Yesterday morning started off bright, beautiful and relatively warm. I was so grateful to be able to get outside and go for a run on my favorite course. As I started my ipod, I turned to the playlist I had made my daughter instead of my usual running mix. There were so many good, clean, uplifting songs on there and my mood improved as I pounded the pavement, the sun hitting me directly in the face. With each additional step, I felt lighter, my feet stopped hurting and I could see so many possibilities in my future. I dreamed as I ran, listening to Whitney Houston, Rascall Flatts and Louis Armstrong.
I had forgotten the power of music to take us away, to heal, to excite and to empower, even if only for the length of a track. The lyrics sang out to me and for a few seconds I wanted to belt them out too, alone on my quiet country road with no cars or people in sight. I wanted to be part of the music; the one that inspired and healed. I pictured myself up on stage, sitting on a stool with my guitar and an audience in front of me. And then it hit me, the fact that despite my hours of practice in the shower and the car, I am no singer. As anyone who came to my third grade violin or piano concerts can tell you, I am no musician. Instead, in this realm of life, I am a spectator, a recipient of the gift instead of the giver.
I have always been able to accept that visitor status on a hike through the Berkshire Hills, in the beautiful desert of Moab, by the ocean. I am not a part of the landscape, just someone who is walking through it, enjoying its beauty. So, too, with music. I will never be the one on stage, but I am so grateful to be a momentary audience. Because, as Louis Armstrong so beautifully summed up, as I listen to music, "I think to myself, what a wonderful world." And so it is.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Laughter is truly the best medicine
28 hours ago, I was saved by laughter. I was holding my dog on a leash outside in the freezing cold snow, spraying hydrogen peroxide down her throat. Before you call the ASPCA, please let me explain... 28 amd a half hours ago, my dog consumed half of a Mississippi mud cake, made with pure cocoa. From the recipe I elicited from my mom on the phone, we figured out she had consumed 1/3 of a cup of pure cocoa, along with walnuts, marshmallows and my much looked forward to dessert for last night. As soon as I found the evidence (or lack thereof) I called my little brother, who is a vet in California, for advice. He said, and I quote, "yeah, you need to make her vomit. A lot." He told me how to do it and as soon as my husband got home from work, I proceeded outside with my supplies and my oldest son, hoping to prevent a visit to the local emergency vet. And right there, in the middle of the yard, while watching my poor dog and hoping her burps were going to turn into a chocolate gold mine soon, I lost it. I went completely hysterical. My poor, sick, bewildered dog looked at me as if I was nuts, as did my son who was wondering what, exactly, was so funny.
To say that yesterday was a hard day would be an understatement. After having been up most of the night with my very ill one year old, I had gotten an appointment for her at her pediatrician first thing in the morning. This being vacation week and my husband having to work, I needed to drag all five children with me, swath them in antibacterial gel and hope for the best. When we got there, I left my three oldest in the waiting room with the toys and our favorite receptionist keeping half an eye on them. I took my two youngest daughters into the room with me and waited for the doctor. My very sick daugher was lethargic, a puddle in my arms whilte being undressed, poked and prodded. When they first took her temperature, there was no fever. After listening to her lungs for a long time and me holding my finger to my lips with a death stare at my two year old daughter, my pediatrician said he believed it was just a virus. He swabbed her for flu, then RSV ( a virus common in young infants) and left the room to wait for results. When he came back in, she was flu negative, RSV positive and getting sicker by the minute. Her breathing was ragged, her pulse was rapid and I knew there was something more wrong with her than a glorified cold. My good, patient pediatrician listened again for a long time, took her temp again (which had gone up to 102) and watched her breathing and timed her pulse. Then, he left while the nurse administered albuterol through a nebulizer.
Meanwhile, things were not going well in the waiting room. I heard my older children from down the hall and, swaddling my sick girl in my jacket, went to warn them that they needed to be quiet, now. At that point, they started filing in and of the room as they watched our pediatrician check their sister. Finally, at the end of my rope with trying to comfort my baby and make sure my older children were not running amok, I had them sit against the wall without talking so the doctor and I could focus on what was wrong. Finally, he recommended a chest xray, just in case. As I started to get her dressed (after one hour and forty-five minutes) she started breaking out in a rash all over her body. I had my oldest son call the doctor back and he said it was a viral rash, which was pretty common.
At that point, I knew I was grasping at straws but remembered that when I was little, I had strep throat which turned into scarletina. I asked my doubtful pediatrician to swab her for strep and bundled up the kiddos, anxious to get them in their car seats, still and quiet. When I asked at the desk if the culture was positive, they said they would call with a result. As we pulled away, I was inundated with questions which I didn't have the brainpower to answer. I finallly asked, again, for silence and got it, in some form, for a few quiet minutes. The chest xray was uneventful and we proceeded home.
After making lunch with one arm for the older kids, I sent the nappers off to nap and sat down to hold my poor sick daughter. She dozed fitfully in my arms while I waited for a phone call from the pediatrician. When it finally came, it brought relief. She not only had RSV, but also pneumonia and strep throat as well. The anitibiotic was called in and relief was on its way, to some degree. I was grateful but still unsure how I could make dinner with one hand, change my two year old's diaper with one hand and keep my sick daughter asleep through it all. At that moment, I heard a loud crash in the kitchen, which I knew wasn't good. It was the Mississippi mud cake, and it was gone by the time I got there. After the phone call to my brother, whose chosen profession has saved us a lot of money on sick dogs, rabbits and chickens, I cried on the couch, giving in to the stress of the day.
After what seemed like a long time, I heard my husband's car pull in with the antibiotics in hand. I passed my sleeping daughter off to him to take care of the dog. And, relief on its way for my dog as well as my daughter, I started to laugh and felt all the tension of the day leaving my body and my mind. For the first time, I was grateful for my weird habit of laughing at inappropriate times (funerals, when I see people fall, when I accidentally ripped my then-fiance, now husband's jeep wrangler door off at 5 in the morning on the way to JFK airport.) This time, my laugher was my savior. Letting it all out in the backyard (my dog was in good company) did me so much good that I was able to see that tomorrow would inevitably be better, because there was no flipping way it could be worse.
As my wise mom said to me on the phone yesterday, "this too shall pass." And, it did. My daughter is so much better today, on her way to being her normal happy self again, and my dog is chocolate free and just as irritatingly lovable as ever. I am pretty sure I'm still going to laugh at inappropriate times, and maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. Maybe all that laughter has kept my blood pressure low and allowed me to let go of my usual very tight grip on life. Either way, I am grateful for it. And, if I ever see you trip and I start to giggle, just remember that I'm laughing at you, not with you. But, it is good for me.
To say that yesterday was a hard day would be an understatement. After having been up most of the night with my very ill one year old, I had gotten an appointment for her at her pediatrician first thing in the morning. This being vacation week and my husband having to work, I needed to drag all five children with me, swath them in antibacterial gel and hope for the best. When we got there, I left my three oldest in the waiting room with the toys and our favorite receptionist keeping half an eye on them. I took my two youngest daughters into the room with me and waited for the doctor. My very sick daugher was lethargic, a puddle in my arms whilte being undressed, poked and prodded. When they first took her temperature, there was no fever. After listening to her lungs for a long time and me holding my finger to my lips with a death stare at my two year old daughter, my pediatrician said he believed it was just a virus. He swabbed her for flu, then RSV ( a virus common in young infants) and left the room to wait for results. When he came back in, she was flu negative, RSV positive and getting sicker by the minute. Her breathing was ragged, her pulse was rapid and I knew there was something more wrong with her than a glorified cold. My good, patient pediatrician listened again for a long time, took her temp again (which had gone up to 102) and watched her breathing and timed her pulse. Then, he left while the nurse administered albuterol through a nebulizer.
Meanwhile, things were not going well in the waiting room. I heard my older children from down the hall and, swaddling my sick girl in my jacket, went to warn them that they needed to be quiet, now. At that point, they started filing in and of the room as they watched our pediatrician check their sister. Finally, at the end of my rope with trying to comfort my baby and make sure my older children were not running amok, I had them sit against the wall without talking so the doctor and I could focus on what was wrong. Finally, he recommended a chest xray, just in case. As I started to get her dressed (after one hour and forty-five minutes) she started breaking out in a rash all over her body. I had my oldest son call the doctor back and he said it was a viral rash, which was pretty common.
At that point, I knew I was grasping at straws but remembered that when I was little, I had strep throat which turned into scarletina. I asked my doubtful pediatrician to swab her for strep and bundled up the kiddos, anxious to get them in their car seats, still and quiet. When I asked at the desk if the culture was positive, they said they would call with a result. As we pulled away, I was inundated with questions which I didn't have the brainpower to answer. I finallly asked, again, for silence and got it, in some form, for a few quiet minutes. The chest xray was uneventful and we proceeded home.
After making lunch with one arm for the older kids, I sent the nappers off to nap and sat down to hold my poor sick daughter. She dozed fitfully in my arms while I waited for a phone call from the pediatrician. When it finally came, it brought relief. She not only had RSV, but also pneumonia and strep throat as well. The anitibiotic was called in and relief was on its way, to some degree. I was grateful but still unsure how I could make dinner with one hand, change my two year old's diaper with one hand and keep my sick daughter asleep through it all. At that moment, I heard a loud crash in the kitchen, which I knew wasn't good. It was the Mississippi mud cake, and it was gone by the time I got there. After the phone call to my brother, whose chosen profession has saved us a lot of money on sick dogs, rabbits and chickens, I cried on the couch, giving in to the stress of the day.
After what seemed like a long time, I heard my husband's car pull in with the antibiotics in hand. I passed my sleeping daughter off to him to take care of the dog. And, relief on its way for my dog as well as my daughter, I started to laugh and felt all the tension of the day leaving my body and my mind. For the first time, I was grateful for my weird habit of laughing at inappropriate times (funerals, when I see people fall, when I accidentally ripped my then-fiance, now husband's jeep wrangler door off at 5 in the morning on the way to JFK airport.) This time, my laugher was my savior. Letting it all out in the backyard (my dog was in good company) did me so much good that I was able to see that tomorrow would inevitably be better, because there was no flipping way it could be worse.
As my wise mom said to me on the phone yesterday, "this too shall pass." And, it did. My daughter is so much better today, on her way to being her normal happy self again, and my dog is chocolate free and just as irritatingly lovable as ever. I am pretty sure I'm still going to laugh at inappropriate times, and maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. Maybe all that laughter has kept my blood pressure low and allowed me to let go of my usual very tight grip on life. Either way, I am grateful for it. And, if I ever see you trip and I start to giggle, just remember that I'm laughing at you, not with you. But, it is good for me.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Two hours in the life of me: this is how we roll Murray style
For the many, many people who have asked me, "how do you do it?" this is for you.
550am: Wake up to the sound of youngest son sucking thumb next to my face and dog whining to go out.
550am-553am: Stumble around to find pants, glasses and slippers.
554-6am: Let dog out, make tea for me, coffee for husband and hot chocolate for thumb sucker
601am: Am told thumb sucker only likes marshmallows if we are camping or at a bonfire
602-612am: Make lunches for school goers and work goers, snack for preschooler
613am: Hug the first sleepyhead that shows up in kitchen; she commences sucking thumb and looking like she is asleep while standing up
614am: Begin to make pumpkin pancakes and wrestle with the mess/letting kids learn issue when youngest son asks to pour batter into pan
615am: Clean up spilled batter all over stove
617am: Might hear first rumblings in little girls' room; decide they need to wake up for a few minutes.
618am: Oldest son wakes up and informs me while snuggling against my hip that the most poisonous snake in Australia is not the taipan, as I told him, but the tiger snake.
619am: Wonder if the taipan really is a snake or possibly something else
620am: Begin serving first round of pancakes while listening to many, many snake facts. For instance, a forest cobra can kill an elephant with one bite. Joke that I'm glad I'm not an elephant. Crickets.
620am: cut up three sets of pancakes, pour more maple syrup, get cereal for original pancake requester who has decided he doesn't want pancakes
622am: Get little girls up and strap them immediately in their high chairs.
622-624 am: Listen to one year old loudly request pancakes
625am: microwave tea for the first time and then continue to not drink it
625-630: still making pancakes, wondering if insatiable eight year old has a tapeworm
630-639: change two diapers, scrape them and put them in appropriate pails
640am: decide disposable diaper users care just as much about the earth but are averse to their homes smelling like poop. Also decide they are much wiser than I.
641am: microwave tea for second time with the really strong intention to actually drink it this time
642am: Encourage those who are done with breakfast to get dressed and brush teeth
643-650am: Practice multiplication flash cards with oldest son
651am: Husband appears and looks so grateful for having slept in. Put his coffee and pancakes on the table
652am: Husband asks where coffee is; I can only point in annoyance
653am: Strongly encourage those done with breakfast to get dressed and brush teeth
654-710am: Bundle up youngest son and self and head outside: collect eggs from chickens, refill their water, throw ball for the dog repeatedly
711am: Inform those done with breakfast that getting dressed and brushing teeth is not an option, but a necessity
712am: Microwave tea for third time and take first sip. Remember how much I love tea
713-715am: sit to eat cereal and blueberries
716am: listen to two oldest children pick their animals (much like fantasy football with teeth and claws)
717am: Drink tea while thinking about own fantasy animal team. I would win if I entered the contest, especially if the taipan is actually a snake
718am: Look up taipan in snakes book and find it. Feel vindicated.
719-730am: Get two little girls dressed
730am: Ask oldest children if they left their pajamas on the floor; they answer in the negative
731am: Based on history, check rooms and find out children might have something wrong with their vision
732am: alert children to clothes on floor situation, hustle them back to their rooms to pick up clothes
739am: Wonder how it's possible that picking up pajamas could take 7 minutes. Decide to investigate.
740am: Remind children of why they came to their rooms when I find them playing with pajamas still on floor.
742-750am: Tell oldest children to pack their backpacks and bundle up for school.
751am: Surprised, again, at the fact that I miss them as soon as they walk out the door
752am: Happy to find half consumed tea on counter. Microwave it again. Ready to start the next segment of my day...
550am: Wake up to the sound of youngest son sucking thumb next to my face and dog whining to go out.
550am-553am: Stumble around to find pants, glasses and slippers.
554-6am: Let dog out, make tea for me, coffee for husband and hot chocolate for thumb sucker
601am: Am told thumb sucker only likes marshmallows if we are camping or at a bonfire
602-612am: Make lunches for school goers and work goers, snack for preschooler
613am: Hug the first sleepyhead that shows up in kitchen; she commences sucking thumb and looking like she is asleep while standing up
614am: Begin to make pumpkin pancakes and wrestle with the mess/letting kids learn issue when youngest son asks to pour batter into pan
615am: Clean up spilled batter all over stove
617am: Might hear first rumblings in little girls' room; decide they need to wake up for a few minutes.
618am: Oldest son wakes up and informs me while snuggling against my hip that the most poisonous snake in Australia is not the taipan, as I told him, but the tiger snake.
619am: Wonder if the taipan really is a snake or possibly something else
620am: Begin serving first round of pancakes while listening to many, many snake facts. For instance, a forest cobra can kill an elephant with one bite. Joke that I'm glad I'm not an elephant. Crickets.
620am: cut up three sets of pancakes, pour more maple syrup, get cereal for original pancake requester who has decided he doesn't want pancakes
622am: Get little girls up and strap them immediately in their high chairs.
622-624 am: Listen to one year old loudly request pancakes
625am: microwave tea for the first time and then continue to not drink it
625-630: still making pancakes, wondering if insatiable eight year old has a tapeworm
630-639: change two diapers, scrape them and put them in appropriate pails
640am: decide disposable diaper users care just as much about the earth but are averse to their homes smelling like poop. Also decide they are much wiser than I.
641am: microwave tea for second time with the really strong intention to actually drink it this time
642am: Encourage those who are done with breakfast to get dressed and brush teeth
643-650am: Practice multiplication flash cards with oldest son
651am: Husband appears and looks so grateful for having slept in. Put his coffee and pancakes on the table
652am: Husband asks where coffee is; I can only point in annoyance
653am: Strongly encourage those done with breakfast to get dressed and brush teeth
654-710am: Bundle up youngest son and self and head outside: collect eggs from chickens, refill their water, throw ball for the dog repeatedly
711am: Inform those done with breakfast that getting dressed and brushing teeth is not an option, but a necessity
712am: Microwave tea for third time and take first sip. Remember how much I love tea
713-715am: sit to eat cereal and blueberries
716am: listen to two oldest children pick their animals (much like fantasy football with teeth and claws)
717am: Drink tea while thinking about own fantasy animal team. I would win if I entered the contest, especially if the taipan is actually a snake
718am: Look up taipan in snakes book and find it. Feel vindicated.
719-730am: Get two little girls dressed
730am: Ask oldest children if they left their pajamas on the floor; they answer in the negative
731am: Based on history, check rooms and find out children might have something wrong with their vision
732am: alert children to clothes on floor situation, hustle them back to their rooms to pick up clothes
739am: Wonder how it's possible that picking up pajamas could take 7 minutes. Decide to investigate.
740am: Remind children of why they came to their rooms when I find them playing with pajamas still on floor.
742-750am: Tell oldest children to pack their backpacks and bundle up for school.
751am: Surprised, again, at the fact that I miss them as soon as they walk out the door
752am: Happy to find half consumed tea on counter. Microwave it again. Ready to start the next segment of my day...
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