Tag Archives: Family

Match Day

March 20, 2015

Winner

Today is Match Day, the day fourth year medical students across the country are paired to a residency program in their speciality during a weird ceremony designed to give you a fart attack.

For most of you, this information is strange and slightly boring. But for my little family and community, it’s a big day. A day that decides what the next six years of life looks like.

If you are new here, my spousal unit Austin is in his fourth year of med school, intending to graduate in May. I have conveniently put our timeline into an easy to read list in The End Of Medical School following an equally gripping post on Marrying A Student.

Match Day is confusing. No matter how many times I explain it, our parents still ask us over and over what is going on and is he a doctor yet. If only, parents. If only.

Here’s how it works. First you go to medical school! Actually first you sit at a your desk job doing graphic design until you’re 27 and realize you are in the wrong career. Then you apply to medical school (hard), get accepted to medical school (harder), and work hard to pass each year (hardest). Then in your fourth year of school, you interview on a residency tour before submitting a list of programs ranked by preference while the programs do the same about those they’ve interviewed. Finally a computer takes this information and spits out where you’ll work and live for 3-6 years, depending on your speciality. This is your “match.”

Bored yet?

It would be nice if someone simply called after your interviews and told you if and where you’ve gotten a job. You know, like normal people. Instead the medical community has made up a bizarre ceremony called “Match Day” where nervous med students read their destiny in a dimly lit room while the local news hovers (really) and spouses cry happy or sad tears. Kind of like the hunger games, except nobody dies (except our spirits).

Last year’s match day at Penn State, a visual aid:

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We arrive today at 10am and open the letters at noon.

Some things are certain. On Monday Austin got an email letting him know he did, indeed, match to a program, as some students “scramble” into leftover programs or don’t match at all (nervous poo). This was great news and means we know for sure we’ll be headed to one of four locations on our rank list:

Hershey, Pennsylvania.
Boston, Massachusetts.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Portland, Maine.

Staying in Hershey is our first choice. Not only is it located only 45 minutes from our dream destination, it’s close to New York, D.C., and most importantly–community. A community helping us raise our babies and grow into adult skin. For all its quirks and strange habits, small town living suits our stage of life right now and, for a long list of reasons, makes it easier to parent while also pursuing our dreams.

Of course the other three spots would be great, too. Giant, life-changing pros and cons to each place.

Austin graduates in May and then begins the six year journey to becoming an interventional radiologist this June in a location to be determined in just a few short hours. Pass the Pepto.

Four very different futures at our feet.

Hershey, Philly, Boston, or Portland, here we come.

Onward and upward.

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Results will be posted on FB & Instagram following the match!

Toddler Roadtrip + City Search

December 17, 2014

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Hello and hello. We are back from a long leg of Residency Tour 2014 and happy to be in our own beds, with our own smells, and old jars of applesauce going bad in the fridge.

It was a good trip. We did exactly 4% of what I’d want to do while traveling, but 99% of what I expected to do with two kids under three. And it was actually really great.

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Waylon was a dream. He ate well, slept hard, and happily drew giant monsters and ABCs over and over again while we crossed state lines. He was adaptable and cheerful, basically the exact opposite of what I expected a three-year-old away from home to be like.

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Eva was a toddler getting a tooth who didn’t want to be in a car-seat, but my expectations were low. And truthfully she was fine. She was curious and excited. There were a few nights she didn’t sleep well, but she made up for it by napping in the stroller and feeding herself bottles like an ace baby.

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I did a lot of research before this trip. I googled things to do in each location and reached out to you for advice on traveling with little ones. You were so helpful. The restaurants, museums, and attractions you suggested were all on point. As far as the travel tips, here are the five pieces of advice that saved me the most:

1) iPad. We borrowed one from my parents and it was a lifeline not so much in the car, but in the hotel when Eva was napping and Waylon and I were locked in the bathroom like hostages.

2) Dollar Store. Before we left, I stopped by the dollar store and got things like a slinky, a dry erase board, finger skateboards, and giant blinking glow wands. All big hits and major distractions in the car.

3) Food. I knew to bring food, but what kind of food. Best buys were applesauce pouches, veggie stick bags, fig bars, cliff bars, water bottles, and dry cereal. We also brought along a few bananas to slowly rot on our dashboard!

4) Foot rest. Whoever suggested building a footrest under Waylon to keep his legs from dangling the whole time–my eternal gratitude. We put the pack n’ play and my duffle bag on the floor below his car-seat, giving him a place to rest his feet and prop up whatever he was playing with.

5) Headphones. This should have been an obvious thing to bring, but it wasn’t. After it was suggested, I packed both earbuds for me (so I could listen to Serial and not wake anyone up) and regular headphones for Waylon for whenever Eva was sleeping in the same room or car.

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Austin interviewed in Hershey, Philadelphia, Boston, and Portland and they all went well. Each program and location has its set of pros and cons. It will be hard to decide which to rank first.

I tried to ask as many questions as I could in each city, interrogating everyone from the bellboy (bellman?) to the moms at the playground about the weather, restaurants, schools, and parking. I tried not to be annoying but I was annoying. Where do you grocery shop? Do you use public transportation? How are the parks? Where do you get your haircut? Do you go to church? Used illegal drugs? HOW’S YOUR MARRIAGE DOING?

I was also the Barbara Walters of my minivan, asking Austin what he thought about each detail of our possible life in each city. Will you be happy here? Do you think we could afford a three bedroom apartment? Won’t I probably need at least two more pairs of Hunter boots with these weather conditions?

It was hard not to let insignificant things influence our opinion of a place. For example, the hotel staff in Portland was nicer than the hotel staff in Boston, but that obviously doesn’t matter as we will not be living at the Hilton Garden Inn.

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The whole process is very strange. These four cities are so different from each other that it’s hard to place the right amount of value on their qualities.

Descriptions based on locals, research, and experience listed below.

Philadelphia, PA

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Familiar, expensive, lots to do, lots to see, could maybe buy a house?, close to beach, close to my parents, close to New York, did I mention I could get easy babysitting?, dirty, restaurants!, pubs, friends nearby, public transportation, long commutes, city living, farmer’s markets, small apartment, parking situation?, safety situation, city of brotherly love.

Boston, MA

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New, exciting, have you looked around this place?, far from family, far from friends, expensive, could not buy a house, could not have both cars, could maybe not afford thai take-out, tiny apartment, Children’s Museum, big city feel, could say “Oh, I live in Boston!”, stuff to write about, did I mention it’s expensive?, beautiful, lots to do, lots to see, lots to eat, adventure, good schools, great people, friends to be made, parking tickets, city of education.

Hershey, PA

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Familiar, inexpensive, wouldn’t have to move, close to family, close to friends, close to three major cities, could buy a house, could buy a three bedroom house, could have a yard, could have an office, good schools, not Boston, not on the coast, not near amazing Children’s museums, dire restaurant situation, small, final dream destination nearby, quiet, babysitting available, happy memories to build on, Pleasantville.

Portland, ME

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New, exciting, are you looking at this picture?, healthy, on the coast, near all the lobsters, far from family, far from friends, no babysitting, could maybe buy a house?, beautiful beach, cold ocean, could say “Oh, I live in Maine!”, hipster vibe, all the amazing foods, all the amazing restaurants, good schools, friends to be made, walking trails, a whole state to explore, winter jackets, winter fun, winter everything, a city of interesting footwear and raw milk.

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This time next year we will be living one of many very different lives.

The good news is that no matter what, we will be okay. We’ll make a life and a happy home no matter what that piece of paper says.

Thanks for walking alongside us.

truth

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Residency Tour 2014 (Hunger Games Pre-Show)

December 8, 2014

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We are leaving today for seven days which means everything we own has been crammed into Target bags and placed in the back of the van where I will not find it. Some things remain up front; snacks to be crumbled, toys to be thrown, a stray phone charger, and a book I will never, ever read.

The trip is part of what I’m calling Residency Tour 2014!, like a Leslie Knope wannabe. Unfortunately there are no binders or Rob Lowes. The tour schedule consists of places like Baltimore (MD), Allentown (PA), Danville (PA), Harrisburg (PA), Hershey (PA), Boston (MA), Portland (ME), Wilmington (DE), Albany (NY), Monmouth (NJ), and a hundred trips to the city of cheesesteaks–Philadelphia.

If you are new here, Austin is in his fourth year of med school interviewing for residency programs. I have conveniently put our timeline into an easy to read list in The End Of Medical School following an equally gripping post on Marrying A Student.

Today he interviews at Hershey, tonight we leave for cheesesteaks, and Thursday morning we head north to Boston and Portland to pretend we aren’t freezing.

For a long time I convinced myself that this trip would be a vacation and we would really enjoy ourselves as a family. But I’ve since lowered my expectations and am just hoping no one puts their hand through a wall. I love to travel, but as we all know, traveling with kids is simply parenting in a different location. Thank you Jesus for borrowed iPads.

After we return home next week, the interviews continue through January. Then we submit a list of programs ranked by preference while the residency programs do the same about those they’ve interviewed. Then a computer takes this information and spits out where we will live for six years to be read in front of peers and the local news. Kind of like the hunger games, but boring and nobody dies (except our spirits). #drama

This is all a big, long post to say: we’ll be gone for a bit and I’ll be blogging via Instagram with a few pre-scheduled posts here around Evie’s first birthday.

Pray for our fragile, delicate nerves as we embark on a weeklong trip up the coast with a three and almost one-year-old who is going through a “car seat stage.” If anyone knows a place in Boston or Portland to day drink, let me know because 18+ hours in the car with two toddlers is not for the faint of heart (I am faint of heart).

Here we go.

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When We Say Thank You

November 26, 2014

When We Say Thank You

Edited from the archives

Thank you for first snows. For a little boy who asks, “Should we sing, Mommy? Should we sing about the snow?”

Thank you for his face. His gummy smiles and belly laughs. Thank you for his gentleness. His arms around my neck and whispered, “I love you.” Thank you for his strong will. For a voice loud enough to scream and cry. For healthy limbs strong enough to throw all the blocks on the floor.

Thank you for deep breaths. For redos and new days and I’m sorrys.

Thank you for stretch marks. These long and weary battle scars. For a body able to grow a life, a whole human baby made up of wild hair and bright, blue eyes. Thank you for her sweet breath and open-mouthed kiss. For her loud and independent spirit.

Thank you for family. For parents who drive long drives to play with their grandbabies and sisters who don’t care if your house is messy and come over to paint your nails.

Thank you for friends. For the ones you cry with, roll your eyes with. For the ones you say all the saddest, darkest things with. Thank you for the ones who help clean up. Who watch all the bad TV. Who patiently explain what a brine is.

Thank you for the guy who comes home every night and holds his babies. Who crawls on the floor despite long days and tired eyes and builds a tall tower. Thank you for his love. For making him into a man who folds his own laundry and carries everyone to bed.

Thank you for turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes. For Steve Carell and The Family Stone. Thank you for Christmas hymns and summer smells. For all the little things in between the big things that really matter.

Thank you for our tiredness. For giving us a life so rich that we cannot help but collapse at the end of the day.

Thank you for guarding us from the darkest demons.

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We use the word blessed a lot these days, as if God flew down from heaven and gave us our Chevron sweaters and drive-thru Paneras because we did something right. As if it means those who don’t have new cars or Pinterest kitchens are less loved or less chosen by God.

And so I whisper quiet thank yous up into the sky, hoping not to jinx such a blessed and happy life.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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An Important Life

November 19, 2014

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We blinked and here we are again, entering the season of love and loss, joy and sorrow. The tender and bright life of The Holidays. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years. All those big, pink hams. It is so wonderful and terrible. Giant spectacles made up of tiny, meaningful things.

So we take deep breaths. Sip our ciders with resounding joy and delicate nerves. There is so much we are supposed to feel.

We pause to put on our winter skin.

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We buried my grandfather on Sunday. His death was unexpected and hard. We grieved and cried and said goodbye to a good man who was a bright light in this world.

It is in these moments we realize we are not forever. That the life we are living now is the only life we are ever going to live.

It is always so startling.

I have been so many different versions of myself, it can be hard to keep track of who I am now. Am I living a life I would choose? Is there something I should change? Will I always eat cold leftovers in front of the open refrigerator door?

Whoever we choose to be, it is easy to feel insignificant. We live our lives through screens and filters, projections of ourselves molded by shaky vanity. Lined up side by side, our Instagrammed faces never look as good as the mirror.

Of course we try to stay honest, but it is hard not to curate a version of ourselves fit for Christmas parties and social media. As hard as we try to be real velveteen rabbits with messy floors and messier heads, we still sometimes slip into the lie that our lives are not exceptional unless they seem exceptional to everyone else.

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A few weeks ago I took the kids by myself to vote. We were the youngest ones there by a hundred years. As we were leaving, a kind older lady grabbed my arm and said, “Look at these babies. These are the best years. You are living such an important life.”

May we remember this under the twinkle lights and beside the big parades. We have so much truth inside of us. Giant spectacles made up of tiny, meaningful things.

A season of hope.

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IMG_9185David L. Baker
1936-2014