Our Attention Span

Sorry for the long delay in updates, but I was busy drowning in the world of neverending meetings….not that it actually LASTED an entire week - - but it sure FELT like it did…

You see, along with the practice of medicine comes the inevitable committee.  And the problem with THIS committee is that it’s made up of a huge group of people that are NOT doctors - -true upstanding, honest, uptodate, able to concentrate individuals with drive and focus.

Have you ever been to a meeting or conference that involved DOCTORS?  It’s CRAZY.  I still remember the first family medicine conference I attended.  During the key note address people were scattered around the room eating, drinking, reading the paper, chatting, walking their babies around and frantically scribbling notes.  I looked around and felt immediately at ease- - everyone was as ADHD as I am when confronted with aural presentations.

The most RECENT talk I went to is PERFECT for family docs -- each talk lasted a total of 10 minutes.  That meant a 1 minute introduction followed by a 7 minute talk followed by 2 minutes of questions.  Brilliant.  That’s EXACLTY what us frazzled, inconsiderate, time sensitive, attention deficient doctors need.

SO this week I was at a meeting which was exactly the opposite.   Everyone sat patiently and attentively, listening to the minutia of logistical details on a subject that….I won’t elaborate on here….

I spent the first 30 minutes trying to contort my face into a position that made me appear somewhat interested.  I abandoned that within the first 5 minutes and concentrated instead on keeping my eyes open.  That game went on a long time.

Eventually I resorted to inventing a game to keep my brain from disintegrating into a big pile of mushy inattentiveness.  Here’s how the game went :  I counted to 100 as SLOWLY as possible and I tried to make it to 100 BEFORE the presenter moved on the next powerpoint slide.

The sad thing was – I lost at my own game.  The 3^rd slide lasted WAAY past 100 and the 4^th slide had me lose focus by 30.  I was a failure at my own game.

How I long for Monday when I can go to my office and do something I’m actually GOOD at.  A word of advice : don’t ask a doctor to be on your committee unless it involves Ritalin testing.

The Snort

I taught Toby how to snort today.

Not  on purpose, of course…he’s figured out how to raise his hands in the air when someone leaves the room and then look at me inquisitively as if to say, “Where did they go?”  He’s been doing it for a little while and its very cute so I APPARENTLY have started doing it back to him.  And, as I learned from him today, apparently I snort when I do it.

It's an impossible thing to explain on my blog.  It sounds RIDICULOUS to think that I SNORT when people leave the room.  Its ALSO ridiculous to throw your hands up in the air everytime someone leaves the room but we’re talking about a one year old here….

Anyway – today after work Rob went into the garage and Toby threw his hands in the air and snorted about 10 times before I checked myself fand noticed that I  was doing that too.  How interesting, to learn such intimate details about oneself by watching your child’s latest discoveries…I wonder what else he’s going to pick up…

My Favourite Socks

Yesterday I carried with me a secret that kept me smug and smiling all day long....

My socks matched my sweater.

I don’t know what weird combination of nature and nurture left me with this odd necessity to match my socks and my outfit, but it’s like a little triumph every time I pull it off.

I got these socks - -my FAVOURITE socks – for Christmas this year. They are brown and they have little diamonds in baby blue and brown on them with dark brown lines going through them.   I love them.  When I find them clean in my drawer I get excited.

These socks were particularly special to me yesterday because I had a near death experience with one of them over the weekend.  Rob had done a MILLION loads of laundry because it was a beautiful weekend – and the way I feel about having matching socks with my outfit is only a small glimpse into the joy Rob feels about being able to put clothes on the clothes line to dry– we’re an odd pair.  This may not bode well for Toby…

So as I folded up the crispy-clothes-line-dried-clothes I found ONE of my favourite socks….and by the end of the MILLIONTH load I realized that the OTHER one was missing.

I searched FRANTICALLY for it while Rob sat in the background rolling his eyes. 

I searched through all the freshly folded clothes.  No sock.  Then I searched the washing machine.  And THEN the DREADED though occurred to me that MAYBE it had….BLOWN AWAY.

Rob, meanwhile, continued to roll his eyes.

I went outside in my bare feet and searched the ground and would you believe it?  I FOUND my brown sock CAMOFLAUGED in the dirt.  It ALMOST didn’t get found.

So yesterday, after cleaning my sock for the SECOND time and hanging it INSIDE to dry this time, I put my socks on with pride and even wore with it my baby blue sweater with brown diamonds and dark brown ribbing on it.  Sound familiar?  That’s right- - it was a PERFECT match and I felt good about it ALL DAY.

UFC

My husband was invited to go and watch a UFC game today.  For those of you not well versed in the act of absolute brutality  -- it’s a sport called “ultimate fighting”. It’s a hot topic of debate of which I’m decidedly on the fence.   Although it IS brutal, I know that it also requires a great deal of skill.  Its nothing I would ever watch but suspect that if I was riddled with testosterone I’d perhaps enjoy either watching it or drinking beer while watching other testosterone-charged-like-species watched it.

So today Rob got invited at the last minute to watch an ultimate fighting match with a few of our neighbors.  We already had plans, so he had to decline, but as we drove away, I asked him if he regretted not being able to go and whether or not he thought he would have enjoyed watching “the fight” with “the guys”.

Whereas I sometimes like to sit on the fence, Rob USUALLY has an opinion.  And a strong one at that.

“NO.”  he said without hesitation, “I mean I’d like to see the guys but I have NO DESIRE to watch Ultimate Fighting.”

“I hear it takes real skill”

“Its RIDICULOUSLY brutal.  There are NO RULES.  And NO protection except for a little bit of tape on your hands.  Its like watching other people get PULVERIZED to DEATH.”

“Wow.  That sounds pretty bad.”

“It is.  You can do ANYTHING….Except kick the other guy in the gonads."

“Why? Is that not allowed? I thought there were no rules…”

“Oh, no its not a rule – its just not cool.”

So I left the conversation at that – no more enlightened on the sport of ultimate fighting, but feeling somewhat more confident with my gender.   Some things I will never understand…  

The Infestation

I hope this post doesn’t scare everyone away from visiting us, but our house seems to be INFESTED with Dumdelungs.  (Pronouncesd Dum-deh-lung).  They are EVERYWHERE.  I don’t know what they are, either, but Toby has been on the look out for them ever since he woke up this morning

When I went in to get him, instead of his usual smile and “Mum mum” I was greeted with a stern look and then he pointed to the wall and said, “Dumdelung”.  That one turned out to be a funny one because he smiled and laughed after that and pointed to a few more dumdelungs that were scattered around his room.   And he’s been pointing them out to me ever since.

At breakfast, almost every second bite contained a “dumdelung” and I’m pretty sure there was one on my face because he pointed that one out as well.   Sometimes they are funny and sometimes they are scary.  I know that because after he points them out (loudly) he then SCREAMS.  Which I can only assume is his way of warning me that it’s a dangerous one.

There was one dumdelung in particular today, which was especially “frightening”.  I was quietly and unsuspectingly sitting on the toilet in the upstairs bathroom when suddenly the door FLEW OPEN and Toby walked in, index finger first and SCREAMED at me “DUMDELUNG” as he pointed to the wall behind me.  It then seemed to move to the sink and then to the toilet paper. But not to worry! As I flushed the toilet Toby stood fascinated, watching the water disappear and apparently a Dumdelung was in there too.

I’m hoping the dumdelung infestation ends soon and is replaced by normal things like “pictures” or “teddy bears” or “milk”.  But hey, if I was only going to use one word for the rest of my life, I have to say – “dumdelung” is a good one.

Back in the Saddle...

…AND I’m back….did that not seem like a quick trip to you?  Because I feel like I’ve been excited and nervous about it for the past 6 months and all of a sudden…it’s over.   And when I THINK about it being over its just so DEPRESSING….people have asked me all day, “how was Vegas” and I just don’t want to talk about it because it was SO GREAT and I had SO MUCH FUN and it was SO REFRESHING to see Kim and Sav and know that despite time and distance and crazy schedules and marriages and boyfriends and breakups and sick kids….we’re just the same three best friends we always were. 

SO I just say, “Vegas was great.” And leave it at that.  And who leaves a trip to VEGAS like THAT!??!? I mean, REALLY, I like to pride myself on my witty one sentence answers to boring questions- - could I not come up with something more SCANDALOUS like, “Oh, wouldn’t YOU like to know” or even the classic, “I’d love to tell you, but what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”   Instead, I just get wistful and sigh as I reflect to myself on my weekend away…

Why do we DO this to ourselves?  Why can’t I just get NORMALLY excited about things and accept that when they end, its only a matter of time before they will come again…instead, I have these emotional rollercoaster rides- - the nervousness about leaving Rob and Toby behind, the excitement of seeing long lost amazing lifelong friends, the intense nagging feeling of missing Rob and Toby followed by the eager anticipation of seeing them again…and then before I know it…its Monday and I’m driving to work, and I think of something funny that happened in Vegas and it hits me that I’m probably not going to have a weekend like that  again for a very VERY VERY long time.  And yet by the END of the day I am SO EXCITED to come home to our usual routine and hang out with Toby and have a hot tub with Rob and debrief our day and snuggle into bed together...I hope Rob enjoys living with his own personal rollercoaster….If I realized anything while I was away, its that I am SO lucky to come home to Captain Stability of the SS Good-Father-Enterprise. 

But in summary of a most EXCELLENT weekend away, I’ll say this :

There are no rules in Vegas.  Except, of course, the one about drinking champagne straight out of the bottle in the middle of the casino.  And $1 margaritas are much better than $1.50 margaritas even if they do come with bitchier bartenders, but a round of Deal or No Deal makes it all better – and Margaritaville makes it even MORE better.  And Road Trips, no matter where in the world you may be – are always best with friends and Corn Nuts.  Just remember never to order clam chowder in the dessert.  Cheers, mates.

Airports...

I’m on my way to VEGAS. Its like a dream come true – I could hardly imagine a more exciting trip than heading to Vegas with my 2 friends from the UK whom I only ever see once every few years. But as I left my husband at the airport I developed a pit in my stomach. It’s really hard to leave my “boys” behind and I find myself daydreaming about coming home even before I’ve left the airport. Its such a weird dichotomy of emotions; I know I should thankful to have such a wonderful family that leaving makes everything bittersweet, and such great friends that even make leaving my boys seem like a good idea…but a part of me just worries that I will never again experience a weekend that’s relaxing and unilaterally just fun.

Two things are certain every time I fly : my poor bags get the embarrassing “HEAVY” sign put on them (good thing they’re not adolescent girls…) and the people at security surpass one another every time with their rudeness..

Today was particularly crotchety because I had to go through customs too. I filled out the form as best I could and the guy looked at it and then at me and then stamped a few things in self-empowered bliss and then turned to me, raised an eyebrow and said, “I need the ADDRESS of your hotel”. I mean, SERIOUSLY, how many NEW YORK NEW YORK hotels are there in Vegas? I apologetically shrugged my shoulders and told him I didn’t KNOW the address of my hotel and he let the uncomfortable silence build as we started at one another. Were they SERIOUSLY not going to let me go without my hotel address???

After what seemed like an ETERNITY the guy slowly drawled at me, “3278 Las Vegas Boulevard”.

He knew the whole time!!! What was THAT!?!? Some sort of I’m-going-to-make-her-sweat-power-trip game?

I pretended to be EXTREMELY grateful and thanked him profusely before moving on to the next station of rudeness : security.

I bet the woman who was working the conveyor belt USED to be a nice person. But whatever training she received as an airport security-check-supervisor-to-putting-your-stuff-through-the-xray-machine taught her sure knocked it out of her. As I approached with a smile she snarled “Put your PURSE on the BELT”. It was a cross between a HISS and a GROWL. I can just picture her first day of training where she politely said, “Please put your purse on the belt” and someone probably LEAPED down her throat and yelled “RUDER! SAY IT RUDER!!! And NEVER ever EVER use the word PLEASE!!!!”

I survived to two levels of happiness-zapping-rudeness and managed to get on the plane with some semblance of a smile still left on my face….and off I went. Sans kids. Sans husband. Sans responsibilities…maybe this whole separation thing won’t be so bad after all….

My Overtired Boy

I don’t know about you, but when I’m overtired I’m not that much fun to be around.  I exhibit the usual afflictions; slow thinking, irritability, impatience and emotional lability.    But THIRTEEN month olds - -do not.

When Toby is overtired (and its been happening a lot lately as we try to wean down to one nap a day) he gets to be pretty much the opposite. 

He gets HYPER - -his thoughts, actions and movements, although slightly less coordinated, get FASTER. And when I say faster I mean I-am-so-excited-to-go-to-the-other-side-of-the-table-that-I-am-running-at-top-speed-and-didn’t-see-that-book-on-the-floor-and-have-fallen-flat-on-my-face-but-WHO-CARES-because-while-I-was-down-there-I-found-a-CHEERIO-and-I-put-it-in-my-mouth-but-it-fell-out-because-DADA!!!!-I-missed-you-while-I-was-on-the-other-side-of-the-table-AHHHHHHH-maybe-if_scream-loud-enough-you’ll-chase-me-DAMN-that-book-is-still-there-HA!-there’s-DAD-again!!! (and so it continues)

And unlike the usual crankiness of mommy-overtired-ness, when Toby is nearing the end, EVERYTHING is funny.  Like, for example, if you’re walking or RUNNING around the house and your mom is on the computer working and she looks over at you and raises an eyebrow - -now THAT is funny.  Or, if you take your socks off and swirl them around your head as fast as you can while screaming nonsensically and one of them flies out of your hand and lands on the floor.  That is also (apparently) HILARIOUS.

Now, if but some magical stroke of fate, the two above things happen at the SAME TIME (like if your sock flies out of your hand just as your mom looks up from her computer and raises an eyebrow at you) then you’ve reached uber-hilarity and you might as well just drop everything and fall on your face.

Which brings up the issue of emotional lability.  Perhaps the only mutual characteristic I share with my son in overtiredness.  Because when you’re 13 months old and you’re faced with such sidesplitting comedy and you fall on your face as a result of it….it’s time to cry.

But when your parents then race to your rescue and scoop you up into their arms to escort you to a nice warm bath and get your tired body to bed- - you can rest comfortably in their arms and know that life is good.  And really, could there BE anything better than that? 

I must try to remember his energy the next time I’m working late on call.  As I drag myself in to see a patient in the middle of the night I’ll try to imagine how Toby would approach it - with his overtired energy and usually zest for life.  But maybe I’ll skip the part where I swirl my socks above my head.

Lessons in Happiness

Last week I spent an entire evening with a car salesman.  He was a lovely guy, as they all are, but he was giddy because we were actually BUYING a car from him. 

Finally, FINALLY after 10 years of driving his grandfather’s hand me down 1997 Saturn, my uber-conservative-flawless-driving-weekly-car-washing-my-cars-never-die-because-I-take-such-good-care-of-them-husband decided it was time to get a new one.

The car has been around since my high school days.  Which was more than I can say about any part of my body, except perhaps my ears.  But the impacts of childbearing on various body parts will be saved for another rant.  Its not everyday you are handed car-salesman material for your blog so I’ll get to my point.

Enter ‘Mike’ the dealer.  He was a nice guy.  And I know that he HAD to be nice, but I actually think he genuinely WAS nice, which I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t slowed down the whole process so much.  It took TWO HOURS to sign a few papers and pick up a car.  TWO HOURS!!!  And probably only because Mr. Nice-Guy had to pause and smile so frequently, and reiterate everything twice – once in normal speak and the second time in cliché-speak.

One of my favourites was :

“I just want to make sure you’re 100% happy, 100% of the time.”

Wow.  That’s a LOT of happiness. In fact, I’m pretty sure my blog would suffer a LOT if I became tortured with 100% happiness.  ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME.

I pictured what would happen if I used his line while prescribing antidepressants to patients. Even the DRUG reps don’t pretend that’s a possibility.

My second favourite line of the night was,

“And as I go through things with you be sure to ask questions because, you know, the only bad question is the one that isn’t asked!” 

Trying to listen to that without rolling my eyes was a challenge in both maturity and eyeball calisthenics.

…And his closing line…

“Don’t be a stranger!  I know you don’t live in town here but be sure to drop in and let us know how you’re doing if you’re ever in the area.”

Seriously? …SERIOUSLY?  Can you imagine if I actually DID That?

“I’m looking for Mike – no, I’m not a friend or a relative, I dropped in to say hi and let him know I'm feeling kind of under the weather this week after a bad case of gastro…”

It wasn’t ALL bad.  There were some humorous moments in our visit.  Particularly when Mike was off getting more things for us to sign or bouncing around in 100% happiness trying to spread his cheer.  It was in one of these moments alone in Mike’s cubicle that I saw the sign on his wall….

This is to certify that

Mike Smith

Successfully completed 21 hours of

Automotive Certification.

Wow.  TWENTY ONE hours.  I really wanted to ask him if he’d done them all consecutively or if he just did an hour a day for 3 weeks.  Or maybe it was a 25 hour course and he skipped 4 hours.   I will NEVER KNOW because my husband made me PROMISE that I wouldn’t ask.  

It would kind of be like me putting up a sign in my office saying,

This is to certify that

Dr Boyd

Has successfully completed 21 Pap tests

In her Career

Now THAT’S reassuring.

Most of you are probably thinking I’m a mean person right about now.  I’m really not.  Maybe I’m just not 100% happy 100% of the time.  Especially at 9pm after a full day of work and NO DINNER YET and hours of listening to someone in all of their 21 hours of experience try INCESSANTLY to make me manically happy about a practical purchase I have been nagging my husband to make since last CENTURY.

And to PROVE to you that I’m not REALLY a mean person I won’t even conclude this rant with any mention of my TRUE thoughts on the fact that when we finally DID get our car there were BALLOONS on it.  THREE of them.

How lovely.

Dad-versations

I had a great conversation with my dad earlier this week.  He’s usually pretty vague on details and I push him a little so he practices exercising his short-term memory. Sometimes I’m met with dead end one-word answers, but this day he was particularly chatty….

 

ME : “Hi, Dad, is mom home?”

Dad : “Uh…I don’t know….”
ME : “Could you check for me?”
Dad : “OH…well…FINE. She’s out.  She’s at Pat’s.”

ME : “OH that’s nice.  How was your weekend?”

Dad : “Fine.”

Me : “What did you do?”

Dad : “Uh…we went out”

Med : “Where?”

Dad : “Um….to Pat’s”

Me : “Hmmm….really?....  Just you and mom?”
Dad : “Uh….yeah.  Except there was another couple there.  I don’t know their names”

Me : “What did you have for dinner?”

Dad : “Pork”

 

Long pause

 

Dad : “Special pork.  It was made in this….well….special way….it was good.”

Me : “Sounds great.  What are you guys up to tonight?”

Dad : “Uh….Marion’s coming.  We’re watching something.  On TV.”

Me : “The Junos?”

Dad (after a long pause) “….Sure….”

ME : “Dad….are you SURE you’re watching the Junos”

Dad ;”No.  Not really.  More like the skating”

Me ; “Oh good! T he skating that’s great!”  (I was excited because I had seen that there WAS skating on so I figured he was telling the truth…)

 

At this point, I’m feeling pretty impressed with my dad’s information.  This is the most I’ve gotten out of him in ages.  And then I pushed my luck….

 

Me : “Well, we went out for dinner last night”

Dod : “Oh, you did?  That’s nice.  We’re going out for dinner tonight!”

Me : “You are? I thought Marion was coming in to watch the skating.”

Dad : “Nope”

Silence.

 

Choosing to ignore his previous comment I carried on with, what I hoped would be a new topic…

Me : “Isn’t it Marion’s birthday on Wednesday?  Are you guys doing anything for her?’
Dad :  “Oh, yeah….so it is….No I think we did that last night. That’s right.  We celebrated it last night.  We took her out for dinner.”

Riiiiiight.

Me : “Well, Dad, tell mom I called”

Dad : “OK!  But I think she’s out….”