my too late friday reflection

By now, if you read any of the words I throw out on this blog, you realize that my writing doesn't have much of a theme, and I bounce around.  Which is ok, because that is the way I've always been.  I learn something, then move on.  For me, learning isn't about becoming an expert at anything.  The joy is in the learning.  One thing I am learning, and that the #Friday Reflection prompt supports and encourages me toward, is to take time to reflect.  Learning cannot impact your life if you don't stop to reflect that learning.  As far as I am concerned, if you wake up every morning and are breathing, you have the opportunity to learn.  That is why I chose the second prompt to respond to this week.  My Friday reflection is coming after a busy weekend with 3 of my 4 grandkids, with not much time for reflecting or writing.

I had some time to reflect, time to read a bit this weekend and think about the prompts as  I was racing around.  The prompt that resonated with me the most was the second one:
What is the most influential book you have ever read?

That is a hard question to answer, because there is no one book that has influenced me the most. That would be an impossible task.  I thought about this all week as I transitioned from one position to another in the organization I work for, and decided I would have to share a few, maybe three or four.  I could easily list 25 or more, but this is supposed to be a prompt for a post, not a novel.

Vermeer

Byzantine icon

The first book I remember was a coffee table book of art history.  I don't remember the title, but it was one of those beautiful, large, printed books you display on your coffee table when you want people to think you know something about a subject you know nothing about.  This book was located next door, on our neighbors' coffee table.  Frannie and John were good friends of my parents, with John and my dad stationed at the same Air Force base.  While the adults played pinochle in the dining room, I sat in a living room seldom used (back in those days we had dens, or family rooms, where the TV was located and real life occurred).  I couldn't have been more than 8 or 9, and was already drawing. What that book did was show me what art was about, the creativity of artists through the ages.  Where I saw my first Pieter Bruegel, Jan Vermeer, Michelangelo Buonarroti and so on.  My strongest memory was of my amazement in the difference in art periods, and especially from the Byzantine period to the early to late Renaissance.  My love of Impressionism and Modern Art came long after that first book, but what that book did was show me world history through the eyes and hands of artists.  I can still close my eyes, and feel the smoothness of the pages as I carefully turned them.

Pieter Bruegel

The second book I think about is one that was required reading during my Baccalaureate program in nursing.  From Novice to Expert: Excellence and Power in Clinical Nursing by Patricia Benner, PhD in 1984, it was a thin volume, and I started it with the intentions of getting through it because I had to.  But soon found myself taking in every word as I read about the acquisition of skills and experience in nursing.  Written for her dissertation by Dr. Patricia Benner, a nursing theorist and academic leader in nursing, it had such an impact on my understanding of the experience we gain as nurses, and how we go from being greenhorns straight out of nursing school to expert practitioners.  Benner's theory and research was qualitative, rather than quantitative, and she has been criticized for that, but I have found that the model she provided describing the acquisition of skills through experience have been mirrored by my own practice and transition through the five stages she described.  That particular book was a priceless gem to me as a nurse.

The third book I think about is the book that I enjoyed with my last baby.  Or rather that she enjoyed with her grandmother, my mother in law.  The Grown-Up Day, written and illustrated by Jack Kent, was written in 1969 and acquired by me for my children somewhere along the line, when I was collecting books for them and 45 singles for me.  Reading and listening to rock and roll were two things we did almost every day in my house.  I think that is a solid foundation for any kid, and it paid off with mine.  But The Grown-Up Day belonged strictly to Ma and Deb.  She was barely speaking when that became her favorite book, but after sitting in Ma's lap (we lived right next door) every day and hearing the book a thousand times, Deb had it memorized.  Ma would turn the pages as Deb recited it from memory, making it appear that she was some child genius who could read at the age of two.  What I learned from that book is that books have a way of connecting us as human beings.  They are a way of spanning the gap of generations and passing along knowledge.  As well as love.  That book was the love between a grandmother and her grandchild, and the joy it brought them both is something that I have never forgotten, even though that baby is 36 now.

And that is how books have influenced my life.  One at a time, each carries a message, and is an opportunity to go to a new place, learn new things, think new thoughts.  To expand our minds, and connect as human beings.


...laugh, life is good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

friday reflections

The Friday Reflections prompt that spoke to me today was this one:
Reflect on the week just gone, listing one high point, one low point, and something you have learned.

Human beings are, for the most part, not solitary by nature.  I'm not saying we don't need time alone, but we are social for the most part and want to belong to or be with others.

I have belonged to a wonderful small blogging group for about 2 years or more now.  Diverse in viewpoints and styles, we are scattered across the globe.  Belonging to the group has added a lot of meaning to my life.  I have been mostly inactive for many months now in that group, as I pursued another goal.  I popped in from time to time, read their posts from time to time, and tried to maintain at least a thread of contact until life returned to normal for me.  They were always supportive, even as my creativity dried up so I could focus on the analytical, nursing side of my brain.

I'm a registered nurse for many years now, and last August I decided to pursue certification as a Wound, Ostomy and Continence nurse.  Although I still have the certification exams facing me (three of them!), the high point for me last week was receiving this in my email inbox:

After all those months, a large amount of money put into the course, and three comprehensive finals that about scared the pants off me, I passed!  Normally I don't blow my own horn, but darn I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  And the learning experience and knowledge I gained as I completed the theory and practicum (clinical component) was invaluable.

So my low point this past week was the exhausting 7 hours of comprehensive finals I had to pass, and the high point was the email saying it had all paid off.  I've learned that no matter what your age, you should never stop pushing yourself, and reaching that bit beyond your comfort zone for the prize just almost, but not quite, out of reach.  And never give up! 

Now if I can just pass the certification tests...

Have any of you ever experienced extremes of high and low points in the same week?  Life is weirdly wonderful right now...and I am ready to rejoin my wonderful blogging group, and the people who have been so supportive of me.  Thanks PBAUs!

...it may be weird, but life is still good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

ahhh...

turning a corner

gazing on new horizons

invigorating 

the creative spirit

painted when I was 12 years old

I was asked one time to share what creativity meant to me.  I thought it would be a snap. After all, I've drawn since I could hold a crayon, and painted since I was 12.  Art has always been part of my life.

Well, nothing snapped.   I could discuss my life as an artist ad nauseum, but I decided to dig deeper and take you in a different direction.  As I thought about the question, I realized that the answer, for me, went much deeper.

In 1993 I was operating a small manufacturing business.  One day I went to the local community college, nudged there by a friend who wanted to apply but didn't want to take the entrance exam alone.  The person reading my results recommended I apply to the RN program.  I was ready for a change.

But nursing?  Was she kidding?  I pondered what to do.  While I pondered, I had to take an aptitude test, which was required to ensure you were going into a major that was a good "fit" for your personality.  I took that and scored very high in creativity. No surprise there, since I was born with a pencil in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.  The gentleman reading my results told me I might want to rethink going into nursing.  I can still hear him saying: “nursing is not a career that is creative”.

I didn't listen to him, and I am so thankful I made that decision.  Sixteen years and three nursing degrees later, I know the truth.  My truth, my belief.  

Creativity isn't just about art and creating artistic things. It's about thinking outside the box.    

It's about taking what you know or learn and making something new.  I consider myself creative and versatile.  I love creating art, needlework, photography, and any combination of a myriad of other media I've worked in.  

But being a nurse took my creativity to another plane, to a level that working as an artist alone could never do.  For me, being a nurse was an art.  The art of healing.  

Creativity was the hot pack I made from a wet washcloth in a Ziploc lab specimen bag, heated in a microwave to just the right temperature and applied to an infiltrated IV site to prevent infection and ease the pain of swelling.

Creativity was the armboard I taped to a baby's IV site to give him the maximum amount of arm movement while protecting the site so he could get the antibiotics he desperately needed.

Creativity was positioning a 98 year old woman in bed to make her comfortable and to allow the bedsores covering her emaciated body to heal.  Positions they never taught me in nursing school.

Creativity was applying dressings that couldn’t be removed by a toddler who had been inquisitive and determined enough to pull a pot of boiling eggs off a hotplate, scalding his face, chest and arm.

Every day of the more than 16 years I've worked as a nurse, I've been creative.  I've problem-solved, listened and suggested, and had ideas that come from a place inside my head that is where my creativity springs from.

Creativity is the space outside the box.  The place where a paradigm shift of beliefs takes you from using what you know, to the creation of new knowledge.      

~cath xo

Twitter @jonesbabie

when the medication is right

Last night I got a phone call from two excited 6 year olds.  Their mom tried to hook us up with Facetime, and I got a brief glimpse of their bright smiles before my crappy internet connection failed.  So we talked on the phone, and put the speakerphone on so Stevie Wonder and I could hear their news at the same time.

They wanted to tell us about their accomplishments at school.  Maddie went first.  She told me about her grades and that she can read 106 words a minute.  She had several 90's, and a 100 or two in other things like spelling, language and math.  SW and I told her how proud we were of her.  Her teacher had written something along the lines of A+++ on her paper.  SW and I were both grinning from ear to ear.

Then it was Duncan's turn.  My stomach clenched, waiting to hear his results.

Duncan has ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder, a learning disorder).  It has been a months long struggle, plus a lot of tears for Jenny (his mom) to find the right medication.  It took her weeks to decide to try medication.  Then weeks and weeks, three different medications, plus adjusting the doses.  The first medication, Intuniv, made him too sleepy.  He couldn't stay awake.  After a couple weeks of that, the pediatrician tried Vyvanse, another medication for ADHD.  The medication was adjusted after a few weeks.  And it turned a happy little boy into an aggressive, angry, unhappy child.

The problem with the medication was that when it wore off, Dunc had withdrawals.  Every evening Duncan was angry, and hated everything and everyone.  And if you knew Duncan, you would know what a personality change this was for him.  Polar opposite.

Jen would call me from time to time, and I'd listen as she despaired ever finding the answer.  She questioned giving him medication at all.  She worried he would be held back.  She worried what it would do to his self esteem if his twin sister went to second grade and he got left behind.  She worried what the medication was doing to his body, and the turmoil he was in.  She worried because he struggled, struggled, to do his schoolwork.  She worried what it was doing to Maddie because Duncan required so much time and attention.

We shared information we found back and forth with each other, trying to figure this out.  And I listened.  And provided moral support.  Encouraged.  Bolstered Jen's flagging spirits.  Provided the optimism I knew Jenny needed.  Worried myself sick when I wasn't talking to her.  Prayed, lots of prayers.  I knew Duncan was trapped inside his own mind.  I knew there was an intelligent, bright boy in there waiting to show us what he could do.  Wanting to learn but unable to process the information being given to him.  Struggling, struggling to learn.

Third medication, Focalin.  We all held our breath.

Duncan started doing better.  Suddenly.  The doctor had told Jen that if the medication was right, she would see immediate results.  And there were, but he was still having some trouble.  Jen talked to the doctor on her gozillionth trip back to the pediatrician's office with Duncan.  She increased the dosage.

And now here we were, on the phone.  I waited to hear the results, and held my breath.  Duncan started talking.  He was so excited I couldn't understand a word he was saying.  Jenny started laughing.  She told me not only had Duncan passed all his tests last week, but he made dramatic improvement.  My stomach fluttered and I took a deep breath as she told me just how much he had improved.  An 85 in math, 93 in reading, 80 in spelling and 70 in language.  Jen said she had hollered in amazement when she saw the math grade.  Duncan had been failing math.  Failing.

The best thing for us?  Duncan is Duncan.  His personality hasn't changed, and we see no aggression in him.  He's our happy, loving child again, giving us lots of hugs and smiles.  I asked him last weekend if he felt any different when he takes the medication.  He told me no, he couldn't tell he was taking anything.

That is the way medication should work.  When you get it right, you have a child who can learn, who gains self esteem from his accomplishments, and leads a normal, happy life.

Way to go Duncan.  Way to go.

Duncan and Maddie, first day of 1st grade

~cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie

finding the sponge

Duncan made a project this past weekend. He told Gramps what he wanted, and Gramps helped him. I drew the "A" and hot glued the beads down. Duncan wanted to add the pencils and books because "A" stands for the University of Alabama. He worked very hard to color within the lines. When he finished he was very proud of it. Maddie did one for her class that was almost identical. Minus the books and pencils.

Monday the twins took their projects to their respective teachers. Both teachers liked them. Duncan's teacher liked his so well she put it on display in the hall.

And that night they told their Mommy about it. And Duncan, who has Attention Deficit Disorder and is barely passing in first grade, beamed. Then he called us to share his news.

You see, his sister absorbs knowledge like a sponge, and Duncan is still looking for his sponge. Monday, Duncan took a step toward finding it. It's there, and I am betting he will find it.

Go Duncan, Go!

~cath xo

Twitter @jonesbabie

the week of living dangerously

All things happen for a reason, and this month has been a series of life lessons lived very personally.

In December I won an RS W1 camera strap during a giveaway by my favorite photo blog, PhotoSister.  In mid April I found out about a contest being sponsored by my favorite camera strap manufacturer, BlackRapid by attending a Facebook online event sponsored by lightenupandshoot.com.    I am telling you all this to set the stage for what happened next.

I decided I would give that photo contest at BlackRapid a shot.  I figured the experience would be good and I wanted the exposure.  So I set up a date with my daughter and granddaughter to take a series of shots.  You can read about what happened that day here.  It was not my best day with my camera.  I was also pressured by time.  I found out about the contest about ten days before the deadline, and came up with a concept, set up the kids, and made the trip (over 120 miles round trip) to get the shots I needed.  I was pumped up with excitement, and felt I had a chance to win.

I worked hard to get the shots I wanted.  In order to make them natural and unposed, I spent a little time with Maddie (my granddaughter) and Wretch (my daughter) to set up the story behind the shots.  And they got into it fully.  I had trouble with my camera, and got all goofed up on settings, but I knew I could edit the best shots when I got home.

Saturday the 9th of April was shoot day.  Sunday I began to glean the best shots and edit.  I work also, so I planned to let the creative process percolate in my brain, take the next Friday off and finish the edits, and still have plenty of time to post by the deadline on Sunday, April 17th.

Monday my Internet went out.  Totally.  I called the provider, and spoke with someone who could also not fix it.  Now I am not stupid where computers are concerned, and by the time I called I told the person helping me that I had done a cold reboot twice, and unhooked the modem and wireless router twice also, and so he tried to reset it from his end.

Nothing.

So he politely told me he would put in a work order and someone would give us a call the next day.  The next day, Steve fielded a call from the distributor who told him the technician would be out Friday to fix it.  I was calm because this kind of thing had happened before and been fixed with no complications.

That was not to be the case this time, because during that week a wave of tornadoes and straight line winds did a lot of damage to the state, and on Friday the technician called to tell Steve he was a day behind on calls and would come on Saturday.  I still wasn't too alarmed.  It was cutting it close, but hey, I am the queen of the last minute finishers, so I cut the poor guy some slack.

Saturday I waited patiently.  He was supposed to be there between 1 and 5 PM.  At 5PM he called to say he was running behind but still coming.  Steve had to leave at that point to go keep grandkids for my daughter, so I waited.  And waited.  And waited, counting the minutes.

The light was getting dim outside when the young man called and told me he couldn't make it and would get his office to call and reschedule on Monday.

Those words hit the pit of my stomach like a stone.  I felt gut punched.  Let down.  He never knew it because I was the polite southern woman I almost always am, and thanked him.  As I hung up the phone my mind was RACING.  With thoughts about the past weekend; the girls excitement at being part of the photo shoot, the editing I had done, and the lost opportunity.

As I thought about it I began to see it from another light.  I had gotten more experience with my camera.  I had fun with my family, and we did a lot of laughing.  I had captured an awesome sunset on the way home.  And I had enjoyed editing the photos and seeing how they turned out.

So no one was going to see them, but I was proud of myself, and realized that you can't control circumstance.  I could see myself as a victim, or take it as a learning opportunity.  I chose the latter. 

And today I saw the winners posted on the BlackRapid website.  You can see the winners here: http://www.blackrapid.com/buzz/get-your-strap-on-photo-contest-winners/. 

I wanted my photos to tell a story of their own, and these would have been my entries:

Nine days without Internet gave me a lot of time for introspection.  I learned a lot about myself during that time.  I found a new strength in me.

The strength to not whine when things don't go my way.... and to enjoy each moment as though it will be the last.  To appreciate the eye the creator gave me to see the world around me.

For that, I am thankful.