Yesterday I was incredibly focused. I was able to shut my door and focus on my work for hours at a time. I was thorough. I was driven. I was shocked.

For the last year or so, I’ve been struggling to make sense of the whirlwind around me. Work, school, writing, editing, proofreading, cleaning house, family, my child. It’s all a big blur of activity without direction at the best of times and a complete disaster at the worst.

I’ve been convinced I have some variant of attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), or that I’m bipolar. Both run in my family in various forms.

But then I took a long vacation. No work. No proofs. No computer even. Just me, my husband, my daughter, our family. Things began to calm down. The whirlwind stopped just long enough for me to catch my breath and re-focus.

I’ve been back from vacation for about a month and, overall, things have calmed down. I’m still working and studying, but life seems to have fallen into place. The mornings are not so much of a hassle anymore. Lunches are packed the night before, dishes are washed before we go to bed, work is broken down into neat little blocks of time, and the house is generally very clean.

But today I feel the old craziness rearing its ugly head. I intended to be very productive today, partly because I didn’t have some of the usual interruptions and partly because I was hoping yesterday’s productivity would extend through today. Instead, I’ve been cyber-hopping all day from Web site to Web site without much purpose. I found a few potential clients, but already one has fallen through.

I’m going to try to get a good night’s sleep and start early tomorrow. Maybe if I start refreshed, I’ll be able to recapture that content feeling of checking off my to-do list items.

Oh, it's just because I'm an editor

While verying the insurance information at the radiology clinic, I immediately noticed a number of errors in my name, my daughter's name, and my address. The woman behind the counter asked me if I was a teacher or something. I proudly responded:

"No, I'm an editor."

Yeah, it's bronchitis

The PA FINALLY called back at 5:30 just as I started to leave an angry message on the on-call physician's voice mail. It's bronchitis...viral, so no antibiotics. Just a humidifier and Tylenol as needed.

Even the pediatrician called me to make sure that the PA had reached me.

I guess you have to make a big fuss to be taken seriously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Motherhood is not easy... or for the faint of heart.
Makes me appreciate my mom so much more.

What's wrong with people?

Rant warning! What follows is completely unrelated to editing.

My 2-year-old daughter, Sofia, has had a cough and a runny nose for the past three weeks. Over the weekend, she developed a fever of 102.9. This morning I called her pediatrician for an appointment, explaining that she was seen 10 days earlier for what the doctor thought was an allergy. (She had said to come back in 10 days if Sofia still wasn't better.)

I first was told to come in at 2:30. "No," I said, "I need something earlier because I have to work." I was then given a 9:45 appointment with the physician's assistant. Not my first choice, but OK, fine. I get to the office at exactly 9:45. We're called back at 10 am. We wait a few minutes for the PA who comes in only to tell me that she doesn't see kids under 3 or 4. We're then shuffled down the hall to see another PA. We wait a full 30 minutes to see her. She comes in and asks questions, performs an exam, then says, "I'd like the doctor to come in and examine her. Just a few minutes while I get him."

---And I'm wondering to myself why I wasn't just given an appointment with the doctor in the first place.---

A good 20 minutes later (20 mintues, mind you, with a sick, restless kid who would rather be anywhere than stuck in a tiny exam room with no windows and I swear no heat) the doctor comes in with the medical student.

--------------An aside: I know that the only way medical students can become doctors is to get some hands-on experience. But, for pete's sake, we've been waiting since 9:45!! Can't you learn on someone else??----------------

By now it's 11 am. The doctor thinks she has pneumonia and wants a chest x-ray. The PA then says she'll make the appointment and then give me the referral so we can go right away. The doctor tells me on his way out that the radiologist should call in the results STAT so we can know how to procede. (Remember, "stat" means right away.)

I take Sofia out to the waiting room so she can at least play with some toys. A full 30 minutes later, the nurse comes out with a referral to a "walk-in" radiology clinic. Wait a minute. Weren't you all supposed to be making an appointment? Why did it take 30 minutes to fill out a referral form?

Frustrated--well, down right pissed off--I leave the office to pick up my husband and head off to the "clinic."

---------Now, a word about walk-in clinics. I understand what you mean by walk in: it's first come, first served, unless you have an appointment. But why was there a woman there--an old woman--waiting from 10:30 until after noon? Do you only have one machine? One technician?-------------------------

We check in, sit down, and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. Again, do you know how hard it is to keep a 2-year-old quiet for long periods of time, let alone a SICK kid?

By 1:00, the woman at the window calls for Sofia. We jump up. "Finally!" we say.

"May I have your insurance card?" I've been here since what, noon, and you are just NOW asking me for my insurance information?!?

By 1:30, we still had not been seen. I march up to the window and ask, nicely, "How much longer?" One woman looks at me with that oh-go-sit-down-and-wait-until-you're-called look and says, "I'm not sure." I look at the other woman and ask the same thing. She says 20 minutes.

By 2pm, the x-ray was over and the technician tells us that the pediatrician will have the results within the hour.

We finally go home and wait.

At 3pm I call the pediatrician's office and ask if the results are back yet. The receptionist tells me she cannot access that part of the computer and will take an "urgent" message for the PA to call me back.

At 4pm, still not hearing anything, I call back. "You have reached the office of [the doctor's name]. We are currently closed..." What the f*^$? How am I to know if my daughter has pneumonia if no one has called me back and I can't reach anyone?

I listen to the full message and start punching numbers hoping to reach someone. For each option I push, there is an automated system...no human voice on the other end. Finally, I hang up and dial the number for the physician on call, hoping that someone will know something.

By chance, I am connected to the office, which is NOT physically closed, but is also NOT answering the phone. I'm connected to the PA who tells me that she doesn't have the report yet. At this point I'm ready to start using a select few words that can only come close to how I feel about this situation. She promises she'll call me by 5pm to tell me either the results or let me know if the results still have not been sent.

(By the way, it's 5 pm now...no phone call yet.)

I then call the radiology clinic myself and ask if the report is ready. The woman on the other end very curtly says, "You have to wait 24 hours, ma'am."

"Um, no, the order said to call the results in STAT. She's 2 years old and may have pneumonia."
"Ok, what's her date of birth? What's her name?"

"Ok, it is ready. It looks like bronchitis. I'll fax the report now to the doctor. What's the doctor's fax number?"

"I don't know. Look on the order. It's [Dr.'s name's] office in [city]."

"Ok, I'll fax it now."

I may just scrap this whole editing thing and become a medical office manager. Someone seriously must do something.

5:15. Still no call.
---------------------

And, in the same "what's wrong with people" vein, the roofers working on the building next to mine just threw some old roofing over the side of the building, hitting one of my neighbors squarely on the head. She seemed OK but was crying. The roofer's response: "Oh, sorry."

Seriously people, what is going on?

If I could work from home...

...I wouldn't have to worry about...

• taking "sick time" to take Sofia to the doctor
• child care when she's sick
• missing important meetings because I'm busy at the pediatrician's office and scrambling to find child care

These are a few of my favorite things...

Last night's dream: a blog-off

If you've ever edited late at night without any downtime between the end of editing and bedtime, and you dream about words chasing each other, then you'll appreciate the dream I had last night.

Due to a burst of creative energy, yesterday I did a LOT of blogging on both of my blogs. As I was lying in bed last night, I was mentally writing a blog entry (as I usually do at night when my mind is quiet) and fell asleep before I finished.

I dreamed I was in a blogging competition in which bloggers had to (a) create as many blog posts as possible and (b) have as many links to external sites/blogs as possible, all within a given time period. The blogger who achieved both (a) and (b) before the buzzer sounds won (although I don't know what the prize was).

My fingers raced across the keyboard. I desperately wanted to win. It came down to the last minute, and fellow writer/editor/blogger, Katharine O'Moore-Klopf and I were the top two bloggers left. We each looked at each other maniacally, sure that the other would lose.

Just as the buzzer sounded, I heard in the distance, "Mommy! Milk!"

"Sofia, are you here? How did you get here?" I thought to myself.

Then I woke up and realized that I was dreaming and Sofia really was calling for me.

After giving her some milk and getting her back to sleep, I too went back to sleep and wondered if I had won.

Weird, huh?

Ah, my 20-year-old angst...

"Waiting" was published in the 1998 edition of The Record.


Waiting

waiting for the onslaught--
the attack on my identity.
A few silent moments before
it all begins--
I make loud noises
because I know
no one can hear me.
But when the onslaught begins,
I creep into my zone of silence
where no one can hear me
where I sit in silence
knowing all the answers
but keeping silent--
I wouldn't want anyone to
HEAR ME!
So I wait
for the gradual increase in sound;
for the seated bodies
to overtake my voice.
I am not loud and strong--
my voice does not soar above the
others, I do not sing in song.
I remain silent
because that's the mask I wear.
That's the face I put on
in front of you.

And now for some poetry

(Published in the 1997 edition of the Trinity Record; copyright Noelle A. Boughanmi. All rights reserved.)

Burning eyes haunt me--
memories of the year before.
Tear-stained pillows and grungy tissues
stuffed away in drawers.
The rose petals you gave me, soft pink I think,
are sitting on the table, dried and dark.
Cups of old coffee sit on the table, staring at me...
I really should wash the dishes.
The blank walls stare at me like a thousand eyes in Yankee Stadium
after I've caught the ball. Remembering the year before,
I think of you. Across the street is a church
where we once went in gown and hat, crying like children and
dancing like ballerinas in soft pink ruffles.
I think of the year before.
Remembering your face is like finding gold...
I've dug deep into my soul to find the words,
but the well is dry. Remembering your face is like
picking petals off a rose. I want to keep every petal
but they all turn brown anyway. I sit.
Do you remember the times before, sitting in the cafe
at round tables with vases? Sandwiches and juice,
chocolate and crackers? Sitting in the air conditioned room
with the sweaters, and I brought some cards.
Remembering your face is like finding the money
I hid away in the dresser drawers for when I needed rent money.
I sit and remember the year before.

And a writer is born...

This is what my 2-year-old does while I'm cooking dinner. Oh, my little wordsmith!

Cleaning house

My desk is a disaster area. It's funny how the papers pile up, the bills get lost, the toys somehow take a prominent place, projects are shuffled from room to room, and somehow, the work all still gets done. Before the year is over, I'd like to drastically reorganize my office and all of the "satellite" offices I've set up throughout the house. I never work in one place...I'm a nomadic editor! Sometimes I work at my desk, and sometimes on the coffee table. Sometimes on the couch and sometimes at the kitchen table. I even sometimes work in the car on the weekends when my husband is driving! So all over the house are papers, folders, books, newspaper clippings, homework assignments, pens, pencils, markers, post it notes (oh so many post it notes!).

I have a plan. Here's what needs to be organized:

--the filing cabinet (which has become more of a stacking area than an actual cabinet with files)
--the bookshelf
--the bed-side table (another one of my satellite office set-ups)
--the couch (my this-briefcase-is-too-heavy-what-on-earth-is-inside dumping ground)
--the desk itself (a dumping ground for non-work related things such as bills, toys, and the occassional sock)
--the table next to the couch (on which I stack my loose papers at the end of a study session)

How nice it would be to be organized! I'm going to do it! I'm going to go through ALL of the old papers (why do I need bills that are 10 years old anyway?) and keep what I need and toss the rest. I really don't need to keep ALL of my class notes--well, let me think about it...

Creature of habit

It's funny how we get into a certain routine without really knowing it. It's even funnier how we react when we're taken out of that routine.

Friday nights are generally my study nights. After my daughter goes to sleep and my husband goes to his weekly get-together with friends, I brew a pot of coffee, set up my laptop, gather all my materials, get comfortable, and do my schoolwork. The quiet is extremely conducive to reading, and I tend to be more of a night owl on the weekends than during the week.

Saturdays are also geared toward school. My daughter spends time with her grandparents and I head off to the library to catch up on my readings.

Well, this weekend my schedule was totally thrown off. Friday night was the rehearsal dinner, from which I arrived home just before 11 pm--too late to start studying; plus, I was exhausted from chasing my little girl around the church while waiting for the whole thing to be over. And of course today was the wedding. She did a wonderful job as flower girl. It was only the rest of the ceremony that was difficult. My husband and I took turns taking her out of the church; there's only so much "No, Mommy, it's mine" that wedding guests can take in a packed church!

It's now Saturday night and I'm trying to get back into my schedule. Having worn herself out during her post-ceremony tantrums, my daughter conveniently fell asleep on the way home and slept for a good 2 hours. But now that I'm ready to settle down, she's still wide awake.

Could I do my homework tomorrow, please?