Ah, yes, the fine art of paper writing. Have I ever told you how much I *love* writing papers? Oh, let me count the ways. Especially when there's an exam scheduled for A&P in the same week and I've been assigned a research topic - which I need to present, as an actual business format research project, complete with charts and graphs (yawn). And it's uniform ordering time. Where in the hell does one buy a stethoscope, anyway? Had I previously known one could buy these things without presenting some kind of documentation, I'd probably have had my own traction system set up in the bedroom years ago.
Where's my kid during all of this? Locked away in the dungeon, of course, forced to scrub the mildewing concrete walls with her fingernails and spit. Clearly I should be put in jail. Alright, it's not that bad, but I am feeling a bit of guilt. It's such a balancing act these days, trying to squeeze actual fun into the schedule. Greg's been trying to make our snippets of time between work/school/sleep memorable by flitting around the house singing to himself about how happy he is not to be in a pine box this fine autumn morning. I'm becoming convinced that he's really a death metal fan in indie clothing. He walks around, waving his arms wildly in front of an imaginary drum kit, making *deuoosh dunh-dunh-dunh deuooosh" sounds through clenched teeth while helping put away the laundry. Last week, we officially entered the phase of our relationship in which the male partner declares unto the female/mother figure of the house, "It's like you have two kids, not one!" AND THEN HE CALLED ME 'MOMMY'. He proceeded to get out of bed, follow Maddie into the bathroom, and pretend he was going to school, too.
You know what I need? Sometime soon, maybe between semesters, I need one of those girly weekend getaways, like Ruth and her sister and Kathy Bates' character on Six Feet Under, where they all sit around a table eating a meal outside, dressed in flowy comfortable garments, drinking several bottles of wine, and laugh until they cry at the ridiculous things their family members do. Like Maddie, trying to convince me a few weeks ago that she was convinced that I don't love her anymore because I get annoyed when she WON'T STOP TALKING during a movie SHE wanted to watch, or because I lecture her on the benefits of cleaning her room (yes, family, you read that right: I LECTURE HER ON THE BENEFITS OF CLEANING HER ROOM). She stood there pouting, arms folded across their chest and said, "I think you don't love me anymore." But she couldn't make eye contact.
"Maddie, look at me."
Silence.
"Maddie, if you're going to accuse me of no longer loving you, you need to look me in the eye when you say it. Look at me."
"What."
Oh my god, she's a teenager already. Fuck.
"Repeat what you said."
"You don't ---"
And then she broke out laughing.
"That's what I thought. Now sit your ass down on this couch, keep your mouth shut, and cuddle with me."
Over and out.
Things are floating along swimmingly here on the Dread Pirate Ship Steffke.
This sentence would like to apologize for the previous.
As you can see, keeping up on the blog has slipped from my list of priorities over the last few months. Lots of ups and downs regarding whether to sell our house; contemplated buying a duplex a few blocks away (really cute!); Greg was pushing the whole, "We will be moving while you're in school, so you'd better start making that part of your reality," thing; and then we had a couple of realtors come over and as soon as they set foot in the door, Greg got all Tom-Cruise-in-Far-and-Away, stuck his proverbial flagpost in our fertile soil, and then ran off the realtors on horseback with a gun slung over one shoulder and his family dangling precariously from the stirrups, shouting curse words at those dang gumb maggots tryin' to take ar lay-und (*spitting for emphasis*, *end scene*).
Ah, the American Dream. How sweet it is.
So we're here, and we're staying (at least for the next six months - I'm sure this will be a recurring topic at least until one of us starts raking in something other than old shoes and empty soda cans).
Started nursing school. All's going well so far - the trickiest part is scheduling the rest of my life around it, which is the way it has to be for the next 19 1/4 months (but who's counting). No catostrophic roadblocks yet, but I do need to start scheduling more fun time with Maddie before she divorces herself from me, moves in with her father, and NEVER CLEANS HER ROOM AGAIN. Getting anxious to start clinicals, begin actually doing something that resembles the career I'm going into. Greg's really enjoying all the medical-speak going on around here. For example,
Greg: I can't get this stupid patch to stay on.
Me: Did you take a shower first?
Greg: No.
Me: The integumentary system - your skin - has a lot of hair follicles and sebaceous glands that produce a small amount of ----
(sentence cut-off mid-stream due to lack of audience).
Really, he's loving it.
Off to start the day. Playing a fun game today called "Let's See if We Can Finish the End-of-the-Month Paperwork at Our Job, Read Two Chapters of Anatomy, Finish Anatomy Labwork, Go Grocery Shopping, Go to the Gym or Do Something Physical, Go to the Bank and Post Office, Bake Cookies with Daughter, Make Lover Wild With Passion, and Decorate for Halloween - All in One Day!"
It's like trying to be Dwight from "The Office", somebody cute from "Grey's Anatomy", Jane Fonda, Carol Brady, Carrie Bradshaw, and Martha Stewart all at the same time.
Oh, yeah baby. You know you like it. Tell mama how much it hurts.