What do you want to be when you grow up?

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a veterinarian; my parents and family can attest to that. I dabbled for about 6 hours in human medicine but decided I wouldn't enjoy the "bureaucracy" of it (amusing since I joined the MILITARY and worked for the Government), the insurance, the PEOPLE (I have realized they're what makes my job fun and challenging) and the lack of fuzzy critters (except for the occasional fuzzy human and lets be honest, no one wants to deal with that!). So, I "wanted to be a veterinarian when I grow up". What happened between then and now?

Enter the Army. I joined largely for financial reasons, it was a good deal, half my school loans in exchange for 3 years of service. I also joined with starry eyes full of exotic locations... Germany, Italy... Kansas? We all know how that turned out! I joined also for a desire to further public health and help people. What I got was not all bad but certainly did not fulfill my naive expectations. I will say, however, that I gained a number of important skills that I may or may not have otherwise developed. I have always possessed some leadership capabilities but they usually took a backseat to being liked and avoiding conflict. I will still do my best to skitter around a good skirmish, but I believe I learned to diplomatically, with a firm but kind attitude, basically tell people what to do (I say this recognizing that some of those people I "learned" these skills with will read this and may disagree, if you do, please let me know so I can change my self perception, no hard feelings!).

Move on to California. Over the last 4 months, I have submitted my resume to countless practices around the Bay Area. I've had a fair number of interviews and a fair number of hospitals simply ignore my initiative. I must admit I've run an emotional gauntlet through the entire process. At first, when I wasn't getting many call backs, I felt rejected and simply not good enough. I thought maybe no one wanted a vet like me who had never really tasted private practice. I thought maybe, based on my resume, I wasn't even worth a call back. Then, I would get a string of calls and a number of interviews only to be told, "gee, we like you, but we really need someone full time". So my emotions moved onto confusion; do they really think I'm worthwhile and they'd love MORE of me than I'm willing to offer or are they just a little kinder in their method of rejection? Then, another string of no responses.

The final batch of interviews offered the biggest challenge yet to my delicate psyche (its not really so delicate, I'm tough, but for the sake of the story...). I was offered positions at two , practices and possibly a spay/neuter clinic (none of whom was that perfect one I'd been saving myself for) and waiting to hear from a fourth whose owner had thoroughly impressed me at the interview and made me really crave the opportunity to work with him. From what he expressed at the interview he thought I was no slouch either! I was elated; thrilled at the possibilities but nervous that they may find someone else. The email finally came from my top choice that simply said "we'll call you for relief in the future". What? I'm a reasonably smart lady and I realize that means that I didn't get the job, but come on, lets be clear, people! No need to dance around the real subject of the email, "You're not hired.". That one threw me for a loop, making me angry that the practice owner had gotten my hopes all up and frustrated at the poor communication style of the practice manager. In retrospect, perhaps I'm thankful that I didn't get the job.

So, I decided to accept a position at a clinic that is opening up in my very own town. Its not perfect, only one day a week as of now. One of my real desires in private practice is to really dedicate myself to a practice and its clientele and form long, quality relationships. How will I do that only once a week? I continue to do relief work for a practice about 25 minutes away, further failing to build those relationships that I so desperately seek.

I realize the theme here has been largely negative so here's the pick-me-up. I had an epiphany this past weekend. I worked Saturday at the relief practice and had such a good time stretching my brain. I enjoyed helping "Barney's" mom figure out what was wrong and how to fix it. I enjoyed checking over "Nina" and giving the good news that she appears to be in perfect health and encouraging her continued vaccination. I felt "Roxy's" mom's grief as we, together, decided to offer her the final comfort we are able to provide to an ailing canine or feline friend. I enjoyed being a veterinarian. I didn't need to be full time. I didn't need to know these people and their pets for years on end to provide quality care.

I realized that everything will eventually fall into place but for now;

I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up.

Reward Offered for Missing Child

I am inserting this small disclaimer at the beginning of the post; I wrote this in the midst of a particularly trying day. Since, we've had several great days that have reminded me of why I love my little man.

Months have passed and life continues. I love spending time at home with my boys, but lately I've been feeling my patience run a little thin (especially with a certain red headed 2 year old). What's happened, I ask myself? Do I only enjoy motherhood up to a certain age? Have I hit my limit and from the age of 2 years and 3 months on, my children will consistently make me want to pull my hair from my head, strand by tiny strand (yes, at times, dealing with this 2 year old is that tedious and... itchy?)?

I hear "mama." "mama." "mama?" "MAMA!" over and over and the only way to make it stop (and even then, only for brief moments) is to stop whatever I am doing and look at him to be shown something in grunts and a very extensive array of hand motions (yeah, still no significant step on the words but he has created quite a non-verbal "sign language").

I feel like we're close to some potty victory; Noah wears big boy underwear and consistently catches himself and comes to peepee in the potty with only a tiny leak into the undies. THEN, without any discernible reason, he's asked if he needs to potty, says "no", then 5 minutes later proceeds to SOAK his undies and pants. And does it repeatedly. It doesn't take long for me to throw my arms in the air in frustration and strap him into a jumbo sized cloth diaper.

I watch darling little Rowan sitting on the floor, quietly playing, or crawling to get a toy and I watch Noah walk over and push him down or squish him or simply snatch the toy from his hand (now, to Noah's credit, he often provides a toy to "trade", but still!). Rowan cries. I tell Noah to give the toy back, or stop squashing and he ignores me for the first 2 times. Mommy gets angry and gives her meanest mom "look" ( I credit the possession of that particular skill to my own mother) and says through gritted teeth, "NOW.". Noah cries.

I ask myself, what happened to my sweet little red head? I know deep down the answer is that he turned 2 and is aging normally but its hard to imagine that these "episodes " will ever stop! I presume this frustration has been experienced by all mothers at sometime and they are all still alive (and more importantly, their children are alive). So, I persevere. Will I survive? I bet I will. Will Noah? Most certainly.