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Friday night I stayed up until 6AM reading The Hunger Games, but don’t worry, this isn’t a post about what a greatly addictive book it is or how I haven’t been this excited about a book and the movie that brings it to life in far too long (Yeah, this means I’ve never read Harry Potter, BUT I do plan to one day).

Anyway, the point is that I stayed up all night reading the book — something I wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of doing two to three months ago.

Not with my MCAT exam at 8am, sharp the next morning.

So instead of staying up all night trying to fall asleep the night before such an exam, I deliberately refused to go to bed until I finished the book or passed out on my own. Well, at 6am, an hour before Manaal would be up, I thought it would be slightly smarter to at least nap two hours before Saad heads out for the library.

I woke up around 8:45 and chuckled at the sheer panic and terror that would’ve course my veins if I had woken up at the time to take an exam that started 45 minutes earlier.

9:50 — “They’re (the test takers) either taking or just ending their first 10 minute break right now” I said nonchalantly as we drove to meet my dad for our family’s bimonthly breakfast out.

11: 30 –”I’d be half-way through the exam right about now.”

1:00 — “So close to the end!! I wonder how many have fallen over by now.”

3:30 — “Woohoo! They’re done! They’re probably driving back home and so relieved to have it behind them!”

Although the day was full enough to keep me busy, my mind was occasionally occupied with my ex-fellow test takers.

By 5pm, I imagined the simultaneous relief and worry I’d be riddled with had I taken the exam.

Instead I was riddled by a serious fit of laughter as Saad, my sisters, and I came up with ridiculous lyrics to songs we made up. And then tried make up lyrics in our Ethiopian dialects.

My husband’s got skillz.

Saturday, March 24th, was a highlighted, bolded, and underlined date in my calendar book. Bright yellow and red, glaring the time 8:00AM on it as a constant reminder to be ready, be rested, be confident, be proud to move forward with this particular goal.

As it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be ready, rested, confident, or proud by that date, I learned to ignore the ridges my pen made along the March 24th box in my calendar. The same ridges that made such deep grooves in the paper that I could feel its outline in the pages before and after the date, much like this test was making its mark on my plans in the months before and after my application.

Now I’ve simply ripped the page out because it’s ugly. And because the tinge of hesitation and frustration I used to feel looking at it are no longer there and ripping the page out has made my calendar more attractive, a little lighter just like my feelings about this magical date that was once do or die to me.

It’s still important, of course, but I accept that where I am in life and when I’ll get to cross things off in my career goals can’t be contained to one overbearing, colorful box on a page.

Now, flipping through the pages of my calendar, I welcome my new timeline.

How’s it going? (Really, tell me how you’re doing because I’ve missed this corner of the internet and those that visit it)

Things have taken a turn for the unexpected in the last few weeks. Let me proceed to tell you all about it in the following paragraphs, sectioned off by asterisks rather than proper transitions because that’s how I roll (through related thoughts).

Aaaaaand start:

About a month ago Saad came back for semi-good. There are a lot of boring reasons why it was better for all of us for him to study here rather than in that cold, lonely apartment, but I’m not going to bore you with those details. So, he’s been back and quite honestly, aside from the one day a week we designate “family day” where we all hang out together, we don’t really see much of him because he’s buried off in an obscure corner of some library for most of his days. So in a lot of ways, things haven’t changed in that regard –I’m still solo-parenting for the most part, but we do enjoy that family day.

And having dinner in person instead of via skype.

*********

From the last post, that last, exciting I’m-off-to-take-the-MCAT-and-shall-live-to-tell-the-tale!-post, it seemed like I was off to take the MCAT and eventually live to tell the tale.

Well, something about that sort of crumbled.

A few weeks ago it become more than painfully apparent that I simply needed way more study time in my days than I was getting. And you know, real study time during real daylight hours when my body is more or less awake rather than the after hours of being with the kids all day and then being stuck in that vague too awake to sleep, but too tired to do anything productive, much less study rut at night. Oh, and there’s also that detail about sleeping for more than 3-4 hours a night which ends up affecting me and the kids in less than stellar ways.

So. I’m saying that I need realistic study hours during the day and realistic sleep hours during the night. Unfortunately there is no amount of caffeine that will help either without hindering the other.

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You may wonder why Saad can’t help with this parenting thing as much and it should be known that although the brunt of parenting has fallen on me for the entirety of our parenthood, that a) he definitely does his part every time he can, b) he’s pretty amazing at it when he does and c) again, too many boring details that factor into why things are the way they are, but it boils down to both of us pursuing demanding careers and doing our best to make sure at least one of us, if not both, is with the kids. We both want the cake and to eat it too; juggling kids and careers and passing the balls back and forth to each other, hoping neither of us drop any them.

Right now I’m juggling a different load than he is, but his load isn’t any easier.

*********

My entire application sans the MCAT is ready for submission. My recommendation letter writers have submitted their letters; ; I have a personal statement –my sixth!!– that I’m proud of and excited about; I have copies of my transcript ready for entering grades into my application. I’m just waiting for the actual application to open up. And to take the MCAT.

Back to my study-time/babysitting issues: it doesn’t look like I’ll find a part-time nanny/extended babysitter in time to take my MCAT and apply as early as I want to. Scores aren’t released until the month after you take your exam, which means that the application agency you use (AMCAS or TMDSAS or both) would take about six (or more) weeks before they send it out to schools. Medical schools, as far as I know, have rolling admissions, so they invite students for interviews and accept student for matriculation as they receive applications –which is to say that the earlier you apply, the better your chances. The medical school application opens up in May, school accept applications in June (in May for Texas applicants), but your application isn’t complete without your score.

I wanted to take the MCAT in January, but that was wishful thinking. I originally signed up for March. Then pushed it back to April or May. I refuse to take it any later than June, but realistically, I’m looking at August, which means my score wouldn’t be back until September. Although my application will have been submitted in May/June, it won’t be “complete” until September or October.

Most applicants are going through rounds of interviews by then. Personally, it’s too late in the cycle to risk not getting in for me –even with a stellar MCAT score.

So I decided to take it whenever I’ll take it this year, but to apply next year.

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The thought of applying next year really bums me out, in which I mean it gives me a lump in my throat every time I think about having to wait one more year.

I think it would make more sense if you knew that I really dislike being a stay-at-home-mom (and there’s nothing wrong with admitting that). That I miss and crave being in a classroom and having more things going for me than there are now. That although becoming a doctor has always been where my passion and heart have been, it took years to build the confidence to finally apply. That I’m petrified of not getting in and this additional year is just stretching out that fear for another year. That my family is waiting for me to do something about my future. That my community is wondering if I’ll ever “go back to school” since having kids, although they still don’t think/believe I’ve completed my undergrad, which I have while having kids (maybe that doesn’t bother most people, but these are community members that have known me since I was my own kids’ ages, so even if I could help it, I’d still care. Plus, I know they’re comparing me with others my age who are “doing something with their future”). That it feels like everyone is applying or getting in or almost completing their first year or, or, or, …just moving forward with their lives. That I was so excited and beyond ready to get this particular party started, but I can’t bring myself to RSVP so I’m no longer invited. That all of my prep work was like loading a cannon and lighting the rope, only for the fire to extinguish before the cannon shot —like I failed before I even started. That I’m terrified of being that mom that never accomplishes her career goals.

That I feel stuck in, suffocated by, and frustrated with where I am in life.

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Considering all of the prep work I’ve done to charge into this application year, friends have encouraged me to apply this year. To just bear it and take my exam and just apply. If I keep waiting for the right time to take it, it’ll never happen.

I believe there’s merit in what they’re saying. Their encouragement and personal stories briefly made me consider doing so, but it’s too big of a risk for me. It could be that I’m a scaredy-pants too (Hint: I’m definitely  a scaredy-pants).

I believe it’s wiser –excruciating–but wiser take my MCAT when I’m ready for it rather than rushed just to make it in for this cycle, and to apply next year as a first time applicant.

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It took weeks to blog about this because I needed to let my emotions (these feelers of feeeeelings that I hate talking about) and realization of everything simmer down.

Last month this would’ve been an incoherent vent/rant post stained by my pms-induced tears –not that this is much better, I’m sure.

Two weeks ago this would’ve been a slightly more coherent, less pms stained, exhilarated I-AM-going-apply-and-live-to-tell-the-tale! post.

Last week, this would’ve been an emotionally numb Never-mind-I’m-NOT-going-to-apply post that would’ve fogged your screen thanks to all of my heavy sighing.

This week, tonight, right now, this is just a post. A hopefully more mature and level-headed post. Admittedly it included sighs and momentary tearing-up because I’m what you would call an excellent feeler of emotions (read: damn emotional), but mostly written with calm acceptance.

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Maybe this year will be good for me.

Maybe this year will be good for my kids and husband too.

Maybe this year will make a difference in the kind of medical student and doctor I become.

Maybe one day I’ll look back and be thankful for this year.

Maybe, just maybe, this year won’t be so bad.

The overwhelming frustration and anxiety I've been feeling about the MCAT is poignantly illustrated in this graph. So much so that I may have laugh-cried when I found it. Tis so true guys, tis so true.

You’ll realize that, after so much silence on this blog lately, this post is only forewarning you of even more silence to come, but please bear with me as I embark on this pivotal point in my premed life. The application season is creeping up on me/fellow premeds applying this year, and let me just say that although I’m excited to get this stressful, expensive, and emotionally/mentally taxing process over with…OMG ASKFNISUNSKDHGHAKJDFA IT’S HAPPENING SOOOON.

*end freak-out gurgle*

Dear Blog,

I’m going to keep this short and (bitter)sweet: I’m breaking up with you.

For now, at least.

It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it is you, actually.

It’s said that time is money, but when you’re studying for the MCAT, time is points you could get for the right answers that you studied for in the extra 5 minutes here and 20 minutes there. Time also happens to be extraordinarily precious when your study window is already shrunken to a fraction of what you’d like/need because of other duties, like parenting.

So I’m trimming a lot of my day’s routines to optimize the time in it, which means you are one of its casualties.

Rather than leaving unannounced, I thought an awkward letter to let you know would be more appropriate.

I promise to be back by mid-May(ish), and who knows, maybe post once or twice between now and then.

But for now, go into sweet hibernation as I go on hiatus.

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And for any fellow MCAT takers, here’s a clever nugget I found via Google Images. God bless memes and good ones at that.

Wish me luck and send me all of your good fairy dust/prayers/vibes/powers/ANYTHING.

Let me tell you a tale of how one girl wrote not one, not two, not three, not four, but five completely different personal statements all for one application package. She did so not because she had two have five of them, but because she [cue mick jagger] can’t get no satisfaction out of any of them.

And let me also tell you that although she’s written plenty of papers, the magnitude of le personal statement carries an air of GET IT RIGHT, EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO BLEED FOR IT as she takes it to be an important part of her medical school application.

This girl also likes to tell her tale in third person.

Back in September, she read forums, sites, blogs and other media on how to conjure up the most magically amazing statement anyone has ever written! One to move the adcom (admissions committee) like no other statement has before! By October, she organized a comprehensive list of “life events” pertinent to her passion for a medical career. This list turned into a quasi-excel worksheet of main points, details, and theses.

By November the girl had her, unbeknownst to her at the time, first of four more drafts she was going write. Oh! The relief of having a draft completed because once there’s a draft, there’s just editing left to do, which is the easy part. Making content is harder than making corrections.

By late November, the girl had reservations about her statement. It just didn’t sit well with her — in fact she couldn’t even look at it, much less read through it.

DELETE. Back to square one.

Throughout December, the girl was sick with a serious case of writer’s block. Regardless of staring at her Detailed Spreadsheet Of Life Events, Main Points, And Potential Theses, she couldn’t get past the block. So she purged her spreadsheet, shrinking it to a fraction of its size and looked at it with new eyes.

Still, it wasn’t until January that she had a breakthrough.

“Aha! ”She thought.

I’ll write about this one major event in my life and spread it out to explain why and how it has prepared for me a medical career!

“Finally, I’m getting somewhere with this!” She gleamed.

After a week of drafting and editing, she sent it out to friends for feedback. Long story (with in a story) short, the more feedback she received, the more she realized she mega-focused on one aspect of her life and decided she hated her draft. She couldn’t even think about it without wanting to throw up.

DELETE. Back to square one.

She let a few topic ideas sit with her for a few days before she started statement number three. Half way through it she could feel her “I hate it bone” acting up again.

After a day or two of trying to make it work,

DELETE. Back to square one.

At this point, the girl was getting pretty annoyed with this personal statement ordeal, especially since this would be the only time she would have to write it (she would be getting personal with the statement’s application mate, a test called the Let-Me-Wring-Out-Your-Soul-And-Leave-It-For-The-Voltures…or the MCAT in the following months).

She pondered over her resume/ CV and brainstormed a new draft. This draft sort of worked. I mean, it had concrete examples and appropriate details, but it didn’t wow by any means. It was essentially her resume extended over a page and a half, with sprinkles of a storyline. But it was the most comprehensive of all of the drafts she had conjured up, so she stuck with it and tried to make it work.

Work, it did not. And she felt it. Or rather, didn’t feel it. And this girl? She has to be proud to present something she’s written, especially to the people who carry the ticket to her dreams.

DELETE. Back to square one.

She spent many nights staring at a blank Word document. It’s believed that no one has ever agonized over a personal statement as much as this over-thinking-girl has.

She consulted a darn good writer she’s gotten to know. Asked for feedback on her paper, confessed she didn’t like her own draft, asked for advice, came across some inspirational words –all in one night.

Dear audience, inspiration finally struck. It struck with the force of a powerful tidal wave and like someone caught in the vigorous waters, she let the current take her.

Instead of trying to formulate a masterpiece, she just started writing. Writing about herself, her family, her passions, and her struggles.

There was a loud POP! as the flood gates of her writer’s block bursted and overflowed that once blank Word document. She wrote and wrote and wrote.

After being creatively constipated for so long, it was quite satisfying to dump all of her thoughts onto virtual paper.

It was one monstrously lengthened paper, similar to this post but less third-person.

The following night she trimmed pounds of fat from it and before she knew it, she had a slimmer, well-rounded, personal-yet-professional piece of statement in front of her. She sent it out to her designated editors and was happy that they enjoyed it much more than the previous three, two, one.

Although many rounds of editing and proofreading await her, the girl was immensely relieved to have this burden off of her shoulders. She slept (figuratively) better knowing it was one less part of her application haunting her.

The End (of the personal statement saga, at least).

Some of the things I miss about undergrad:

Waking up and getting dressed for a day outside of the house. This means that I had an excuse to buy new clothes.

Putting my driving skills to test by getting through horrendous traffic, parking,and sprinting (figuratively, of course!) to class to make it there at least 20 min. before class (read next point/”memory”).

Finding the perfect position/seat in class. Although there aren’t assigned seats, once I find my spot I don’t exchange the seat with anyone for anything. And if someone is in my seat by the time I get there (which is why I try to get to class super early), then I stare at the back of their head and laser beam mean, angry thoughts at them.

How acceptable it was to stalk prey in the parking lot. This means that it was perfectly normal to cruise the campus parking lot(s) until you find someone (prey) walking to their car and then slowly trailing (stalking) them to their vehicle for their spot. For some reason, this never worked non-campus lots.

What was that? You didn’t stalk prey? Are you telling me it’s creepy?

Whipping out my notebook and pen/pencil, the only two things on my desk –nothing more, nothing less. Highlighters, sticky notes, erasers, flashcards —NOTHING ELSE, I SAID.

Cracking open my notebook and gently caressing the clean new page before I tattoo it in notes.

Listening with genuine interest to the lecture; sort of listening for leisure, but noting for knowledge. I think the only classes I involuntarily zoned out in were Calculus II and III because they were Calculus II and III. Nearly four years later, I am still traumatized from these two classes. From the times I was paying attention/awake, at least.

My hidden study spots in the library and other buildings.

Stopping by the campus Einsteins or Starbucks to grab coffee and a snack before going to study.

Sitting in front of the water garden or under the shade of magnificent trees.

Dodging bike riders. And scooter riders. And roller bladders. And golf-cart drivers. And unicyclists. We were a transportation-diverse campus, obviously.

Seeing the campus swarm with students in between classes sections.

As stressful finals time can be, I love the atmosphere. Looking like the living dead with coffee in one hand and clenching last-minute notes in the other. More than anything though, it’s the high of completing an exam and walking out of the room momentarily burden free until the next final.

Running into old classmates/friends and professors. And sometimes avoiding them.

Being with my boys (Saad and Aiman) at the end of the day.

The smell of angst that filled the waiting room at the pre-med advisor’s office. Sadly, there was no antiperspirants for this.

Making difficult decisions:

I didn't make this; it's a meme floating around the internet.

Except this illustration should include mother/wife duties for my experience, but let’s not get technical (although we should definitely get technical about that major detail).

***

College flew by, as did the last 24 years of my life. I’m beyond ready for the next phase of school and look forward to increased coffee consumption, protectiveness of my seat, burden-free highs, and general anxiety in medical school.

OH, MEDICAL SCHOOL.

Are my angst-stained armpits showing?

CAN YOU HEAR ME  ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

As I clean off the cobwebs and dust all over this blog, I notice it reeks of abandonment and neglect.

But fear not, for I am here to tidy up this mess!

Where should I start? Should this be one long (long, long, long) update post in which I tell you more than you care to know? Or should I only highlight the important aspects of the last ten or so days? Should I , oxymoronically, shut-up and talk the talk already?

I’LL DO ALL THREE without knocking you over, hopefully.

The important part(s)

Since the last post:

• We are still fighting THRUSH! Oh my sweet God of mercy and sanity, WE ARE STILL FIGHTING THRUSH. We completed the entire treatment course and were good to go for about a day or two until I noticed the white spots in the back of her throat again, after which I may or may not have sat there cursing the overgrown yeast partying it up in my baby’s throat. I so want to call the cops and complain of disturbance of population control on their ass and squash their party. Just as I figured, it’s probably because of one thing that I forgot to boil or sanitize that reinfected her/us. So anyway, we’re halfway through round two of treatment for this forsaken THRUSH!
  

  Baby girl is clearly SUFFERING. Good thing I bribe her with sweet potatoes -- that she inevitably gets all over her face.

• Saad was here for two whole months and like all good things, it came to an end last Thursday. That’s also partly the reason this blog has withered away. You see, his departure date sneaks up on us –here we are just minding our own business and soaking up his presence when BAM! There’s only a week left until he goes back. We try to do all sorts of family fun stuff/ lounging around in each others’ company during that time, which also means little to no distractions, ie news reading (for him) and self-delcared important internet browsing (for me), including blogging. So essentially, YOU CAN BLAME SAAD and his cruel, cruel departure date attacking us like that.
  • It’s always the worst part of the year whenever he has to go back, but hopefully we’ll be smelling each other’s morning breath in two (if we’re lucky) to 10 week’s time. (You can thank Aiman for this morning breath reference since we’ve watched the Shrek trilogy umpteen +1 times in the last few weeks. He LOVES the movies and we are all completely Team Ogre, so morning breath is the Ogre way to express that sentiment. Just FYI, is all.)
  • It’s been hard playing catch up since he left. In the previous post I mentioned he would come home for dinner and bedtime every night, so going through the bedtime routine along for both kids literally left me out of breath the first night after he left, although it could have something to do with those demonic cookies (scroll down).
• Another excuse legitimate reason this blog was thrown to the curb is that there was a bigger bully on the block who goes by the name, Medical School Personal Statement. He was fierce and totally kicked my butt. I had him under control at first, back in November, and had him all written beaten up. Then! Then that jerk came back with a vengeance and a low blow — my pride. Yeah! He took my pride and spat on it as he said “THIS ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH” and then ran away to the desktop trash can. So I worked out (my only “workout”) and battled him in the last few days, ending this feud once and for all last night. So you see, I had to invest what little writing fighting power I have and get this little “problem” taken care of.

The Extraneous Part(s):

• We rung in the new year with a late night barbecue and our good family friend, Bukky, over. We’ve known Bukky and her family since our Sunday School years and she’s essentially my sister, Sieda’s, “Summer.” We love that girl and we love her in-law-school-brain, which came in handy because (next point):

• Someone drove into our backyard on new year’s day. Sieda, Bukky, and I were on our way to go paintballing (OMG! NEXT POINT!) with a group of girls, and right as we were leaving, we heard a crash in the backyard. My mom looked out the back door and screamed my name — a scream that still makes my blood stop and my heart pound right through my chest. That’s when I knew something serious just happened. When we got to the site, we were all like, “Well, look at that. There’s a freakin’ car in the backyard” and the driver was unnaturally calm about it. My guess is that she was exhausted from work and simply dozed off because no one ran into her and it’s unlikely to just lose control of your vehicle unless it’s possessed, but then who keeps/drives a possessed car, you know?

• Paintballing. I love it. Wait, no I LOVE IT. That’s more like it. Now, you have to understand that I take it very seriously. The group I went with were all newbies, including myself, but it was obvious none of them had ever prepared for a Zombie Apocalypse and were far too forgiving to the other team. Also, you have to respect the fact that once you’re out of ammo, you’re vulnerable, and effectively OUTof the apocalypse. Would you forgive a zombie? I DIDN’T THINK SO. STAY LOW AND RESERVE YOUR AMMO.
  • Paint ball shots hurt so much, I just can’t describe it. My sister and I were on opposite teams, so you know we had to get each other first. It was mutually a personal objective and just plain personal. Well, she got me in my right arm while someone else shot at my left. She doesn’t know it, but in the midst of fire, I played mean, but behind the barrels? After she and someone paintballed me in the arms? I nearly cried in pain, hugging myself as I waited for the adrenaline to numb the pain. Paint balls hurt so much, people. So much.
  • The next day, I was not only branded in six solid bruises, but sore beyond my mind. Because I play hardcore? Perhaps. Because it was the only thing close to a workout I had in a very long time? Perhaps-Perhaps.
  • We went to Ci-Ci’s for a quick and easy dinner afterwards and I was leaking breast milk through my shirt, visible for all the restaurant to see. Did I care? Covered in dirt, paint, and god knows what that giant smudge of green-ish brown gunk on my thigh is? NO, BECAUSE I JUST SURVIVED A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. I sure will have an entire pizza and all of my dessert because I earned it, thankyouverymuch.

That concludes the update blabber, but wait THERE’S MORE.

More of my cynical conspiracy-theory wrapped rambling, that is. What did you expect, now?

So in an explanation worthy of another post, I’ve laid of coffee for a few weeks. I’ll go ahead and admit there are personal benefits so far, one of which is the ability to Just Say No. Like the way they teach you in school to Just Say No to drugs, only I’m not addicted, but I won’t refuse a good cup done right and fancy –perfect blend of creamer, sugar, and whipped cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon or chocolate. Who says no to that?

Luckily, only Starbucks does it as fancy as I’d like or care to do myself, so it’s been easy to refuse the “plain” variety, without any of the above.

But I cheat. I’ll drive up to Starbucks and ask for a DECAF something or another and feel so clever. I just enjoy the taste! It’s only for the taste! And maybe the placebo effect, even if I know it’s decaf.

credit via jasonlove.com

So anyway, I always have a secret fear that they forget to make it decaf and I chug back a fully-caffeinated beverage, which will make me stay up to odd hours of the night and between the kids’ sleeping patterns and my accidental caffeination, I’ll never experience sleep EVER AGAIN.

Today I got a venti iced coffee with the works –whipped cream and all that jazz — in decaf, of course. But it’s 3am and I am WIDE AWAKE (when I drafted this post, at least). Totally wired, even. I mean, I could even work out or something right now, but I’m not fooling anyone; I definitely won’t workout.

No, I’m not obsessing over the possible caffeine coursing my veins, fueling my insomnia. It wouldn’t be that venti iced coffee with the works. No. NO. The barista wouldn’t do that to me.

It could be PMS-induced insomnia, which I will gladly take because at least my PMS comes in a grande or less*.

*That’s a lie; my PMS totally comes in a trenta (Starbucks largest, ginormously gross-sized 31-oz size). That was the part you’d probably not care to know, but welcome to the risk of reading my blog.

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Saad has been back home for nearly two whole months, something unprecedented and unexpected in a semester, so that has been a seriously thanked for and savored treat. It’s been surprisingly impossible to coordinate our schedules mainly due to having only one car. I either have to drop him off as soon as the kids wake up and the library opens or he takes the car while we’re sleeping. There are obvious pros and cons either way, but he’s been back for dinner and to help me tuck the kids in every night and there isn’t a con that could ever out-do that.

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Aiman is officially in potty training mode and I’d like to point that we’re both still alive. We waited until he was officially three to actively start this certain growing pain if he didn’t train before then. He’s been aware of the concept for a long time, but had zero interest of actually using the toilet, neither were we pushing him to do so. It’s getting better and easier and hopefully we’ll have it down completely by the end of the year, otherwise known as THE NEXT THREE DAYS.

But to note, nothing will really happen if he’s not trained by then. I’ll just have to accept the potty-training-induced influx of laundry, something I might add, I was not anticipating and not thrilled about.

Wish I had some elves to help with THAT.

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Manaal and I have been on THRUSH! treatment for about a week or so now and let me just tell you it is a pain. The suspension she’s taking smells bitter and she absolutely hates the taste, understandably. After a few doses and her negative/distressed reaction to it every single time, I called her doctor for an alternative or if I could mix it with milk or baby food and he agreed it would be a good idea. So that’s exactly what we’ve been doing and it’s been easier for her to take it.

I have to apply miconazole after every nursing and boil/sterilize anything that she might’ve put in her mouth. So far, so good. Goodness, I’m really hoping this is the last time we deal with THRUSH!

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My mom, Saad, the kids, and I spent a quiet Christmas together. We don’t celebrate it for obvious reasons, but it would be a lie if I didn’t admit that I love this time of year. From Fall onwards is my favorite part of the year, and something about seeing the houses lit up on our street and the cheery atmosphere of The Holidays just makes it extra pleasant. My two younger sisters and my dad took a trip up to Seattle for a mini vacation/adventurous exploring and that was pretty neat for them. Hopefully we’ll have a big family trip somewhere sometime in the coming Spring or Summer.

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MCAT studying has officially been halted until the Spring semester when there will be, hopefully, more stability in everyone’s schedule. I say “everyone” because I’m fortunate enough to have my sister adjust her work and school schedule, and then Saad to come back and finish up his semester here, and maybe even my mom-in-law if either of them can’t make it….all for me to get at least 4 straight hours to study.

That’s the plan, at least.

The only thing that’s been consistent with studying is how consistently it’s been a crapshoot. At one point I was even going to bed at 8pm, waking up at 2am and then studying until the kids got up. As you can imagine, this didn’t last long as it’s a crime against your body’s natural rhythm to wake up at that time and then force your brain to focus on equilibrium constants and nephrons, etc. rather than passing out at the table. Or it is against mine.

Personally, I’ve done some impressive eating-my-face-off in the past week or two. One example of this talent of mine is buying this case of soft chocolate chunk cookies from the grocery bakery. There were two rows of big, decadent chocolate-y cookies in each package and I thought Aiman, Saad and I would really enjoy them later that day. Well, after grocery shopping (alone with both kids) I was so freakin’ hungry and tired and thought “Gee! One of those cookies would be a great sugar/energy burst until I can get my hands on real food.”

Let’s just say that the same time the following day, there weren’t even crumbs left in the package.

At first I was simultaneously disgusted and impressed with myself, but now I’m mostly just trying to ignore the extra chine looking back at me in the mirror and denying that my belt latches into one hole over from the one it used to.

image credit: delish-blog.com

Chewy, chocolate chunk cookies are basically the devil.

Pre-Med Syndrome (PMS) is a condition that affects thousands of medschool hopefuls across the nation. If you have one or more of the following symptoms in a mild to moderate degree, you are said to have PMS and more than likely, everyone around you will know it but you.

Common symptoms:

Tunnel vision: Can’t see anything past or around getting into medical school. You call it “focus and drive” while others call it “unhealthy infatuation” …and “annoying.”

Cramping (of the hands): Notes, notes, notes. And then more notes. Tendency to over-note as to not miss details that will inevitably turn up on a test, which leads to the next symptom–

Paranoia: Excessive worry about tests, grades, and general logistics of getting into medical school.

Sleep Pattern Changes: Stay up for 3 nights, blackout/burnout for 2 nights. Rinse and repeat.

Bloating, Water Retention, Weight Gain: A conglomeration of stress, excessive snacking while studying, and aforementioned sleeping patterns.

Mood swings: In a neutral mood until testing times, after which it’s aggression one moment, crying the next, and then plateauing at an emotionless state characterized by a hollow soul. Rinse and Repeat again.

Anxiety: You don’t even know of another way of existing.

Bowel Habit Changes: One of the many joys of stress.

Aggression: Mostly towards gunners and their insatiable need to outdo others.

Symptoms felt by those around/living with/friends of a PreMed, including other premeds:

Aggression, irritability, mood swings, and anxiety of having premeds around because God, they can be such lame-o’s!

The only cure to this is actually a curse in disguise: acceptance into medical school. Acceptance would alleviate premed syndrome, but initiate the onset of MSS (medical student syndrome), an amplified version of PMS, for which there is no cure and consequently, no hope.

GOOD LUCK.

C’mon, that’s funny.

I’m actually trying to come to grips about it being Thursday already because the last memory I have of anything is from last Friday night. And now it’s suddenly Thursday? Of like, the following week?

The name of the game this week is AMNESIA!

Want to play?

As in, let’s not remember that I have to rewrite my personal statement from scratch because the one I already wrote and edited and finally, finally, finally finished just doesn’t float my boat anymore. There’s nothing wrong with the one I have except that I’m simply not passionate about its content and don’t feel like it portrays what I’m trying to get across in it anymore, so I’m getting rid of it. It’s the slash and burn of personal statement agriculture (sort of).

Let’s also forget that my study plan needs revising again, which is a huge pain in the backside. Although I officially decided to study for the MCAT back in September, it’s been semi-serious studying until November, after which things were going to have to get serious-serious. All of that was meant to avoid burn-out, yet instead, the way I’ve been studying this past month has a) not been as effective as I need it to be and b) too tedious, so “burn out” is nowhere near the problem unless you count frustrated burnout.

So it’s back to the drawing board in study planning.

There are some things worth remembering though (take that AMNESIA!). For instance, the fact that Saad has been back for four glorious weeks. He was supposed to come back for only a week before finishing off his semester, but ended up deciding to study for his exams here with us, rather than his lonely apartment. This is making everyone happier all around. It’s been a hectic four weeks trying to get our schedules to mesh with the kids’ schedules and share our only car, but really, it’s all more than worth it.

I also like remembering that my (bugaboo, babyboy, lovebug of a) male child, Aiman, will be three whole years old in exactly nine days. I don’t even know how that happened, and more specifically, I don’t recall giving him permission to grow up this fast, but I’ll let it slide. Hard to believe this time three years ago he was a 39 week old fetus and now he’s a clever little preschooler that sneaks onto my computer and takes these:

I have a slight feeling that he wouldn’t really enjoyed a twin as he plays with the “mirror” effect on my mac an awful lot.

Since tomorrow is Friday and I’ve yet to cross off anything on any “to-do” list, I’ll go and get started on that now. Or later. Or maybe this time next week, if I haven’t been hit by another bout of AMNESIA! and it’s not already then right now.

(It’s not, right?)