Good morning and hallelujah, school has finally begun here in the Garden State. I would like to take a moment to thank my son for allowing me all of 0.2 seconds to capture him standing on our front porch on this first day of his junior year of high school.
It’s the second to last one for him and he knows it, I felt it even though he tried his hardest not to show me he gave a single crap about the first day of school. Whatever, he’s always been sort of my parenting masterpiece and as the youngest of my three, he’s by far been the easiest child for me to parent. This may be because he has two older sisters, and I’m not a very girly girl at all, just look like one. So I’m not sure exactly why this is true, but whatever it’s true.
Boys are easier in my opinion and respectfully of course, I said what I said.
Instantly I fell deep into the archives of my memory bank, wound up listening to the Rent soundtrack for a half hour, and posting sappy photos on Instagram for the masses (mostly my mother who’s not speaking to me at the moment, but hi Debbie). Then I sat for a while on my back porch, smoked another cigarette and again contemplated how the last 22 years of my life seem to have vanished into thin air like a puff of smoke.
The high school is about 100 yards from my house and as I write this, I can even hear the loudspeaker. At least I had the presence of mind to make my son pose for the picture about 10 minutes before the other kids started to walk past our house on their way to said nearby high school. I knew there was no way he would allow me to take the photos I absolutely would be taking, if the other kids saw him posing. Trust me one way or another I would win, yet always try to work with the grain instead of against it. Last year he declined my very serious offer to home school him, but high school seems a little late to start doing this. I mean truly, what almost 17 year old teenage boy wants the world to know what an actual sweet and loyal momma’s boy they really are?
Give me a man who loves his imperfect mother any day thank you very much.
So now I’m on my third cup of coffee, still listening to the Rent soundtrack and also now screaming at the cats for knocking over yet another one of my plants.
Anyway, it got me thinking, my life usually does, about how I measure my life,—only because I know it’s a little different than the way other mothers maybe measure their lives.
I’m not sorry, always keenly aware I’m a little aloof and maybe sound condescending. I don’t care really, I am not remotely sorry I learned to appreciate every last damn one of these moments that I see denied to so many families in my very real work as a Critical-Care Nurse.
All of this to say, I want to vomit and cry today, but ha, that’ll be the day. I’ve got far too much shit to get done around here, spent the last few days in a cabin in the woods really happy to be far away from all this suburban holiday noise. I do always think it’s helpful to acknowledge my ick and uncomfortable feelings even if I don’t necessarily react to them all.
Thank God for that, I’d never leave the house; and also thank God we all managed to live through another summer, work each other’s last goddamn nerve, and now get to start another school year!
I want to take a moment to say hey and show some gratitude 🖤 to some of my absolute favorite Substackers, a few have been hanging around with me since Day 1. The theme this month is Back to School: The ICU Edition, so here are some long overdue and very honorable mentions in the form of a recommended reading list. Thank you for being my teachers, unaware you were maybe showing me what it looks like to publish both truthfully and courageously.
Some of you have set some very loving examples for me and it’s no surprise that some of you are, or once were teachers.
Here are the O.G’s of HCT: Heal, Cure, Treat, before it was even a thing and also some of these authors have only recently began to follow me back, so thank you for doing this, it totally thrills me. Actually I consider this to be one of the little success marks I created for my own benefit, something that inspires me to keep writing and seeking my truth.
, , and —btw Demi, I love that you do these mentions and hope you don’t mind I borrowed your Saturday Scroll concept here 😘Also to the following authors who I had some cool exchanges with in their own comment sections, please know I sincerely appreciate the opportunity to have interacted with you—
Also it is no secret I am slightly obsessed with the mind and writing of
who always seems to have this savage Aussie way of shocking this unshockable Trauma ICU Nurse. l learned not to drink my coffee while reading his always, ahem, enlightening articles, and I feel the same way about and her also phenomenal Substack.Please slap me with the truth and I’ll laugh until I snort and choke on my coffee any day. I happen to love authors who simply state a fact, make their intentions known and don’t force their agenda or try to sell you how-to secrets that really don’t exist. At least not in my world.
Again respectfully.
To some of my more recent favorites, it’s been great getting to know you through your writing and thank you too—
… the list goes on and on.
I am always humbled by all of this, still pretty much consider myself a Nasty Nurse (not a writer) from the Garden State, so mwah!
Have whatever kind of day you feel like having, I don’t care what you do as long as you’re aware of your own personal bias and it doesn’t affect me at all unless I’m at work. Fortunately The Nurse is off today and as my kids would say, I’m here for the vibes. 🖤
Aww thanks Anne, maybe we’ll chat over zoom some day and have a coffee.
Of course I know smoking js absolutely horrible, I just don’t fight with myself constantly anymore and try to limit where and when I do it. Each time I stopped even for long period, I missed it. I always found my people, so many varieties of people, in the smoking section. I think that’s what I missed. 😘
Kristin, thank you for the mention. It was very kind and appreciated.
Your 17 year old may not have given hoot about the first day of school, but he obviously thinks enough of you to have the pic taken. I imagine he realizes the importance of what it means to you.
Mom was only into the picture thing at birthdays, communions, proms, graduations, those kind of things, so I was always willing. But you got me thinking about my first day junior year. Other than, after being told a dozen times, that it was the most important academically of the high school years, I don’t remember too much about it other than the guy I walked with the previous 2 years had graduated and I found myself walking alone. Maybe for the first time - ever !
As for those 22 years passing in a puff ! Yeah, I think we all have a little bit of that, especially now. Being in service industries, it’s more of a blur.