Bradyn Poppins...

“MAMMMMMAAAAA!!!!!”

Anna is playing upstairs with three of her sweet little friends and they are all yelling and freaking out because Anna just smacked her head on her bed.  “Miss Kim!  Miss Kim!” 

Anna runs downstairs, I’m thinking you know, mama-nurse to the rescue!  Right?  I mean, why did we spend all that time and money on nursing school if not for moments just…such…as…THIS?

“Mama, where’s Bradyn?  I need Bradyn!”

RECORD SCRATCH….

A little background.  Since the little Peanut made her debut nearly seven years ago, she hasn’t been received with the most raving reviews by her sister-audience.  ESPECIALLY since Morgan went to college and the babysitting gig has fallen on Brady Lady’s shoulders.

But, since homeschooling has begun, Bradyn has picked up a little more responsibility with regard to the Nut.  Days I work, she gets afterschool duty and neither of them have been especially excited about it.  This has caused this working mom to sigh a little more than her normal quota.

So, when today my sweet little Peanut comes downstairs yelling for Bradyn after a HEAD INJURY (I’m a pediatric NEURO nurse for goodness sakes!), I’m a little taken back. Then, God blessed me beyond my wildest imagination.  I run outside where Bradyn is about to back out of the driveway and motion for her to come in.

She comes in, Anna still crying, and her friends and Peanut run to her yelling, “Do the healing dance!  Do it, Bradyn!” 

Bradyn puts her stuff down and very Mary Poppin-esquely proceeds to have all the girls raise their hand, touch their toes, raise their hands, touch their toes, turn around, do a shake and then, “Is it better now?”

“Yes!” as she wraps her arms around her big sister’s legs.  My heart.  It will explode.  I’m sure it will.  You can send flowers to the hospital when it does.  I like red roses. 

Bradyn, I don’t know what you’ll be in life, but I do know this.  You will make an amazing mom one day. 

The Facebook conundrum...

Conundrum.  There's a $25 word!  But, every time I think about leaving Facebook, that word shows up in bright, blinking lights in my brain.  I'm not even 100% certain I've even spelled it correctly, but it pretty much sums up my whole Facebook experience.

In preparation for this blog today, I went back on my wall to see when I joined the world of Facebook…

2008.  Good heavens, I've been on Facebook for over five years now?  How is that possible?  It has been the source of distraction for most of Peanut's life.  It has stepped in and sucked up hours and hours of my time.  It has fed into my own need for acceptance, belonging, and to counter-act loneliness.  It's been my place to whine (mostly about the cold weather, or nursing school.)  It has been my number one marketing tool for www.kimjay.com and this blog.  It is a very efficient way to share photos of my kids and vacations with my parents and family.  It is an amazing thing.  

So, as with many things in life, along with the good comes the bad.  From time to time, I have tried to "kick my Facebook habit" by deactivating my account.  I get paranoid about what people might think about me.  Whether they wish they never "friended me on Facebook" because I post so daggum much.   Whether they think I'm bragging about my life.  Or, whining too much.  Or, whatever.  But, much like the Hotel California, Facebook lets you check out (by deactivating) but you can never leave (once you join, you can never delete your account.) 

As an ENFJ (google it - it's a personality type), I tend to always want to know what's going on with all my friends.  When I hear someone is sick, I pray.  When I hear of a break-up of a marriage, I pray and offer support.  When I hear of a death, my heart hurts.  I'm not trying to sound all braggy, I'm trying to express to you that I spend a lot of time and energy sympathizing with others that I may or may not should expend.  I'm reminded by people in my life frequently that I need to let stuff go and choose where to spend my emotional energy.  This is true.  I realized it when I came home from work completely unable to sleep for worrying and praying about a patient.  While, this is a good trait, it can sometimes overtake me to the point of being unhealthy.

Then, there's the overwhelming urge to share all the wonderful experiences God has given me.  I feel so happy and lucky and blessed.  My joy is hard to contain when my kids do something awesome, or I'm presented with the beauty of the world, or am given a happy moment just chilling with my puppy.  This trait in me is purely genetic.  It comes from my parents on both sides.  So, really, it's their fault.  I honestly promise when I post pics of vacations, or funny things my kids say, or accomplishments of myself or of those I love, in my heart it doesn't even occur to me that it might be boasting.  I sincerely feel so amazed by every such event that God chooses to bless me so, that I want to share it.  Not to mention how much I LOVE reading everyone else's such news or looking at their photos of awesomeness.  But, then I obsess about whether I just sounded braggy.  Ugh.  CONUNDRUM.

This leads me to the need for a disconnect from the Facebook world.  It is nice for about five minutes.  Then, the effort to avoid the "checking" starts weighing on me.  Then, two or three days in, I miss my people.  I feel lonely and isolated and sad.  I miss it.  Frankly, I love to make people laugh.  I enjoy the likes and the comments on my status updates way too much.  It's some kind of cathartic release to share a thought and get feedback that I'm not alone, or made someone's day, or made someone think.  I'm addicted.  

Not even to mention…it's the main way we communicate with each other these days.  My small group, my work group, my friends, my kids, my parents.  We all head to Facebook to get a message to someone we know.  It really is an awesome phenomenon.  I wonder if Zuckerberg ever dreamed would result.  If I'm not on the FB, I'm not in the loop.

So, yeah.  It's a conundrum.  I vacillate back and forth daily on whether I should participate in the "Book."  If I annoy you, I apologize.  If I don't, God bless you.  Sometimes, no - most times, I annoy MYSELF.  Whatever the case, please know that I truly just want what most of us want.  To belong.  To be apart of another's life in a meaningful way.  To connect…with YOU.  

Parenting rocks...

Sweet little Peanut is going through a phase.  A phase we visited last year about this time.  This year, it is some better but it still gives me and Charlie plenty reasons for sighing and shoulder shrugging.  She is afraid of everything.  Well, no.  She's afraid of the dark, monsters, being alone - ever - in a room by herself.  She's afraid of bad dreams, static in her hair, and Reed eating people food (cause we cautioned her a little too well not to let Reed eat her food or it would hurt her.)

If any of these situations occur...she freaks out.  Like, FREAKS OUT.  Like McCauley-Culkin-Home-Alone, run through a plate glass window, slap your mother...FREAK-OUT.  It's wearing on my soul.

Every time we leave the room, "Mom!  Stay in here wiff me!"  If she needs to go to the bathroom, she dances around the house holding herself like a tiny little innocent version of Michael Jackson begging, "Please!  Somebody go to the bathroom wiff me!  I'm scared!"

People.  You all KNOW how stressed out I am.  If not, just read my Facebook and Twitter feeds.  I am a good mom.  I promise I am.  Well, okay.  At least I try.  But, I CANNOT spend my day following a little girl whom I potty trained TWO YEARS AGO to the potty all day long.  I can't.  Won't.

So I developed a plan.  (There's that Clinical Nurse Leadership (CNL) training coming out in me.)  I rounded daily, and gathered data.  And, based on the evidence, there are no monsters in my bathrooms. So, I decided to try an intervention.  My intervention is simple.

I found a decorative jar.  Because, as a former 1990's Martha Stewart happy homemaker wanna-be, it is just not becoming to have anything but clear glass decorative items in your guest bathroom.  No labels for me!  In this jar, at first, was nothing.  Then, in the kitchen, a cup of rocks.  Where Peanut can reach. I'll explain the reason in a minute.

Every time that sweet child goes to the bathroom by herself?  A rock goes in the jar.  Here's where the part about her being able to reach it comes in.  After all, if I still have to be involved every time the girl's got to pee, I've gained nothing.  So, she pees, runs to the kitchen, gets a rock, puts it in the jar, then tells the world.  My work here is done.

But, wait.  There's more!  What happens when she fills the jar?  (Or, empties the cup in the kitchen.)  A trip to Dollar Tree.  Folks, it's been a while since Moey and Brady have been little.  But, stuff is coming back to me.  Like, that I used to bribe the girls with Dollar Tree for motivation.  Let me tell you.  There's something about telling a kid they can have ANY three things they want in a store that ROCKS THEIR SOCKS OFF!  Oh, the joy for the small price of THREE BUCKS!

And, you can bet your knickers I'm riding this one until the tires are bald!

False Assurance...

Ahhhh, nursing school.  Filled will all the little secrets the public would LOVE to know!  Like, what does "b.i.d." on your prescription mean?  And, what exactly are they listening for when they listen to your back?  And, how can they possibly hear anything when they move the stethoscope so quickly?  And, shouldn't the nurses care that your "normal" temperature is 97.5, and shouldn't they be more upset when you come in with 99.9 based on this knowledge?

The thing about nursing school that has been so exciting for me, is to be a part of the secret "club."  To know what the heck they are talking about on Grey's Anatomy when  Meredith yells, "She's cyanotic!"  Or, "He's going into acidosis!"  Yes.  I know these things and way more things that I never dreamed would fit in my little itty-bitty teeny-tiny brain.  

I also know the "code."  Why yes, there is a code.  And, I may be kicked out of the club for sharing some of this, but a very profound thing hit me this past semester while learning to communicate "therapeutically."  (One thing I'm learning while writing this, is that I use "quotation marks" way too much.  Good heavens, if I ever air-quote in your presence, please shake me.)  But, the other thing - is learning how to talk to patients therapeutically.  In other words, why nurses just look at you funny and nod when you ask certain things.  You see, there are positive and negative methods that are to be learned when talking to patients.  A positive example is to give eye contact.  Or, use open-ended questions.  Negative examples include blocking, or evading questions.  Or, as I'd like to talk to you about, "giving false hope."  (There go the quotation marks again.)

False hope.  I briefly let that marinate during class one day, and then my ADD kicked in and I was on to other things like, say, lunch.  Or, Downton Abbey.  Or, the piece of fuzz on Jesse's shoulder I couldn't reach in order to correct the situation.  Still driving me crazy I couldn't get it.

This Sunday at church, the false hope topic reemerged and wouldn't go away.  The sermon series is called  "A Thrill of Hope."  (I actually think that was an appropriate use of quotation marks.)  It really hit me.  A lot of stuff hit me.  Like, Kim, you dummy!  What have you fretted over this past year and a half?  God brought you here, He will take you where He wants you to serve Him after school is over!  And, then I thought, Wow.  Hope.  What must it be like for those patients I come in contact with, who do not have that thrill of hope?  

See, I was raised with that thrill of hope.  I am not afraid of the "end."  (Again - quotes.)  Although I will mourn what my death will mean for those I leave behind, I ACHE for the touch of Jesus.  For His sweet eyes lighting up as I run into eternity with Him.  ACHE with everything in my core.  My assurance is TRUE.  BLESS-ED.  How incredibly hard it is for me to not want to share that assurance with my patients who are about to face death themselves!

How do nurses who are in Christ navigate these waters?  As a Christian, it is my number one job to tell every single person about the HOPE I have.  As a nurse, we are taught explicitly not to give FALSE HOPE.  What on earth do I do?  Nothing.  Nothing on earth at least.  As with everything, I guess I should trust God to navigate these waters for me.  Praying in each situation that He will give me the words to share the Gospel with those who will accept.  

Praise God for the hope that springs eternal!  Praise God for TRUE assurance!

"Now faith is confidence in what we HOPE for and assurance about what we do not see." (Hebrews 11:1)

Sweetness and kindness...

So, I'm nearly a year into my student nursing career.  And, although I'm not a real-live nurse yet, I do feel like I'm at the very least getting some pretty life-like practice.

I have had the blessing of caring for patients one and two days of every week for the past five months, give or take a break here and there.  Most of my patients are older (70+), and are suffering from the normal old-age ailments.  Congestive heart failure, diabetes, hypertension, cancer, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, among others.  Most of these patients' illnesses are chronic.  This means, they are used to the hospital.  Used to doctors.  Used to nurses.  They know the drill.

Going in to nursing school, I was all about pediatrics - just knowing I would not be too good at dealing with geriatric issues (adult diapers, ahem, we call them "briefs" / complete bed baths / enemas / bed sores / etc.)  I just knew it would gross me out to no end, and I would just have to suffer through it in nursing school until I could get to the cute little babies.

But, something happened.  I realized that every single week in the hospital with these precious older patients, I was being blessed.  Every.  Single.  Week.  No matter what the problems they were having, reading their charts the night before, the anxiety building up over the gross things I would be dealing with the next day, no matter what...I always end up blessed so much.  Many times, I cry on the way home thinking about the blessing I received, and praying for them.

On another note, pediatrics has been as much of a surprise.  I LOVE caring for the children. LOVE it.  Not so much the parents.  Inevitably, I get a patient whose parents are less than loving.  Less than responsible.  Less than tolerable.  And, I find myself not wanting to leave those sweet children not knowing if they will be okay once they are discharged.  Frankly, sometimes I just want to scream, "PICK THAT BABY UP AND HOLD HER!  GET IN THE BED AND CUDDLE WITH THAT POOR CHILD!  SHE'S SICK!"  It makes me crazy.  And, for goodness sakes, I would do it myself if I didn't think the parent would think I was crazy for cuddling with their child.

What is it?  I think it is complacency, and desensitization.  It's that many of them have chronically ill children, and they are tired.  They are so used to the hospital environment, that they forget their child still has very real pain, fear, need for love.  It is very similar to attitudes I see from nurses (not the majority - but some) who have become so automated, so accustomed to the drill.  Same meds, same tests, same routines.  I see a lot of very smart people taking very good care of their patients and children, but not CARING for them.

Contemplating the contrast between my adult health experience and my pediatric experience, the fact hit me.  I want to be an excellent nurse.  I want to know all the meds inside and out.  I want to be really good at starting IV's, maintaining sterile fields, checking labs.  But, most of all, I want people to feel better than when I met them.  In every way possible.  I want to know I am CARING for my patients, not just simply taking care of their needs.  I saw this photo on my friend, Kristi Bonney's Instagram the other day and it was SPOT ON.  I think it applies to every single career, relationship, and role every Christian is called to.

Sweetness and kindness.  There's a major deficit of it these days.  And, having been raised by the parents I was blessed with, it is a stark reality check to find out it is no longer the norm.  I think it's why the older patients seem to bless me more often.  They've learned it.  Their generation was taught to be sweet and kind.  Certainly, the ladies raised in the south.  As I left my patient last week, she grabbed my hand, and although she couldn't speak well, she winked at me and her eyes filled up with tears.  She was sweet and kind, and she blessed me.  

Nursing school has sucked the funny out of me...

So, I'm way-flattered that I have had several comments about the fact that I have not blogged in quite awhile.  When I write these little blogposts, I really don't even think about the fact that other people are going to read it.  Mostly, it has been a personal little pressure valve on my sanity.

So, due to popular demand (like, 3 people), I've tried to jot out a few posts.  Even posted one, one that I just re-read and DELETED.  And, I have come to the realization, I'm afraid, that I may have lost any sort of semblance of funny or witty or intelligent or even lucid trains of thought.  Possibly, permanently.  Nursing school has sucked the funny out of me.  Good grief.  Why couldn't it have sucked-out the adipose cells in my butt (due to the elevated levels of glucose and carbohydrates I have consumed while studying)?


See?  Everything is a medical term now.  When I look at people, I now see zygomatic muscles and lacrimal apparatuses.  Charlie rubs my shoulders while I study and I think, "Oh, that feels good to my trapezius.  Oh, baby."  I read labels on everything.  And, I'm convinced every time we move to a different disease in pathophysiology, that I'm dying of that condition.  I look into Peanut's beautiful blue eyes and wonder what her optic discs look like.  Oh.  My.  Gosh!


People.  I'm not even six months in.  Crazy has settled in and won't take the hint she has overstayed her welcome!  Some days I have to concentrate just to remember to breathe.  Some days I feel like giving a sitter my credit card and running away.


Some days I am keenly aware of the presence of the Living Water in my life.  Days when I KNOW I have nothing left of my own, He provides.  Days when I feel like I've alienated all my friends and family by NEVER being available for them, He uses their hands and feet to minister to me in child care, smiles, prayers, hugs, ears to listen.


Some fellow classmates have already given up.  Some have dropped out.  And, I know that was the best decision for them.  But, me?  No.  I have thought about it.  I've even been told maybe I should consider it.  But, I asked God and He gave me an emphatic "No, little Kimmy.  You are where I have placed you right now.  Hang on."


So, I will keep on keeping on.  I'm figuring if He brought me to it, as cliche as it sounds, He will bring me through it.  Jesus certainly has a perfect track-record of faithfulness in MY life.


I just pray for all of you guys.  Why?  Because you have to watch the struggle.  Listen to the whining.  Endure the boring Instagram pics of myself studying in bed.  I pity your position. Unfriend or unfollow if you need to, you'll get no judgement from me!


But, know I love you guys.  Every single letter of every word of encouragement you all have given me is treasured in my heart.


Kim

Gorgeous on the inside...

Big breath in.  The last month has been good, but CRAZY!  Seriously, let's list just a few of the events:

• Wrapped up my photography career into a neat little box and stored it away until nursing school is over.
• Bradyn got braces.
• Morgan ROCKED out the ACT.
• Bradyn got contacts.
• Anna potty trained herself in one day...still only one accident.
• I started a diet (which has entailed an hour a day commitment to work out - 8 pounds so far.)
• Interviewed with The University of Tennessee Health Science Center for their Masters of Science in Nursing degree.
• Morgan totalled her car - all over our neighborhood clubhouse lawn and landscape (poor Moey.)
• Went to Maui with three of my favorite people in the world.
• Survived a tsunami.  (Okay, okay.   A little melodramatic.  We slept in our rental car on a hill in Kapalua while my Facebook page exploded by wonderful people who care about me.)
• Was accepted to UTHSC nursing school!  
• Am I leaving anything out?  (Oh, wait.  That's not a list item.)

Am I leaving anything out?  My life is GREAT.  Seriously.  I told a lady at church today, that if faced with a wishing well, penny in hand, I would be scrambling for something to wish for.  Now, this kind of life-season doesn't come along too often.  You know, when everything is going smoothly and everyone you are responsible for is seemingly happy and healthy.  So, please know I'm aware of my amazing God's favor on me right now.  Why on earth He is choosing to bless me so, right now? I don't know.  But, I certainly ain't gonna question it!

All that being said, I still own a toddler.  And, two teenagers.  The teenagers are, for the most part right now, a joy.  It's that rascal Peanut.  We are working on all sorts of godly behavior we want her to learn to demonstrate in her daily life.  You know.  Talking to others respectfully, please and thank you's, contrition, generosity, and "cetra."

I'm not gonna lie.  I think all three of my girls are the most beautiful children on the planet.  As most of you all probably feel about your own.  We all, of course, get the nice complements about how beautiful they are constantly.  To which they are SUPPOSED to reply, "Thank you."  Sometimes, it comes out more like, "uh, huh."  SO, we're working on what it means to be "pretty in our hearts."  I'm pulling out the scriptures left and right:

     "The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” - 1 Samuel 16:7

    "Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." - Proverbs 31:30

Post-mortem time-out meetings go something like this:

     "Okay, Anna.  The timer went off.  What do you need to say?"

     "I'n sawy, mommy."

     "What are you sorry for?"

     "I'n sawy I not share."

     "That's good, Peanut.  You are my beautiful little girl.  But, Jesus wants us to beautiful in our hearts, too.  And, when we share and are nice to our friends, our insides are beautiful, too!  Okay?"

     "Otay, mommy.  I wuv you."

     "I love you, too, little Peanut."

Now, I know, this sounds all happy and sweet and crap, but I must tell you, this is like, a hundred times per day.  So, imagine the tantrums and attitude and hitting and grabbing of toys out of friends' hands all the time.....as you think of this sweet moment.  It takes a lot out of a 40-something mom!  And, seriously, sometimes I wonder if we're going through this stage so that God can remind ME that I need to beautiful on the inside as well.  Ah, good ol' learning through repetition.  

     "Dear God, Please forgive me for focusing on outward appearances and help me be beautiful on the inside.  Amen."

A new chapter...

It's that time of year again when the phone starts ringing, and emails keep my phone a buzzin'.    It's that time when people start making their photographic plans for the year.  And, I love it!

However...

It has been brought to my attention, that while I think I can do everything, I cannot.  I am currently taking Microbiology to finish up (as some of you know) prerequisites to get into nursing school.  I've applied to a couple of different programs, and am SO excited about my new career possibilities.  But, I thought I would be able to handle it all.  Turns out...maybe I was wrong.  There, I said it.  I was wrong.  Boy, oh boy.  I bet there are a few of you enjoying THAT phrase coming from my mouth!  But, it's true.  It's crazy up in the Jay crib!

Yeah, the new year has a way of making you take stock of your life, your priorities, and your schedule.  And, if the new year doesn't...completing your tax-prep sure will!  So, while I will definitely fulfill the appointments I do have on the calendar, I will not be taking any new ones.  This tears me up!  I love it so much, but I just can't do it all.  My girls will have to be my creative outlet for the time being.

I would like to thank all of my customers who have been SO sweet, and supportive, and loyal.  And, in two years, maybe I will get the photography part of my life back.  But, it is clear that God is leading me in a different direction.  I pray for my clients, especially as I edit your sweet pics.  So, if you have  an extra minute, would you pray for me?  This next few years are going to be tough ones.  Morgan will be a senior in high school, Bradyn will be an 8th grader, Anna will be in daycare for the first time, and I will be in school FULL-TIME.  Poor Charlie.  Pray for him the most.  :)

I have a LOAD of photographer friends who are AMAZING!  I would be glad to give you names and urls.  Just drop me a line.  :)

With much love and gratitude for you all,

Kim

Working in the shop...

There is no way to even count how many days I have spent in my dad's "Shop." Right by his side, talking, learning, cleaning, sanding, holding, sawing, helping. "Put your work clothes on and help me in the shop," he would say on his way out the door. I'd jump into my old clothes, grab one of his work coats or flannel jackets, and head to the barn. Roll the big green door to the side, turn on the lights, and my dad would set the radio to NPR or Weevil. If I was lucky, Lake Wobegon.


In winter, it was my job to get wood scraps as "kindling" to start the pot belly stove we kept warm with. Whenever it got so cold I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, I'd head over and stand by that stove and soon, I'd be warm and toasty. When I was little, I used to put pennies on the top and watch them turn colors. Or we'd spit on the top, and watch it bead off and disintegrate. In the summer, we'd roll the gargantuan fan over to the door for a nice breeze in the scorching heat. Spray our legs and arms for mosquitos. Dad would ask mom for more tea, please. No matter whether it was summer or winter, spring or fall...the smells are the same. Lacquer thinner. Wood shavings. My daddy's sweat - which never, ever seemed anything but my daddy to me. Never foul. Just hard-working sweat.

I miss those days. Me, right there by my daddy. I prided myself in knowing which tool he would need before he asked for it. Having it right there and surprising him. Sweeping the wood shavings. Using the air compressor to blow all the dust from the work benches. As I got older, I was allowed to used the BIG stuff. The planer, the table saw, the band saw. That was the big-time - when you go to use the big tools. Scariest of all? Router, no question. Still surprised I have all my fingers.

I tell you what. I know God won't let me keep my mama and daddy here on earth forever, but when that day comes, I am going to have a really hard time letting go. When daddy dies, which will hopefully be another 40 years from now, I imagine, we all will spend a lot of time in that shop just sitting there, feeling his presence.

We don't work out there very much anymore. We have gotten so busy. Last year, we mostly spent our time working on the boat. But, my little Brady-Lady, however, has been enjoying my daddy like I always did. They have a new project...to make Bradyn's very own dulcimer. I made mine when I was twelve. It's her turn. I would venture to guess not too many thirteen-year-old little girls jump out of bed on Saturday morning eager to spend time in a dirty, dusty, cold, shop with her Pa. Mine does. She's a lot like me.


Think I need to come up with a project, so I can have some more shop time with my daddy. All three of my daughters are a lot like me in different ways. This is the way Bradyn is like me. I love her, and I love my Daddy...

Kim Jay Everyday Photography
www.kimjay.com

Sweet, sweet, Sammy!

Well, if you could cut two of the cutest little boys out of the same mold - it would have to be sweet little Sammy after his big brother Jude.  They look SO much alike!  I just love this sweet family so much.  Both mom and dad are worship leaders at our church, and truly...we are blessed beyond words to have them.  Thank you, God for them!

Enjoy, sweet, sweet, Sammy (and big brother Jude)...