Back in the saddle, again? Well, maybe. I used to be a faithful blogger. I think that stemmed from my addiction to the breast pump and how it was conveniently located right next to the computer up in the bedroom where no one could find me....
The Alpaca Ranch is back. (That's our family blog, for you who have forgotten) Only this time, there is no pumping and the kids are no longer babies. So our posts may be written in haste or by little fingers who don't know how to type so well...or by an exhausted yet still patient stay-at-home daddy, or by myself, in a rare moment where both hands are available to type. We'll see how that goes. Also, notably, it's been so long and I have so much hippocampal atrophy, I forgot my blogger username. So I used Mike's. That's why it will tell you this post was written by Mike. But he is sleeping. It's 1am and I am in the middle of a week of night float.
To catch you up, we are no longer in the Frozen Tundra of The North. Nope. We are now in the land of Maize and Blue. The *other* U of M. Detroit is a half hour away, but my kids don't really know that because I'd never take them there. I'm sure it's pretty, but I would probably smile at the wrong person and get turned into meatloaf. And not the delicious kind from back home.
What have we been doing for two years? I am working about 80 hours a week. Mike is staying home, lying and lounging around all day while the kids do all the cooking and cleaning, yard work, laundry, shopping, homework, bill paying, and car maintenance. They harvest the garden and can the produce. They keep papa quiet when mom comes home post-call and needs to sleep. They never take their toys out and leave them all over the house and yard, they always clean up one thing before they move to the next, and Mary gets up early and walks the dog before the sun comes up. Mary just loves mornings.
We moved out here a little more than two years ago when I switched residency programs.* Let's just say it was not a lateral move for me. I've always had this love for obstetrics and a curious, gingerly bold fascination with surgery. Delivering babies is loud and messy and rich and glorious. And it's never at 9:00 on Monday morning. There are no three piece suits and no power point presentations. You actually NEED to wear scrubs. And bring an extra pair of shoes and clean socks...and underwear, too. It's a team sport. And there is always, always, always food at the nurses' station. If you are ever stuck in a dark lonely hospital at 3am and you are ketotic with starvation, just find labor and delivery. There will probably be seven crock pots full of delicious steaming creations and a half-eaten sheet cake. And fresh coffee. Labor and Delivery is its own universe, rotating while the rest of the world sleeps. And I get to go into orbit an awful lot.
So, here in Michigan we are and here we will be for the next two years while I finish residency and Mike does everything else. We look forward to sharing in the blogosphere again. The challenge of balancing a marriage, a ridiculous work schedule, and three delightful kids. And being loved by our Savior every minute of it.
*Surgeon's warning: switching residency programs is tumultuous s to one's inner peace, but can be remedied through a series of firing sqauads, meat grinders, and 3am c-sections.