As a young woman, I steered away from any young man interested in medicine (and by steer away, I mean–a sharp & immediate U-Turn!)
But my son.
And so, I bow again to the legacy of his great-great-great grandfather (Community Health Officer), great-great grandparents (Doctor & Nurse), great grandfather (Surgeon), grandparents (Surgeon & Nurse), aunt (Doula), and second & first cousins (Nurses & Researchers & MD & Body workers), as I bow to him, with pride.
(Something to remember in September.)
Communal first. Personal last!
Because I didn’t figure this out until my second TEEN, and since my nesting days are numbered, I wanted to share this stroke of brilliance with others in case you’ve been suffering too.
I don’t know about your teens, but ours rarely had time to make themselves breakfast or even eat the one prepared for them, let alone contribute in the kitchen, without keeping a ride waiting or missing it altogether, particularly after the sink hole of showering & biological/sociological-mandated prepping which led to forgetting homework or instruments or cleats; so now we’ve flipped the morning:
Downstairs first–packing up, contributing, eating, and then as much time as they want upstairs, Ie. whatever time they’ve left for themselves.
(ps. as parents, try reversing the order for yourself. personal first. communal last.)
I stalled in first coming up my own driveway
due to the beauty and oblivion and bravado
of youth–
a half dozen lemony butterflies
fluttering around my tires
and what appeared to be an adolescent
Robin
hopping back & forth
back & forth
across the way
uncertain how or where to lift off
calling out,
“Mom? Mom? Mom!”
The Empty Nest Diary 