A Balancing Act

I don't know how other mums do it. They manage to participate in almost every activity with their children, work full time, manage a beautiful house and garden and still have time to go away to some exotic location for holidays. They work out, maintain their own personal hobbies and manage to entertain friends and family on a regular basis. To an outsider the entire family looks perfect in their nice clean outfits, walking their tongue-lolling gigantic dog.

Let me be clear: I'm not that kind of mum. Nor do I want to be. While I do try to participate in Daniel's activities, my level of participation will be drastically pared back this year. I do work full time (thankfully), but managing the house and garden are quite frankly, beyond me. As for travelling, I'll let you know how our trip in November goes. Personal hobbies... does mending count?Entertaining... what's that? Although I'd love to have a dog, Daryle's allergies and my lack of energy just wouldn't work with a big pet, let alone the fact that our back yard isn't fenced. However, we'll soon have a goldfish for Daniel, I don't know why we haven't got one already - must add that to the to-do list.

Daryle and I have had a few discussions over the last little while. Some I remember, some I don't. (I'm rather disheartened that I don't recall some conversations in which, from what Daryle has told me, I was articulate, assertive, and my words struck a chord). This fall, as a family, we're focusing on my health and each other. We're also focusing on our home, making it a more comfortable, happy place to raise the boys. We're even considering selling the house and moving into another home that may be more manageable, requiring less maintenance, time and money.

Here are a couple of lists of fun and exciting things to do this fall:

For myself:

• Start taking my new medication. This will involve a lot of wincing, cursing, money flying from wallet and general discomfort
• Focus on establishing a daily routine. Crawl out of bed, work, stagger to and from activities, fall back into bed. Repeat
• Establish better sleeping habits
• Stay connected with friends and family. I don't know what I would do without you all. It would be a sad, bleak world

For the family:

• Get Daniel to soccer games and practices
• Practice soccer drills with Daniel throughout the week
• Get Daniel to his Cub meetings and events
• Participate in Cubs meetings as a helper
• Get organized for Christmas ahead of time (I know I won't have the energy to deal with it at the time)
• Spend time reading with the boys in the evening
• Spend time with Daniel while he does his homework
• Pick away at projects around the house
• Oh, and buy a goldfish and necessary goldfishy stuff to keep it alive

Together, I'm sure we can manage the items on these lists this fall. They're too much for me to handle on my own, but with Daryle's help and the being able to say "no" to requests of our energy/time/money we'll manage. Hopefully.

The Run

For once I feel at ease in my own skin. I'm running comfortably, easy in the knowledge that each stride is bringing me closer to safety. I can sense that I'm near the end, very close to being safe. Steady now, I just need to keep focused. Just a few more turns...

My heart and mind are both racing. My thinking is clear, my body doesn't hurt, I'm enjoying the run despite being chased. "Catch me if you can!" Always looking a few feet ahead, so far I've been able to overcome all obstacles in my way. Jumped over rocks, skidded down gravel slopes, manoeuvred around puddles and outrun the foreboding shape following me.

Twigs snap underfoot, gravel crunches and the sky darkens rapidly. Nearly there. Over and over I tell myself "keep going, you can do it." In time with my breathing, my feet hit the ground, the drum-like rhythm keeps me focused. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see that the shadow has almost caught up to me. I feel a chill as it reaches out to grab me. I regret having looked back. Now I'm distracted, panicking. Faster, I need to run faster. There must be a secret to getting away. I cut sharply to the right then to the left, zig-zagging in the hopes that it can't corner very well. As luck would have it (or not), the shape follows me, easily taking the course changes in stride. The shadow's right behind me and yet I'm so close to being safe. My odds of either being overtaken or escaping feel equal.

My breath doesn't come as easily now, stiffness sets in as my legs begin to ache. I push myself hard to get away, I will not give up. Never. My God this hurts...

Without warning the ground disappears from underfoot. Suddenly I'm airborne. Falling rapidly towards the river below. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Frantic now, I...

G A S P ! ! ! ! !

I bolt up in bed...

Thump thump thump thump. My heart continues racing as I become aware that I've been dreaming. My run wasn't real. The shadow wasn't real. My pounding heart certainly is though. At 2:00am I know that there's no chance of falling back to sleep again tonight.

And Now For Something Completely Different

It was one of  those opportunities that you just don't say no to. Chances to appear in a documentary don't come along every day. And I just couldn't say no, given that I find allergies and our seemingly compromised immune systems incredibly interesting. And with all my goofy health issues this year, it was sure nice to focus on something completely different.

However, when Bruce and his team from the Nature of Things first arrived at the house, I wondered if I had made the right decision accepting the invitation to appear in the program. They wanted shots of the house, shots of the playground, shots of our living room, shots of me. Sheesh, I don't know if I'm relaxed and confident enough to just accept both the house and myself as we are and be set free, so to speak, in a documentary. With any luck they'll be able to edit out all of my perceived nastiness. What the heck, it's my home and I should be happy with it as it is.

So... Bruce and his crew filmed the boys playing on the playground and playing with bubbles. Then we all traipsed inside to watch Rosita, the woman in charge of sample collections with the CHILD allergy study, "collect" dust samples and pretend to take Andy's diaper. It felt so odd, I had a difficult time believing anyone watching the documentary was going to buy into our awkward "Here's his diaper, thank-you for coming" interaction. I'm definitely not an actor, this became glaringly clear as they filmed. The sound guy's microphone hovered ever closer as Rosita and I spoke at the door. Sound? Really. My goodness - I'm definitely outside my comfort zone. I'll be absolutely shocked if our brief conversation makes Bruce's final cut for the documentary. But the reality, way back when Andy was an infant, was actually remarkably similar to what was so terribly re-enacted.

During Rosita's sample collecting spree, Bruce commented on how cute and natural Andy was in front of the camera. Wondering what exactly he was referring to, I looked over and saw Andy sucking on the end of Rosita's vacuum cleaner. Cute? No, I don't think so. Disturbing? Yes.

After Rosita had packed up her things and left the house, we had to get down to business and do the dreaded interview.

Of course now I've had time to think. I could have said some intelligent things like: "I think, as a species, we've messed with Mother Nature too much and our immune systems no longer know how to react." or "I hope that we'll soon figure out where we've gone wrong and will be able to reset our immune systems, and in effect reduce or eliminate diseases like type 2 diabetes, MS, Parkinson's, rheumatoid arthritis and others that are considered to ultimately be autoimmune disorders." Shamefully, in reality I told Bruce "no, I don't have anything else to add."

However, what's done is done. I should be content that Andy behaved like an angel and Daniel enjoyed himself. As for me - I'm just glad it's over.

Gentle Assertiveness

Teamwork is the ability to work together toward a common vision. The ability to direct individual accomplishments toward organizational objectives.
 - Andrew Carnegie

An efficient office works well when people communicate well, allow each other to focus on their own responsibilities and support each other. If one person begins to neglect one or more of their duties or tries to take over the duties of others, the fine mesh of the office network begins to unravel. This picture is perfect: can you imagine what would happen if someone let go and tried to take over someone else's link?

At the moment I feel like my link is being taken over in subtle ways. Little duties, here and there, are being completed without my permission or input. Duties that are directly my responsibility, no one else's. I need to become assertive. Assertive in re-establishing my role in the network, assertive in getting my needs and the needs of others met in a friendly, respectful, positive manner. Recently, I've found myself just accepting changes around the office. Accepting without even questioning or checking into things or taking a moment to consider the ramifications. My decline into complacency has been worsening lately. It started a little while ago and has quickened its pace now to a rapid descent, or should I say plummet, bringing me to a sad but real level of distrust of the people I work with.

I cannot allow this to continue, the easy road never takes a person anywhere good. It always dumps you in some forlorn, ratty, smelly hole. These days I need to get back on top of my game at the office and manage things more closely. With my energy levels at an all time low and my thinking/analytical capabilities seem to be somewhat diminished, I can't risk losing my place in the network. I need the people around me at work to focus on what they're responsible for and let me focus on my own responsibilities. I had a brief, hopefully not too unpleasant, discussion this morning about duties and responsibilities. While I appreciate that the person I was speaking with had been trying to help ease some of the perceived burden I'm under at the moment, taking initiative to perform work that I would normally do, I explained that I would prefer they ask first before proceeding. For now I can manage quite well, if I need help, I will ask for it.

Being assertive with myself sounds silly. But I have to push myself to complete certain tasks and stay focused. Often these days I struggle, in complete silence, with tasks that I once performed while whistling, listening to the radio and possibly even chatting on the phone. It's as though most of my brain cells have vacated my brain and haven't left any instructions for the remaining ones. I imagine my little herd of cognitive abilities roaming around on my desk. When I try to round them up and put them to good use, they gather together, lemming-like, and dash themselves over the edge of the desk into a sad heap on the floor. Rather than just give up, I must redouble my efforts and make new connections in my brain. In effect replacing the abilities that threw themselves over the cliff and try to resuscitate the few that remained. I'm really counting on the fact that I haven't been using all of my brainpower - isn't that what they say? We hardly begin to touch on the potential of our brainpower? With any luck the activities of puzzling and working through challenges at the office, making new connections between brain cells will keep me in good order.

I'm hopeful that re-establishing the tried and true network of duties in the office will be effective and that my perseverance with resurrecting my own abilities will have positive results.

Falling Behind

I've fallen behind on my ukulele practicing. It was going so well, too.

And then holidays happened. And then I returned to work at the beginning of August. And then I was still trying to squeeze in visits with friends. And then, and then. I haven't tuned or played my ukulele since mid July. Guess what I'm going to be doing this evening? That is if I can get away from the dishes, dinner prep, lunch prep and laundry long enough. Even if I find the time, practicing is fraught. Here's how I picture the evening unfolding:

Tune ukulele. I've nicknamed it Little Green, LG for short. I usually begin practicing with Edelweiss. It's a simple, easy song to play and it always puts me in a cheerful frame of mind. Strum, strum, practice changing chords. Begin singing... You know how it goes, sing along with me.

Andy, wanting to play with me, reaches up and grabs all the strings at once and pulls. While I understand that he's just being curious and wanting to have fun like me; I cringe as I carefully extricate his little fingers from the strings. Time to tune LG again.

Okay, here we go...

Strum, strum, hum a little, then sing. Repeat as necessary. This time around I'm standing so that I can practice without little fingers getting in the strings. Things are going quite well, we're just ticking right along. Whoosh... The fan blows my music onto the floor. Arrrgh. Gosh, I need a music stand. Or... what've I got around here that I can make do with in a pinch? Tape. A piece of tape to stick the music to my armoire oughta do the trick.

Much better. Just as I settle into practicing again, I realise that it is 8:30pm and the boys are still wide awake. Oh well, perhaps they'll go down quickly and I'll be able to return to practicing. Wishful thinking. An hour of crying later (mostly on Andy's part) and I'm exhausted. I can hardly find the energy to get ready for bed, I'd rather just collapse on the bed and deal with my jammies later.

Goodnight LG, hopefully we'll have a better practice session tomorrow.