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I had a ‘Hints From Heloise’ moment today.  Do you remember her?  Back in my growing up years she was a columnist who had a ton of amazingly simple, sometimes weird, but practical ideas for making life easier.

She was the Queen of working smarter, not harder.

So I’m at Loews today, buying Ivy and Diet Mountain Dew….

(don’t judge)

….and after I rolled my purchases out to the minivan, I realized as I opened the hatch that I hadn’t removed last night’s crap out of the back.  I was looking at gas can funnels, empty pizza boxes, and softball cleats.  (Makes you wonder what we do for fun, doesn’t it?)

I looked at the Ivy, thought about putting it on the pizza box tops, and then it hit me….OPEN the pizza boxes, and put the dirt-bottomed ivy containers on them…thereby saving the car carpet from the dirt, stabilizing the pots better for transport, recycling the boxes, and utilizing the space more efficiently.  It was awesome.  I felt so organized and capable.

Yes, I can spin the world so even Trash affirms me.

I ran some more errands, drove home, and began to remove everything from the car.  It was hard to move the Ivy out because I was busy patting myself on the back for being so gosh darn shrewd.

I put the ivy containers (still in the pizza boxes) down in the beds where they are to be planted and took some things inside.  But when I opened the door, the cats, God love ’em, ran outside before I could stop them.  Usually corralling them back inside is a job and a half, but this time, they stopped at the ivy and were pushing at the pots with their noses.  They didn’t hear me coming, and I was able to scoop them both up and take them inside.

When I went back outside, I saw that my ivy was smudged with old pizza sauce and cheese bits.  Who knew that old pizza ingredients were a kitty-lure?

This made me even prouder.  My Pizza box trash was now not only an effective plant carrier, it also served as a cat-trap.

I’m totally going to patent this.

Don’t tell anyone.

The tension has been killing everyone, I know…but I promise the wait was worth it.

Drumroll Please!!!

The name of the Moose is now “MAXWELL”.   Maxwell Moose.

Congratulations to “Glenda 123” for submitting it!  We will be contacting you via email to arrange delivery of my World Famous Turbo Rumballs!

Great job, everybody!  We enjoyed the ideas you had!

Maxwell thanks you, too!

Love,

Mama B

Today, My Captain dragged me kicking and screaming to the Fire Academy for the Medic Recert class, as I told you in ~Medic Refresher~.

I didn’t want to be there.

The class started.  We were reviewing Pediatric Protocols.

I REALLY didn’t want to be there.

Pediatric Protocols are difficult because so much about it is dependant on weight and exact age.  It is the hardest of all the protocols medics must know.  And they have to KNOW it firmly, because, well, of the time-sensitive nature of emergencies!  But there are so many pediatric rules with exceptions, that the term ‘exception’ is pointless.   And, actually, it can be so complicated, it’s very challenging.

I love a good challenge.

I started not minding being there so much.

My brain began chugging along, slowly at first, but then picked up speed.  It was all gradually coming back to me.

I didn’t feel quite as intimidated as I had when the class started.

Some of the medics in the class were cracking jokes.  Funny jokes.

I began to enjoy being there.

My curiosity on some of the new protocols piqued, and I asked questions….good questions, and was excited to hear the answers.

I was so glad I was there, and remembered WHY I became a medic in the first place.

Now I am not so sure I want to just “let it go”.   I had forgotten how much I loved the challenge of it.

Which means, My Captain was right.

Again.

Dammit.

My Captain won’t let me quit EMS.  He thinks I’ve worked too hard to become a medic and my decision to let it go doesn’t sit well with him.

I told him I don’t like it.

I told him I’m not good at it.

I told him I don’t want the stress it induces.

He tells me I AM good at it.

But he can’t argue the other two.  And frankly, he has never been on an EMS call with me.   I think he is confusing medical ability with marital love.  But that’s just me being practical.

I flip-flop.  Believe me, no one knows better than me how much time and sacrifice I put into becoming a medic.  Especially with two munchkins in tow.  And I do love helping people in need.  The mother, the nurturer in me feels entirely fulfilled when I am giving comfort. And yes, if I thought of it as throwing all that time and effort away, he would be right: it would be a tragedy.

But I don’t see it that way.  I see it as moving on.  Starting a new chapter.  Continuing down the road of my life.

He listened.

And then he signed me up for our mandated periodic Medic Continuing Education courses.

Do you think anyone will say anything tomorrow when they see him dragging me down the hall of the Fire/Rescue Academy kicking and screaming?

Nah.  You’re right, probably not.

***sigh***

Pray for me.