Lellow Sullery

It's Beatlemania hear in the Schoell household. My brother, Darin, gifted our family with Beatles Rock Band for Christmas -- a gift we've all enjoyed greatly! Please enjoy this lovely home movie . . . Be sure to note in the very beginning of the video the quality high score in the upper right hand corner. For the Rock Band fans out there, you can also follow the skill with which which he plays!

A Small Piece of Creation

I have no pictures to post with this story . . . though the memories that go with it will remain vivid in my mind and heart throughout my whole life.

As many of my blog readers all ready know, Michelle, Malcolm's birthmom is expecting again, due New Year's Eve. This will be her fourth child (Malcolm being #2 of the 4) and the last she plans to have for a while. Mike, her boyfriend, is very excited to welcome his first-born, and eager to parent alongside Michelle. I asked if he was excited to become a father. "I'm already a Dad," Mike told me, referring to Nahlo and Noah, Michelle's other 2 boys, who he and Michelle are raising together. "This is just my first child that I'll be related to by blood."

Earlier this week, Michelle's doctor sent her to the hospital for bedrest until the baby arrived. When I arrived yesterday to visit her at the hospital, she was well into the first stages of labor! Just before my arrival, the doctor had pronounced her to be at 3 centimeters, and likely to have the baby sometime that night!

Much to my overwhelming delight, Michelle invited me to stay for the birth! Mike and Michelle both assured me (a couple times!) that I was well and truly welcome to stay, and that I would not at all be intruding on their family moment.

Just under an hour later, the doctor said she was at 9.5 centimeters and "here's we go!" Next thing I know, the midwife has positioned me at Michelle's side, holding her leg to help her brace for pushing. Let me tell you . . . we're talking front row seats! It was absolutely amazing to see this baby come into the world. I have never before had the honor of witnessing the birth of a baby. It absolutely took my breath away. By the time the baby's first cry filled the room, tears of sheer awe were streaming down my cheeks! I wish I had Michelle's talents as a poet, to find the words to express my sense of wonder and astonishment. What a beautiful, sacred moment. And what an honor to be there to witness it!

Michelle made it look easy. I know it's not, but she really made it seem so. Three quick sets of pushes, and there he was! Baby Michael, welcome to the world! 5 pounds, 15 ounces, 19.5 inches long, and two weeks early.

He came out with the cord wrapped around his neck, which I hear is very common. But seeing his little face come out, turn blue, then purple in a matter of heartbeats was . . . startling. I didn't even have time to feel any fear, as the midwife resolved the issue before my brain could scarcely begin to register it. She held the baby in place, so it wouldn't pull any tighter, slipped the clamps in place, snipped the cord, and had him loose in less time than it took me to draw a single breath. By my next breath, he was rosy pink and screaming his lungs out! Hooray!

More than a day later, and my heart is still full with the wonder of it all. I am especially amazed at the strength, composure, and courage that Michelle showed. I remember watching Michelle draw a deep breath and push, in time to the commands of her body, and thinking "She is so powerful, so resolute, so strong. This is the power of women, passed from one generation to the next, in tears and sweat and blood. The power to bring life into this world. The power to form a small part of Creation: a new life." This amazing young woman is so many things to me: my son's firstmother, my friend, the little sister of my heart, and my hero. Congratulations, Michelle! And welcome, Michael!

I Need My Mouse!

Read the story before you peek ahead to the pictures!

The other night, I was putting Malcolm to bed, and we did all the usual. We brushed his teeth, put on his jammies, read some stories, laid out the blanket from Grammy. . . you know, the usual. But when it came time to say good night, Malcolm suddenly looked up at me with

this panic-stricken look, and gasped, "Mommy, I need my mouse!"

"Do you mean your dog?" I asked, pointing to his stuffed dog, Elly Bean, tucked neatly beside

him in bed.

"No, no, no. Not that. My mouse!"

I mentally searched through the list of new toys he received for his birthday . . . no mouse. I searched my memory for any mouse toy of any kind . . . . Ah! Got it!

"Do you mean Nova's dog toy? The little grey mouse ball?"

"No, no, no. Not that. My mouse!"

Having exhausted everything I could think of, I went for a simpler solution. "Okay, Malcolm.

Go get it. Then come right back to bed." Off he ran to the living room, and I could hear him digging through his toy box. With a cry of triumph, he came running back into the bed room, holding up a blue lego with a look of great delight. "My mouse, Mommy!" he told me,

presenting his prize.

Hunh. Okay, why not? So I took the lego, and proceeded to make it crawl across his bed,

squeaking and searching for cheese.

Malcolm looked at me, giggling, and shook his head. "No, no, no, Mommy. Not that."

Then he climbed up into bed, pulling his largest story book into his lap, and twisting it sideways. He then held out his hand for the lego, and began to slide it back and forth along the book, saying "Click! Click! Click!"

And every night since, bedtime is incomplete without his "mouse" and "laptop."

Parenting Help, Please!

We're having a problem with Malcolm getting up at night ('round 3am to 4am) and coming out to the living room, booting up rock band, hauling out toys, turning on the computer. Just happy as a clam, playing as if it were 8am, and he were doing us the favor of playing peacefully so we can lay in. Except, of course, it's freakin four in the morning!!!!!? i've booby trapped the hall (think laundry basket full of spoons balanced on a box blocking the hallway, and he still makes it out without waking us up. Unplugging the TV kept him off rock band. But he climbed my desk to get my laptop down from where I hid it. I hid the laptop in our bedroom, and he went for the toy box. Grrrr. I was thinking of trying a baby gate across the hallway . . . with jingle bells attached.

I think tonight i'm going to put the dog crate sideways blocking the whole hall, then cover the top with . . . . with . . . . um . . . . tacks? No, wait, bad parenting! Not tacks . . . . glue?

Any suggestions?

Eeeeehhhh.

Name That Tune! (Now With Answers)

Recently on the blog of our dear friend, Heather, she offered a game of "name that tune" in which she shared the story of her toddler's request for a Christmas song called "Tails" and her two week search to try and figure out what her daughter was requesting.

Of course, Matthew and I laughed ourselves silly at this story -- it's always fun to hear other parents experience the same things we do. Malcolm, as you'll know if you've ever met him, is very music oriented. Every toy in our toy box is either a microphone (hairbrush, flashlight), a guitar (broom, hockey stick), a drum (hamper, cardboard box), or a drumstick for banging on the drum (chopsticks, pencils). His favorite activities include playing Rock Band (especially if we play the guitar and he does the singing on his new pencil, or drums on his upside down toy bin), drumming along to music on my computer, and singing along to music in the car. Like all young kids, he has his favorites, and demands them constantly. And like our friend's daughter, it can be something of a mental puzzle to figure out just what song, exactly, he's requesting.

So, here is our own Malcolm edition of Name That Tune. Please feel free to post your guesses in the comments section, or send me an email if you prefer!

What song is Malcolm requesting when he asks for:

(Hint: these are all from Rock Band, if you don't know the game, just think Rock genre)

• Tiger (Eye of the Tiger)
• Opening (Hello There by Cheap Trick)
• Hayho Less Go (Blitzkrieg Bop)
• Sisamisssy Keen (Mississippi Queen)
• Woah Woah Woah Woah (Welcome Home by Cohead & Cambria)

Malcolm's 3rd Birthday Party

Last weekend, we celebrated Malcolm's 3rd birthday with a little party. Fun times!

I made the cake myself (made from two bundt cakes: funfetti and strawberry chocolate chip) Turns out, that if you add enough frosting, you can make anything look right!)

Many of our family and friends joined us. Ball-a-palooza and tunnel-wresting were big hits.

Daddy created hopscotch!

Friends built towers with mini marshmallows and toothpicks.

Make a Wish!

Happy Birthday!!!

Three years old, my sweet son! Have you really grown so big? You have your own thoughts now, your own unique ideas, creative ways of viewing the world. You tell jokes, sing songs. Your tendency to tantrum fades as your ability to negotiate grows.

I love the way you climb into my bed while I'm brushing my teeth, then watch the door, waiting for me to come back and catch you stealing my Zzzzs. I love to way you squee with laughter when I tickle you under the chin. I love when I walk in the door after work, and you scream "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" and run to hug me. And I love that you'll wait for that hug until I've changed out of my germy clothes and washed my hands, saying "wait for it . . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . . . " I love the way you pick up your toys, one by one, while I'm studying for my exam, and bring them to me, singing "This is for you, Mommy!" I love your belly laughs when I make the green beans play "don't eat me!!" I love they way you'll hear a whistle, plane go by, a car back fire, or a dog fart and then you ask me, "Mommy, did you hear something?" I love when you ask me, "Mommy can I call B-Ma on the phone? Sing ABCs?" I love that you think "party" is something to eat, that "birthdays" are what you blow out after singing, and I love that you insist we sing Happy Birthday once for each person in the room (and an extra verse for Grandma, too.)

I love being your Mommy. And I love you.

Happy Halloween!

Malcolm the Ninja!

Ninja Malcolm with Mommy the Kitty Cat

Malcolm's Mighty Ninja Hands . . . Hai-Yah!

Matthew is down with a cold this year, leaving just Malcolm and I to go trick-or-treating. Our apartment complex doesn't have much in the way of chocolate-seeking fun, what with having to buzz into each building . . . so we branched out a bit. We ended up over on the other side of town, trick-or-treating at his honorary Aunt & Uncle's house. In addition to trick or treat chocolates, they also invited Malcolm in for homemade cookies and a glass of milk.

After that, Malcolm and I tootled off to explore the neighborhood. Malcolm loved trick-or-treating this year, and really got into it. "Mommy, I want to trick-or-treat that house, right there!" he would declare, pointing imperiously at one house, and then the next.

Let me preface this last part . . . what Malcolm did next was entirely of his own accord, with absolutely no prompting from me at all!

As we were wrapping up for the evening, with a just a few houses to go, the nice lady of the house opened the door, and Malcolm said "Happy Halloween. Trick or Treat!" (This is what we'd been saying all night at each door. After she held out the bowl and he picked out one (just one!) treat, he said "Thank you." (Again, we'd practiced this all night as well.) But then, he decided to chime in with a new request:

"I want to take one for Mommy, please!"

Needless to say, the lady was (very) charmed, and I was (a tiny bit) mortified. Malcolm truly meant what he'd said though. With her permission, he picked out an extra candy, and turned and handed it to me. "This is for you, Mommy!"

Too sweet! (He even picked out a Reeses. My favorite!)

Halloween Fun at the Zoo with Friends!

The Comfort of the Comforter

Matthew and I recently retrieved our thick down comforter from storage and laid it out on our bed. Snuggling up, toasty warm, under it has always been one of my favorite parts of the cold weather days. Needless to say, Atlanta didn't have much call for the comforter. I'm not too excited about coming back to Rochester winter, but I am glad to have my comforter.

This morning, I woke up to the beep-beep of my alarm, wrapped cocoon-like in an eternal thickness of warm, warm comforter. I looked at my clock, and thought about how cold the air was on the tip of my nose -- the only part of me sticking out, and proceeded to glare at the alarm clock. Alas, that didn't stop the beep-beep either, so I slipped an arm out to whack the snooze alarm, and zipped it back in as quickly as possible. It was even colder out there than I thought, and I felt extremely grateful that my comforter is big enough to cover me the tips of toes, to up over my head like giant warm hood.

After the third snooze alarm, I gritted my teeth, and slipped out (being careful not to let the cold air in, where Matthew still slept under the comforter. I brushed my teeth in record time, while thinking about which thick wooly sweater I would wear to work.

I returned to my room to discover that Malcolm had left his bed, and climbed into ours. He was curled up under the comforter (my comforter), stretched across my pillow, and snuggled up with Daddy.

"Hi Mommy!"

"Good morning, Malcolm."

"Mommy, I'm in your bed! I'm stealing your Zzzz's."

Yup, Still Metal

"I"m So Metal"

Happy Birthday to Me!

So, it's my birthday today. (email if you wanna know just how old I am!) I woke up this morning very shy on sleep, since Malcolm was up most the night. He's been battling a cold, so I get it, but it was still exhausting and frustrating. Managed to shake that off, and have a good day at work.

My husband and son picked me up from work and took me to Red Robin for dinner (my favorite burgers ever! Been craving them for weeks now.) Two bites into my salad, and Malcolm starts vomiting. Copiously. For a while.

On the upside, he was sitting next to Matthew -- who, by the way, deserves the cool-headed-most-discreet-daddy-award-of-the-year. I don't think the booth behind them even noticed, which is kind of a miracle. Once the worst of it slowed down, Matthew wrapped his jacket around Malcolm and carried him out. I went and found our server who was just about to bring our food out. I told her what happened, and that we had to leave. In less than two minutes, she provided me with an empty container and stack of napkins for the car ride home, brought the check, processed my credit card (earned a very generous tip), and rallied other staff to box up our dinners (even down to my salad and our lemonades!) They were amazing. And so discreet and professional.

We got Malcolm home, cleaned up, tucked into bed and (hopefully) asleep. Dinner's not too appetizing to me right now, but maybe I'll be hungry later. Sympathy pains for my poor sick kid are ruining my appetite currently.

So much for my birthday celebration.

On the upside, my Mom sent me an email from her and Dad, my brother Darin left me a voice mail I haven't had a chance to listen to yet, and my friend Lea sent me a video of her kids singing "Happy Birthday Mrs. Teresa." (See below) Plus, I'm pretty sure that Matthew feels so sorry for my ruined birthday celebration that I can easily talk him into a should rub and playing with my hair tonight while we watch whatever movie I want.

So, happy birthday to me anyway!

Locks of Love

This weekend, Matthew had over 10 inches of hair cut off, donated to Locks of Love (a charity that makes wigs for kids with cancer.) This is his second time participating in this charity. As a family, we've donated over 4 feet of hair in the last decade, starting with 18 inches of my hair the day after our wedding.

Below are some pictures from this weekend.

Malcolm loved watching Daddy get his haircut.

When Matthew sat down in the chair, Malcolm looked at him, and said

"Daddy, no screaming. And hold still."

When Matthew's cut was done, Malcolm insisted that he have a turn as well -- which surprised us to no end, considering how badly his first hair cut went. Since then, we've been doing it at home. But the stylist was fabulous with him all through Matt's cut, so we gave it a try. He did wonderfully! (Meaning, he held still. And no screaming.)

His Own Sense of Humor

So, Malcolm told his first joke today. All on his own . . . no prompting . . . no repeating something he heard else where . . . he did this one all on his own, from his own mind.

Mommy: Which crayon is red?

Malcolm: This one! (holding up red crayon)

Mommy: That's right! What about this one? (holding up the blue one)

Malcolm: That's blue, Mommy!

Mommy: Good, Baby. That's right! Do you know how to say "blue" in Spanish?

Malcolm: Blue in Spanish!

Then and Now

November 2007:

September 2009:

Aunt Tabby & Uncle Nader

These lovely people are Malcolm's honorary aunt and uncle. Tabby and Nader are our dear friends, and in many ways, like a big sister and brother to us.

Today at lunch, Malcolm and I shared a plate of empanadas. Malcolm had never enjoyed these delicious treats before, and he and I both were stunned to discover that he not only would eat them, but enthusiastically wanted more and more! (He's been going through a picky eating stage.) He asked me, "Mommy, what are these?"

"Empanadas," I told him. He tried out the word a few times, but found the empanadas fit in his mouth better than the word did.

"Mommy," he told me. "I like unclenaders. They are very yummy. I want to eat lots of unclenaders."

Seriously, What Was I Thinking?

Yesterday, Malcolm woke early, and I heard the pitter patter of his little feet as his walked past our bedroom, to the living room. I heard him turn on his music (booted up the Rock Band Game on the Xbox) and expected to soon hear the pound-pound of his drum (our upside down laundry hamper together with the sticks from his xylophone.) But . . . . no bam-bam-bam. Hmm . . . then a moment later, he walked into our room. He stood beside the bed and looked into my sleep-fuzzied eyes. "Mommy, I need help. Daddy's dirty clothes are in my drum."

I wandered out to the living room, and indeed -- there was the hamper, right side up, filled with the load of dirty laundry that I never got a chance to wash the night before. Seriously, what was i thinking? Filling his drum with our dirty laundry! Bad Mommy, no biscuit.

Hop Along, Malcolm

After washing his hands for dinner ("all by my ownself!"), I told Malcolm "Hop over to your chair, Sweetie." He promptly put his two feet together, and hop-hop-hopped over to his chair.

When he arrived at his chair, he declared: "That's good hopping!"

Zoo Day

Picture Day!

Today's random assortment of photos are brought to you by the letter "M." Enjoy!

Science vs. Career

It seems natural to me that I would like to work in science. Science is cool. You might not think that because maybe in 5th grade you had Mr. Boringasallgetout for a science teacher and he took your love of the natural world out to the woodshed. But it's still cool, you're just wrong about it. In particular, the coolest part of the cool world of science is the human body. I don't want to go into too much detail, but I mean, my GOD, from enzymes to organs, from applied chemistry to consciousness, it all works out to a you and a me, to people reading this blog and so on and so forth. If you haven't considered it much, trust me, to comprehend 1% of the complexity of the working human body is to be blown away.

So, it sucks that I have found out that the Ph.D. track in biology/biochem/whatever is turning out to be an awful fit. I mentioned that track before, the sort of grad student to post doc to professor track. And the reason it's turning out to be an awful fit is the culture of the track. The defining feature of that culture is it's omnipresence, the expectation that being a scientist means that you are a scientist at work, and at home, and at religious times, and sleeping, etc. That message was repeated throughout graduate school - you are always "on", you are never "off" and when you are "off" you should be "on". This is the culture that says you should work 80 hours a week, the culture that says even after you are done with the day's work you should take some work home, the culture that says science is priority #1, let nothing come before it.

Turns out that culture and I don't get along. At all. I've known for a while that work was a pretty low priority. Work doesn't get listed on the same page as my family. Work doesn't, frankly, outrank my hobbies in priority to me. It's something I have to do, and it's something I try to excel at because I believe that's an appropriate work ethic. But I find that I expect there to be a boundary between my work and the rest of my life. That boundary didn't have to be a rigid 40 hour work week with 9 to 5 hours. I worked weekend hours regularly enough, especially in graduate school, to treat my work responsibilities seriously. However, I expected that boundary to hold on my off time. I didn't think I should have to feel concern that 5 hours on Saturday morning wasn't enough time. I didn't think I should have to feel guilty about leaving at 5:30 so that I could go down to Geneseo once a week to play games with friends.

I struggled with this in graduate school. In the end, I powered through it because a) I wasn't going to just quit because it was tough, and b) the other side of the boundary was, frankly, more selfish, it was more about my free time. Things changed, especially at the post doc in Atlanta, with Malcolm, and one car, and Teresa's internship. Again I didn't quit because quitting was just something you don't do, in that after school special mentality. But now the other side of my boundary wasn't my playstation time, or my D&D time, it was my quality interaction with my son time. It was my help my wife pursue her career time. It was my be a father and a husband time. In graduate school, I dealt with my resentment at the culture by putting the onus on my own shoulders to push the boundary to include as much work as I could. As a post doc, and as a father and husband in Atlanta, the conflict with this scientific career culture became untenable.

I had an interview for a post doc in Rochester last month. I call it an interview, but let's be honest, the thing was a 40 minute lecture. I was picturing snowballs and devils about the time the interviewer launched into his hours you work speech (and let's say that he expected 80 hours a week, because he did). It was then that I realized I would just stay unemployed before working for him, if that's what it came to. At the time, I just sort of cleared that interview emotionally from me, but eventually it came back into my brain. That was the science culture I was going to re-enter, in some other post doc. I would probably find a much better fit than this individual, but the culture is still there, even if not in the immediate direct manner of this particular lab. That was when this really crystallized for me, when I knew that wherever I was going to work, I wanted to be done with this culture. And so that's where we get to now. No more post doc. No more aiming at some tenured professorship. It's hard to describe the unburdening of spirit that has come with this decision, but if you find that to be too melodramatic let me simplify: I am much happier now.

Next then to the inevitable question of, what now. Well, I still love science. It turns out that loving science does not cure all, and that in this case, it did not overcome the very bad fit I have just described. I'm currently job searching for lab tech jobs, science industry jobs, and am keeping an eye out for science writing jobs (although on this last part I am really clueless about how to get my foot in the door). I'm also willing to work outside of science, but that's sort of a harder row to hoe. Suffice to say that after 7 years of graduate school, and 2 more as a postdoc, I am a little gunshy about embarking on a bunch of education to jump into something new without some experience. I realize there's a catch there, you need the experience and education to do the work, and I am aiming for the reverse order a bit. However having made the break form my previous career track, I am aware that nothing particularly compels me to limit my job search to science jobs. There are a few sort of possibilities that always hooked in my brain when I thought of them before, like working with a non profit organization like the red cross/amnesty intl/planned parenthood, something forensic related, or even woodworking and furniture making, but those are all just ideas now. To make anything come of them would require a lot more consideration and research.

I guess I want to close off by saying that I have pretty seriously indicted the scientific culture. I think it's a really unhealthy balance between work and the rest of life, and I think the fact that some people match well with the culture is lousy evidence in its support. However, I have worked with really great people in science. I'm not going to list them out here, especially since I am sure I would accidentally omit many. Despite how I feel about the Ph.D. culture, I am very grateful for the relationships I made during that time. How I feel about science culture is very distinct from how I feel about the people I worked with. Scientists are often (but not always) really awesome people and I am privileged to have been their colleague.

Family Update

Hi everybody, this is Matt. The short form of this post is this : We ain't'nt dead. Points to anyone who can name the character I just paraphrased.

Things are going nicely here, and Teresa has requested that I do some blogging, which I am happy to oblige, so here's some more details.

For anyone who doesn't know we are in the Rustic Village apartments, and I am happy to say that this is turning out to be quite nice. Aside from a shamefully small kitchen and the need to take the dogs out, we are very pleased with this apartment. The complex has a really nice playground and toddler pool which we have taken advantage of quite a bit, and every building has its own laundry room, so we aren't schlepping to a laundromat. We do have the sudden need for quarters, but there is a little concierge with a change machine we can stop at, so we can't find ourselves totally up a crick.

Malcolm is doing well. I am doing the stay at home dad thing, and we are generally filling our mornings with trips to the Strong Museum of Play, the zoo, storytime at the Brighton library, and other errands and such. He remains a... willful child, but a generally happy one. It's best to find outlets for his intensity, and our morning outings do a nice job of that. Lately I am really impressed with an explosion in his grammar and sentences. I think seeing his cousin Carolyn again on our family vacation to New Hampshire really lit a fire in the speech centers of his brain. We are steadily evolving from two word phrases like "Cracker, please" to longer sentences like "I want a cracker, please." Likewise, he is asking me for what he wants much more, which is really quite helpful because it helps ward off frustration. I am asked a great deal for the "mu-sa-he-um", we're not sure why there is an extra syllable in museum, but there you go.

Teresa is having a great time with her new job. I will let her fill in details, but every time she gets home or I pick her up I get to hear about the kids that she got to help that day and how the nurses and doctors are turning to her for intervention. It sounds like the hospital really saw a need for child life to reinforce their pediatric services, I think in 6 months their chief complaint is going to be that they want three more of Teresa.

My own job search has taken a rather decisive turn. After much introspection and family consultation, I have decided that the academic Ph.D. job track is not something I want to continue pursuing. That track is basically, graduate student, post doc, tenure track professor (with variations on a theme). As for what that means to the future, it's not immediately clear. It's possible that I will stay in science in some way such as a lab tech, but also possible that I may leave science careers behind. But I am not looking for another post doc, no matter what. This was a huge decision even if it doesn't have a huge immediate impact, i.e. I am still unemployed. However, getting more into it will make this a huge post, so if people want to say in the comments that they want to here more, I will oblige with a post dedicated to the matter.

In summary, we are all doing well, we are super glad to be back in Rochester, I am leaving out tons of wonderful things that have happened already in the sake of brevity, and I look forward to more frequent updates.

Happy Day, Daddy!

Happy Birthday to Daddy!

Safe & Sound

We have safely arrived in NY, and are tucked into our new apartment.  My mother-in-law kindly took care of Malcolm for several days during the moving process, so we were able to load/unload and manage the long drive up without our sweet toddler's "assistance."  I'm happy to say that we managed to completely unpack prior to picking up Malcolm.  So his room was all set up by the time we brought him back, even down to the teddy-bear decals on the wall.

The apartment is very nice, and has lots of "extras" -- like a pool, kid's splash pool, playground, movie rental, library, party room, etc.  If it weren't for our dogs, I'd consider staying here a lot longer than our sublet (which goes thru November.)  The apartment itself is pretty small, so half our stuff is in storage at my in-laws.  Thank goodness they have a huge basement!

The dogs are dealing with apartment life.  We won't let our boy dog off leash at all.  He marks everything (for the non-dog people out there, that means he pees on the corner of all our furniture, cabinets, shoes, etc. in an effort to mark his territory.)  So he spends his days on a leash attached to my belt loop, or sleeping on the couch, our bed, or in the crate (the three places we can trust him to lay down without peeing on something.)  Hopefully this is a stage, and we can break him of the habit.  Cuz 24-7 dogwatch is already getting old.  He's especially good at sneaking off for 3 seconds to mark something while our back is turned, earning him the nickname "Ninja Penis."

Malcolm is adjusting very well.  He enjoyed his vacation with Grandma & Grandpa.  When I ask him about it, he just tells me he had fun.  Other than that  . . . "what happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's."  Fair enough!  Though, he did demand cookies for breakfast his first morning back with us!

We've been home only a few days, and already we are pleasantly overwhelmed with all the wonderful social opportunities.  Friends calling, friends stopping by, friends inviting us over, friends inviting us out, friends inviting us to playdates . . . . . I don't even have the words to begin to explain how amazing that is to me.  While I met a few nice folk in Atlanta, I found the last two years to be achingly lonely.  To be home, and welcomed back with such love, is an overwhelming and warming confirmation.

"I think I'm gonna like it here . . . "

Nearly Time

Home stretch on the moving process.  Mom-in-law arrives tonight to take Malcolm duty.  She'll be flying up to NY with him Friday morning, so he won't have to sit thru the drive to NY.  That's way too long in a carseat for a 2.5 year old, yes?  We'll be leaving here with the Uhaul, car and dogs on Saturday morning, and arriving into Rochester in mid-to-late afternoon (depending on how far we get the first day of driving.)

Packing is nearly complete.  The bare essentials will go to the apartment with us (email me for apartment address, if you like).  The rest goes into storage at my in-laws in Buffalo, where it will stay until we buy a house (hopefully this fall).  We'll have a week to settle in, then I start my new job on the 8th of June.

Happy Adventuring, David!

My brother-in-law, David, began a tremendous adventure last Wednesday.  He will spend the next several months hiking the Appalachian Trail. 

 It starts here in Georgia, and stretches all the way to Maine.  He has until October 15th to reach the northern end, as parts of the trail close around then for early snows.

Hikers carry a pack with everything they'll need for the journey, such as:  tent, sleeping bag, water purification system, fishing line, some food (he'll get more along the way), etc.  At the trail office, hikers sign in before they begin their journey, and include their pack weight.  The other names we saw in the book had pack weights ranging from 48 to 34 pounds.  David's pack weighed only 26 pounds, and that with "more food than I really need to carry," according to David.  When I saw the other pack weights in the book, I started to worry.  But the reaction of the lady who keeps the book led me to believe that David's pack was brilliant -- the others, quite oversized!

It is tradition among many hikers to collect a small pebble at the start of the trail, and carry it with them all along their travels, and place it at the other end.  Here is David's rock:

Our thoughts are with you, David!

We hope you will enjoy every moment of this amazing experience!

Smile!

Happy Mother's Day

To all the mothers in my life, I wish you a happy, peaceful and relaxing Mother's Day.  With each passing year as a mother myself, I grow to appreciate, with more depth and understanding, the love and sacrifice of these amazing women, in whose loving footsteps I am so honored to follow.

Here's a special shout out to my closest Moms . . . .

My Mother  . . .

My Mother-in-Law . . .

My Grandma Jin (Mom's mom) . . . 

My Grammy (Dad's mom, who passed away many years ago) . . . 

Malcolm's Birthmom . . . 

Back In School

I'm happy to report that after four days of high fever, and one day of recovery, Malcolm is feeling himself again, and back in school today.  He was mostly better yesterday, but an extra day at home to recoup seemed in order, despite the raging cabin fever (his and mine)!

As is the way of these things, Matthew's home now, with a fever.  Out of courtesy for him, I'm skipping the packing today, so that he can rest and heal in peace and quiet.

Moving Date, and All That Jazz

A few more details, nailed down . . . We'll be moving back up to Rochester the weekend of May 30th.  My official start date will be June 8th, so that gives me a week to help us settle in.  Of course, where we'll be settling into is still unknown . . . .

Happily, I will still be able to join my family for our reunion in late June, despite the new job.  So double hooray!  More soon!

Sick Baby!

Day four of the Fever Than Never Ends . . . Malcolm's been sporting a high fever since Friday morning.  Started at 101, and soon found cruising altitude at 104.  It even hit 105 at one point (which was a little scary.)  An advil/tylenol regime has helped us keep it from getting too high, mostly leaving him at the 102 range for all of friday, and saturday, and sunday, and monday. .  .  .  .  .  UGH!  Poor baby!  He's pretty miserable.  Too tired to play, too sick to sleep.

We spent this morning with our pediatrician.  I have to take a moment here, to share how incredibly stickin' proud I am of Malcolm, who conquered his fears with great courage.  We pulled into the peds office parking lot; I'm pretty sure he remembered the place (he got a booster shot at his last visit) and started whimpering.  "No bear," he begged, seeing the panda bear logo on the side of the building.  When I parked the car, he shook his head, and told me "Mommy, drive car!"  Clearly he didn't want to stay.  When I got him out of his carseat, he looked at me with tears sliding down his cheeks.  "Momma, please all done?"

And yet, when it came time to see the doctor, he held still, opened up and said "Ahhhh," sat quietly while she listened to his heart, took deep breaths while she listened to his lungs, and even held still for the dreaded ear check.  He did try to convince her to skip that step, saying "No ears.  No, thank you, Doctor."

Malcolm bravely survived his sick visit to the doctor, and we were declared fit to return home.  Random viral nasty (NOT swine flu!), and we can expect a few more days of it.  We should have one fun day together at home, however, once the crudlies are over, as his school has a "24 hour fever free before returning" policy.  So, likely sick tomorrow, but better wednesday, and hopefully back to school on Thursday.  I guess I won't be getting much packing done this week.  I do seem to be getting lots of snuggles, though, and those are always sweet.  I just wish he were well enough to enjoy them, too.

Child Life Specialist -- A Job of My Very Own

So, today is an exciting day!  I just accepted a job with Rochester General Hospital!  We're going home!

So, here's the whole story . . . .

About 3 weeks before the end of my internship, I dropped an email to the Child Life Specialist I used to volunteer under back in 2001, to let her know my internship was wrapping up, and do you happen to have any openings in your department.  She didn't.  But she sent my info to someone else in her department, who was helping another hospital in town recruit a full-time CLS.  This recruiter liked my resume, and sent it on the Associate Chief of Pediatrics at Rochester General (RGH), who was spearheading the CL project there.

RGH is a moderately sized hospital on the edge of downtown Rochester, serving families from all over the area, but primarily under-served (aka:  poor urban) families.  It's an adult hospital with pediatric services:  inpatient unit with 25 beds (half adult, half peds), a pediatric ER that serves about 24K kids a year, and a primary care clinic that serves about 20K kids a year.  The peds team also has specialists in Adolescent Medicine, and Behavioral Pediatrics.  Additionally, there's a small Day Surgery Unit (tonsils, ear tubes, etc.)

The hospital does not currently have Child Life services, so they are looking for someone to come and start their program.  The first few years, it will be a "one man band" kind of deal.  Just me, for the whole hospital.  This is very do-able, but will require some careful balancing and extraordinary prioritizing skills.  Fortunately, these were emphasized in my internship.  Long term goals for my department include adding more CL staff as the peds dept in the hospital grows.  But that is years away.  Right now, it's all me.

This is an incredibly exciting opportunity, with tremendous growth potential. I think this will be one of the most challenging, and most rewarding experiences of my professional life.  While some of the MDs know about CL services (RGH shares docs and residents with the nearby children's hospital), none of the nurses have worked with CLS before.  So I think I'll end up spending my first 6 months running around the hospital (inpatient, ER and Clinic mostly) saying over and over again "please call me."  There will be a lot of staff education to help nurses learn what services i can offer, and why paging me to come work with their patient will be of such tremendous benefit.  i think once CL catches on, i'll spend the next 6 months say "you can't all be calling me at the same time!"  As I said, it's all about balance.

So, back to the story -- we left off with the Associate Chief of Peds, who's been the one working to get a CLS for her hospital.  She phone interviewed me during the last week of my internship, and invited me to fly up to Rochester to interview in person.  Excellent!

So, my internship ended Friday the 17th, and they fly me up the following Tuesday.  Since there was no CLS to interview me, they decided to have someone from each discipline interview me!  So, for two days, I met with one person after another (including Chief of Peds, Chief of Nursing, nurse manager, ER doc, Clinic doc, special projects, social worker, doc from behavior peds, etc.)  it was a whirlwind.  9 parts exciting, 1 part overwhelming.  At the end of the second day of interviews, met back with the Chief of Peds again, who has the final say.  We talked a bit more, and then he offered me the job on the spot!

WOOT!

The catch -- since the hospital doesn't currently have CL, the HR dept didn't know what to offer for compensation.  so they had to do market research before they could make me a compensation offer.  So, I flew back to Atlanta Saturday, knowing the job was mine, but not how much they could pay me to take on this opportunity/challenge.

I've spent the intervening time wondering if the offer would be enough to make moving my family worth it.  Matthew, sweet man, was more than willing to support my new career, and agreed to move the family if the offer was at all reasonable.  So, I sat, staring at my phone, willing it to ring.  Which it finally did this morning.

The offer was great, and I called Matthew.  Within 5 minutes I called RGH back to accept.  It's official!  SQUEEEE!  So, Rochester, here we come!

Meanwhile, Matthew is looking into his job opportunities in Rochester, and I'm working with a realtor to see if we can afford to buy a home right away.

And that's the news!

Monday Magic

Nice shoes, Little Man!

A Day at the Park

Hello Blog Fans!  (all four of you!)

I know it's been a month, at least, since I posted Malcolm pictures.  I'm a bad, bad person, what can I say?  I have very valid excuses, though -- none of which I'm going to bother blogging about.  I'll just jump right to the Malcolm pictures.  These are from a glorious, if cold, day at the Botanical Gardens, with my Mom who was visiting for the weekend.  Enjoy!

Internship: The Grand Finale (Week 15)

Friday afternoon marked the end of an amazing, intense and extremely educational internship.  In my final week, I ran the floor all by myself, feeling competent and confident the whole way through.

I had one last shadowing experience this week -- just a few hours, not a whole day -- in the Child Advocacy Center.  This center is housed adjacent to the hospital, and is affiliated with it, but provides services to the specific population of children who have been abused (physical and/or sexual).  There I witnessed two forensic interviews, and the accompanying physical exams.  I can't write about any of what I saw or heard, for obvious reasons.  I found the experience intense, heartbreaking, and eye-opening.  Some of these cases go directly to Advocacy, and some go through the Emergency Department first.  I think that in the course of working in an ED I could handle these cases as they came.  But to see nothing but abuse cases all day, every day, week after week, would soon see me suffering severe compassion fatigue.  This is the one venue I've seen child life in that I can clearly say:  This is not for me.

My last day sailed along smoothly until about an hour before finish, when suddenly I got called for three procedures back to back.  Looking back, it kind of seemed like an impromptu final exam.  My teacher said I handled the intense pace with aplomb -- organized, calm, efficient, and effective.  My final review came back with flying colors, and offered praise so generous and sincere it brought tears to my eyes.

 The coming weeks will see me handing out a lot of resumes and hopefully doing some interviewing.  I won't be posting updates about the job hunt process, but rest assured that once I land a job, you'll be hearing all about it.  Matthew has reaffirmed the generous offer he made when my internship started -- to move if I get a job out of town.  So, please keep our family in your thoughts/prayers as we travel through this next transition period in our lives.  All in all, I feel ready for this transition.  The internship provided me with a strong foundation that will serve me well in whatever child life job I find myself.

Meanwhile, you can expect to see lots of updates to the website with all the pictures I've taken of Malcolm in the last 15 weeks, yet failed to get around to posting.  The coming weeks will also see lots of other "catch up" -- like house projects, mountains of laundry, penpals to write to, etc.  Somewhere in all the work, there will be some lazing about, watching of movies, and maybe a yoga class.  And some Starbucks treats.  

Internship: Reflections Week 14

It's all come together this week, and I feel completely ready.  I ran our floor myself this week, which felt amazing!  What a confidence rush!  I can't really offer a "high and low" for this week -- because I have whole fistfuls of "highs" and not a "low" in sight . . . .  which is a pretty good week, I guess.  Let me share a couple highs . . . .

Therapeutic Activity:

Our floor serves all the kids with cystic fibrosis -- a genetic disease that effects the lungs and pancreas.  CF patients are particularly vulnerable to lung infections, and there are even a whole variety of germs that find CF lungs an especially fun place to settle in.  The net result being that we have extra infection control rules to protect our CF patients.  The two big ones are that all CF patients must wear masks when they leave their rooms, and all CF patients must remain at least 6 feet away from any other CF patients.

Right now, we have several teenagers with CF on our floor.  And, as you know, the most important thing (developmentally speaking) for a teenager is hanging out with other teenagers.  Having CF sucks, drastically reducing your life span (average is now 37 years), and really impairing your quality of life with a regime of daily treatments.  So, teens facing all this have a lot in common, and can really relate . . . from 6 feet away.  At least they can text each other, right?

So, this week, I went "way outside the box" and planned a fairly elaborate therapeutic activity for my teens with CF.  We used a large area in the hospital to stage a human board game.  The large room was the board, and the patients the pieces on  the board.  On their turn, patients would roll the dice to see how many steps they could take.  If they came within 6 feet of another patient, that person had to move backwards, in order to maintain the 6 foot infection control rule.  I gave the patients 6 foot poles to measure distance with.  Patients could earn "bonus cards" on their turn by drawing a card and answering the therapeutic question on it.  Questions addressed lots of issues specific to CF and teens.  If they answered, they got to keep the card, and use it to get extra movement on their turn.  The goal is to move in such a way as to "push" the other players out-of-bounds.

All in all, it was a big hit, and the patients seemed to really enjoy it.  It gave them a chance to talk with other teens about their disease, and things they had in common.  Two kids in particular really hit it off, and ended up spending the rest of the week becoming best buds.  There was some tug-of-war with the infection control rules, but eventually they settled into being "texting buds." At least when the grown-ups were around . . . 

Diagnosis Teaching:

I haven't had a lot of opportunities to practice my skills in diagnosis teaching in the last few weeks, let alone demonstrate them for my teacher.  So, I was quite delighted when the perfect situation fell right into my lap.  I was sitting in the playroom (which adjoins our office) playing with a school-age patient, helping distract her while she waited for her upcoming procedure.  The office door was open, where my teacher was sitting doing paperwork, a lucky hearing-distance from the patient and myself.  While we played, I asked her if she had any questions about her upcoming test.  Turns out that she had quite a few, and soon I had out my teaching doll, and was explaining the purpose of different organs, and showing her how the test worked.  She kept asking questions, so we kept talking, until we worked our way around to her core concern, about a possible surgery she might need, based on the results of her test.  Fortunately, I already knew all the info she was after, so the teaching went pretty smoothly.  And my teacher got to listen to all of it, unobtrusively from her desk, and give me feedback after to help me improve my skills.

Procedure Preparation and Support:

Another big "high" this week, was working with a sweet pre-schooler.  My first interactions with the family were providing play opportunities for him while he was in the hospital for testing.  Mom came to me to ask for help with an upcoming procedure, and I was happy to help.  The procedure involved placing a long tube down the patient's nose, which then had to stay there for 24 hours.  Needless to say, this is an incredibly invasive and uncomfortable procedure under any circumstance.  Now imagine it on a pre-schooler.  He was understandably upset with the insertion, and stayed mad for most of the 24 hours following.  The moment it came out, he snapped right back to his charming, playful self.  Mom was crushed to learn that the doctors wanted a follow up test only a few hours later, that involved more things going into her son's nose.  I was called in again.

"Ciliary brushing," involves putting a very small brush up the nose to take samples from the sinuses.  It's very uncomfortable, but luckily pretty quick.  Neither my teacher, nor I, had ever heard of this procedure before, let alone seen it.  Here comes the "high" for me -- my teacher left it all in my hands, and I handled it on my own.  First I tried the internet medical sites, finding little-to-nothing.  Next, I asked the nurse about it -- she'd never seen it before, but was able to show me the tool that would be used.  It looked like a barbie-sized mascara brush, but on the end of a two foot wire.  To a pre-schooler's eyes, it would look very much like the hated tube that had just come out only a few hours before.  My next stop was chatting with the resident who would do to procedure, who explained how far in it would go, and that it would be quick but painful.

Given the age and developmental stage of the patient, I advocated with the medical team for the procedure to take place in the treatment room.  Keeping the patient's bed and hospital room as a "safe place" empowers coping skills at this age.  If nothing "bad" happens in bed, then it's a safe place to rest, play and sleep.  The team agreed to my request, and set up in the treatment room, as I set off to prepare the patient.

He was happy to play with my distraction-toys, but not much interested in hearing about what was about to happen.  In the end, I chose to keep things very simple, especially considering his age.  I asked him "do you ever brush your teeth?"  Turns out he loved to brush his teeth, and told me all about his toothbrush when I asked.  He was able to tell me that the toothbrush's job was to clean away the food on his teeth.  I told him that the doctor had a special brush, much smaller than a toothbrush, that she would use to brush his nose.  "To clean away the boogers?" he asked.  For a pre-schooler, that was certainly close enough.  He was actually quite charmed with the idea of having his nose brushed.  So charmed, in fact, that I took the time to explain that this was a special way to clean out boogers that only the doctor in the hospital does.  At home, we just use a tissue.

Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of my 15 week Internship Series!

Internship: Reflections Week 13

Pardon me, while I get a big existential here . . . 

You've spent months waiting for Christmas to arrive, counting down the weeks, then days, always knowing that Christmas was coming.  You know it will be December 25th, you have no doubt.  You go to bed on Christmas Eve, knowing with absolute certainty that when you wake the next day, that it will be Christmas.  So, why is it then, that when morning dawns, there's this profound, deep, abiding wonder . . . .  It's Christmas!

It's not like you didn't know when it was coming.  It's not like you doubted it would get here.  And still, you wake up that morning, and the realization pours over you in warm, tingly waves; your eyes widen, and excitement fills up your smile.  You know.  It's Christmas.  And in that moment, it is more real to you that you would have ever thought possible.  The epiphany of infinite reality for one moment fills your entire being, and all of creation becomes that moment, the moment of knowing.

Wednesday night driving home from work, I had one of those moments.  My existence just suddenly filled up with the infinite certainty of knowing.  Knowing that I would be ready.  When my internship ends in just two more short weeks, I will go out into the world, to find a job, and become a Child Life Specialist.  And I will be ready.  

I never really doubted it.  I have every confidence in myself as a student, and the quality of my internship program.  Even in the shaky, scary moments of the journey, I still believed I would learn what I needed to, and that when I got my first job in the field, I'd be prepared to do it.  But suddenly, Wednesday evening, I felt that glorious, all-encompassing moment, of knowing.  Like the arrival of Christmas morning.  Only, it was the arrival of me.

This week, my teacher handed me the reins, and sat back to watch as I confidently took the lead.  I start each day by checking in with each of the nurses, getting reports on all our patients, finding out which patients will need child life services that day.  Of course, lots of kids on the floor need normalization  --  that is, fun things to do, to keep there hospital experience as normal to their everyday experience as possible.  Popular choices this week included playdoh, crafts, coloring, movies, books, toys, and bubbles.  Especially for the kids on isolation (can't leave their room cuz they have a contagious bug), they need lots to do to keep busy and happy.  Remember that play is a child's work.  Playing is a child's first and primary tool for learning, and coping.  This also why we plan so many activities in the children's hospital, like the jugglers, clowns, bingo, visit from the pet therapy group, musicians, puppet shows, etc.  Also toddler play group, music groups, etc.  We usually have at least 2-3 activities going on each day somewhere in the hospital.  (Volunteer Services plans a lot of these.)

In addition to normalization, I have lots of other things to do each day.  Some kids cope better in the hospital than others.  For those kids that are having a harder time of it, I plan some therapeutic play, to address whatever their issues are.  This week, I focused a lot on helping a teenager find non-verbal ways to express her thoughts.  Developmentally, kids don't have the abstract thought skills to be able to "talk thru" their problems, as an adult might in therapy.  That is why we do it through play.  One patient ended up making a collage of her dream home out of words we cut out from magazines.  Thru this activity, she shared with me a lot of her hopes and dreams, her plans for life, and a lot of insight into the less-pleasant aspects of her here-and-now.

This week, I also had a lot of chances to practice my skills in supporting kids through medical procedures.  It was the week of Picc lines (kinda like the big-brother to an IV) and it seemed like everyone was getting them on our floor!  Wee little babies, who I swaddled and sang to while they got their "poke."  For the little ones (under 12 months) we also you a fabulous product, called "Sweatease" which is sugar-water.  We dip the pacifier in it, and give it to them right before the needlestick, and the the combo of sucrose and sucking minimizes an infant's experience of pain.  Of course, as with every single one of our patients, from infant to 21 year olds, we use the Emla cream on the arm ahead of time, which numbs the skin.  This week was the first time I got to help a teenager thru a Picc line -- and I got to do it twice, once for a boy, and second for a girl.  (With teens, those are very different experiences.)  In most ways, teens are easier to get through a procedure, as they can understand why it needs to happen, and generally seem less anxious about the needlestick.  On the other hand, finding things to distract them can be a lot more challenging.  Playing 20 questions, and talking about cheerleading and Hannah Montana seemed to do the trick, though.

My toughest Picc support this week, though, was a very anxious three year old.  Her parents were very nervous, and she picked right up on it.  Fortunately, Versed takes the edge off for our patients.  (For those unfamiliar, Versed is a medication which helps patients to relax, kinda like a "mellow buzz," occasionally causing patients to see double.   A small percentage of kids react poorly to it, and I've heard staff lovingly refer to these kids as the "angry drunks."  My three year old patient was a delightful drunk.  She decided that my Viewfinder was an excellent distraction, and happily looked at several discs of disney princesses to tune out the medical procedure.  Though she still cried a bit here and there, at one point she broke out into delighted giggles.  "There are two Princess Ariels!  And two dogs!"

For the most part, I was doing everything alone this week, with my teacher occasionally tagging along to watch.  Next week, we hope to focus on my skills in diagnosis teaching, procedural preparation.  On the whole, it was a fabulous week.  I know I've lately forgotten to do "highs and lows" at the end of my weekly reflections.  This is because I don't really have any lows to report!  I had so much fun at work this week.  I'm really coming into my own as a child life specialist, and loving each and every minute of it.  I wake up every morning, smiling, thinking "Today, I'm going to make a difference in the life of a child."