What am I going to wear??

The marathon is 5 short days away, and I'm starting to freak out a little. I'm not losing sleep over it (yet), but I get a pit in my stomach whenever it crosses my mind. It will only get worse as the week progresses, I'm sure.

Because the training part is over and the details of the day are worked out, I have nothing left to stress over, right? Wrong. There's one small thing that can consume my mind for the next few days. THE OUTFIT. That's right, I have become obsessed about what I am going to wear when I run this Sunday. You see, there are all sorts of details that need to go into this decision. Will it look good? And not make my butt look fat? Will it wick the sweat away from my body in an efficient fashion? Will it keep me warm early on, but not cause me to overheat as the day progresses? And most importantly, does it match one of the half dozen or so Nike baseball caps that I own?

During my training, I have mainly run in long men's Columbia shorts that have about 10 pockets. They are comfortable and functional. I can carry chapstick, gel packets, even my phone. They don't chaffe my inner thighs like running shorts do. But I was shopping at Kohl's last week and I saw a super-cute Nike outfit that consisted of black and blue running capri tights and a matching long-sleeved shirt. Perfect colors, and I have a black cap to go with it. However, the weather forcast for Sunday is out now and it looks to be a little warmer than I had planned. Well, that's easy. Surely there exists a short-sleeved version of the perfect top.

So Margaret and I headed to the stores last night. We hit 4 in all. I ended up buying a couple of shirts and another pair of tights, but none of them seemed right. None was the two-toned short sleeve shirt I was looking for. And when I tried on all of the outfits at home, I got even more discouraged. Just not right. So, over lunch today I went to a fifth store and ended up buying a bunch of additional tights, shorts, and shirts. Too much! Can't make a decision!

I will probably try a few more stores this week. Because that's who I am - obsessive. Plus, it's a great way to displace my anxiety over the race. Margaret, on the other hand, is happy with the first outfit she tried on, even if it doesn't match her cap. She will probably sleep like a baby Saturday night, too. Damn her.

Anyway, I am willing to bet that after all of that I show up at the marathon wearing my khaki men's shorts with the pockets for my gel packs and chapstick. It's tried and true, even if I don't look like a runner. I think that actually running the marathon (no matter what I'm wearing) will make me look like a runner, right?

Damn Kids (I say with love)

My kids disappoint me constantly. Don't confuse that statement with my kids being a disappointment, because there is a difference. I love my kids and I am very proud of who they are and what they've accomplished. But still, they disappoint. In what way? you may be asking. In the way that they don't follow through with my requests, er, demands. Just today, I was disappointed with 3 out of 4 kids' piano-practicing, 2 messy rooms, several food items left on the counter, just waiting to be snatched by a dog (or the kitten), one undrunk glass of milk, many fights that I had to referee, one outfit left on the bathroom floor, one large puddle of water after a bath, the way two of them balled up their piece of cake in their hands in order to eat it, misbehavior the store (wait, make that 2 stores), misbehavior at church, talking back, lying about homework being done... God, I could go on and on and ON...

If any of my employees did one half of what one of my kids did in a day, that employee would be gone. No accountability, no follow-through, lots of inter personnel conflict. Wow, my kids would be terrible to have on staff!

This is one of the ways parenting can wear a person down. The sheer volume of work to make sure that the kids get done what they need to get done (rather than me just doing it myself, because what would that teach them?) And the constant correcting and disciplining. Even though my kids are well beyond the terrible twos, I still hear myself saying the word NO (or DON'T or STOP) all the time.

I know, in a few short years, they'll be able to drive, and date, and we'll hardly ever see them, and I'll miss these days. Because they can really piss me off in one moment, but then come running for a hug and make me love them again in the next. Damn them. I can't even stay mad and hold a grudge (because I'm sure that works as a parenting technique). Which leads me to the biggest lesson of all. While I am on this earth to teach my kids a bunch of stuff in order to make them productive members of society, there is one very important thing they are teaching me.

Patience.

Jack of all trades, master of none

After a morning of anal sac rechecks, puppy visits, ear infections (and the sad case of my neighbor's cat dying of heart failure) - typical general practitioner stuff, I had a walk in (what's with these walk-ins?) at about 12:30 today. A 5 year old Yorkie in labor for a couple of hours, and not one but two amniotic sacs coming out (but no puppies).

Here's the deal. I am not an OB-GYN. I see maybe one dystocia (trouble giving birth) case a year. The problem is, there really aren't many (if any) veterinary obstetricians around. It's not a sanctioned specialty. So what do we do? Yes, we wing it!

I did a vaginal exam and could feel the puppy's head right at the entrance of the birth canal. It wasn't stuck or anything, it just wasn't feeling like coming out quite yet. But with those sacs hanging out, I didn't want to wait too long. The textbooks (yes, I often consult textbooks) say that before giving oxytocin (trade name Pitocin) to stimulate contractions, you should take an x-ray to make sure that the puppy is positioned right and that the head doesn't look too big for the birth canal. I've seen puppies get stuck in the birth canal because they've come out breach or they're too big and it's not a good thing.

Anyway, these owners had barely enough money for the exam, let alone an x-ray, let alone a C-section if needed. Again, what's with the clients who walk in instead of calling ahead, and also don't have any money? Great, I thought. If the dog needs a C-section, then their problem becomes MY problem. Because it's not like it can wait for them to come up with the money. I would have to decide if a) I can take the chance that they would pay off the bill eventually (about 50% never do)  b) I can get the owner to sign the animal over to me, do the surgery for free, and adopt out the mom and puppies (which is a lot of work, as you can imagine, and not a good way for a business to survive) or c) I could stand the guilt of sending an otherwise healthy dog home to possibly die, along with the puppies. What a mess!

The owners decided to take their chance with an oxytocin injection without an x-ray. I gave the injection and pushed a whole bunch of K-Y jelly up her vagina, and set them up in a room to see if things came out naturally. THANKFULLY, the owners came out 15 minutes later and told us she delivered! Yay! Crisis averted. She then had one more pup and I sent her home to have the rest, as I could feel at least one other puppy in her abdomen. I also sent them home with an estimate for a spay (this was her fourth litter and I think the owners were finally done). I suspect that the first two puppies' amniotic sacs and umbilical cords got sort of twisted up, because she passed the two puppies, then the two placentas, and they were all wrapped up around each other. But, as I've said before, I'm no expert.

Sometime winging it works. But I don't recommend it as a first choice.

Your kitten has a broken leg

Tuesday was a pretty calm day at work. I had an urgent care scheduled for about 5 pm, but they ended up going to the wrong clinic. Oh well, I thought. At least I can get out of work a little early and run some errands before I need to help out at my sons' soccer practice.

As I was getting ready to leave, one of my techs came into my office. There's a walk-in injured kitten. Can you see it? Of course, I said, calculating how long it would take vs. when I needed to be at practice. There should still be time.

The poor 4 month old kitten had been found trapped under the owner's tool box for almost 24 hours. The owner heard a crash the night before, but didn't get out of bed to investigate. Then he went to work the next morning without thinking about the kitten, and didn't realize something was amiss until he came home from work and Kitten didn't greet him at the door.

Kitten (not his real name. Plus, I like calling all kittens "Kitten") had a broken leg. Worse, it was his femur (the long bone that comes out of the hip socket). The bone was literally folded into a 90 degree angle. This type of fracture really requires surgery. I gave the owner an estimate of $2500-3000 to have an orthopdedic surgeon repair the leg. That was completely out of the question. Well, I've repaired a few broken bones in my career, plus the jaw repair I did last week got me all revved up, so I told the owner I could do the surgery myself (albeit, I am certainly no expert) for about $1600-1700. Still out of the question. You see, Doc, I'm in construction and the economy's been real bad, as you know. Plus, I pay too much for child support. I'm living in an apartment with my uncle here, who's been coming to your vet clinic for years. Can you work out a payment plan or something?

That's where I get into trouble. Always a sucker for a sob story. But not too much of a sucker. Yes, I replied, but I need 50% down before I do the surgery, then you can pay off the rest. I can also look into finding some charity funds, but that would only amount to a few hundred dollars.

He got on the phone with a few people, including his kids. They all decided that they really couldn't afford any surgery. Crap. Now what? Well, it is not recommended, but he is a young cat, and he may heal with just a splint. Not ideal, but it's better than nothing. Go for it, the owner said.

As I reduced the fracture and rigged some kind of traction-producing spint, I could hear the owner in the waiting room on the phone with his kids again. It sounded like they wanted to put Kitten to sleep. Well, there's no way I would allow that. He's such a young cat! With a possibly fixable problem! My mind started to race, thinking through all of my options, the main one being having the owner surrender the cat, me fixing the leg for free, and our clinic adopting him out. I've done it before, I'll likely do it again many times in my career.

In the end, the owner elected to keep the kitten. I was pretty impressed with how my splint turned out, and I hope he does come back for his weekly rechecks. And I doubly hope that Kitten's leg heals at least a little straight.

The owner also only paid about $100 of his $300 bill for the visit (he wrote a promisorry note for the rest).

I was also a half hour late for soccer practice.

Making my kids ride 36 miles in the rain

Yes, I'm a mean mom. I signed my kids up for the 36 mile Minneapolis Bike Tour again this year. I begged, bribed, and threatened to get them to do what ended up being only a handful of training rides, the longest being 15 miles (we turned back early because I couldn't take the whining any more). All along I'm thinking, What a gift I'm giving to my children! I'm giving them the fresh outdoor air, physical fitness, a sense of accomplishment, and hours of my time (albeit it time spent yelling and cajoling them to hurry up and stop crying when it feels too hard).

The Tour was this past Sunday. It was cold and wet. Awesome. Thankfully, I had also managed to convince a few others to join us, which was a godsend since Lisa had to work and I didn't know how I was going to manage the 4 kids on my own. The morning got off to a fabulous start when my friend Phil called to say that he and his two kids were already there and my family hadn't even left our house! We finally got the bikes loaded up and the raingear packed, and we made it almost on time. What I didn't realize was that "almost on time" was right at the end of the official start time. Our group was among the last to cross the starting line, and, of course, one of the slowest. That meant that we arrived at each of the break stations almost as they were closing them down. After the second station, at 17 miles, Carter wiped out due to the wet street and hurt his knee. I didn't see it; in fact I had to ride my bike back about 1/2 mile to find him, limping back to the station with the help of one of the course attendants. He was sore and crying, but I talked him into getting back on the bike. It really wasn't a very bad injury. But now we were at least a couple of miles behind the rest of our group and to make it even better, it started to pour rain. So here I am, riding with a wet crying child with a sore knee, knowing that we weren't even halfway through but had no choice but to finish. It was a lonely and depressing time. I tried to be a cheerleader, but it's really not my style. My style was one of, Well, there's no way out of this, so we might as well finish, and it's raining and we need to pick up the pace so let's go already!

We made it to the third stop just as Jalen and one of Phil's kids were leaving. Thankfully, my friends Karin and Dan took off after them so that the boys weren't without any adult supervision on the ride. Also thankfully, the rain stopped temporarily and Carter's attitude improved a bit. Now it was Claire's turn to melt down, and again I dealt with that by yelling at her to just hurry up so we could get out of the rain! We finished the ride about 4 hours after starting, much to the surprise of (the few) volunteers at the end. Yep, our 7 year old girls rode 36 miles. So there.

Am I glad we did it? Yes. Are the kids glad? I'm not so sure. They don't seem impressed with the distance they traveled, even after I've told them countless times how proud I am. The problem is, I like to push myself and I consider adversity a challenge that can (and should) be overcome, but my kids don't have the same mindset. Maybe it's their age, or maybe they just aren't cut out of the same cloth as I am. If I really think about it, I don't know what kind of person I was at age 7, or even at age 10. Would I have persevered for 36 miles on my own like I would now? Or is determination a trait I developed as I matured?

One lesson learned is that my kids will be who they are, in spite of my efforts.

Another lesson I learned is that my kids did come through in the end, and that is just awesome.

Appointments 15 and 16

Can you believe it's been 6 months since my first mammogram? That means it is time for my 6 month follow up. So this morning I made the trip through Minneapolis rush hour traffic to the Piper Breast Center for my 6th! mammogram since February 28. But it's been so long I almost forgot what it was like. OK, not really. I'm a seasoned veteran down at Piper, so I knew the routine pretty well. State your name at check-in, pay the co-pay, hold your arm out for the wrist band, bring your check-in sheets to the volunteer. I only had to wait a couple of minutes before I was led to the changing room. This time I got a robe! Yay! No hospital gown for me! I think I've figured it out. If you're wearing a robe, you're just in for a mammogram. If you're wearing a gown, you're having a procedure done. If you're wearing a gown AND they don't offer you a beverage, you're having surgery. Now I know how to tell what the other patients are there for. Ha!

The mammogram technician called me in and asked to confirm my history. So you had cancer? Um, not really. But it says here that you had DCIS on the stereotactic biopsy. Yeah, but they changed it to ADH after the surgery. But the core biopsy said cancer. Yeah, I know, but they're treating me like ADH, not DCIS. Well, the biopsy said cancer, so that's what I'll put down, she said. Hmmm, we don't get a diagnosis change like that very often, so it's a little confusing. YOU THINK? I thought to myself.

Anyway, she asked to see the scar and made a little slash line on the computer illustration of my right breast. That doesn't look like my scar, I said (always the comedian, I am). Well, I'm sort of limited with this program, she replied. I know, I was just joking. Then it was time for the big squeeze. You know, no matter how experienced the tech is, there is no way to perform a mammogram and NOT have it be the most awkward experience of your life.

I only had to wait about 15 minutes and the report was done. I was handed a nice letter that stated, Dear Ms. Stromberg: Your mammogram was read out and we are happy to inform you that it is NORMAL (no cancer). Wow, I haven't had one of those letters before. So that's what it feels like to have a normal mammogram. I took my letter and proceded to keep myself busy (mainly by rollerblading around the Mpls lakes and taking myself out to Panera for lunch) until my 1 o'clock oncology appoinment. Back to the oncology buliding across the street from Piper. I feel guilty going there because I don't have cancer and I assume everyone else there does.

The oncologist came in, all effusive and happy. He shook my hand like 3 times. He had just come back from the Monday noon lunch meeting, which is about breast cancer. Funny, he said. We were talking about people just like you. People with ADH or noninvasive cancer who choose NOT to take tamoxifen. Your surgeon was there and she (being a surgeon, wants to FIX everything) can't believe that anyone wouldn't take the drug. But I see the shades of gray, and I know it's not for everyone. And with the side effects you had (which, by the way, was not only hot flashes and mood swings, but also the heaviest bleeding I've ever had) it's not worth ruining your quality of life for a miniscule improvement in odds. Good. So we were in agreement on that. He did a pretty full exam and deemed me too healthy for oncology. So you're kicking me out? I asked. Well, I'm always here if you need me. He wants to send me to the High Risk Breast Clinic back at Piper for my follow ups.

So that's it. A clean bill of health. My next appointment will be an MRI in 6 months. I'm not sure if I'll stick with my surgeon (whom I like, even if she tried to talk me into a mastectomy and doesn't have a very good bedside manner) or if I'll try the the surgeon and internist who work at the high risk clinic. I have a few months to make that decision.

I'd like to say that all is well and I'm happy, but there's a part of me that can't figure out what this means for my life. Like I want to take this experience and become a better person for it, but I don't know how, or if I even need to. Is it a life changer? In some ways, yes. But here I am 6 months later and what really has changed? Is it possible to change at the age of 41? Do I even need to change my life or my personality? Or could I accidentally change it for the worse? What is the meaning of life anyway? More mental processing needs to go on to figure those questions out, that's for sure. Until I figure it out, or figure out that I don't need to figure it out, I'll continue to schlep my way through the days and hope that the world is a better place for it.

Bad week/good week

I have had a bunch of weird frustrating cases at work lately. One that really stands out in my mind is an 18 month old golden retriever who had all sorts of weird problems, resulting in me doing a huge work up over a 2 week period of time (including x-rays, a ton of bloodwork, skin biopsies, and an ultrasound). The owners are a young couple with limited finances and I felt bad spending so much of their money, but his case really did baffle me (and a bunch of other people as well.)  The end result - he probably has cancer and I put him to sleep yesterday. The owners did approve an autopsy (which I offered to pay for because I really want to know what caused his weird signs). Very sad. I don't cry often at euthanasias but I teared up with this one.

The same day (yesterday), I referred a profoundly anemic 4 year old dog to a specialist for a bone marrow biopsy and blood transfusions. This dog also has a good chance of having cancer. Also yesterday I saw a patient of mine who is less than a year old but has had weird GI issues for many months. This time was different, however. For one thing, he had a high fever. For another, he had an abdominal mass. After a long discussion with the owner about the many possibilities (and need for surgery ASAP), she ended up deciding to euthanize him. That was a tough one and I teared up AGAIN. Twice in one day!

Notice how all of these dogs are young? Hate that.

So today I walk into work and have on the schedule a tooth extraction on a 7 month old dog. She broke her tooth fighting with another dog (yes, she's a pitbull). However, after sedating this pup and taking dental x-rays, I found that she also had a fractured jaw! Great! A full morning of appointments, an animal under anesthesia, and I don't know how to fix a jaw fracture! I called a surgeon for advice (the owner declined referral, which is what I really wanted to do) and removed the rest of the broken tooth and wired the jaw together. I don't do orthopedic surgeries, so all of the orthopedic supplies had to brought up from the clinic basement.

But it was fun to do somehting different and to (hopefully) fix this dog. Fixing youg dogs' problems are not something I've been able to do much of lately.

So I'm ending the week on a good note. Let's hope that continues (the day is only half over). I also posted a pic of my fracture repair. The fracture is actually behind the big tooth and you can't see the back end of my figure 8 wire job, which goes through the bone. Feel free to critique...

My massage

It's not like I've never had a massage before, but I've never had a massage that I've enjoyed. My previous experiences were a) a Swedish massage that hurt like hell but I was too shy to say anything and b) deep tissue work done by my sports chiropractor, who dons her Latex Gloves of Pain and literally makes me cry.

But I have heard so many good things about massage, how relaxing and rejeuvinating it is, how it can prevent muscle injury, and how even people with financial hardship will try to find a way to pay for at least one massage a month. So after my long run yesterday (when my calves were slowly starting to tighten into knots), I called Massage Envy. Why Massage Envy? Because it's cheap. Only $39 for your first time! Can't go wrong with that. Plus, they had open appointments the very same day.

I arrived at 8:45 pm. Yes, it's late, but they also have convenient evening hours! The consultant took a history and recommended the Sports Muscle Package (or some such thing), for an additional $12. Sure, what the heck. I met the massage therapist, a woman who appeared in her 20's (I don't imagine this career can span decades - don't they get hand arthritis after awhile?). She was very quiet and professional. I was taken to a private room, which was warm and had relaxing yoga-type music playing. I disrobed to my comfort, which was to bra and underwear. That's when I remembered that I had on an old worn bra, not a nice stylish one. Shoot! Since my other option was to take it off, I went with the worn-out look.

The massage itself lasted about 50 minutes, with the last 15 being the application of some product that smelled like Ben-Gay. I have to admit the whole experience was wonderful. Initially, I had wondered how a person could ever want a 2 hours massage and now I know! All she did was my lower back, feet, and legs in the time she had. I totally could have stayed for more. And I did feel relaxed and refreshed.

When checking out, I was so relaxed and, well, dazed, that I somehow got myself signed up for a membership. For $49 a month, I get one massage and discounts off of more. I really don't know the details, but it sure seemed like a good idea at the time!

I can see myself getting a massage a month. It was nice to take a step back and be pampered for an hour. And I hardly thought about anything important during that time. Actually, what I thought about the most is how much I wanted to ask her questions. Like, Do your hands get tired? Do you ever have to massage icky smelly people? Do you talk about your clients to the other massage therapists? But I don't know the protocol (this isn't a beauty salon after all), so I kept my mouth shut. Some people get pedicures, and we know how that went for me. I think a massage is more my thing. I encourage you to at least give it a try. Oh, and if you do, I have some referral discounts available!

Long run attempt #2

I'm tired of running. OK, I'm tired of training for the marathon, which is decreasing my desire to run. I can't just go out for fun any more. Every run has to have a purpose and must be planned in advance. I'm tired of the time commitment - an entire summer and early fall of running, running, running. I have to block off a big chunk of time every week for a long run, and try to strategically schedule some other runs in as well. I'm tired of the physical pain during and after each long run. I'm also tired of the emotional rollercoaster that accompanies said physical pain.

Having said all of that, I did another long run today. I know, I know. I said I wasn't going to do any more until the marathon, but I just couldn't let last week's run be my last big run before the race. I just didn't feel good about it. So against the advice of many of my running friends, I went out again this morning.

Oh, and it's exhausting just getting ready  for a long run! There's the pre-hydration, pre-run Advil, light snack that will provide energy but not upset my GI tract, shot of caffeine, taping my knee, putting moleskin on my foot to prevent more blisters, starting my GPS, getting my iPod working... man, it took 1/2 an hour just to get out the door this morning! So much for running being quick and easy!

I started out at 6:30, alone (except for my dog Marley). I didn't know how far or how fast I would be able to go and I didn't want to encumber anyone if it didn't go well. It was warmer and more humid than it's been in awhile. I wore my Merrell shoes with very minimal soles - the ones that wrecked my calves a few weeks ago. However, these shoes save my knees and I'd rather have sore calves than sore knees at this point.

I did three loops of 5.6 miles, and added an out-and-back of 1.2 miles at the end, for a total of 18 miles. I felt great throughout the run, save the foot and calf pain. I never felt tired, in spite of the heat amd humidity, and was able to maintain a running pace of about 9:30 min/miles for the entire 18 miles. I didn't even slow down at the end! My knees held up, and the only damage was a recurrence of the foot blister (which, probably because of the moleskin, never bothered me during the run). The best part about it is that I stopped because I hit my goal, not because I had to due to injury.

The totals of this run are:
100 calorie pudding snack before run
3 Shot Blocks after 60 minutes
1 Powerade energy and electrolyte bar after the second 60 minutes
32 ounces of water
2 hours and 52 minutes (plus breaks - I cheated and stopped my watch for those)

I know this is a little TMI, but I talked about my boobs for 2 months, so what the heck. When I urinated an hour after the run, it was the darkest gold/brown I've ever seen! I am not sure if I was really that dehydrated, or if maybe there was a little myoglobin (a product of muscle breakdown) in there. The weird thing is I felt, and continue to feel, fine! It's not like my body told me to quit or anything. Anyway, weird.

So, I'm glad I did it. I feel good now about the marathon in 3 weeks. Now I start my taper, which, according to the experts, will result in weight gain, insomnia, restlessness, anxiety, and depression. Wow, I can't wait! Maybe the training part wasn't so bad after all...

Oh, and today I'm going to do something I've never done before. I'm going to pay for a massage.

Sometimes you just have a bad run

It's pretty amazing how sometimes you can do everything wrong and things work out, and do everything right and they don't. This is true in running as well as in life. I remember my long run 2 weeks ago - my calves were sore before we even started, we got up at the God-awful time of 4 am, and my bedtime snack the night before was a big ice cream cone. But I made it 15 miles with, in retrospect, relatively few problems.

Today I had plans for an 18 miler, my longest to date, and my last long run before the marathon. In preparation for this run I'd been taking it easy (no long run for 2 weeks and no footwear changes). My legs felt great and I was ready to go at 5:20 this morning. The weather was also in my favor - a cool 50 degrees - perfect runing weather.

I met Margaret at the one mile point and we headed for an 8 mile loop in the park reserve. Those first 8-9 miles went great, but things started to fall apart at mile 10. My legs were sore/tired/sluggish, and my feet hurt as well. I'm sure Margaret was a little frustrated (although she didn't show it) because I kept making us stop to stretch. I stopped at my house at mile 13.5 to change shoes and take some Advil. Even that didn't help and by mile 15 I called it quits. My IT band started to hurt petty badly that last mile and I know from experience not to push that one.

I walked a mile and a half home, so **technically** I did 16.5 miles, but I really only ran 15. The competitor in me wants to go out later today and run that last 3 miles, but intuitively I know that may not be the best thing for my legs. They just don't want to run today!

Running with a partner is good in many ways. The miles fly by when you're distracted by talking, and a partner will push you to go farther and faster than you would on your own. But having a running partner also means letting down someone other than yourself if you're not running well. And you can't hide your failures if you're not alone (although I guess that by blogging this, I'm not doing much hiding anyway).

As much as I'm disappointed, I am not defined by my training runs. OK, I may not even be defined by my marathon performance. People will still like me even if I don't meet my running goals. Right?


The Twin Cities Marathon is on October 2, in 25 days. I'm not going to do any more long runs, as I am starting my "taper" before the big race. I hope that I can at least gut it out for 26.2 miles, even if my body feels otherwise. Or better yet, maybe October 2 will be the day my legs decide to show up and put on the performance of their life. All I know is that I cannot predict how a run, any run, will go. We'll just have to see what happens.

How important is a clean room, anyway?

Well, the kids went back to school today. THANK FREAKING GOD!!!! I swear I was one day from disowning them all. I think that being together 24/7 did not strengthen their sibling bonds, to say the least. We will need to come up with a different childcare arrangement (maybe separate summer-long camps for each of them?) next summer for sure.

Parenting continues to be the biggest challenge in my life. I am not wired to handle the irrationality that comes with every kid. I need order, predictability, or at least the ability to reason with one another. For instance, yesterday we gave the girls the simple task of picking up their room. They can destroy their room in a matter of minutes. They don't even close their drawers, for crying out loud. Who taught them that?? Anyway, I could have had the job done in about 10 minutes. They were in their room for THREE HOURS!!! We tried bribing, threats of punishment, reasoning with them, screaming at them... Nothing worked. It boggles my mind! I have a doctorate degree! Why can't I figure this out???

Eventually the room was pretty well cleaned. But I know that when they get home from school today, within a short period of time it will look exactly like it did yesterday. Why bother, really? Maybe I'm going at this all wrong. How important, really, is a clean room? Why not just keep the door closed and let them mess it up however they want? Maybe I just need to let the clean room thing go and be happy that they don't smoke or steal and get good grades. Is this just a phase? Will they eventually come around and realize that a clean room is a good thing? Or is it even a good thing after all?

Well, the roommate I had my freshman year in the college dorm was the sloppiest person I had (until Morgan and Claire came along, anyway) ever met. And it really bothered me! She was also lazy and unfocused and really just there to party. I think she failed out of college after a couple of years. Maybe my memories of her are what's making me so anal about the room. Maybe I think my daughters will grow up to be just like her. 

Or not. I was sort of sloppy when younger and not only did I complete college, but I actually try to keep a neat house. So there is hope, right?

Ugh, like I said, this parenting thing has really tthrown me for a big old loop. Will my decision to make them clean their room or not alter the course of their lives and possibly determine whether they graduate from college?? Are they, as I suspect, genetically wired to do their own thing despite what we as parents may want from them?

Maybe I'll have the answers someday. Or maybe some of you seasoned parents can give me the answers now.