They're Done...

... And I'm not.

This is the completion of another official resident year on the calendar.  Several of my classmates are no longer residents, and starting Monday, July 1, will be real live doctors, or chiefs, or fellows!  Congratulations are in order.

For me, thanks to some handsome little boys at home, July 1 is not going to be so significant.  Although I still feel that I learned more about being doctor, how to relate to patients, and normal newborn development during maternity leave it actually doesn't count toward the requirements for me to graduate.  Therefore, I still have two and half months of training before they'll cut me lose into.  Still, October is not that far away, and I will admit that I still have a lot to learn.  The cool thing about being a doctor is that will always be true.  God made human anatomy and physiology so awesome, complex, and perfect I don't think we humans will ever have it mastered.

Despite that, there comes a time that enough training is enough training.  So, here's to those of you who made it through the last seven years since we all met at med school orientation.  No one else will ever know what you've been through or what you've sacrificed.  You've made it.  Enjoy it.  You earned it!

Hopefully, soon, I'll join you in the "real world."

On a side note, one good thing about me not finishing yet is that I still get to blog.  :)

Back to Reality

I knew the day would eventually come for my maternity leave to come to its end.  Tuesday was that day.

This isn't the first time I've left my fresh new baby to go back to work, but each time has been different.  

With Owen, I was pretty emotional.  I cried.  I cried the weeks before anytime I thought of going back.  I cried giving him a bottle for the first time.  I cried hard that morning.  I cried throughout the day when I thought of him.  I cried when I got home and hugged him.  I cried my first in-house call night.

My time with Griffin was a little less sappy.  The end of my leave was also the beginning of my residency here in Grand Island.  I was excited to be here, and the first few weeks my work schedule was light.  I didn't feel like I was missing out on much.  However, there were still some tears when I dropped both boys off at daycare for the first time.  Thanks to my mother-in-law and a few wonderful babysitters, we had never used a "real daycare" in Omaha.  This daycare-thing seemed like a new stretch for me as a working mom.  Thankfully, our daycare is wonderful so the stretch was a little less painful.

Now, with Jordan, I didn't know how I would handle it.  I love my family and also my job, and I was excited to get back.  I wanted to feel productive and successful again, but not only in the "mommy" kind of way.  I looked forward to catching up with nurses, staff, and patients whom I hadn't seen for weeks.  I liked picking out shoes to wear that weren't slippers or flip-flops.  (But I liked picking out an outfit a lot less because I still have baby weight to lose.)  I was excited to gush about how cute and awesome Jordy is.  And, honestly, I was happy to not be changing diapers, administering time-outs, wiping up spilled milk, or folding laundry (or feeling guilty for not) for a few hours a day.

As much as I truly missed those handsome faces at home, and although I did swallow a tear or two on my drive in thinking about the big smile Jordy flashed at me for the first time the day before, stepping back into clinic and hearing "Dr. Newman" for the first time was a good feeling.  It felt like coming home after a long trip to paradise.  As much as someone says they hate to leave, and as often as they say they want to go back, there is still something to be said about the comfort of pulling into the driveway, sleeping in your own bed, and getting back to the old routine.

Now, we'll have to see how things go over the next several weeks.  It still isn't fun getting up several times a night, and adding a beeping pager to the sleepless nights will be interesting.  Finishing clinic notes long after the boys are in bed will always be miserable.  And, because Jason is home for the summer, we haven't yet tackled the challenge of getting all three to daycare.

For now, I just enjoy every moment - the good, the bad, and the messy.  I am so lucky to have the life I do with three beautiful boys, one awesome husband, a supportive family, and the ability to do something I love!

Jordy and I on my first day back to work.

My Husband has No Hair

It's a quiet afternoon, and that makes for a perfect time to write.  Before he fell asleep for his afternoon nap, I asked Jason what I should write about.  Humbly, he suggested, "All of the things that make me wonderful."  Because it's Father's Day, that seemed too cliche.  So, he then suggested I try the opposite and explain all the things that make him not wonderful.  And that's what I came up with -

my husband has no hair.

However, he is a hard worker.  Genuine.  Loyal and trustworthy.  Although that sounds like a golden retriever, it also sounds like someone you would like to employ and befriend (let alone marry or call "dad").

He understands balance, too.  Home and work.  Stern and soft.  Rest and go.  Romantic and strong.

Passionate and fun.  I never thought I'd enjoy the history of Lewis and Clark, college baseball, fantasy football, Pawn Stars, slow-pitch softball, or pizza, but he's wearing me down.  (I'm still a ways away from liking Dr. Pepper, playing PS3, or asking for no ice in my fountain sodas.)  Yesterday, however, our t.v. was tuned into the CWS, and he wasn't even home.  And, part of me was secretly hoping he would want to go for pizza to celebrate Dad's Day today.

To think he's survived through three pregnancies and thus nearly four years of sleepless nights and diapers, serving as my anatomy practice model during med school, shopping, my pager going off at inconvenient times, washing dishes, eating more vegetables, moving four times, carrying my purse a time or two, a dog, a cat, two fish, and me for almost thirteen years.  Wow.  No wonder his hair ran for the hills.

And, actually, as I think about it, I can't imagine my husband with hair.  He's totally handsome, and he saves money on shampoo and haircuts.  So, I guess I can't explain anything that makes my husband not wonderful after all.

Team Parenting

Before we actually became the parents of three, we heard a lot of advice/horror stories about what it was going to be like with three little ones.  Some said it was easier going from two to three than from one to two.  Others said the exact opposite.  It must just be different for everyone.  Surprise, surprise.

One analogy we received from wise parents of three summed it up, "It's going from 'man-on-man' to 'zone.'"  For some reason, that made sense to me.  I am, by no means, a sports expert.  Although I do enjoy watching an exciting game (of nearly any sport), I do not pretend to understand the strategies.  Still, thinking about the advice we were given, I wondered if any other strategies could be applied to my three boys.  Sure enough, sports and parenting strategies are more similar than I thought.

Man-on-man.  This worked beautifully with two.  Jason took Owen, while I had my eyes on Griffin.  And, we could always switch if one of us was getting owned.  While Jordan is still immobile, we can still kind of rely on this strategy.  Unfortunately, it isn't going to last much longer unless we find a third parent.

Zone.  "You take the backyard, and I'll take the living room. 1-2-3-break!"

Passing & Moving.  This is a soccer strategy, I guess, where the object is to never stand still.  Keep moving.  Never let the opponent set up, rest, develop their own strategy.  I can clearly see how this works.  Keep the boys moving, running, playing, active, thinking, and they won't have time to be anything but well-behaved, right?  Unfortunately, we will ALL be exhausted, and I think their energy may outlast mine.

Switch Attack.  I like this one.  In the game, the switch attack is when ball is taken backward to a less well-defended area of the field to give the team time to regroup.  There are definitely times that I take my parenting "backward" just to give me time to regroup, take a breath, and count to 10.  You know, it's those times they watch cartoons all morning, or a movie at bedtime, or get Happy Meals for lunch, or a snack 30 minutes before dinner, or wear dirty clothes, or unmatched socks.  Sometimes, going backward is the only way to go forward.

Trapping.  When one boy is exercising his near-terrible-two's attitude sometimes this is necessary.  Although we have to leave another open, it takes both of us to squash the tantrum out of the one.  Hopefully, we'll corner him before he can "hand the ball off" to his brothers and all chaos breaks lose.  That would be game over for us.

Hand off.  "Here, hold Jordan," and then take off after Griffin sprinting for the street.  Some day this will be more difficult when they are all too big to be contained on our hip.  Although it may require some adaptation, it will stay in the playbook.

I'm sure the good teams out there could break down any strategy.  Thankfully, our opponent's captain is a three-and-a-half year old, and they haven't quite figured it out yet.  Although we have lost a few games, we are still the reigning champions in this house.  For now at least!