My daughter is three ... a very old, smart and stubborn three. She's been rapidly becoming much more aware of herself, the people in her tiny world and her surroundings this past year and believe me, she will let you know all of her findings as they come along into her little mind (that always seems to be on overdrive). She's basically a mini-expensive parrot that studies and retains all of the information and conversations that are said to or around her, stores them for later knowledge and magically repeats everything you don't want her to say at the worst occasions ever.... yeah, I would say that's a pretty good comparison for her right now.
As we were driving home today , I was quizzing her on where her house was, which side of the street, and in what direction we should go to get home from where we were at on our street. She of course knew all of the answers and evidently got a little bored with my test, so she moved onto something else in her brain after a few minutes of my un-fun game. I kept driving after I was satisfied she would be able to tell someone she knew how to get home if she was ever lost, stolen or one of the other catastrophes your mind mentally prepares you for as a mother.
I was in the middle of a few zooming thoughts in my head when I hear her pipe up in the back seat, in her I have an important, immediate question to ask you ..NOW, tone.
Adyson: Mom?
Me: Yes dear?
Adyson : Look. I have your "telescope"!
I look in the rearview mirror and laugh, as she has my blue stethoscope in her ears and hanging down in front of her with a big goofy grin smiling back at me , proud that she remembered such a big word for this seemingly toy-like object in the backseat.
Me: Oooh, that's a stethoscope, but don't play with it too much because I have to use that at work.
Adyson: Mom. You are a nurse right, not a doctor.
Me: Yes I am a nurse.
Adyson: Do you help the doctors mom?
Me: Yes I do.
Adyson: Ok!
And just like that, the conversation was over but I was smiling the whole way home because of how intuitive she is.
I forget sometimes that she doesn't really know the extent of what I do, aside from knowing the variety of colored shirts and pants and fancy name tag I throw on every night after getting ready for a shift. She doesn't know the weight of the bad days, or the sadness from the un-resolved grieving from past or lost patients, or the happiness of a grateful family member, or the strain of a 16 hour shift... All little, large pieces of my title behind my name on the tag that you don't see unless you yourself are a nurse, or have been old enough to know a seasoned and weathered nurse...
My day-to-day can sometimes wear quite heavily on me as a person... a multi-faceted balance (or imbalance depending on the week, day, or minute I've had) between mom at home and nurse at work---which is often hard to leave at the door of our home after a long work day, or to turn off our human-life at the time clock before punching in.
It's pretty humbling for some reason to me, to have my daughter analyze my professional role in the easiest definition she could find, you help doctors.
So tonight, I still smile as my munchkin is sleeping peacefully in her bed at home while I finish a night shift, and I get a little warm feeling when I think of the simplistic view of our roles as parents, and the careers we come with, and how that all looks through the eyes of our little humans, when it comes to the view of the world around them. They don't have to feel the weight, good or bad...they don't have to know all of that just yet, and that is perfectly fine for now.
