I hug her. “Thank you for telling me so we can fix it.”

“It’s important to tell the truth!”

I LOVE HER.

I’m incredulous. How is this possible?

But Keanu Reeves and I share a birthday, I say.

“That’s always been one of my least favorite things about you.”

It has been added to our Netflix queue.

Today I’m post-call, meaning that I started working yesterday at 0630 and got home (early) today at 0830. So I was kinda tired. Then Zoe had that thing at school yadda yadda yadda we’re just now eating dinner at 2200. Despite our intermittent efforts to plan meals, it came as a bit of a surprise to us after the evening swim that Zoe was hungry. We fed her, finally finished cleaning up the three-days-worth of mess in the kitchen, and looked at each other with the more and more familiar, bedraggled gaze that says, “Does sleep/apathy trump food again? I mean I’m kinda hungry but it’s late and who knows what we’d eat.” I suggested tuna patties, which was met with a grimace.

We surveyed the fridge, finding:
- leftover rice that Joel made in my absence, described with frustration as “not good at all”
- leftover tikka masala – but oh, nope, that’s just the sauce
- leftover salmon – when did we make that? I don’t know. Zoe ate some the other day and she’s been fine, so it’s probably okay.
- leftover turkey burgers – those were great the first time around

As I assembled two small dishes of this abomination, I felt like saying, “This is pathetic.” But I stopped myself. We’re busy and doing the best we can. So I said, “This is resourceful.”

Joel, who provides much comic relief in my life, responded with, “It’s just like your People. We eat all parts of the fridge.”

A curly-headed blur zoomed past me as I carried the dog’s full bowl of water to his tray. Zoe, don’t run with a pen, please. It’s dangerous.

“It’s not a pen, and anyway I was skipping with it. It’s my pencils.”

ALRIGHT WELL WHATEVER YOU’RE RUNNING WITH STOP IT AND WALK – you don’t wanna put an eye out.

Yeah I said that.

This comes on the heels of her very first stitches Saturday night. She was refusing to eat dinner with us during a half hour of being an utter pill for an unknown reason, most likely that she was tired after a long day of doing

Hold on. I just had to save this draft and return to it because there was a crash in the kitchen. It seems someone had climbed up and gotten plates to set the table for tomorrow morning’s breakfast (SUPER SWEET right?) and long story short we have one fewer plates.

Where was I? Oh yes, the stitches. So in a fit she shoved off our lofted dining table in her lofted pink chair, which fell back in slow motion. I said, “Awesome,” as she fell, because I was thinking that surely THIS would teach her, not injure her, but scare her into thinking at least twice before her next display of stubborn hostility, when she landed, quite gracefully, upright and without any limbs under any part of the chair. Whew, I thought, but in just as slow a motion, unfortunately as an aftershock of the landing she bumped her chin on the padded part of the chair and began crying in pain. Joel picked her up and brought her to me, in his infinite wisdom warning me to hold back the I TOLD YOU SOs until we determined she was okay, when I saw blood gushing from her chin. After we stopped the bleeding I got a better look and could see muscle fibers and adipose tissue coming through, so off to get stitches we went. To me, lacerations are the worst – I mean, to look at or even feel the chair, you’d never think it would break skin.

The urgent care place was awesome. We were in and out, they numbed her well, the treatment team was really nice, and although a white sheet papoose/taco was necessary,

Wait so I’m not making this up. She just came in, wide-eyed, and said, “Mom, you better not step on all the towels because I spilled a WHOLE BUNCH of water.”

Right now you might be thinking many things, such as why isn’t your four-year-old in bed? And why are you continuing effectively to ignore her, and where is your husband? Exactly. Now they are playing something called fishkitball and I’m going to wrap this up.

So the three stitches come out in a week. A week during which she can’t be in the pool. During the last week of her swimming lessons. But we’re so fortunate that these are the worst of our concerns regarding her health.

In other news, third year has begun, and I’m really excited. More on that later, surely. Today during orientation attention was paid to our responsibilities and cautions regarding any online presence we may have. I like to think I’m aware of these issues and walk a fine line both personally and professionally, trying to balance privacy with creativity and honesty. It was a good reminder never to betray the trust of the people for whom I’ll be caring medically and with whom I work, and I also thought about Zoe. I hope she doesn’t mind and maybe even will think it’s cool to have grown up online. I know we’re taking some risks and that not everyone would do it this way. She knows I write about her and post pictures of her; if anything I just want to share the joy she brings to our world, even when she’s breaking skin and plates.

I did a little research and decided that their life span and reproductive potential meant they must be killed. A quick Google search yielded a straight-forward YouTube video. I had heard something like this before, but never tried it. Buddhist philosophy checked at the door of my annoyance, and reminding myself these aren’t mammals so I personally won’t lose sleep over their early demise, I got out my kitchen stool* and went to work. I’m impressed (and also bored with studying) enough to share:

Put a few tablespoons of apple cider vinegar into a small bowl. Add two drops of liquid dish soap (not dishwasher detergent, but the kind by the sink). The flies flock to the homemade trap and are drowned. (Sorry, SPCA.) I put one trap per room and after one hour, I already have 100 kills.

So let’s clarify that old adage, shall we? You GET more flies with honey. But you KILL them with vinegar. And soap.

Anyway, thanks, lady – you really helped me out!

*Full disclosure: my apple cider vinegar was farther back than my red wine vinegar. So I used red wine vinegar first and only got a few kills. I decided not to be so damn lazy, got out the stool, re-started with apple cider vinegar, and saw vast improvements.

Stats from her four-year-old checkup today:

42 inches (106.68 cm) tall!!! (90th%)
34.8 pounds (17.42 kg) in weight! (75th%)
great blood pressure, great teeth, perfect hearing, perfect vision

We are so lucky.

She told the doctor that when she grows up, she would like to be a princess. She got a nasal flu vaccine and three shots, completing all the major childhood immunizations she’ll need until she’s 12 (!!!). Little brave soul that she is said only a simple, “Ow.” during the shots. I really like that office, too – they’re pros. For her troubles, she picked out Tinkerbell and Hello Kitty stickers.

She is truly amazing. Singing, dancing, spelling, writing, counting, imagining, joking, loving her way through the days – way too quickly. Joel and I agree that in the past year she has developed even more of her personality. Four just seems so… grown up. Close to going to school. And she really is this little mini agent with thoughts and hopes and dreams ALL her own.

This weekend we started celebrating by going to the local Y for a swim on a gorgeous day. Then she helped me make her birthday cake. For the past couple of months, we have been formulating the cake plan. “Hello Kitty Princess” was her request. I envisioned a Hello Kitty playing the part of a princess and had a strategy. We made fondant. We made a Hello Kitty Princess. I presented it to Zoe after the finishing touches.

“Where’s Aurora?”
A sinking feeling came over me. How could I not have seen this coming? I had budgeted time only for the HK. Now I might have to make a Sleeping Beauty out of fondant. Please, God, no – this would take forever and more patience than I have. I cheerfully explained that Hello Kitty IS a princess.
“Yes, but we also need Aurora. The pink princess. Hello Kitty, and a princess.”

And so we made an Aurora of fondant. And a classic white cake turned pink, with pink mousse, pink white chocolate buttercream and pink swirly marshmallow fondant. It was a glorious celebration of all of her pinkness. In the end I’m really glad she challenged me. I think she liked it.

Monday she attended a Valentine’s Day party at her school AND was the recipient of Happy Birthday singing, cards, and gifts from many admirers. She gracefully accepted most of it. We picked her up early from school and went shopping for helium balloons and pink roses from her Dad. She had requested that we fill the whole house with balloons – we got about half of the living room, which we all enjoyed. The family from down the hall came over for cake. Soon it was time for singing in the bathtub and getting cozy with her princess game before bed. She opened most of her gifts today since we ran out of steam last night! So far she reports liking age four.

Pictures on Flickr soonish… I’m a little behind on that. She’s so cute that it’s hard to keep up with all the pictures we can’t resist snapping!

I’m so proud of her and love her more every.single.day.

Many of us become theives, stealing time and energy that might otherwise be devoted to exercise, home organization, preparing healthier meals, or fostering relationships with loved ones. Or just garden variety down time – relaxation, escape. (Then we swing the other way and it becomes the studies that suffer.)

I hear a lot of complaints that med school ruins social lives. “I never go out anymore,” or “My significant other is so frustrated that I don’t have enough time for him/her,” or “I just feel so isolated.” As I was discussing with a fellow student today, I think this aspect is easier for me. “Going out” never has been part of my life – to me the whole thing is more anxiety-provoking and exhausting than anything else I could be doing. Relationship-wise, my family and friends understand what I’m doing, and we talk when we can. Joel and I spent most of our courtship in different cities, sometimes states. He’s really busy, too, so we understand when there’s no time for a cutesy heart to heart. This is also where being married/living together has advantages. If we had to schedule a date amidst our other activities – forget it. If we weren’t established and were trying to nuture a budding romance, I can imagine the difficulty to find time and energy for that. So I do feel for my dating classmates, if it’s something they’re missing. As far as isolation – I like being in my own little community – school is my escape from what I consider the more stressful day-to-day life. But if I didn’t have my Zoe and Joel and Chief, I know I’d be terribly lonely sometimes.

Anyway I would hear these complaints and just didn’t comprehend. I don’t feel pulled to bars or parties. But then I think about how I do spend my spare non-studying time. I do feel pulled to zoo outings with Zoe. I need zoning-out-walking-around-Target-or-the-mall time. I look forward to well-prepared meals and television shows the way my classmates might anticipate a hot date or some other debauchery. So when I spend more time studying and these things get put on the back burner, I feel the stress. Forgive me for having been judgmental about how people restore their souls. And it’s not like I’m some zen master – maybe I could learn a thing or two about letting go.

When I was making the decision to apply to med school, I weighed my desire to have a family very heavily. I wanted to have enough time to do it the way I envisioned parenting: being there, being engaged and involved, having real time together. Perhaps my reluctance to develop and adhere to a rigid schedule is from fear that we’ll become this super efficient family who does get everything done but it means that we come home, make and eat dinner, get a bath, get in bed, and never really engage. So we hem and haw and stay up late… There’s probably a middle ground.

Anyway I looked at my friends in med school and saw they still had lives, still went out, and figured if that wasn’t something I would do, certainly I had time for my family. You spend your time. You make and find time for what’s important to you. Sometimes priorities get changed temporarily, but in the end what you value gets your time. We have agency. That’s true for 8-5ers, stay at home parents, and students with jobs. Our time actually is our own, and we are choosing how to spend it. (Especially as med students. When we get to rotations and residency and competitive jobs, we are owned for awhile – thought it is a choice we make.) How we spend it reflects what we value. Lately I’ve been trying to realize this and own it – be honest with myself about what I’m choosing is important to me.

Most of it seems so external – deadlines, pressures from bosses, coworkers, family, friends, our children, “the schedule” – but we have a lot of control over what we deem important. Yes we have to make money to pay for things. When we work to cover our rent/mortgage, groceries, and car payment, we are valuing shelter, food and lifestyle. We are choosing those basics/comforts over the stress of being homeless or hungry. (My perspective falls apart when someone is working three jobs, not sleeping, and still has a hungry family – I hope this doesn’t happen.) Being honest with myself, then, I’m choosing these years of taking out loans and having Zoe in daycare to have the career I want and the happiness that fulfilling work will create for me and – please please please I hope this happiness will extend to – my family.

In a related story, when I select my categories or tags for posts, it seems silly to select life, health, family, and school separately. Because that’s what all these are about. They’re synonyms at this point.

They’re called bangs. I’ve had bangs before. And I’ve grown them out. Just when they’re starting to become part of my regular hair, I go and do something stupid like cut them again. It was to encourage me to fix my hair, and also to cover the stubborn forehead wrinkle that has become permanent, despite my best efforts. The onset of post-haircut remorse was record-setting this time. I keep trying for these cuts that look good in theory, and then put on my head, it’s just… not edgy. It probably says more about my face than anything else.

I’m always in hair limbo. In sixth grade I had hair most of the way down my back. Probably not a good look for me, in hindsight. And I was getting headaches, both from the weight of it and also because of the maintenance. So I cut it. To my shoulders. Nothing too drastic really. But the feedback was almost entirely negative. “WHAT’D YOU DO?!” Whatever – I think it looked fine, and I liked the change, but I’ve always been a little hesitant to cut my hair, especially after committing to growing it longer. I love long hair. I think it makes one look more… natural? Easy going? Free-spirited? In the right way, of course. There are exceptions. Maybe those things don’t describe or suit me…

Am I impatient, or do I really prefer it shorter? Post chemo, I had fun with the various stages as it grew, and I think my favorites have been bobs or shorter. I feel like longer hair drags me down. And it ends up in a pony tail most days, because let’s face it, I barely have time to put on clothes, and I value sleep more than looking nice. (I’ll make time for makeup though, or take it with me, because we don’t need running and screaming people in the streets.)

Basically I look about the same or worse, but my hair FEELS better. It was getting krusty on the ends. Plus I needed to catch up with my stylist. The bangs will grow out, and maybe I will have learned my lesson and keep them that way.

Couple this little indiscretion with my recent 10+ pound weight gain, and I’m looking pretty great these days. Most of my 20s were spent fearing what would happen when, inevitably, my metabolism slowed. It was either a self-fulfilling prophecy, or perhaps an unfortunate coincidence, that my 30th birthday was associated with a month-long illness, hindering my workouts, and a more sedentary studying schedule. And of course I love sweets. So 30 for Blake is not hot. But I’ve started back with Jillian and am pining away for the days of less stringent adherence to a healthy diet (I’m not “on a diet” because those do not work and make me depressed), which means I’m trying.

In the meantime, there are barrettes and large clothes.

*If you’ve never enjoyed Arrested Development, for whatever reason, I’m sorry. Because it’s hysterical. Here‘s a compilation video; I apologize for the ad.

A word of caution: the cheesecake must be given its time. Prepare yourself to wait overnight for it to chill. Your patience will be rewarded.

Set out your butter, eggs, and cream cheese and go do something else for an hour. (Or, for the impatient or forgetful like myself, “defrost” them in the microwave.) Preheat the oven to 350F. Then make the crust.

For the crust:
• 1/2 pound unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 2 cups flour
• 1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

Cream the butter and sugar until light in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Combine the flour and salt and, with the mixer on low, add to the butter until just mixed. Put half of the dough into a greased/sprayed 10″ round cake pan (or springform pan, if you like to go to the trouble, but I do not) and press it evenly into the bottom and about a centimeter up the side.

Bake the crust for 15 to 20 minutes, until very lightly browned. Let cool on a wire rack. Leave the oven on, but reduce heat to 300F.

For the cheesecake:
• 3 (8-oz) packages cream cheese, softened
• 1 cup sugar
• 3 large eggs
• 3/4 cup sour cream (next time I’ll use 1/2 c heavy cream + 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla (next time I think I’ll use lemon extract or lemon oil)
• 1 tbsp lemon zest

Beat together cream cheese and sugar in a bowl with an electric mixer at medium speed until smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. Reduce speed to low and add eggs 1 at a time, beating until incorporated. Beat in sour cream, extract, and lemon zest until combined.

Pour cream cheese filling into crust. Now I use a water bath. I place my 10″ pan inside a 12″ pan and pour boiled/warm water into the bigger pan, taking care not to flood the actual cheesecake. Bake cheesecake until set 1 1/2 inches from edge but center trembles when pan is gently shaken, about 45 minutes. (Center of cake will appear very loose but will continue to set as it cools – I promise.)

Remove the cheesecake from the water bath and transfer the pan to a rack. Turn the oven back up to 350F and let it preheat while you make the lemon bar filling.

For the filling (Recall that this is for a whole batch. For just the cheesecake, halve the recipe.):
• 6 extra-large eggs at room temperature
• 3 cups granulated sugar
• 2 tablespoons grated lemon zest (4 to 6 lemons)
• 1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice*
• 1 cup flour
• Confectioners’ sugar, for dusting

For the filling, whisk together the eggs, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice, and flour. Pour over the top of the cheesecake and place the pan back in the water bath. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the filling is set. Remove from the water bath and place on a wire rack to cool. Run a sharp knife around the edge to loosen it and prevent cracking. Let cool to room temperature.

Cool completely, about 2 hours, then chill, uncovered, at least 4 hours (or overnight is best). Remove side of springform pan before serving, or if you used a regular pan like myself, flip it out to your hand on plastic wrap, then flip to a serving plate. Dust the top with powdered sugar. Enjoy!

*I cannot support the use of anything but fresh lemons for this. I’m not saying I’ll hunt you down and force you to squeeze lemons as punishment, but don’t complain to me that it doesn’t taste good if you don’t use real lemons. Because it won’t taste good. Been there.

My little mermaid.