torn: I knew I could not explain my behavior, but I wanted them to know that I was not envious of their wealth.

Many thoughts and feelings flooded my mind and heart, yet, I continued cleaning the table.

A short time later, I walked out of the house. My friend appeared. I said hello, and goodbye, and then I left. And then, somehow I knew, even while dreaming, that I was there not only to observe the wealth, the riches, and the apparent happiness, but also to examine my own feelings towards money. Now, as I dig down deep inside and try to remember that dream and the feelings I had, I cannot identify any residual feelings of desire, regret, envy, sadness, or frustration.

Every once in a while I wonder if we have lived meagerly for long enough that my materialism has been completely squelched - enough that I can easily find happiness without money. I hope that it has. But, then, I see something for my daughter, and I can feel inside a small ache because I want so much to buy it for her. Maybe I do still need more time to develop a healthy relationship with money. I need to realize that my kids also don't need "things" to be happy.

Hopefully it won't take me too long to learn that one - we only have two and a half more years of residency left...

Some Recommendations to Combat the Effects of Stress

An article I read today (by Dr. Matt Brown-Ruegg) suggested to "lighten up" and laugh more, in order to "reduce the presence of stress hormones by nearly half." 

Done.

While shopping at Safeway tonight with my kids, my daughter pointed to my 1-year old and said, "Uh, Mom, it looks like he might have pooped through his pants." I was wearing a hoodie; I had him propped up on my hip with my left arm wrapped around him. I leaned him over and looked down: there was poop oozing out of the top of his diaper, all over his clothes and all over my sleeve. I started laughing - loud. It was a situation classified beyond any possible nightmare. I laughed all the way to the restroom. I couldn't stop. And it was a good laugh - not a polite, forced laugh to make it appear to my children and others that I was successfully handling a traumatic experience. No, this was a hearty, "this-is-hilarious" laugh. And it actually felt good, really good physiologically.

Other suggestions offered in the article to combat the negative effects of stress:  breathe, exercise, get a dose of sunlight every day, and take vitamin B3. Some foods he suggested to eat: oatmeal, salmon, walnuts, and dark chocolate.

It also recommended: get plenty of sleep (at least eight hours each night).

Although we have heard these things over and over again, I think I will actually try to incorporate two of his recommendations in my current lifestyle: to laugh more, and to get more sleep. I think I will start to abide by a strict bedtime of 10 p.m. every night. (Hm, I'll have to start that one tomorrow - since it's now 10:42 p.m.)

Habits are so hard to start (and end) - even for some one who has spent a lot of time studying the complex set of behaviors, attitudes, motivations, relationships, environments, genes, etc. that affect public health behaviors and how to improve them. Oh, so hard. We'll see - if I write it here, it will be harder to go back on, right??

Sesame Street: Everyone Needs a Hug

This made me smile - I love it. My 3-year old was done watching it after only two times, but I could honestly watch it again.

Isn't life just like that though? We depend on each other so much.

Visitors During Residency

My mom and dad visited us this weekend.

Last year during our husbands' intern years - for the first time living far from our families - a friend told me: "Sometimes I wonder if the pain of saying goodbye to family after they visit is actually worse than them not visiting at all." I somewhat agreed at the time. My mom had spent two days helping pack our home, driven across two states with me when we moved for intern year, and had stayed for a day to help me unpack in our new home. I was eight and a half months pregnant. I cried and cried when I dropped her off at the airport. I could not believe the feeling of despair and emptiness as she waved goodbye and walked through the airport doors.

It was painful, again, to say goodbye to both my mom and dad yesterday at the airport. But, I would never trade this weekend with them for anything.

Upon arrival, my mom commented on how clean my house was and how I should not clean so much - she and my dad are the best guests ever. They oo'ed and awe'ed over our new home during my 3-year old son's tour, and his subsequent demonstration of riding his bicycle around in circles inside our garage. We took a short road trip to visit other family. We talked and talked. My kids jumped on our trampoline, showing off their tricks - with their grandpa.

We ate ridiculously delicious (fresh) salmon sandwiches and perfect fruit from a farmer's market for lunch. We talked and looked out across the water and enjoyed the sunshine. My daughter fell asleep on the couch, cuddled up close to her grandma. My parents went lake kayaking for the first time while my kids yelled helpful tips to them from the shore.

We laughed. My parents talked intently with my daughter about her friends, her kindergarten experience, her artwork, and her love for pink. Our family celebrated together with relatives and friends while my 8-year old son was baptized and confirmed. My kids cuddled up to their grandpa while he read them library books before bed each night. My dad woke up each morning with little bodies climbing and jumping around his head. My 3-year old disappeared for the weekend while attaching himself permanently to either his grandma's or grandpa's hands and attentions. My parents insisted on taking us on a shopping spree to Costco. (We should have lined up the kids, with one shopping cart each.) My 1-year old played an endless game of 'chase' with his grandpa. We squished into our minivan and went driving around looking at real estate on the water. My parents cheered on my 8-year old while he played in a soccer game, and later, meticulously built Lego creations. Late one night, my kids taught my exhausted parents how to play mario cart on the Wii.

My parents love to laugh, they are easy-going and kind. They constantly look for ways to encourage and improve the lives of those around them. My kids learned about their grandma and grandpa, they learned how much their grandparents love them, and their love for my parents was strengthened. My 8-year old hid one of their suitcases while they were preparing to leave for the airport. No one wanted them to leave. We stayed up late - too late - talking about life, parenting, current stresses - theirs and mine, future plans, loved ones struggling, past memories, and the little, important secrets to happiness. Twice, I laughed with my mom, so hard that I cried.

Yes, it is hard to say goodbye. I love to be with my mom and dad. I miss my brother and sisters and their families terribly. It is hard for me to live so far from them. But, I'll take that tearful goodbye at the airport any day - if I can have another weekend - just like this one.

Is It Stress or Is It Just Life?

I have correctly self-diagnosed myself with shingles, with a little help from WebMD (there's a link to it in one of my sidebars - love it), along with a hesitant and unsure half-confirmation from my medical resident husband.

I said to my husband, "I guess this is normal."
Husband: "What?! What do you mean by normal? This isn't normal."
Me: "For a doctor's wife to get shingles, I mean."
Husband: "Huh? What do you mean?"
Me: "Nothing."

Actually, I don't know if I really have shingles, but, I'm pretty sure. It just makes sense.

Me (to my husband): "I've been feeling a lot of stress lately, so it makes sense."
Husband (to my daughter): "Mommy doesn't have any stress."
Husband (to me): "Why do you think you have been so stressed?"
Me (in disbelief, silent)
Husband: "Millions of women would love to have your life, you have the perfect life. I don't know why you are stressed at all."

At this point, we venture upstairs to look up shingles in his medical school textbooks. Suddenly, we hear a bang from inside the closed door to the bathroom. We all look at each other: me, my husband, and three of our children, our fourth was napping. I jump to open the door, fully expecting some sort of raccoon or squirrel. There on the floor, going through the cupboards under our sink, was our 1-year old son.

Me: "Did you put him in here?"
Husband: "No."
Me: "How long has he been in there?!"
Husband: "I don't know. When did he go in there?"
Me: "I thought he was asleep in his crib!"
Husband: "So did I."
Me: "You mean, you didn't get him out of his crib?"
Husband: "No."
Me: "What?! Then how did he get in here?"
Husband: "I don't know."
Me: "Didn't you put him IN HIS CRIB earlier for a nap when I told you to?!"
Husband: "No."
(An hour and a half earlier.)
Me: "What?! He's been locked up in the bathroom all this time?!"
Husband: "Don't blame me. I was downstairs with you."
Me: "It's no wonder I have shingles!"
Husband: "What is that supposed to mean? It's not my fault."
Me: "Nothing."

Within three minutes, my husband was snoring in bed. I was still worked up, trying not to burn a batch of cookies, mediating a battle between my 5-year old and 3-year old over a cute pink belt that they both wanted to wear, trying to keep everyone quiet so they wouldn't wake up my husband, and changing my 1-year old son's diaper.

Really, it wouldn't surprise me at all if this is shingles. But, the sad thing is, my husband will probably never get it, (and I am not referring to shingles here).