Home sweet home

During this few weeks' time off that I have, we're trying to institute some better routines and habits, hoping to continue them even when I return to work. We're spending more time as a family, instead of taking turns being here with Grace. Often, when I have time off, one of us will take a trip, to replenish ourselves. This vacation we are staying home, because Grace's teething makes it even more difficult for one person to be in charge 24 hours a day. What we are discovering is that all three of us are feeling more relaxed with Kevin and me here most of the time. We give each other time to get out of the house, and also time for practicing/writing and exercise alone. We set aside large chunks of time for just being with Grace, interacting if she's receptive, just hanging around if she's not. I'm definitely becoming a fan of this new get-away style.

Reality can bite pretty hard

Last night while cleaning up the kitchen, I listened to Menotti's "Amahl and the Night Visitors", which has been a favorite since childhood. I can sing along with many parts--the music is tuneful and matches the drama perfectly. I found myself weeping during the dance of the shepherds, just because the music was so happy. Then, when Amahl offers his cane to the wise men to take to the baby Jesus and is miraculously able to walk, I burst into a different sort of tears. My daughter will not be miraculously healed--there are no such things as miracles.

Gift-giving for the clever

As we approach the holidays, I just thought I'd pass along our strategy for buying Christmas gifts, which, when we use it, is great for reducing stress in December and high credit card bills in January. We sat down this fall, wrote down a list of the family members for whom we'd be getting gifts, then divided them between the two of us. (Gifts for friends are our individual responsibility and come out of our weekly "fun money".) We marked the calendar--one gift purchased each paycheck until Thanksgiving. That meant that we've had most of December to think about and buy gifts for each other and our daughter. This means that while many people are running around with like the proverbial chickens, we are able to focus on surviving the busy Yuletide schedule! It also means that we can afford Christmas.

Gaps

My daughter lost her first tooth last night--a bottom front tooth--which leaves her with that cute gap that is the signature of all 6-year-olds. This event brings me many conflicting feelings. I feel proud that she's reaching milestones. I feel sad that though she looks her age, she is more like a 3- or 4-year-old. I feel nostalgic for my own youth, remembering clearly that my first tooth was lost down the hatch while eating a bite of chicken. I feel anxious about what the lost tooth portends: months of teething pain for Grace, which was bad enough first time around. I feel worried that the agitated and destructive behavior we've seen the last few weeks is unrelated to the teeth, which means it is something unknown and therefore scary.

On top of all of this, the holiday season is open season on emotions for me. I am trying to integrate my memories and my hopes with the reality of my life, and it is difficult.

I feel like a rubber band at breaking point.

Update

The great dryerless experiment is over. Our heater wouldn't go on last week, so since we had an appliance person out here anyway, we had them fix the dryer. It is so nice to be able to turn the dryer on and trust that it will turn itself off! I haven't had that luxury for a few years. It definitely makes doing laundry easier.
I still like the smell of fresh air on my blankets, so those will be hung out to air when needed.

Chinese massage

Yesterday I had a big chunk of time to myself in preparation for the next several days when I'll have very little time to myself, as hubby is off on a well-deserved trip to the east coast. I spent some time doing grocery shopping, browsed at Goodwill, generally lollygagging, enjoying my time. At the end of the day, I found myself at Foot Finesse. Weeks earlier, a colleague had recommended this place for massage, and her description of her experience made me melt. A week ago, a few other friends told me they had been there--one loved it and the other didn't. I finally had an opportunity yesterday to sample their skills.

It was definitely different from any other massage I have had. There were several red leather reclining chairs in the dimly lit room, all of which were occupied. They led me to another room with three empty chairs. I sat on one, and the other two were filled shortly after my massage started. First my masseuse (a Chinese man with curly hair) reclined the chair, rolled up my pant legs above the knees and soaked my feet in hot water. While I was resting there, my scalp, face and ears were massaged. He took my feet out of the water, dried them and rubbed an oil on them, then covered them with a towel. He moved back to work my shoulders, hands and arms, using repeated, firm movements. He returned to my calves and feet, focusing on each toe, rubbing the bottoms of my feet in ways that hurt and felt good at the same time. He slapped my feet vigorously from several angles, then used a steamed towel to wipe the oil off. (This was my personal favorite.) He pressed my quadriceps in strategic points. Then he asked me to lie face down. He did some pretty heavy pushing on my back, stretching me diagonally from both sides. He actually CLIMBED UP and knelt on my butt, using the leverage to get even deeper into the muscles of my back. He used his knees to massage laterally from my spine through my hips. This part was a very new experience for me, and somewhat painful at the time. He climbed down and dropped my legs from a height several times, then told me I was all done.

I felt so good and relaxed. I will definitely be returning again soon, and now that I know better what to expect, I can really relax.

Fresh air

A few years ago, I woke in the middle of the night and heard the dryer running. This jolted me awake, and I leapt out of bed and dashed down to the basement, disturbing the sleeping dogs. The dryer had been running since sometime the previous day, and the clothes were toasty, even crispy. Suddenly I realized that I wasn't getting fatter--my clothes were shrinking. Well, maybe I was also getting fatter, but that's neither here nor there. The timer on the dryer was not working. Instead of spending the dough to get the dryer fixed, we've instead spent the dough on the cost of electricity for all the extra time the dryer runs when we forget to turn it off after the clothes are dry.

A few weeks ago, one of us went down to turn off the dryer, and it was already off. Or at least the tumbling part was off. The heat was still on. No timer, no fan, no motor--but at least it still heats!

At this juncture, we determined that continued use of the dryer would be unsafe as well as impractical. In the short term, we've decided to hang the laundry out to dry, and get the dryer fixed when the weather gets too cool for that. I actually enjoy this chore--it gets me outside, which I love, and the clothes smell great. Plus it saves electricity and money.

On the minus side, it takes a lot longer than just shoving the stuff in the dryer, and if I'm the only one home with my daughter, I have to be careful that she doesn't try to scald herself while I'm out there. Also, there's the dog poop. Dropping a sock on the ground becomes highly undesirable. I did try to get that all cleared away today, but there are years of unscooped poop on the ground, blended in with the soil, nurturing the wide variety of weeds.

Weeds are great for attracting butterflies, by the way! Especially when they grow out of control, resembling a scene from Platoon. I recently borrowed a book from the library about weeds, trying to determine what friendly species I had in my back yard. It turns out that not only can pokeberries be used for ink, but the entire pokeweed plant is highly poisonous. It also turns out those peppery-smelling vines with the pretty red berries are Deadly Nightshade. Both of these plants are great for birds and butterflies, but not so great for curious little girls. I spent several hours out there recently trying to remove the offending plants. When they come back in the spring, I'll be more hasty about removing them again.

Anyway, the weather is already getting cooler, so my laundry experiment may not last too much longer, but I'm enjoying it in the mean time--except for the sandpapery towels, that is.

Ouch!!

I've been laughing and crying at George W. Bush for the last eight years or so, but this bit from Letterman's show last night only made me laugh. I would embed the video, but I'm still working on how to do that. Until I get it figured out, please follow the link from the title.

The honeymoon (syrupmoon?) is over

Alas, the bloom is off the rose. Having had a few more pancakes from the Batter Blaster, I am no longer smitten. I'm not even sure if I'll buy the product again! The batter tastes less fresh each time I use it, and the foam coming out of the can is more and more droopy. Perhaps the first use is the best, in which case you need to make a few dozen pancakes all at once, which defeats the idea of cooking for one person over the course of a few weeks. Oh, well... It's time to get out my mom's recipe, which never fails to please.

Batter Blaster

Today is the 7th anniversary of meeting my hubby on the internet. It's not our wedding anniversary, but it's something we like to celebrate every year. We were sitting around trying to decide what to do to celebrate, when hubby mentioned a product he had read about called Batter Blaster. It's organic pancake mix in a whipped cream can. My first thought was "wait...whaaaaaaat???" My second thought was "mmmm...pancakes". Off hubby went to the grocery and picked up a can of this miracle product. I heated up a non-stick pan with some cooking spray, spritzed some batter, and voila: pancakes. Not quite as good as Mom's, but good enough to want to repeat the experiment. I dusted off my waffle maker, and we'll be having waffles in the morning.
Besides the tasty flavor, other benefits of this product are the easy cleanup and the ability to make just as much as you need--no temptation to finish off the rest of the batch.

What an appropriate way to celebrate our first seven years together!

joining the club

A friend of mine just lost her husband of many years. For the last eight of those years, she was his caregiver as well as his wife. She retired a year or so ago, so I don't see her as much these days, but while she was still working she never seemed stressed out, she never complained, she always had a good attitude, even when work was unpleasant. When I first met my husband and was all googly-eyed with new love, she told me that love is wiping your husband's bottom because he can't. That has really stuck with me, and I hope that if and when my husband needs that kind of help that I can be as gracious as she was, and that in the meantime I can express my love in practical ways as well as verbally.

I have noticed a kinship among those who provide care for an unwell loved one. Nobody wants to join this club, and membership comes with a lot of dues. There is a shifting of priorities and an adjustment of expectations, whether it is a spouse or a child or a parent. Those who have not yet experienced this shift may not fully understand this alteration of one's life view, but I think most people eventually find themselves in this position. Your future suddenly looks very different from what you expected, and you are forced to pare your life down to the bare essentials. You find yourself learning to be less selfish, making decisions for the good of your loved one, not for yourself. You find out what is really important to you, not what would be nice to have, but what you can't live without. You discover your limits, and sometimes you discover that your limits can be stretched, and sometimes they cannot. You learn to take pleasure in the mundane, to be grateful for small blessings. You learn your faults. You struggle to find your way out of panic into acceptance and normalcy. You learn more about your faults, and try to accept them and move on.

There are other clubs that one joins when membership expires in this one. There's the widows' and widowers' club, the orphans' club and the grieving parents' club. Frankly, I'm hoping my membership is in good standing in the caregivers club for a long time.

Old

I just had a birthday the other day, and I find myself feeling different about this one. I haven't really minded getting older as I advanced further into adulthood, but now that I'm 38, I have slid into the category of "old crone", as my beloved husband would say. (I feel grateful to him that I'm not an "old maid", at least.) I feel a distinct barrier between myself and those younger than I am. Perhaps those of you who are older than me have no sympathy--I know that I'm not really OLD old, but I am definitely in a different category than those young single girls who live in apartments and buy new cars. I'm halfway to 76!! I'm twice as old as a 19-year-old!! I could have a legal adult for a child if I'd begun procreating earlier! I'm way outside the desirable demographic for advertisers! I'm almost 40! I'm beginning to understand those women who say they are 39 when they are in their 60's. Ugh!

Journey

I recently made a trip to visit my paternal grandparents in Chicagoland--the grandparents who have so generously given so that Grace's gym could be completed. They are in their eighties, and have spent their lives very industriously and frugally. They have been on many bicycle trips, including one with me in England about eight years ago. My Grandpa's frequent answer to the question "how are you?" is "If I felt any better I wouldn't be able to stand it!" Therefore, it is hard to see this same Grandpa moving slowly, taking naps, being unhappy about his health problems, which seem to have multiplied recently. I remember the family reunion in Hawaii in 1991 when Grandpa would walk past all of our cabins at 6:30 AM, cheerfully announcing that it was time to get up. I was a college student at the time, and never saw that time of day, and was always annoyed, but I would give a lot to be able to hear Grandpa with that much energy again.

The trip was enjoyable otherwise--I love talking to my grandparents, learning about their lives and childhoods. My Grandpa talked about his father's alcoholism, his best friends since childhood, all the places he lived in Chicago. Grandma tends to be less talkative about herself, but her skills as a homemaker are unparalleled. In her words, she knows how to make "something from nothing". She grew up on a farm in Iowa during the depression, and those experiences stood her well raising seven kids--she never wastes anything. She always seems very organized and calm, energetic, but never hurried. I really admire her.

I also got a chance to go to the Ikea in Schaumburg. There was one in Plymouth Meeting near where I grew up, and I furnished my early apartments with their inexpensive but well-designed furniture, and still actually have a number of those items. I found a treasure trove of sensory stuff for Grace there, including a few swings and a placemat that is a vinyl mirror on one side. I was itching to buy a ton of other stuff, but my better judgment kept my purchases under $30.

I also visited an exhibit on Hal Foster at the Schaumburg library . Foster was the creator of Prince Valiant, and I have been enjoying collecting these stories, so I thought it might be fun to see this exhibit. Unfortunately, all of the art displayed were what appeared to be blurry, laminated photocopies of his original drawings. In addition, about 1/3 of the exhibit was hung immediately behind computer tables, all of which were occupied, so that I couldn't actually get close enough to see the art. However, they did have wifi, so I was able to check my email and browse the internet on my iPod touch (which I can't live without).

On my way home from Chicago, I was able to stop and visit some friends I hadn't seen in a while, and that was a lot of fun. Their kids are adorable, and they live in a great old house in a tiny town--kind of idyllic. It was really fun to talk with them and revive a friendship that had gotten a little dusty since Grace was born. A lot of my friendships have gone this path in the chaos of dealing with Grace's needs, but I need to make friendships a priority, to give and receive support, to expand my own horizons and take care of myself so that I can take care of my family.

Leavenworth

I am now enjoying my long-anticipated vacation, but I was surprised yesterday evening to find myself feeling lonely, not knowing what to do with myself. I just needed a little time to adjust, and am now fully enjoying the time for myself, though I find myself wanting to call home more often than I need to.

This place is so beautiful--rolling hills, green trees and grass, with many varieties of birds to watch. I am not a "bird-watcher" per se, but could become one, I think. This morning at breakfast I watched several birds eat at feeders outside the restaurant. Their social behavior is fascinating--cardinal pairs feeding each other, blue jays hogging the feeder, males puffing themselves up. I suppose humans are fascinating in the same way.

There are four horses in the pasture overlooked by my deck. I enjoy observing them and their interactions. They stick together, following each other around. Earlier they were all napping in the sun, two standing, two lying down like dogs. I had thought that horses always sleep standing, but I was apparently mistaken. I wonder whether they have a schedule they follow, moving to different areas for shade and sun and moist grass as the sun moves.

I am spending some time getting to know the fingerboard again, starting with Schradieck. I usually skip over the first exercises, but today I discovered with alarm that even those are difficult for me now. Intonation and evenness are my goals. Later I'll work on some Tartini bowing exercises, to remind my arm where each string is. It's almost humiliating to need this, but I will benefit from it.

As I was practicing the Schradieck, I saw the date markings made by my teacher that summer at Meadowmount, Mrs. Vamos. It brought back a flood of memories. I remember being terrified of my teacher, because my violinist uncle had made some offhand remark about teachers there making passes at their students. I was young--13--and took most things literally. I kept waiting for her to do something inappropriate, which of course she never did. I think it got in the way of my really learning from her. Other memories also sprang from that memory, like Sarah Kwak, the Curtis student that lived with us for six years when I was younger, and who had a nickname from Meadowmount--"Spider Crackers"-- which she had put on a t-shirt. I asked her to explain it to me every time she wore it, but she always refused. What an annoying kid I must have been!

Isn't it funny how memories work in cascades?

Countdown to solitude

I am counting down the hours until my vacation. For a few days my temper was fairly high--I think I was terrified that something would prevent me from taking my trip, which I need so badly. I have determined that I am definitely going regardless of my fears of disaster falling upon the household while I'm away, and I'm letting go of those fears so that I can truly rest during this well-deserved break. This means trusting that my daughter's cold will be satisfactorily handled by my husband, that he will make good decisions regarding his own health and rest, and that they really can get along ok without me for a few days.

I've been spending some time downloading music to feed my soul while I'm gone--Beatles, Mahler, Edgar Meyer, Anonymous 4, my friend's harp music. I intend to really take care of myself, to nourish my body and soul.

Lost in Bruckner

Last night we performed Bruckner's eighth symphony, a mammoth work of four movements that lasts about an hour and a quarter. It felt like one of the best performances of my career--a few minor errors here and there on my part and elsewhere in the orchestra, but overall a fantastic, electrifying concert. The audience was our captive, seeming to hold their collective breath even between movements. When we finished, exhausted and sweaty, they rose to their feet shouting bravos, looking transported.

The piece is, according to Mario's interpretation, a searching for answers which do not immediately appear, but when hope is lost, the answer is revealed in a great triumph of ecstasy. This interpretation is linked to Bruckner's ardent Catholicism, his use of hymns to Mary, his almost mystical approach to religion. While I do not share these beliefs, I share the searching for answers and not finding them, losing hope, finding hope.

The orchestra itself is going through a period of loss--a member lost his wife a few weeks ago, others lost parents, our bass trombonist is retiring early for scary medical reasons. I think that these real life events push us as a group to instill more power into our music-making. Music is real--it has a tangible effect on humans. It can make us cry, laugh, unite, wonder. I feel that we transcended our daily grind approach to the job with last night's concert, and while I doubt that we can maintain that for long, I look forward to tonight.

Out of practice

Our garage project is getting closer to being done. The rest of the drywall will be installed on Sunday, then finished soon after. I'm amazed at how long this whole process is. It was last July that I first contacted Make-A-Wish, and I think the project might just be finished in less than a year. It's mainly the construction work, which is our responsibility which has taken up the time. We originally thought that MAW would pay for the work, but when we found out they wouldn't, it took us a while to get a plan of action. Anyway, with a lot of help, we are now on the brink of seeing it come to fruition!

My recent promotion, in combination with the changing dynamic (pardon the pun) at work, is causing me some stress. I enjoy the challenge, but at the same time am burdened by fears that I am not quite meeting that challenge. I am more prepared for rehearsals more of the time, but not always. These last few weeks we are playing very difficult music--Nielsen's 6th symphony and Bruckner's 8th. Even with practice time, I feel myself struggling. I need to make more time to practice and also let go of the tension which is causing my muscles to seize up. I've been having some trouble with my reflexes--the connection from my eyes to my brain to my hands is not smooth. I suspect that stress is the culprit. My stressors are not likely to go away, so I need to find a way to live with them in peace. I've set aside some time next week to get away, and I plan to use some of that time to sleep, meditate and practice.

News

Our family has been laid low by a nasty virus. I seem to be faring the best, with symptoms receding after almost 2 weeks. My daughter is also regaining health, but is still fussy and lethargic. Hubby is doing very poorly, and has developed a bacterial infection. I am hopeful that the antibiotic will kick in soon, especially since we have a ton of work to do in the garage before the contractor starts.
My Grandpa is funding the garage renovation, which enables my daughter's Make-A-Wish to be granted. This is a huge help to us. We are hopeful that the available extra activities of a sensory gym will broaden her world, which is quite narrow these days.
In other news, I recently was promoted to principal player in my section until the Associate Concertmaster returns from medical leave. This means I sit 4th chair and move up as needed. I am enjoying the challenge, and hope that I am able to be more consistent as I adjust. I need to balance my home life and professional life so that neither suffers. I need to be more prepared than usual for rehearsals, which means more regular and intense practice. I find that on the days I don't practice before a service, I feel very unsteady, and have more hand and arm pain. It's a matter of discipline.
I recently fell in love with a chocolate bar from UK--Yorkie (It's Not for Girls!) It's pure bliss to let a chunk melt in my mouth. Yummmmm....