Thursday, November 19, 2009

Travel Tip Thursday: Multicultural Workplace



As a teen and young adult I suffered from the expected case of wanderlust. I was sure that someday, somehow I'd see all the places on the planet that called to me. The Far East held the strongest fascination, followed closely by Africa; I was obsessed with Ancient Egypt for much of my childhood.

Studying other cultures made me wish I was as pretty as a Chinese girl, wise as an Indian Yogi, or mysterious as Nefertiti. Left me feeling boring and watered down to be American.

I did manage to get to Europe in high school, Denmark, Germany, France, Belgium, and Luxembourg (who goes to Luxembourg?).

I wandered up to Canada for four years of college and after graduation wandered some more back and forth across the U.S.

Then I grew up, became a nurse, and moved to Vermont. Though beautiful in its own right, Vermont is far from exotic and mysterious. Thank goodness I had the Travel Channel to satisfy my longing for far away lands.

After kids, I accepted that my travelling days were likely over. I'm so fine with that, truly. There is not enough Ativan in the world to get me on an overseas flight.

The Universe is good to me. Since I can't get to the world, my job has brought it to me through my co workers. They come from all over and I appreciate the crap out of them.

Just the other night, my shift consisted of CNAs from Haiti, Angola, and Nigeria, and the nurse I was working with, from Kenya.

Lucky me!

Allow me introduce you.

Haiti: She just might be the best CNA I've ever worked with. She is fully dedicated, diligent, responsible, and caring. She works her ass off with never a complaint. Soft spoken and so sweet, I don't think she has a clue how good she is, though I try to tell her all the time. I'm also sure she has no idea that she's gorgeous. She totally is.

I tell her frequently that she needs to be a nurse. She wrongly thinks her English isn't good enough. In the year or so that I've known her it has improved. I hope she does it some day.

I pepper her with questions about Haiti, why she left, would she ever go back, does she miss it.

She came here to raise kids because life is difficult in her country.

She had visited last summer with her kids. Her son is 6 and it was his first time there. In the middle of the day she noticed that his shoes were missing and asked him where they were. He'd given them to a boy on the street who had asked for them. He'd never seen children who had to go without, and reasoned with his mother that they could go to a store when they got home and buy new ones. The shoeless boy didn't have that luxury.

I'm a mush ball and cried when she told me this story.


Angola: They speak Portugese in Angola. I didn't know that til I met her.

When she and Haiti are on together I know it's gonna be a good night.

While Haiti is quite shy and reserved, Angola is a firecracker. Outspoken and passionate, if something isn't right, if another CNA isn't carrying their weight, she'll let everyone know. She takes shit from nobody.

The residents adore her.

We had a new admission a few months back, an Alzheimer's patient who was having a difficult time adjusting to her new surroundings. Her daughter had brought her in a very lifelike doll to try to settle her and Angola was trying to soothe her with it. It wasn't working.

Angola grabbed a sheet out of the linen closet, put the doll on her back, and wrapped the sheet around herself holding the doll securely. She performed her CNA duties for hours like that, telling everyone that this is how it's done in her country. The residents got the biggest kick out of it, and new Alzheimer's lady was distracted enough to settle down.

One more thing, she has the BEST ass, and she knows it. Beyonce would kill a puppy for an ass that good.


Nigeria: Ok, so maybe not as hardworking as Haiti and Angola, but still one of my favorites for his big bright smile, cheerful attitude, and killer accent. It is no secret that I'm a sucker for accents, and I tell him all the time that his makes me melt. He's tall and lanky and has the prettiest skin that I have to make a conscious effort not to touch.

He'd gone home last spring for a month and when he returned I harassed him for details, demanding descriptions of his town, the surrounding countryside, what he did, what he ate.

He's going back next month to get married. The girl he's marrying is a big deal. It will be a two day affair full of culture and tradition. There will be 'dignitaries' in attendance even.

I can't freaking wait for the pictures.


Kenya: Just about the mellowest dude ever. Another kick ass accent of course. He's a bit of a ladies man from what I hear. Not surprised.

We had a great chat the other night. He was curious about the history of Thanksgiving. I shared what I know, which is a lot considering where we live. He shared some of his country's history, how the Europeans came and changed things.

We decided that white people fuck everything up.


Brazil: She was the first nurse I met at this facility, assigned to orient me on my first day. She apologized for her difficult accent. I assured her it was no problem, I love accents, and Portugese has to be the sexiest one out there.

She's just as sassy and spunky as you'd expect a Brazilian to be, but also super smart and driven. She came here with nothing but her nursing degree, cleaned houses until she saved the thousands it took to transfer her license.

I've worked closely with her for almost five years now and love her dearly.

She's always worked two jobs, and earned enough to buy a house outright back home. She has a one year old daughter with her hot husband, and she's going home on Sunday. For good.

I'll be at her going away party tomorrow night. I'll be a weepy mess.

But now I'll have a friend in Rio fucking de Janeiro.

Back up the Ativan truck, I may be up for that flight sooner than later.

*******


Head on over to Pseudo's place for more adventuring.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Composition Not Competition

I get sick of blogging. It feels like a chore to post a couple times a week. Sometimes it is a chore to read other blogs. I get tired of the tit for tat comment game.

I should be making better use of my time (MY time being the hour or so that Dottie naps).

I should be exercising by body instead of hunching it over a computer.

I could be more productive in my online endeavors. I could be studying my son's language.

I get discouraged, I hate what I write, I go back and change things, and I still hate it.

I read stuff like this and I am quite certain that I am just a monkey flinging feces at a keyboard.

Folks say nice things and I don't believe them and I feel like a jerk.

Last week, NATUI had a post featured on this site:


I headed on over and liked what I saw. I read some stellar essays and was treated to gorgeous photography and art.

I love what they're about.

So I submitted a little something that had been very well received by you all. I was overwhelmed by the response I got from Indie Ink and they've got me on there today.

I'm not worthy.

*******

ETA: Oh my. Cringing at the douchey whining here. Off to find a monkey flinging poo for my profile picture.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

RTT:No, I'm Not a Gorilla And Yes, I DO Have a Soul.




randomtuesday

*******

Dottie: "I don't like you Mom."

Me: "And why is that Sweetie."

Dottie: "Becauuuuusssssse, I don't like gorillas."


*******

Hey Dottie,

This is for that gorilla remark.


Yes. You are crapping your pants.

Yes, I'll be tucking this away in a safe place so that the first time you bring a boy home, I can show him.

*******

Bowl Forrest Bowl!!!
*******

Saturday morning, before running a bunch of errands, we stopped at a job Dennis was doing to get a tool. Dennis has been building a guest room for a couple in a swanky neighborhood.

The couple was home and insisted on meeting the kids and giving me a tour of the house and showing off the work Dennis has done.

The house is gorgeous, high end brand new everything, decorated in tasteful perfection. The couple, Evelyn and Dave are in their early 60s. According to Dennis, Dave is a "corporate lawyer or some shit". Evelyn inherited a shit load of money and doesn't work.

I thought for a second they were going to be Snooty McI'mbetterthanyous, but that was not the case at all.

Evelyn yapped my ear off about all her fabulous plans for the new room, she gushed about what a great job Dennis is doing, and also gushed about how freaking cute Graham and Dottie are. She invited us to their Christmas party.

Dennis and Dave chatted about whocareswhat, football I think.

We said goodbye and as soon as we got in the car, Dennis burst into tears of laughter. His goodbye exchange with Dave went like this:

Dave: "Well, so far this morning I've gotten a haircut, had breakfast and read the paper, only one thing left on my agenda for the day."

Dennis: "Oh yeah? What is that?"

Dave: "I'm gonna get laid."

*******

I think I need to drop my Wednesday night shift so I can watch Glee.

Last week's episode had me giggling of course. But I also cried twice and freaking clapped a few times. I'm such a dork, who claps at TV?



If you haven't seen it, please do yourself a favor and check it out.

If you have seen it and don't like it please don't tell me. And also, go get yourself checked out, you may not have a soul.

*******

As always, more random at UnMom.

Friday, November 13, 2009

FYF: MWOB Feature!

The lovely ladies over at Moms Without Blogs have started this Affiliate Friday series, and today is my turn.

Take a guess at what I chose to talk about.


Tuesday, November 10, 2009

RTT: Do It For The Dung Beetle.

randomtuesday


I brought Graham to the store to get the sickies tissues and ice pops. There was a skeezy looking guy eyeballing Graham as we walked in. I gave him a dirty look and nudged Graham to keep on walking.

As we waited in line, the skeezy guy approached us and knelt down.

And started signing to Graham.

His parents were both Deaf, and he signed fluently.

The look on Graham's face when a stranger does this is of shock and delight. He just grinned and nodded and shyly signed back.

Skeezy guy looked just as pleased.

Sorry for thinking you are skeezy dude.

*******

One day last week, while both kids were up my butt, wanting things, not cooperating, not being nice to each other, reminding me why I drink, I threw my hands up and exclaimed:

"I'm going to lose my mind!"

To which Dottie replied;

"Not AGAIN!!!"

*******

When I separate these radom thoughts, I don't use a random number of these;

*

I use seven.

*******

You may have heard this one already, but Dottie is the cutest thing ever.

We were in the car and she was describing how her imaginary day went at imaginary school with her imaginary friend Alex.

The cuteness was causing me physical pain. I told her;

"Oh, you're out of control sweetie."

The sweet story telling was over, replaced by wailing and screaming this at me;

"I. NOT. A. TROLL!!!!!"

*******

Dennis is wicked smaht.

Dottie sported a 103 temp for much of the day yesterday. All attempts to get Tylenol into her failed, anything we got into her mouth she promptly spit all over us.

I went to work ready to scoot home real quick and give her a suppository.

In the meantime, Dennis tried bribing her with all her favorites, Funyons, popcorn, olives. No dice.

He hit on something she couldn't resist. Strawberries. If I let her, she'd eat a pint a day.

He cored out the middles in a few and dropped the Tylenol inside.

She gobbled them all up like the little crack head that she is.

*******

So it looks like I've dodged the H1N1 bullet. Know what?

I'm pissed. When is it my turn to lay around for two days straight while someone waits on me hand and foot?

I am aware that I chose this life of servitude. Wife, mother, nurse, all my choosing.

But as Dennis lay in bed all day, mostly dead with fever, as I brought him drinks, changed the sheets, checked his temp, I found myself jealous of him.

I do all the tending. Nobody tends to me. I'm not complaining.

I'm tired.

I read a question posed on a blog a while back that went something like this;

If the Blue Whale were to become extinct if you did not agree to become paralyzed for an entire year, would you do it?

Without hesitation - YES!

Sign me up!

Now!

I need the rest.

Fuck, I'd do it for the Dung Beetle.

*******

More random at UnMom.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Is That All You Got Little Piggy?

Dennis:

Definitely exposed to H1N1 while working on a friend's house. One of the kids had it.

Friday night: high fever, chills, aches, coughing quivering shadow of his former self on into last night.

Call to local hospital with all these facts;

"Yep, he's got it. Please don't come in unless he's in respiratory distress."

Can. Do.

Graham:

Received H1N1 vaccine a few weeks ago.

Had a cold. No fever, chills, aches. A cold.

Dottie:

Slammed with fever out of nowhere yesterday. Coughing, sweating, whining, stumbling around delirious and still so freaking cute.

She's got it.



Our sick weekend in pictures:

Dennis and Dottie were reduced to this for much of yesterday.


While Graham read aloud to the sickies.
Olive got in on providing comfort to sick child.


Oh yeah. Me? I've got a little headache this morning. I can't imagine why.

I am quite relieved to get this nonsense over with. Dennis is much better this morning. Dottie is still sleeping, but I can hear her coughing.

If you wouldn't mind doing me a favor? Just how does one get medicine into a sick child without a tube? Seriously. I couldn't get a drop into her last night. All kids should have tubes dammit.

Friday, November 6, 2009

FYF: On Sickness and My Boyfriend Making It All Better.

Sickness.

Though I am thankful as fuck that it is not the piggy flu, it has still ruined the past two days. My only two days off before my 5 day work week starts tomorrow.

Graham was a rag doll when he got off the bus on Wednesday. Complaining; "I sick", but unable to give me a specific symptom.

His not wanting to eat wasn't a surprise or a concern as I threw some formula down his g-tube. The concern started a half hour later when he started retching. As I grabbed a syringe and emptied out his belly, basically throwing up for him as he lacks the ability, I had a preemptive panic attack;

What the fuck am I going to do when the g-tube is gone? He can't puke. Ever. That's it. We're keeping the tube forever.

Once the retching passed, I informed him that he'd be staying home the next day. His face lit up, he grabbed the phone, pretended to dial, and had a pretend conversation with his teacher, letting her know he'd be absent. Then he did his homework.

He woke up yesterday with all the snorkle, snuffle, and sneeze of a garden variety head cold. Jammies were left on all day, sleeves became streaked and crusty. The Benadryl flowed freely, some may have landed on Dottie, thus ensuring a long midday nap for us all.

Afternoon found him ever so slightly better, better enough to torture his poor sister, causing all manner of screaming, shreiking, crying, whining, pissing and moaning. Those last two performed mostly by me.

By evening, the wine flowed freely, thus ensuring the survival of the children until their father got home.

I would have loved to send him to school today, to send this nasty bug back from whence it came, but no. Coughing is no longer allowed in schools. Thanks again piggy flu.

Of course Dottie is showing signs of coming down with it. Dennis called from work and he thinks he's got it. Oh goody, another kid to tend to.

Me? Not yet. Not likely. Since I have spent the last 11 years of my life swimming in germs, I am impenetrable. I rarely get sick. But I might fake it and call in sick on Monday. Just for kicks.

Oh look! It's wine thirty!

Excuse me while I have a moment with my boyfriend.



He's so good to me.

*******

ETA: Looks like that piggy shit has landed. Spent the night with hubs moaning and groaning and shaking the bed, not in the fun way. High fever, cough, aches oh my!

Me? Still ok. Little cough, little headache, big bad attitude. Part of me wishes I could get so sick as to be incapacitated, but then, who the fuck will take care of me? And the kids? Nobody. That's why I don't get sick.

Oh, I did call work though, and they don't want me anywhere near the place. Score!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Secrets and Surprises.

There was a juicy bit of gossip that a coworker wanted to share with me last night. Before handing me the tidbit she asked the dreaded question;

"Can you keep a secret?"

"No. No I can't. I'll take your little nugget of catty goodness and whisper it to the first person I see."

I truly don't like gossip, but it is tough to avoid. My honest approach has proven successful in keeping me away from the scuttlebut, and blissfully out of the loop.

I've always been this way. The not liking secrets or surprises.

If I had the chance, I'd peek at birthday presents. Mom kept a list in her bedside drawer of what each of us were getting for Christmas, helpful to keep track of what us six kids were getting as well as keeping the gift score even. I consulted that list daily from Thanksgiving til Christmas.

When we got pregnant with Graham, Dennis insisted that the baby's gender be a surprise at birth. He felt very strongly about it. My argument that it would be just as much of a surprise at 5 months as it would at birth got me nowhere. It was his first baby too, so I respected his wish.

The day before my pregnancy ultrasound, I had an ultrasound to check me for kidney stones. I'd had an active history of the buggers and my doctor just wanted to be sure nothing was brewing.

The tech was very chatty and friendly and asked when my pregnancy ultrasound would be. She then informed me that she herself would be performing it the next day. She asked it we wanted to learn the sex and I told her the whole story.

I was cleared of any kidney stone danger and before she ungooped me she treated me to a quick peek at Graham. He waved.

The next morning, I confirmed plans with Dennis as to the time and place the ultrasound would be happening; 10am, 15 minutes away from where he'd be working on a friend's house. He'd have no trouble getting away for the hour or so it would take.

I arrived at the hospital 20 minutes early, I'm early for everything. I waited patiently with a magazine and full bladder, expecting Dennis to arrive any second; he wouldn't dare be late for his first glimpse at his unborn child.

When I was called in, exactly at 10am, Dennis hadn't arrived. The tech asked if I wanted to wait to start. I told her to go ahead, the receptionist would direct him to where we were.

In the woods of Vermont 7 years ago, cell phones were useless. There was one little stretch of road where one could get a signal, and we weren't near that stretch of road.

Arms, legs, fingers, toes, belly, alien head, no Dennis. As the minutes ticked by I skipped worried and went directly to seething anger.

Even though cell phones didn't allow conversations, they did have this fancy feature on them called a clock; only useful is one actually looks at it.

Forty minutes went by. I think the tech was taking her sweet time, hoping the child's father would appear.

Forty five minutes, she asks me;

"So. You said your husband didn't want to know the sex of the baby right."

"Ya."

"Well, he's not here. Do you want to know?"

"Fucking tell me."

I really wanted him to be a boy.

Fifty minutes; Dennis comes flying through the door.

"You missed it ass hole. I know what it is and I'm not telling you. Ass. Hole."

And I didn't. I never told him. I never told anyone. I tortured my friends and family, all knowing that I knew. Of course I heard dozens of pleas;

"Just tell me, I won't tell anyone. Promise!"

Yeah right, if you're anything like me, you'll announce it to the world. Sorry but no.

I'd purposefully slip and say "he" or "she" equally, keeping everyone in the dark. I bought only gender neutral things, lots of yellow and green.

I was so incredibly pleased with myself, I never knew I had such powerful secret keeping powers. Who knew all I needed was a heavy dose spite to uncover my hidden talent?

Dennis got his surprise when Graham was born.

And we both got the surprise of our lives with the little secret Graham had been keeping.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

RTT: Pay It Forward Anyone?

randomtuesday

I went to college in the silly little town of Antigonish Nova Scotia. I had a group of very silly friends and we had ourselves a silly, cactus licking good time, some of which I actually remember.

After college, I had a silly plan to keep the party going by marrying a silly friend in British Columbia, in order to become a Canadian citizen. The silly wedding plans included grumpets, nudity and other such silliness.

My trip to British Columbia was derailed in favor of far sillier endeavors. No silly fake marriage to silly friend.

I saw this posted on Facebook and thought I'd share.

The drummer is my silly almost fake husband Allan.




Hey Al! How's yer pickle?

*******

Letting the kids bathe together saves time and hot water. It is amusing as hell and unbloggably wrong.

Dottie has recently become aware of certain differences between herself and Graham.

She announced this newfound knowlege with a giggle and a *flick*.

*******

Graham has had his gtube for over 6 years now. In 6 years, it has fallen out exactly three times.

Last week it fell out three times in one day. That thing wants out. If we were past flu season I would have left it out.

I have cool plans for its final removal in the Spring.

*******

Read this post.

*******

I've said before that I don't mind housework. Cleaning is therapeutic, the sound of dirt being sucked up into a vacuum is musical, a bright sparkling bathroom magical. Don't even get me started on Swiffer Dusters or Magic Erasers.

I am perpetually hunched over picking toys up and putting them in their rightful places. As I clean and organize (yes, organize) the playroom, I am fully aware that it is an exercise in futility, that the kids will destroy all my hard work in a matter of minutes. But I enjoy my job of giving them a clean canvas on which to be children.

I could do without the constant stream of laundry, the washing, drying and folding don't bother me as much as the putting away. I wish Dennis would heed the call of the full basket of folded laundry and put it away himself. I don't get pissy when he doesn't.

I do get pissy about his clothes on the floor. I don't pick them up. EVER.

Fine, I get pissy about picking up after him in general. You know, him being a grown up and all.

Dennis had gone on a weekend camping trip a couple months ago. He left a pair of boxer briefs on the floor next to our bed. Graham picked them up and put them in the hamper.

I snatched them out of the hamper and dropped them right back where they were on the floor.

I have issues.

Dennis made beef stew a few days ago. I don't eat beef stew. I had nothing to do with the preparation or clean up.

The crock pot is sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

I'm not putting it away.

Any guesses on how long it sits there??

*******

Sherri posted a cool thing, which she saw on this blog. Since I've finked out on at least a couple of Sherri's swaps, I went and commented, and being one of the first three commenters, I am now obligated to play the game and Pay it Forward.

Here are the rules as described by the eloquent Miz G. With my own additions in italics.

THE GAME:

The first three people to leave a comment on this post will be receiving a small gift. Here are the restrictions:

ETA: So it looks like nobody wants to play eh?? Ok fine. The first three people who WANT to play leave a comment telling me so. How's
that. Make that two people, Jane says she'll play. She's nice like that.

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. I pretty much suck at making things.

2. What I create will be just for you, with love. And likely while drinking wine.

3. It’ll be done this year (2009). It says DONE, not wrapped up and put in the mail ok?

4. I will not give you any clue what it’s going to be. Because I will have no clue what I am doing.

5. I reserve the right to do something strange. Like going to the store and buying a trinket instead of making something.

6. In return, all you need to do is post this text on your blog and make 3 things for the first 3 to respond to your blog post. If you don't play nice, you may find a Fuck You Friday post dedicated to you.

7. Send your mailing address to me at tenaciousg at verizon dot net if you are one of the first three commenters.

FINE PRINT: (Sherri's fine print, it works for me so I'm keeping it.)

It may be the very end of 2009 before anybody sees a damn thing in their mailbox from me, and again, I'd like to stress that whatever I make may not be something you want to keep.

If this works for you and you'd like to play along, understanding that if you comment you agree to receiving some sort of creation and creating three things for others to receive, then just be one of the first three peeps to leave a comment.

*******

More random at UnMom!

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Halloweekend in Pictures.




Friday night the kids and I had a sleepover at our friend Lily's house.
We decorated Halloween cookies.


Our lovely hostess Lily.

I think there may actually be a cookie under that green icing.

What kind of mother lets her kid suck frosting right out of the tube?



Too bad we didn't get enough sprinkles.


They loved story time.


When the jumping was out of their systems, the kids and I tossed and turned and fought over blankets and awoke demanding to go home 12 times, and someone shit their pants at one point slept soundly.

Halloween!

The curl on his forehead is the best.


"I a Wild Thing!!"


Dennis and I decided not to dress up. We're no fun.


Thank you Sherri for the inspiration for my costume.

Those are not my boobs.


This picture does not do my sister Muffy's really big and fabulous boobs justice.

Trick or Treating was a hoot. The kids lasted about an hour. They were very polite and thanked everyone.

Dottie got a little green bag of Skittles at the first house. She wouldn't put it in her bag, she held on to it like a little prize.

At every house, instead of saying Trick or Treat, she'd hold up her bag and say;

"I got candy already! See! A green candy one!"

We laughed our asses off.

I definitely didn't walk around the neighborhood with a cane in one hand and a sippy cup full of wine in the other.

I also didn't deny Graham his request to eat candy for breakfast while I snuck peanut butter cups out of his bag all morning.