Thursday, September 8, 2011

Baby Love

So after yesterdays news i've been keenly aware of and crazy in love with my son today. I felt a pang in my heart for what my friend has lost, and couldnt help but imagine myself in her situation. It did upset me for a little while, and then it made me want to run to my son, scoop him up, and never let him go. Of course, that just isnt possible ( especially not with such an active and wriggly toddler ..... ), as much as i wanted it today.

Image from here
What i did do is just took the time to really be with him - not just in the same room, not just absently mindly playing with him whilst thinking of something else but actually "being" with him. We had a playdate with another mum from mothers group during which i let him run and play and do his own thing but the rest of the day i made him my focus. Even when out shopping with my sister i made a point of talking to him, doing wheelies with him in his pram, rubbing his hair as we strolled - little things that made me feel connected to him.

He fell asleep in the car on the way home from the shops and i put him gently in his bed. When he woke after half an hour a bit distressed ( he's cutting his canines and they arent playing very nicely... ) instead of shushing him for a few minutes and then shutting the door i climbed into his bed with him, snuggled in under the doona and we had a nap together. Its been a long time since we've had a nap together and it felt good. Not only to get a bit of extra rest, but to have that snuggly, warm, bonding moment that i'm sure will be less and less frequent as he gets older.

Once he finally gets to sleep tonight ( again, those teeth are playing havoc ) i might go in and steal one more baby kiss before heading to bed. I'm just hoping my own sleep tonight is less restless than last night, when i couldnt seem to shake the sadness of the " what ifs? "....

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch


Ben Franklin said that “God helps those who help themselves,” but government helps those who don’t. In his recent book “After America,” Mark Steyn points out how many Americans have become dependent on government: “ . . . by 2004, 20 percent of U. S. households were getting about 75 percent of their income from the federal government [and] another fifth of households . . . receive about 40 percent of their income from the feds . . .” Is that the kind of republic Franklin had in mind when he worked at the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia? No. I don’t think so.

So, government is supporting over 100 million of us, but can the rest of us afford to continue paying for it? No again. Under President Obama, we’re borrowing forty cents of every dollar we spend. We’re borrowing money we probably can’t repay. We’re borrowing money our children and grandchildren will have difficulty paying back, and we’re spending it on ourselves, not them. This is sinful.

Forty percent of Americans are hugely dependent on government. It’s also true that forty-seven percent of Americans pay no federal income tax. How much overlap is there between those two populations? Are we talking about the same people? In most cases, yes. How many of them are likely to vote for a congressman or a senator who says we must stop spending money we don’t have? Not too many when they discover that the only way to eliminate deficit spending is cutting back on the checks they get. We’re a country more and more divided between those who pay and those who get paid.

How long can we take money from our most productive and give it to our least productive? How long can we borrow from foreigners? Not much longer. The whole rest of the world doesn’t have enough money to keep lending to us - especially when they know we’re paying interest with dollars printed under Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke’s policies of “quantitative easing” and artificially low rates.

Too many Americans have learned that it’s easier to let government support them than to support themselves. Reflecting back on thirty-six years of teaching since my recent retirement, I saw a similar pattern in our government schools. A school district’s eligibility for federal money is often figured based on how many parents fill out forms that enable their children to get free or reduced-cost breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The higher the percentage of families who qualify, the more money the school or the district gets. Schools, therefore, are naturally disinclined to scrutinize financial data parents put on the forms. The tendency is to qualify all who apply. Parents and schools both benefit. Not all kids do, however, because some them will grow up to become the citizens expected to pay back the forty cents of every dollar spent on “free” lunches this year. The old adage still applies after all: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

Just as an aside: if you saw how much of that food qualifying students throw in the wastebasket every day it would make you sick. People tend not to value what they don’t pay for, students included. Early in my teaching career, I noticed that custodians would save the discarded food for local pig farmers. Then federal government regulators ruled they couldn’t do that. Ever since, it’s gone into the waste stream.

The percentage of students dependent on expensive federal programs is increasing right along with the percentage of adults dependent depend on federal government checks. Students qualifying for federally-mandated special education are “coded.” Even though I earned an advanced degree in special education decades ago, I still have trouble deciphering criteria for certain codes. For a while at least, the simple explanation for someone qualifying as “learning disabled” was functioning at a grade level lower than what would be expected with his/her measured IQ score. The truly disabled had some measurable perceptual or processing deficiency. Others didn’t, but were nonetheless functioning below grade level, and were, therefore, coded. They received the special assistance of a teacher or an educational technician all through school. Several I got to know well over the years, and it was my personal and professional opinion that they simply didn’t want to do the work. They learned early to be helpless as teachers would administrators would lower the bar for them to pass on to the next grade. Every year I’d have several, and it was rare for even one to be kept back. Much more was spent on such students per capita than on those who did the work expected of them.From Motifake.com

Others were coded for behavior problems and that designation changed periodically as well as euphemistically. Some years it was “Behaviorally Handicapped.” Other years it was “Emotionally Disturbed,” and so forth. Some even got their own “educational technician” to follow them around throughout their school day acting as personal secretary or manservant. Parents of these children qualifed for so-called “crazy checks” amounting to several hundred dollars per month. The Urban Dictionary describes them as “often approved for simple and common conditions such as a child (usually in a single-parent household) who can't behave in school.” If their children learned to behave, their crazy checks would stop.

Teachers are encouraged to believe that every child comes to school ready to learn. Trouble is, too many learn that if they don’t work, others will support them. That’s the lesson they carry with them throughout their lives.

And we wonder why America is going bankrupt.

Another Premature Angel

This one is short and sweet, and goes out to a beautiful family who lost their little man today. KM, another mum from my mothers group, gave birth to a gorgeous little man on the 27.7.11, 4 months premature. Today, despite fighting with every little fibre in his tiny body, baby Brody slipped quietly away to join all the other babies, taken too soon.
May he sleep peacefully where he is now, and know that we keep him in our hearts for ever.
B.J.R 27.07.11 - 7.09.11

Monday, September 5, 2011

A Mile In Their Shoes


I read a quote the other day that I really like. It says,

"Before you judge someone you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you do judge them, you're a mile away and have their shoes."

I forget who said it but I find it rather funny.

The Week That Was

So - you may have noticed that not only did i go AWOL for the four days that i mentioned i would be Rockhampton, but that i also gave myself the rest of the week off from blogging too. As much as i like to keep things up to date, to keep the posts coming and the blog chugging along, i think i need a wee little break every now and again. But what did i get up to with all that spare time away from the blogosphere?


Monday: Dropped Flynn off at daycare. Did not get so much as a " Goodbye Mummy, i love you ". Cursed him under my breath for being such a turd. Got dropped to the airport, checked in ( along with my partner in crime, J ) only to find our fligh out of Dubbo was going to be 40 mins late. Made it to Sydney, checked in on a different airline, met up with the 4 other NSW staff members headed to the conference, and wolfed down some Maccas in time to make it to our gate for boarding to Brisbane... and found out this flight would be 40 mins late. Spent the majority of the flight wondering if we would make our connection to Rocky. Got there just as boarding opened, caught my third flight for the day and landed in Rocky pretty much on time. Dinner time actually. Checked into our rooms, freshened up and met Queensland staff members for tea. Not enough meal allowance to order dessert ( boo! ). Head to bed absolutely exhausted.
Our accomodation - The Edge

Tuesday: Full English  style breakfast ordered at 8am, made the conference room at 8:55am. Actually interested in the mornings presentations. An hour for a pub lunch - at a table of 19 managed to sit myself across from the chattiest staff member there. Get a case of threethirtyitis mid afternoon and struggle to stay awake in front of the boss. Break for the day just before 5pm. Back to the room for a freshen up and a dose of Music Max. Meet 6 other keen staffers for diner ( the rest were pikers - boo to them! ). Find a great boutique pub bistro and have one the nicest dinners i've had in a while - including dessert! Order the apple tart tartine and am gobsmacked when it is not just one slice but the WHOLE BLOODY TART. Do the best i can to tackle it but, even with sharing a piece, can only manage to finish two thirds. Can barely walk back to the motel... am too full of apple tart.

Home of the best apple tart tartine ever - The Heritage Hotel, Rockhampton

Wednesday: Bacon and egg breakfast ( again ) ordered at 8am, made conference in time to get the seat right next to the national boss. Yay. Dont mind so much as very interesting round table discussion til morning tea, and then discussion on customer service. Big boss puts confidential notes in front of her on the table - apparently thinks that i either cant or wont sneak peeks at it when she isnt looking. Lunch at the same pub. I dont know how but i manage to get the seat next the big boss at lunch aswell. My salmon is slightly overcooked but the lemon/lime/bitters goes down well. Stay awake and alert for the last afternoon session. Finish the book i started on Monday before dinner. 17 of us head to the same boutique pub as Tuesday night. After a lovely chicken scallopine i decide to tackle the apple tart again. This time make it two thirds of the way through by myself. May have finished the whole thing if it werent for few Midoris i'd already consumed ( yay for open bar tabs! ). Make it back to the motel despite my enormous apple tart belly. Repack suitcase - couldnt be arsed doing it at 6am.

This is NOT my boss - ha ha, i wish!

Thursday: Up at 6am and at the airport an hour and 10 minutes early for our flight, thanks to a particularly edgy staff member. Grab a crappy airport cafe breakfast ( tastes like cheesy cardboard ). On and off our first flight before the time i would usually leave for work. Potter around Brisbane airport and invest in a new book. Also bought $11 worth of mixed lollies ( rip off ). Brisbane to Sydney is uneventful - so uneventful in fact that i manage to drift off for a half hour nap. Grab some lunch with J, do a couple of laps of Sydney domestic and then settle in at our gate to wait for boarding. Actually have a flight with REX that arrives AND leaves on time ( incredible! ). Spend the flight trying to rest but giggling at the conversation from the couple behind me ( work in tv production, bitching about their bosses, filming out west, planning on driving to their destination 4 hrs from Dubbo at twilight - bad idea! ) J and I were two of the last people off the plane but the first thing i notice is Flynn pressed up against the terminal window, marvelling at the plane. Once he notices me he gets all excited and runs towards me as fast as his little legs will carry him. One huge mummy huggle and short drive later, i get tea cooked for me at my mum and dads. Mick drives us back to our place where, after putting Flynn to sleep, i collapse into bed, totally cactus.

Friday: A regular day at work, except that we're playing catch ups from the four days we were away. Barely have time to scratch myself. Make up a batch of spag bol for tea because, frankly, i couldnt be bothered doing gourmet. Again, i hit the sack before 8:30pm. Around 10pm i hear Flynn wake but Mick is still in good daddy mode and goes to him, and ends up sleeping in Flynns big boy bed with him. Good job Daddy - a calmed child and i get the whole bed to myself!

Saturday: Am gifted a sleep in by my gorgeous fiance. Feel so rested up on waking that i finish our shopping list while i tuck into my cereal. Go out and buy some new work shoes while Mick goes down to his shed and washes his work truck - meet back at home and then head out for groceries. Pop to the neighbours with Flynn for a quick visit when we get back. Flynn loves the little girls and teh dogs next door, so far is a bit scared of the mum ( big sook ). Once he figures out that K has swings, a trampoline, a pool AND can ply him with lollies they'll be good friends. Lots of cleaning and clothes washing done in the afternoon. Made some yummy chipotle chicken wraps for tea and watched " Monsters Inc " before bedtime. No wild saturday night for this little black duck!

Sunday: Flynn gives Mick his Fathers Day presents in bed, but instead of saying " Happy Fathers Day " he says " hello Cookie bird! " ( methinks he was dreaming about his aunties talking parrot... ). Go out to local nursery/cafe for Fathers Day brekkie with my parents, my younger sister and my brother and his family. Yummy French toast and fresh orange juice. Also lots of being dragged by the hand to see the fish in the pond. Flynn lets a combination of teething and finally becoming clingy ( which i thought he might, once i came back from Rocky ) turn him into a complete and utter feral child. Combination of sookiness, squealing and toy throwing drives me up the wall. Manage to get him to fall asleep after an hour and half on my lap. More sookiness when he wakes up which thankfully wears off when we go to my parents for bbq dinner. Good food, big laughs. Come to the conclusion that both my son and my father may just be nuts. Still, settle into warm bed to watch " Underbelly: Razor " with a big smile on my face....

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Black and Blue Bodies, A Red Letter Day, and Purple Prose

In my opinion, and I know I am making a rather sweeping generalisation here, nurses becoming patients is never a good thing. Disclosing that one is a nurse to other nurses when one is a patient is possibly also not always such clever thing to do.

I was surprised, therefore to find myself telling a nurse armed with a needle poised above my vein, ready to draw blood, that I was a nurse. The somewhat unfortunate result was getting two bruised arms before any blood was drawn. It was unfortunate that the drawing of blood came immediately before the administration of a deep subcutaneous injection into my abdomen. The injection was painful and bruised me. But it was just the start, my belly was turned black and blue during what was a week of daily injections.   

I was at a clinic I last attended in December 2007. On that first visit I came across a very caring health care assistant. I remember her well. Seeing my bewilderment on that first day at the clinic she kindly offered me a welcome cup of tea – which duly came, served in what my Mother would call 'a proper tea cup'. Nearly four years later, we were both there again. This time there was no tea, and she was the one looking bewildered. The waiting room door was locked. It had a numerical lock which defied all her attempts at guessing the code. So we stood outside talked about the advantages of a Kindle versus paper books and whether I knew who had 'done it' in the TV series the Killers – and despite my repeated protestations that I had never heard of the programme she insisted I must know who the villain was. I was saved by the arrival of the Clinic Sister. The painful injection was a small price to pay for being rescued.

I think the Clinic story is likely to run for a bit yet, unfortunately. What I also hope gets to have a long run is our new School. September 1st, 2011 was a Red Letter Day for the School. It was the official beginning of the new School of Nursing, Midwifery & Social Work. The creation of this new School, bringing together for the first time a much wider range of health and social care professions in one school, is what I believe to be one of the most exciting and significant developments in the Schools history. The opportunities to deliver our programmes differently are limitless. There are many opportunities for new research and to further contribute to the development of health and social care services of the future. I am really proud to be part of a newly formed team of colleagues who will take these ideas and opportunities forward.

Of course at one time in British Universities, there really were red letter days (often referred to as scarlet days) where the full dress gowns were worn. These days such academic dress is usually only worn on graduation days. It is such a shame that it doesn’t these days. I would love to be able to wear of our gowns everyday!

However, it was only the Doctors who got to wear the Scarlet Robes! That is real Doctors (those with a PhD). But it was not surprising to read the outcomes of the 2011 Ipsos MORI Veracity Index which revealed that 88% of adults in the UK reported that they trust medical doctors to tell the truth. It was an annual poll carried out for British Medical Association. The results revealed that doctors were the most trusted profession measured. The least trusted profession were politicians. It was teachers who were the second most trusted profession (81%). Interestingly, since 1983 at least 50% of those taking part in the survey have also said they trust the ordinary person in the street to tell the truth (in 2011 it was 55%).

And finally, many congratulations to our NJL, who also had her own Red Letter Day on Thursday – she got married - well done and best wishes!


Friday, September 2, 2011

College Mail

Years ago when I was just a tiny tot I loved getting mail. I would ALWAYS ask if anything had come for me and on the rare occasion that there was something in the stack for me, my excitement would go through the roof. As I grew from there my excitement would be still be present but I had adopted the preteen attitude of indifference. However, when I hit Junior year mail started coming in right and left. The longest I could go without getting mail was a couple of days. And when I really thought I couldn't get anymore, Senior year happened. Not a day has gone by that I have not had some form of mail. All of it has been from colleges and all of it has gotten old. I don't want any more college mail!

That all changed yesterday. I've applied to couple of places and got the first response back yesterday.

It's from this place. Lee University. The place I want to go. And guess what? I'm in. I've been accepted!
I'm too excited for words! T
his is such an answer to prayers.