brand new day

           "Mom loves Lauren..."                  "Lauren loves Mom." This exchange happens at least ten times a day at my house.  There's something about this ritual that is so complete in it's simplicity.  It's anchoring when the storms of life roll in, big ones and little ones.  It's like pure truth - life stripped down to the barest of essentials, and when all is said and done, all that remains is this simple truth; Mom loves Lauren, Lauren loves Mom. So when she's upset and her little heart is broken, remember... Mom loves Lauren.  And when she's all smiles and laughter, reveling in the joy of being 4 years old and carefree, she looks at me bright-eyed and reminds me, Lauren loves Mom. But one can't be said without the other.  There's a reciprocity to our ritual.  She always looks at me expectantly when she tells me Lauren loves Mom, waiting to hear how I love her so.  Sometimes she'll tell me Mom loves Lauren, and s

So, apparently, I am not Super Woman with a capital "S" and a capital "W".  I, in fact, cannot do it all.  Like every other mere mortal, I have my limits.  Shocking, I know.  As straightforward as that seems, it's something I've really struggled with this past year and have only begun to embrace. It's ironic because I am always telling new nurses on our floor that we have our limits.  It's a 24/7 job to provide care for our patients, and we're only here for 12 hours.  Many of our patients come in with multiple illnesses and it's impossible to "fix" them in a 12 hour shift.  So understanding our limits, and understanding what we can do in the time we have with them within our scope of practice helps us to focus our energies.  Ultimately, that leads to doing the best job we possibly can instead of spinning our wheels trying to do more than is possible. Funny how our own advice is the hardest to follow sometimes.  I've been

I have three kids and my youngest, Lauren (or The Babe as I like to call her) is going to kindergarten next year.  I went to Kindergarten Round-up at the elementary school and really only half listened to the same spiel I heard for my two older kids when they started kindergarten.  I was distracted by the awareness that she's my last one, my Babe.  Her going to kindergarten marks the passing of an era in my child-rearing journey.  And I find myself faced once more with the all too familiar task of letting go. I had a conversation with a friend the other day that was ultimately about letting go.  I made some remark during our conversation that the past 2 and a half years feels like it has been this long process of learning to let go; letting go of dreams, hopes, realities, hurts, anger, fear, resentment, blame, expectations... the list goes on and on. The other day, Grace and I were in the car together and she said, "You know what, Mom?  I found out that sometimes the thing

I am a nurse.  I have been feeling stretched thin and a little burnt out lately.  The demands and stress of work have been at the forefront and I just wanted to remember why I am a nurse. So much of nursing is about compassion.  Nursing is hard work; often thankless work.  If it weren't for compassion nursing would be near impossible.  As trite as it sounds, so many of us go into nursing to help people and make a difference. We may gripe about hours, staffing, census, doctors, glitches in the overall health care system and so much more - but at our core, we are a group of nurturing, caring people who have chosen a noble career dedicated to helping others.  In a nut shell, I suppose that is why I am a nurse. I work with some really wonderful nurses and aids.  We work on a busy unit with a high level of acuity and it is very demanding and stressful.  For the most part, we all seem to get together and help each other out and I have to believe that what brings us together is our co