sometimes
Sometimes you have to laugh or you’ll break down and cry. Today is one of those days.
At least one person in our house has been sick (and not just a little bit sick) everyday for the last 12 days running. It started with our oldest suddenly spiking a fever and doubling over in pain from his aching head. Then our youngest overlapped, followed quickly by their sister and Mr. T. High fevers that raged for days, binding headaches, sore throats, racking cough. It would seem (and the doctors agree) that our family got THAT flu. You know the one I’m talking about. Super.
At the height of it all last week, our pediatrician called to let us know that the kids had pinworms (sorry you had to read that, Grandma). As if I wasn’t busy enough, I now had to bleach the bathrooms, the bedding and probably the kids (kidding about that last bit!). I hauled them all into the doctor’s office Monday to get prescriptions and have them weighed. And NO, I couldn’t just weigh them myself at home. They HAD to all come to the office. While we were there she checked them all over, at my request (I was so not leaving that office without making darn sure I wouldn’t be on the phone with them the next day begging for an appointment). One was fine, one had fluid in her ears but it was likely just from her stuffy nose and the littlest one had an ear infection plus chest infection. MORE antibiotics. We packed up and stopped in at the nearest drugstore where I discovered that the medicine she had “prescribed” (the one we all had to come into the office to get a prescription for) was an over the counter remedy that was on back order and unavailable. As in no one in the entire city had any. While the pharmacist told me that I wouldn’t be able to treat the kids and that he had no idea how I’d get the medicine or get rid of the pinworms, he waved a box around as he spoke. I notice a cartoon picture of a worm with a slash mark in it. Struggling to maintain my composure after having wasted so much time already that day and trying to hold my now screaming two year old at the front of a rapidly lengthening line, I politely asked what the box of medicine he was holding was for.
Oh, it’s for pinworms.
And is there any reason why I couldn’t buy that box of medicine for my children?
Well it’s pills and the doctor wants you to have liquid.
But there isn’t any liquid available anywhere.
Nope. Just the pills.
Is it the correct dose?
Yes. But it’s pills.
What if I were to grind it up in my mortar and pestal and give it to them in some jam?
Well, now! That would work. And then you’d be able to treat them after all. Pesky thing, those pinworms.
And then I said nothing because I really just wanted to punch someone in the teeth.
Fast forward to this morning. I was awoken at 6am by my daughter clutching my arm whining that her ear huuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrt (you might remember her as the one with fluid behind her ears that was just build up from her stuffy nose). I was so tired that all I could say was, darling husband, it’s your morning to get up with the kids. Deal with this. And then I went back to sleep.
When I got up, we packed the two oldest off to school (forgetting about the ear ache because it hadn’t been mentioned again) and I took our youngest to swimming lessons. When I pulled into the garage, Mr. T flung open the door to the house and informed me that he had just returned home with our daughter who was now weeping on the couch because her ear hurt so badly she couldn’t stay at school and she ended up missing her class costume party. The party I specially made gluten/dairy free sugar cookies for. And iced them with orange icing because that was what she really wanted. And I wanted her to feel normal at school instead of always being the kid who can’t eat the treat so I made them, even though I didn’t have the time or the energy. Now she is sleeping (thank you inventors of Advil and Tylenol) and I am sitting (on a towel because someone peed on the couch today) here laughing at how ridiculously silly my life is sometimes.
On days like today I like to drag my little point and shoot around with me. Looking at the images from my day helps me to see the humour in them or to find the tender moments to store in my heart. Here are some of today’s shots.
My sick little girl. Now who wouldn’t feel sorry for her?
This is what I did for most of the afternoon- snuggled Mr. Grumpy and his sleeping sister.
Me laughing because there is pee on my couch and laundry falling on my head. Someone really should deal with all that.
Snuggling with my ugly shoes, of course. Is that not the first thing you think of when seeking comfort?
Dear Children,
Please get better so I can finish all of the projects I have on the go.
Love, Mom
Lunch! Food makes him scream. Cookies do not. My head was hurting. Call me weak. I don’t mind. Really. Besides, someone needed to eat all those cookies.
See? The screaming, it’s painful.
Much better, don’t you think?
Going back to the doctor tomorrow. Bringing the receptionist cookies (real ones) because she always fits me in.
runner
About two months ago I received an e-mail from a friend of mine asking if I would like to join a running group. After my body stopped shuddering at the thought of running anywhere for any reason, I had a good laugh and then pushed delete! I don’t run. I am not a runner. Other than the compulsory 1KM run of shame in junior high, I have never run in my entire life (not counting the time after my daughter was born when I decided to get back in shape, ran one block, peed my pants, burst into tears and then slunk home, determined NEVER to do that again!).
Being the determined person that she is (and one of the crazy types who LOVES to run), my friend kept asking me about it. And I kept saying NO! I can’t. I don’t like to run. I don’t have time. I’ve got bad knees… I heard that a few of our friends had joined but I easily dismissed their participation because they were all runners wanting to get back into shape. I could NEVER keep up with them. Then, a couple of my non-runner friends decided to give it a try. They assured me that they were NOT runners and also weren’t sure that they would be able to run for even a minute. And they, like me, were not 25 anymore. Somehow I had a change of heart and decided to give it a try. They promised me that we would take it slow. We’d build up gradually. Just watch, they said, you’ll surprise yourself.
Our first run was 8 weeks ago on a Sunday evening. I nearly threw up as I changed into my running gear (which was really just an assortment of yoga pants, tank tops and a long, black sweatshirt that I desperately hoped would hide the hips I hate so much). I joked that I must really love this group of women since I was willing to wear SPANDEX in PUBLIC while it was still LIGHT outside.
Feeling sick to my stomach and wondering what on EARTH I was doing, I arrived at our meeting spot. My friends were all stretching so I joined in, pretending to know what I was doing. I went to the bathroom no less than 5 times while we waited for everyone to arrive. And then we began. Walk 5 minutes. Run for one. I really, really didn’t think that I could do it. I just wanted to go home and eat the tasty dessert I had made earlier in the day (and that, my friends just might be one of the reasons I’m needing to work so hard at getting back into shape!).
When our first minute of running was up, I was surprised how quickly it had passed (and that I was still breathing). Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to do this after all.
Our running group continued to meet every Sunday and Tuesday for the next eight weeks, shortening our walks and lengthening our runs each time we met. After a couple of weeks, I started running by myself on Thursday afternoons. Seriously. 5K each time, by myself.
I actually started to enjoy our runs. It felt good to move my body, to be outside, to do something just for me. I looked forward to seeing my friends, laughing about the funny things our kids did, encouraging each other, giving advice for sleepless babies, diaper rash, budgeting, the best way to keep the many, many socks that overwhelm our homes at bay.
As the weeks passed, I saw changes in my body. I was stronger. I had more energy. I felt happier. My calves had muscle. My hips were slimming. I fit back into jeans that had been sitting in my bottom drawer for three years. More importantly, I became part of a community of strong, inspiring, beautiful women who have touched my heart and helped me to draw closer to the God we love.
This past Sunday my community of women helped me accomplish one of my life goals. I never thought that I’d be able to do it (and had never actually admitted it as a goal out loud before) but with the help of my friends, I ran my first 5K race. Seriously. I RAN IN A 5K RACE with a starting line and timing chip and a medal and everything! The run itself was really rough for me. I came into it exhausted because our family has been sick for the last 10 days. I didn’t have any energy. I missed one of my runs the week before. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. The first 2.5K was all up hill. We were running an 8/1 pattern. The first 8 minutes was ok. The second was tough but my second set is usually my hardest. And then it didn’t get better like it usually does. It got worse. Much, much worse. I was nearly in tears. I couldn’t catch my breath and I had a terrible stitch. Everything in me wanted to quit. I was so frustrated that one of the worst runs I had ever had was happening on race day. And then my friends circled me. The two women I was running with came along side me pouring out words of encouragement, prayer, distracting stories. They pointed out the beauty of the trees that lined the river. The mist from the falls rising in the distance. The 8 year old running in front of us (I was so not getting schooled by an 8 year old!). Their words, their presence, their faith in me drew me closer and closer to the finish line. I was going to do it, to finish, to realize a goal. As I ran, my lungs burned. My legs felt like lead but my heart grew lighter and lighter. My body was gutting it out but my heart was being healed because as we ran towards the finish line, I knew that I belonged. That I was part of something. That I mattered. That I could do it. My dear friends stuck with me to the end even though they could have gone on ahead and gotten a much better time. Finishing together was more important to them than getting a personal best.
We crossed the finish line. The crowd cheered. We all hugged. Our other friends joined us. We did it! We accomplished our goals. For some it was a personal best, for others a new distance and for some of us, just completing a race for the first time. We wove the threads of our friendship more tightly. We built a community.
Now I can tell you, I run. I AM A RUNNER!
But more importantly, I belong.
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Today we are taking a sick day. We’re laying low at home and ditching our “to do” list . We needed a quiet morning after a too busy week.
We’ve got all of the U2 albums shuffling on the ipod (at the kids request).
We’re hanging out in our p.j.’s…
making play doh creations…
working on our fishy faces…
Sporting funky hair do’s and black eyes…
drinking tea with fancy straws…
The sun is shining. It’s warm inside. Today is a good day.
P.S. I’m too lazy to edit the pictures so they are SOOC today.
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Today I’ve spent hours in my kitchen, sun streaming through the windows, creating. I’ve been roasting and pureeing, rolling out pastry dough, hand grinding spices in my well loved granite mortar and pestle. I love to cook for my family. It’s like healing salve for my soul (a quite house doesn’t hurt either). It is good for my heart to fill our table with favourite foods and to see my family tuck into it with great enthusiasm. Last night it was ribs for my oldest and mashed potatoes for my daughter. Today it’s ham for my husband and pumpkin pie for my Dad.
As I cook, I think about the people who will be eating at my table. Today I was filled with appreciation for my beautiful life and the people who fill it. It is a privilege to be a wife and mother. To me, those aren’t just words. They are dreams fulfilled.
Often I get overwhelmed by the mundane. I’m finally starting to catch on that the secret to life is in those moments. It’s catching the glint in a little one’s eye as they swipe a still warm cookie off the rack, a soft, warm cheek pressed into mine as we read, it’s hearing laughter in the front yard, a spontaneous hug after helping with a difficult piano lesson, learning faithfulness as I fold the same clothes again and again, notes of encouragement and love tucked into a lunch box, getting up at 2AM to hold a lonely little boy. There is richness in the everyday when I chose to see it.
Today I am thankful for this life of mine. This funny, unexpected, chaotic, loud, messy, hug-filled, precious life.
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