Teen Clean Up

I used to hate cleaning up after the kids. You know... you clean up poop, vomit, pee, food. You wipe clean asses, vaginas, penises, and testicles. You clean up poop and pee off your kids' assess, vaginas, penises, and testicles. It's the life of a mom. That's "kid" clean up for you.

Then those kids become teens and you are still cleaning up after them. However, "teen" clean up is much different from "kid" clean up.  

Here's today's example of "teen" clean up.

Today's teen clean up involved:  two police officers, an x-ray machine, some long waiting periods, a judge, and ultimately... my checkbook.

{Moms of small children-- doesn't your future sound charming?}

This morning at dark thirty in the morning, Doc H shares the news. D2's fix-it ticket {which we've been harping on her to take care of for over a month} was due yesterday. He asked if I would take care of it.

Being that the car is registered in my name, I thought I better. Only once in my life have I received a ticket and that was over twenty years ago. I don't know how these things work, but I do recall hearing of warrants for a person's arrest due to unpaid parking tickets on television shows. We all know televisions shows portray a spot-one, accurate account of our judicial system, right?

Scared to end up in the clink with a stainless-steel crapper and a burly girlfriend named Big Bertha, I headed to the police station in D2's car. 

The po-po at the po-po station told this step-mama I was in the wrong place. 

{Dammit.}

I drove across town to the courthouse as advised.

At the courthouse, I was made to empty my pockets and put my purse through x-ray machine as I walked through the metal detector. 

I was told to go outside and flag down an officer to inspect the vehicle and sign-off the infraction. I did. He inspected, but couldn't sign-off. The ticket was without a violation code.

{Lucky me.}

He motioned for me to go inside the court house and ask a clerk for a copy of the original ticket.

My purse was x-rayed, and I was scanned again.

Inside, I stood in a long line for an opportunity to speak to a clerk...

and waited...

and waited... 

and waited...

and waited... 

and waited...

and waited... 

and waited...

and waited... 

Finally, the clerk pulled up the original ticket and gave me the violation code. 

After a few laps inside the courthouse, I tracked down the officer. Outside, he inspected the car again and signed.

"Go inside and to a see the judge", I'm told.

My purse was x-rayed, and I was scanned again.

I stood in the hellish line again. The officer took pity on me and walked me to the front of the line. Nice kid. 

My paperwork was taken to the judge, where it was signed off and excused all while I waited and waited.

Finally, it came back with a stamp of judgmental approval. 

{Phew! All done cleaning up this mess... or so I thought.}

As I was tucking the paperwork back into my purse, the clerk said to me...

"Ma'am? How will you be paying the court and infraction fee?" 

{Fan-bloody-tastic.}

I cracked open my checkbook, paid and left in a huff yearning to go back to the days where I wiped poopie butts, and piss off testicles. 

Then it dawned on me that I probably shouldn't wish that on myself. The reality of life is Doc H and I are getting older and older and older... and someday... someday... I might find myself wiping piss off testicles again. 

{Crap.}

I guess I'll title that post, "Elderly Clean-up" when and if that time ever comes.

Let's all pray that time NEVER comes.

Play It Again, Sundays {A Surgeon's Mantra: "I Hope I Don't Kill Him"}

Originally published on May 4, 2012

Photo Credit

"I hope I don't kill him."

The first time I heard my husband utter this sentence, we were dating. Hearing it was a jolt to my system. Such a thought was preposterous. He was a doctor; a surgeon! He was not a killer. Killer equates murderer, and that was not the kind, gentle, intelligent man I was dating and in love with. This deeply concerned man standing in front of me captures spiders and releases them outside. I kill spiders right along with snails, slugs, and ants.

When he, and other surgeons, take ahold of the scalpel they cut into the human body with good intentions. {After hearing the "k" word, I'll admit, I was a little freaked out.  I verified Doc H's intentions by taking a sneak peak in his freezer for body parts. None found.} They cut to either improve a patient's quality of life, or extend his or her life. Where in the hippocratic oath does it mention a intent to kill? The oath reads:

Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty.

Perhaps if Grey's Anatomy aired prior to our dating days, I would have been more prepared for the thought of killing someone on the OR table. They like to throw that phrase in there every now and then.

Over a lifespan of a surgical career, it is inevitable a number of patients will never make it off the table. As a surgeon's wife, you hope that number is as close to zero as possible. When it happens, it affects our husbands. It rocks us and the "I killed my patient" wave reverberates through the household to our children.

Yet, I find it hard to accept it as "killing" especially when a number of patients lie on the table against the advice of their surgeon. Having gone through the loss of a loved one at a hospital, I understand the emotions and desperation a family feels. Hope is a powerful emotion and one which is easily embraced to when the only other option is impending death.

Here is a composite snapshot of the type of scenario my husband frets about: Eighty year old (and sometimes older!) patient, bad arterial disease, smoker, diabetic, comes in with a ruptured aneurysm. Against Doc H's recommendation, family wants surgery to repair damage with major surgery. Doc H has warned there is minimal chance she will make it off the table. Most likely she will die on the table. If nothing is done, she will die a natural death. The devastated family opts, presses, even demands surgery. It's their only hope.

I ask you, if she doesn't make it to the recovery room, is that "killing" someone?

The Week Away

Despite the great room they gave us,
I'm NEVER going back to that conference!

I had intended to write a post to remind myself and warn others to NEVER accompany your spouse to a week-long conference where every day would be consumed from 7am to 7, 8, 9 pm with talks, discussions, moderation sessions, break-out sessions, planning board meetings, specialty meetings, etc...

I only agreed to go, to take advantage of a paid opportunity to visit D1 at her college over the weekend.

Other than that, thank goodness my in-laws drove ten hours to keep me company during the week. Otherwise, I would've been bored to tears.

However, I think I've changed my mind about the trip.

Something good has happened from my week's long absence from home.

I left D3 in the care of my ex-husband, her father for the week. After one night, D3 decided she would rather come back home and asked my mother to come stay at the house with her. Lucky for me and her, my mother was thrilled at the opportunity to spend so much time with one of her grandkids.

So that's what happened.

When I left, I left a some-what broody and quiet teen daughter, and a mother who couldn't seem to understand why I was too busy to do things with her on a daily basis.

I returned home to a daughter who seems genuinely happy to see me, talkative, upbeat, and grateful for everything I do for her. While my mother enjoyed the opportunity, she was exhausted and has a better understanding of just how busy my days are.

Sometimes a week away does wonders!

{DISCLAIMER: Nevertheless, I have put Doc H on notice that I will NOT be attending this particular conference with him EVER AGAIN! It's too much, the days are too long, and they fully utilize Doc H every second of the day. I'd rather stay home and scrub a toilet. Well, not really... the toilet, that is.}

Call...Rats

As Doc H left the house this morning at 6 am, he reminded me he was on-call until...

Monnnnnnndaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Rats. I'm on my own 'til then.

Time to ramp up and mentally prepare myself for attending the following in solitude...

One homecoming football game
One of D2's half-time performances
Homecoming dance pre-party
Chauffeuring kids to homecoming dance
LB's sport tournament

...and that does not include all the regular practices between now and then.

Although, it's not the driving that gets me. It's attending the events alone. And really, it's not just merely attending the event alone. I can do alone...when I don't know anybody there. I'm friendly. I'll make a friend or two. 

It's attending events when the ex's will be there... and worse... when they are there with a current BF/date that really puts knots in my thong. How's that for honesty?

It's just... AWKWARD.

But, like a soldier... I will continue on and do my duty and just keep chanting to myself..

I'm living a great life,
I'm living a great life,
I'm living a great life!

...and breath deeply and remember now matter how upset I am for having to attend these events alone, my Doc H is even more upset for missing them entirely.

:::sigh:::

A Pair of Idiots: The Stupid One

On our trip home, Doc H and I, both, had our idiotic moments. 

Lucky for him, his came off cute and even a bit charming. I wish I could say the same for mine. 

Here's some background you must know. For some strange reason, when I travel {no matter what the mode of transportation} my bladder shrinks to the size of a pea. Lucky me. Thank goodness, Doc H is a patient man and always willing to pull over at my bladder's beckon call.

Flying provides much planning on my part. Two hours before departure, I cut down on my liquid intake. Now, this provides an enormous problem. If you remember, I don't like to fly. I have self-imposed limits to my travel. Flights must be short and on jet planes. No props for me, thank you. 

And without adult beverages prior to boarding, Doc H may NEVER get me on that plane to Italy.  It's a problem. Poor man works like a dog and can't take the vacation he desires, because his phobia-riddled wife puts the kibosh on his dream vacation. Like I said, it's a problem.

I hit the bathroom just prior to boarding and pray we are not held up on the runway. 

Normally, when we fly, we are able to choose our seats. Doc H gets the aisle seat and I sit next to him. This time we flew an airline which herds its clientele like cattle {you know the one?} and we had pitiful placement in line to board. We were doubtful we would be able to sit together, yet we did. Me, in the middle seat, and Doc H in the window seat. Some stranger got the aisle. 

So, with Doc H squeezed into his seat with his knees buckled up around his ears, and me praying the rosary asking Jesus to get us home safely and keep my bladder in check, we lifted into the sky.

I was dreading having to bother Mr. Aisle on behalf of my bladder. It was a fortuitous moment when my bladder began spasming and he got up to use the facilities himself. The airline attendant warned him of the line for the lavatory in the back, and pointed out the vacant lavatory at the front of the plane. 

I watched Mr. Aisle enter the lavatory, and waited for him to exit, making sure I followed the TSA rule to not stand in front of the cockpit. Lord knows I don't want to be questioned or held up by an undercover air marshal. 

So, as I watched Mr. Aisle exit from the lavatory, my bladder propelled me off my seat quickly in an effort to beat anyone else to the front of the plane. 

As I approached the door which would provide my bladder's salvation, I noted the odd little red light and some strange looking buttons. Regardless, I was a woman on a wee mission. Ignoring the light, I turned the knob. It wouldn't budge. I tried turning it, sliding it... the damned thing was stuck. I turned to the back of the plane and noted the long line for that lavatory. 

I saw Mr. Aisle come out this door. I knew the lavatory was vacant. Being persistent, I decided to put some of my weight behind it. Turning the handle, I put some of my shoulder and hip into it. Nothing. Turn the knob, fiddle the knob, bang, and pound. Still... nothing.

My bladder about to burst, I hear someone walk up behind me. "You don't want to go in that door. It's the cockpit. We'd have to arrest you if you got in there" says the flight attendant. She points to the door to my left. "That's the door you're looking for, right?" She wore a concerned, but polite smile.

I turn to see a door which is clearly labelled "LAVATORY".

**Oh. Piss and vinegar. I'm a first class idiot sitting in coach.**

She gave me a pity smile as I opened the correct door. As I entered, I quickly poked my head back out and desperately begged her, "Please don't tell my husband!"

A few minutes later, she handed me and Doc H our nuts. My nuts were handed to me with a wink and a "it's our secret" smile.

After a second, the incident replayed in my brain and I couldn't help but to begin to laugh at myself. It was at that time I had to come clean with Doc H and share my moment of utter brilliance with him. 

He shook his head and began to laugh at me.

**I am the stupid one.** 

A Pair of Idiots: The Cute One

I realize I’m not telling you anything new. Some days are just better than others. Some days, you’re just not on your “A” game. You might find yourself down on your luck, or just missing the obvious and looking like a first class idiot. 

Well, that was us on our trek home.

Unfortunately, my "idiot-ness" rose like a soaring kite on a windy Sunday way above Doc H's level of idiot-ness. Doc H's was cute, because it reminds me that despite all his diplomas, awards, and letters behind his name, he is just a regular, ole, imperfect human being, just like the rest of us. It went like this...

In the airport terminal, we got hungry and decided to hit up the pizza joint for a slice of veggie and a beer. Me... cheese and unsweetened tea.

I got the table, while he paid.

He brought the tray of food, settled it in front of me, made eye contact with me, and gave me a proud smile.

I raised an eyebrow.

Still smiling, he said, "I just got carded. I think you should post that on Facebook!"

I smiled back and obliged his request, posting the following:

Doc H asked that I share with all our FB friends that he was carded today at the airport. Apparently, he missed this sign at the cash register. I love my husband.

See what I mean? Cute idiocy at it's best.

Mine? Pure stupidity.

It's a longer tale... so tune in tomorrow for the rest of this story.

Do You See It? Am I the Only One?

Sometimes you come across the most unexpected items as you travel. 

Yes, we are attending ANOTHER medical conference. In case your counting it's my second in four weeks; Doc H's sixth in eight weeks. {Jiminy Crickets, that's a whole lot of travel.} This particular conference does not meet any of my conference criteria, so I am kind of kicking my own arse for coming along. 

I am here to visit my in-laws {And I am so grateful they traveled down to see me! Otherwise I'd be bored to tears!} And ultimately, at the end of the week, I came to visit D1 at her college. 
Therefore, my posts will be sparse this week. 

You’ll still recognize me when I come home, right?

I wanted to share this little goodie with you. I swear, sometimes you come across the most unexpected when you travel, like this...


It hangs in the bathroom of our hotel suite. I pointed it out to Doc H and asked, “Do you see what I see?”

He sprouted the Latin name for the species of the flower. Of course. Doesn’t everyone know the Latin names of all the flower species?

I must have either given him a crazed or confused look, or perhaps I may have just rolled my eyes demonstrating my awe of his big brain, because he asked, “Well, what do you see?”

To which I said very matter of factly, “Satan’s penis.”

I’ve named this piece “Satanic Porn”. 

I’m thinking of calling the front desk and asking if anyone else has seen it {or complained}. Because, from what I understand, I'm in the Bible belt of America.

I’m just curious. I’m I the only one?

I Don't Curse in Front of the Children...

I don't curse in front of the children, 

but some days I do find myself 

thanking my neighbor

for picking a breed

which allows me to yell...

as she walks it through the 'hood.

Stress.

Relief.

Pisshead

Yesterday, my morning started out as any regular Monday morning... slow and groggy. Don't we all start our Mondays like that?

And yet, something always comes along which perks us up.

My perk usually comes in the form of hot liquid in a cup. The bolder the better. It takes a mountain to move this mama on a Monday morn!

But yesterday,  it wasn't my regular cup of coffee that got my juices flowing. It was a comment.

SCANDALOUS! I know.

It wasn't even a comment I received on my blog. It was on another blog which I just happened to stumble upon.

I felt bad for the blogger. She is an uninsured writer who broke her hand and took issue with the hardships and costs of getting medical attention. Ultimately, she ended up setting her own hand. That IS awful! No doubt about that, right? She shouldn't have been ignored or treated so poorly by the doctor who saw her.

But, here is the comment that woke me right up and out of my slumberous state of being...

"fuck the medical community...
it is a amazing how many years of education that doctors go thru to become such self-righteous dipshits.
i would think they could become assholes with a partial associates degree at the local CC...
at least you got some pain meds.
doctors for the most part are just highly or over educated guessers..."

Uhhhh....REALLY?!

I have so much to spout out at this guy that I can't even type straight.

So I'll leave it as this...

Dear Sir,
I hope one day when you find your self in an OR needing life saving surgery at 3 am, you'll be pleased know your surgeon came in straight from the local CC with his fresh 2 year degree when you see him wearing this..

Instead of this..

Should you make it off the table alive, I'm sure you'll be utterly pleased to know your urethra is now tied to your carotid.
This officially makes you a crippled pisshead.

So I hand it over to you, my friends... what would your reply be?

Love, Lust & The In-Between: Doctors' Wives Living

Once again, Doctor's Wives Living is tackling the issues with find ourselves dealing with at home. If these aren't an issue at your house, it means your kids are still cute little munchkins. Give it a few years... With a house full of teens, I couldn't agree more. Technology and family boundaries are a must!

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter

Love, Lust & The In-Between offers advice to anyone experiencing challenges in their lives. Readers of this magazine are most welcome to send in their questions, which will be handled with the utmost confidence. Lisa and Amanda will each reply with their own perspectives. Please be aware that their advice comes from experience, not a classroom, and is therefore only to be applied to your personal situation if it feels like the right thing for you. Lisa and Amanda look forward to helping you.

The following article has been written by Lisa & Amanda

Question: Media is taking over our family! Some days I wish that all power and gadgets would just go away. It is getting to the point where my husband is texting our teenagers when we are all in the house! Dinners have gone from the dining table to in front of the TV. I have spoken to my husband about this matter many times, but he says that I am over exaggerating. I have two teenagers who never talk to us anymore and I think it is going to just get worse if I don’t do something now. Help!

Lisa’s Answer: I was reading an article about this recently in which the child psychologist interviewed said that it’s important that parents talk to their children about cell phone etiquette and model the same behavior. So if you want it to get better, you’re going to need to get your husband on board. I can see texting each other while in the same house funny at first (I’m guilty of it too) but it’s not ok if it’s ongoing. As for the TV, again, it’s up to you to set the boundaries and stick to them. They’re teenagers, so they won’t be thrilled with the limitations, but you have to hold firm. Write up a list of rules about what is and isn’t acceptable technology-related behavior, sit down and talk to your husband seriously to go over them, hold an informal family meeting to explain the new system and keep them on the fridge as a reminder.

This isn’t just about your kids behavior at home, it’s about teaching them appropriate life skills, and perhaps that might be the best way in explaining it in order to get your husband on your side. We grew up understanding the importance of face-to-face connection because we didn’t have the same distractions but they didn’t so it needs to be made clear to them. For example, you wouldn’t want them texting during a job interview. Or watching TV during a dinner date with a special someone. Furthermore, they will have kids one day and if the problem isn’t nipped in the bud now it could escalate down the generation line. I know it’s tough to be the bad guy but ultimately it’s about molding them into respectful and courteous human beings. They’ll thank you later.

Amanda’s Answer: Yes, I agree with Lisa. They need to know their boundaries and acceptable behaviour around cell phone use and she’s outlined some great ways to do that. There’s no getting around it, those gadgets are here to stay, and it’s your teens’ reality. I understand your frustration, but is this more than just about technology getting in the way of family time? Could it be you are feeling like you are losing touch with them and losing the closeness you share and you don’t want that to happen?

Your kids are at a time in their lives when they begin to see themselves as a separate entity from the family group, and are starting to experience what it’s like to be an individual and to have experiences that don’t include their parents. It’s completely natural for them not to talk to you and include you as much as they used to. They key is for them to feel secure and loved and supported during this crazy hormonal time, and know that you going to be there for them if they get in trouble and need your help.

This phase in your children’s lives is scary because you’re so used to being the one to catch them even before they know they’re going to fall and to being the centre of their world, and you feel the need to stay as connected as you were when they were little. You probably would even feel guilty if you are less connected (I know I did at first when my kids started becoming adults), but trust me, understanding and respecting the distance they need right now and why they need it will ensure a long-term loving relationship between you (which is not to say you stop parenting, just that you’re aware of the reasons behind their behaviour). Remember the teenager you once were, because that will help you relate to what they’re experiencing.

Finally, if you are looking for ways to engage one-on-one with your kids, here’s a suggestion: see if once a week, or once every two weeks, everyone wants to plan a family dinner night where the kids cook for you. Their choice of recipe, and you help when called for, but otherwise they get to play the adults and do something nice for the whole family. They learn to cook (if they don’t already know) and you get to spend time with them and eat dinner together. Good luck! I always say being a parent is the toughest job in the world. In the words of Kenny Rogers ”you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em” – and that ain’t no easy task.

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter

Play It Again {It's a Rough Road: The Children of Surgeons

Originally posted February 13, 2012

Being a child of a well-regarded surgeon is tough. These kids don't have a normal average childhood.

Now, please don't start writing me emails about how our kids are spoiled, because we now find ourselves in the 1% (Depending on who you talk to. There are so many different numbers out there). Doc H and I will be the first to agree; we do have spoiled children. Hands down. Full out. No contest. We agree. We're working to remedy the situation. Our kids do have almost every hi-tech gadget they want. (I say almost, because there are certain items Doc H and I draw the line at and they have to save up their own money- we're not complete push-overs.) But, hear me out, because I'm not referring to the tangible items.

Our children will never have the same childhood memories as many, normal, regular, average children from average USA will.

Not us... but wish it was.

Our kids will never have memories of their surgeon parent (SP - because I know you mommy surgeons are out there representing for all the SAHMs who could've been!)

• coaching or being team mom
• chaperoning field trips
• attending every school event
• being in the stands, cheering for them, watching after school games or meets
• becoming great friends with other classmate's parents
• attending practices
• volunteering in the classroom 
• knowing all their friends' name's

You know the memories...you made a goal and while celebrating with your teammates on the field, you look over to the sideline to see your parents clapping with delight and pride.  Or, there's also the flip of the coin...you made a horrible play, or you came in last place, but in the end your mom and dad were there to hug you and share words of wisdom to help lift your spirits.

No, these memories are highly unlikely for the kids of a SP which I think is so sad. Some of my stand-out childhood memories stem from those situations. And guess what? My memories are balanced between both my parents. Most children of SP will have these memories, but the scales will be tipped in favor of the non-SP.

I realize in today's world with many children coming from households where both parents work, most children may not have such dual parent memories. However, they will have memories of each parent being involved and attending such activities.

Our kids will not have those memories. They may have a memory that when recalled with family and friends may begin like this: "I remember the one time my dad came to watch, I ....." or "My dad never saw me run track for my High School, but one time..."

From my own personal experiences and observations, even children whose parents are divorced fare better in this particular department. Those kids will either have one parent there for them or both (!) as they each compete to be the "better" parent.

And I haven't even begun to touch on the expectations...

**********************************************
WILL YOU HELP ME?

Please help me expand my readership by hitting the FB "Like" button, pinning me on Pinterest, tweeting my link or sharing my blog with your Facebook friends.

As always, your comments are welcome and appreciated!

Thank you so very much!

Surprise!

Yippeeeee!!!

I am thrilled to welcome all my SITStahs to my teeny-tiny corner of the blog-o-sphere! I don't know you from Adam, but I can tell you I absolutely adore you for taking the time to stop by and explore my ludicrous life.

You know what's so wonderful about being a featured blogger on SITS? Well, in all honesty, there are many, but let me just focus on one...

It's all about me! And we, moms deserve every pat on the back that comes our way, don't we? {I see you nodding.}

And when is the last time, we, as busy mothers can say that?

Mother's Day? Be real. Even if you get breakfast in bed or a homemade card, you know the kitchen will still need some attention, or you'll find yourself vacuuming stray glitter from underneath the dining table.

Your birthday? Maybe, but if you home is full of teens like ours is, you might find yourself grounding one of your teens until they hit menopause. Instant joy kill right there.

Your anniversary? That would be nice, but it's a day I enjoy making it special for my husband and spending it with my family, even if our teens are over it and would rather be in their rooms IMing their friends.  {Feel free to roll your eyes and sigh with me.} And God forbid you find yourself celebrating your first anniversary while visiting your new in-laws who live in another state... and in a DRY county. A big shout out to my BIL and his wife for making the trek across the state line in an effort to remedy the situation. After a week with not a bottle of pinot noir, a Bartles & James margarita flavored wine cooler never tasted so good.

Valentine's Day? No way... I put lots of work into making that day stand out. And no matter how much planning goes into my V Day, it is always under threat of being thwarted by my nemesis, the pager.

But being chosen to be a featured blogger on SITS? Now, that is a special day I can call mine!

What?! You don't know SITS? You're missing the boat!

I hope you enjoyed your time here with me and will stay to poke around a bit.

Leave me a comment and follow and I just know we'll be lifelong friends!

Medical Conference Travel Tips for the Med Spouse

September and October are jammed packed with Medical Conferences for us. In all honesty, the traveling has gotten to be a more than I care for. While I have accompanied Doc H on a couple of trips, he has been traveling mostly on his own. I prefer having him home with me at night. Even if I don't see him before I fall asleep, I find comfort knowing he'll turn off our bedroom TV for me after I've fallen asleep.

1. Read the all the conference material yourself. This not only includes the conference meeting agenda, but also {and, by all means, more importantly} the conference social meeting plans.
2. Don’t listen to your spouse regarding dress attire. Check the social meeting calendar. . . then kick it up a notch. Better to be a tad over dressed. The last Welcome Reception, I found myself to be the only gal in jeans {They were designer and pricey, but still}. Luckily, I have been to enough of these, that I really didn’t care.
3. Check into the resort/hotel a day or two early. You’ll get the better rooms and the king beds. If you arrive the day the conference begins, rooms are slim pickings.
4. Make sure your spouse registers you as a guest. Otherwise, you’re without a badge and no one can tell who you belong to. Personally, I felt like a party crasher.
5. Bring plenty of one dollar bills. No, there will not be a Chippendale Revue {Unless your spouse would like to put on a private show for you. Doc H and I are beyond the age when any such shenanigans could be deemed sexy or safe to our over-all well being}. All the bellmen, wait staff, etc. will know you are a doctor/surgeon family. If they can help it, they won't give you anything smaller than a five dollar bill. I'm sorry, but if you're staying at a resort which only offers valet parking {no self-parking available}, I don't care to tip the bellman $5 every time they park or fetch the car.
6. Spiff up your shoes. Take them to a cobbler for repairs if needed. Don't be fooled. People will be checking out your shoes.
7. Pack your best stuff. Everyone else will. Even if it's a hiking outfit, make it your best hiking outfit.
8. Be sure to wear articles of clothing that badges can clip to or you don’t mind putting a pin through the fabric.
9. Wear the damn badge. It makes it so much easier for people to remember your name. It is quite likely you will be bumping into the same people a few times a year. It’s embarrassing to be acquainted with someone for years, and not know their first name, and constantly have to refer her as “you-know,- Dr. Johnson’s wife”. Carrying the name badge in your pocket, pulling it out, and flashing it when someone asks why you didn’t get one, isn’t helpful. . . at all.
10. Be sure you are allowed to drive the rental car. You’ll be by yourself much of the time. You’ll want to be able to get out on your own.
11. Don’t let your spouse hold onto the valet ticket for said rental. It does you no good sitting in his wallet during the conference.
12. Do bring your kids to the conferences. We travel to some wonderful locations. 
13. Don’t bring your energetic tots to the receptions. There’s nothing more harrowing than being in a standing room only reception and trying to keep your pinot noir in your glass rather than on your clothes as tots are running around beneath you, weaving between the crowds, giddy with pleasure. The poor mom. . . not so much.
14. Bring along your hobbies or a good book. If you're traveling sans children, you'll have lots of down time. 
15. Do neck exercises. You will be nodding along in agreement during conversations you know nothing about, care nothing about, or even turn your stomach a little.
16. Be ready to smile a lot. Practice before hand if your cheeks tend to cramp up. Smiling goes hand-in-hand with #14.
17. Be nice to all, even if you don’t particularly care for that person. It is likely that will be the person you end up sitting next to at tomorrow night’s dinner or in your afternoon fly-fishing excursion group.
18. DO NOT sign up for the golf or tennis tournaments if you’re NOT super competitive. They are publicized as friendly and open to all levels, but don’t be fooled. These are people with a-type personalities, after all. Meet me at the spa or the nearest Starbucks.
19. Pack a your own outlet splitter if you like your electronic devices as much as we do. There are never enough plugs at these resorts.
20. If you don’t have personal hot spot, you’re in trouble.  Get one. It will mostly likely be cheaper than using the hotel's. 

Medical Monday! It's Here!

Hooray! It's Medical Monday!

Are you confused if you qualify for the party?

Do you work in healthcare?

Doctor? Nurse? EMT? Chiropractor? Vet? Dentist? Therapist?

MA? NA? PA? DA?

Are you the spouse or SO of a healthcare worker/student?

Are you a nursing student? Medical student?

Intern? Resident? Fellow?

You get the picture, right? 

LINK UP YOUR POST!

Our once a month bloghop for bloggers like yourself, where we can build a community of support and friendship, learn from one another and share our stories.

Here are the rules:

1. Follow your co-hosts via GFC.
2. Link up you medical/med life blog. If your blog name does not clearly state how you fit in to the med/med life world, please write a little intro or link up a specific post which clearly demonstrates your connection.
3. Visit at least 3 other link ups, comment, introduce yourself, and tell the your stopping by or following from MM! 
4. Help spread the word by using our button on your post or sidebar, tweet about Medical Monday, or spread the word on Facebook! The more the merrier for all of us!

And here's a helpful tip. . .

If you haven't turned of word verification, it's ON. Please turn it off. We'll all LOVE you!!

Not sure how? Click here for instructions.

Complete step one by following your co-hosts:

• Emma at Your Doctor's Wife
• Jane at From A Doctor's Wife
• Jillian at Hi! It's Jilly
• Sarah at Charting New Territory

Want to be awesome? Help facilitate the hopping by grabbing this button and insert it on the post you link up. . .

<a href="http://www.yourdoctorswife.com/2012/10/medical-monday-3.html" target="blank"> <img src="http://i1168.photobucket.com/albums/r494/fromadoctorswife/MedicalMonday-001edit125x125.jpg"/> </a>

Want to co-host next month? Shoot Emma an email at yourdoctorswife@gmail.com.

Now, link up below and have fun! The link up is open through Friday, so be sure to come back during the week.