Here Goes the Memory ...

Did you ever look down at what you were wearing and not remembering putting on that particular item of clothing??

I did. Just now.

I vividly remember opening my closet door and in my mind, I knew exactly wanted to wear.

It was a pull-over hooded sweatshirt. I went to put on my jacket when I realized that I wasn't wearing what I thought I was wearing. Yes ... it was a sweatshirt. Yes ... it had a hood. But it was a zipper closing. I have absolutely no memory of selecting this particular item of clothing or doing up a zipper.

I have done this type of thing before. I am in a grocery store and I see and read the specific flavor, brand or size of grocery item that I want to buy. My hands have a different idea and pick up the item beside the desired purchase. How do I know this? Because when I get home, I find surprises inside of the grocery bag as I unpack them.

Is this only the beginning?

The more I wonder about the effects of aging ... the more I realize that I need a full length mirror beside the back door so that I can double check what I am wearing before I step out in public.

Remembering Dad

I don't normally acknowledge the anniversaries of 'the end' out loud. I prefer to celebrate new beginnings and marking a memory-making-moment in time, over the anniversary of a loss.

Today I am making an exception because of a message that I received yesterday that felt a little 'heaven sent'.

I received my very first comment from a reader. It was spurred on by an article that I had written, which was published in her local paper. I had written about the wedding band that Dad gave to Mom on their wedding day and the memories that held for me.

Her story about her mom's ring was parallel to the story I wrote. That 'simple gold band' held the same significance to her as it did to me.

This is the part that makes me feel that there 'are no such things as coincidences'. She wrote that this particular article really touched her heart 'today' ... because 'today' was the first anniversary of the passing of her father. My dad died on the anniversary of 'today' - one day after I received her email.

I have a small arsenal of 'Remembering Dad' stories. I am going to try to go back into the archives of my blog and earmark them with that label so I can easily retrieve them when the occasion calls.

Today I have one little moment in time that allows me to believe in an energy that lets me feel Dad's presence when he is not here ...

I was out at Mom's last month. Her snow shovellers continued to renege on her wish (I do believe that it is quite literally Mom's wish, because I am not certain that she has specifically told her snow-shovellers what she expects to be shovelled??) to have her deck and patio of interlocking blocks shovelled off, in addition to the sidewalks and driveway.

I woke up early one morning with the time and energy to surprise Mom before she woke. I thought I would just go out and shovel 'for a while' and see how far I got before Mom woke up and caught me in the act. I ended up having time to almost completely shovel off her deck and patio before I found her looking out of her kitchen window and beckoning me to stop (not really).

I found myself thinking of Dad as I shovelled off what Mom wished to have done. Fleeting thoughts without tangible words. Just wistful thinking of Dad ... who he was ... how he lived ... and how he would have just automatically shovelled off what Mom had expected, without a second thought ... if he was here to do it for her.

It was a beautiful, windless morning. I was aware of the wind chimes that were on the corner of the garage because I bumped them a few times as I shovelled in that area. Other than the times that I bumped them they remained silent.

I was no where in the vicinity of the chimes when they rang one more time as I was almost finished the job at hand. I had been thinking of Dad. I felt him within me. It was as if the ringing of the chime was Dad saying "Thank you" ... I immediately thought "Dad??? ..." The chime rang one more time.

And that was it. The chime never rang again.

Do I have an angel on my shoulder? Could Dad be watching out over Mom?

It brings a quiet sense of peace to believe in that which I don't see. Listen to the quiet in your world ... what do you hear? What do you feel?

Was it just a coincidence? I don't believe in coincidences...

Unremarkable

It was a little bit like checking in for an overnight stay at a hotel.

The difference was: I checked in at Emergency at a city hospital verses a hotel lobby. And the only card they required was my provincial hospitalization card instead of a credit card.

I brought my overnight bag with everything that I would need for the evening and the next morning. Arrangements were made at home so that (almost) no one even noticed I was missing.

I had arrived for my overnight sleep study.

Once you check in, you are directed to go to the sleep study lab waiting room. There was a questionairre to be completed and then you do exactly what the sign says. You wait.

There were six of us booked in for the evening's festivities. Each of us had a private room with our own private bathroom. It was no suite at the Ritz. But it was my oasis for the evening. I could pretend ...

I was quickly greeted by my personal overnight hostess. She explained what would be happening and invited me to 'dress' for the evening and she would be back when I was ready.

This is when it became evident that my hotel fantasy would end. I sat back as she hooked me up to a myriad of wires, leads and even a ground wire as they would be monitoring my brain waves throughout the night. They could tell if I was awake or asleep, the quality of my sleep and the stage of sleep that I was in. There were more leads attached to my face as they could monitor eye movement (during REM sleep) and chin movement (to see if I grind my teeth in my sleep). My heart was monitored with two electrodes attached on either side of my chest. Then there were the leg leads which were attached to each shin (to detect Restless Leg Syndrome or other movement disorders).

At this point, I was still mobile. All of my wires were attached to a central box which I could wear around my neck like a necklace. Not quite the evening attire that one would wear, to go out on the town. But a wander down the hallway to watch TV was a viable option.

Since I had the look-of-Frankenstein going on, I decided not to wander the halls. The hour was getting late so I opted to get wired down for the night.

There were another set of belts and paraphernalia which awaited me in my private room. A belt around my chest and another around my stomach which would sense my effort of breathing. A 'cannula' was attached to my nose which monitored when I breathed in and out. One more gadget - the Pulse/Ox was clipped to my finger and I was suited up for the evening.

Oh yes ... then there was the video camera and microphone above my bed, so that they could see my movements and hear my snoring. There is nothing like looking forward to a good night's sleep when your every movement, sound, breath, brain wave, leg movement and teeth grinding activity is being watched by someone down the hall.

I could have swore that my brain never shut down all night. The only evidence that I fell asleep at all, was the fact that I kept waking up. All night.

But apparently, I did sleep. The monitors proved it. When I sat down with the doctor the next morning, he said that they got a very good reading because I slept on both sides, on my back, woke and fell back to sleep several times and had a lot of REM activity.

Apparently ... I snore. This was not entirely news to me, though I thought that it was just the little snort that woke me up that was the extent of it. I got to see the steady waves on the chart to prove that it is perhaps a little more than I thought. But even the snoring was really nothing note worthy.

In the morning, the technician said that what she noted was very minor (in the snoring realm) and she unhooked my wires and sanctioned a morning cup of caffeinated coffee.

Later, the doctor said that if I had not had that coffee, he would have suggested spending the day to monitor nap activity (simply because I was already there) just to completely rule out narcolepsy. But he said there were no indicators that this was an issue and his report would reflect that.

So ... I have a complete and total clean bill of health. Between my last full physical and a new doctor that was happy to investigate any and all concerns that I brought up ... I feel like I have been checked over from head to toe. After my sleep study, it honestly feels like no stone has been left unturned. My life insurance provider should be content to insure me without reservation (or doubling my monthly premium).

The first word that my doctor said in regards to his interpretation of my polysomnogram was: "Unremarkable". While my instinctive reply was, "Well this was no stay at the Ritz either!" ... I knew that 'unremarkable' was the result that I expected and it was exactly what I wanted to hear.

My self-diagnosis before I walked in the door was simply a low-grade depression. Something completely and totally within my control. Because I am living an 'unremarkable life' ... I am quite literally sleep walking through my days.

It is time to endeavor to make my days 'remarkable' and worthy of staying alert awake for ...

Off to Sleep ...

On Monday, I found out that I needed to follow up on my at-home-sleep-test at the overnight sleep lab. My life insurance will more than double next year when it comes up for renewal if I have absolutely ANY health issues that are under investigation. So ... I called to ask if I could be put on the cancellation list for this test (the waiting list is about two years).

Tuesday... they called to say that they had a cancellation on Wednesday.

There is nothing like being told that you have to be somewhere by 8:00 p.m.; sleep over; and be available for the next morning to create a little fire under a person.

I picked up the phone to see if I could make arrangements (with my daycare families and arrange for someone to be here for me) to have this test done. Five phone calls later, I was 'in'.

I woke up this morning knowing that I had much to do, with limited time to do it. And I did it. I did it all.

Why can't I be this ambitious every day?!??!???

A Stray Seed Comes to Life

The thing about planting seeds, is that you can never be quite sure when they may decide to take root ...

Throughout my career-change-journey, I planted many seeds. A lot of them simply died without a sign of life. Some sprouted and gave life to new opportunity. There were a few that actually bloomed ... only to die an early death.

July 31st, I sent out one more round of résumés. Less than two weeks later, I was in the business of rerouting my life. August 10th, I started delivering flyers. The same day, I came home and posted an advertisement that I was reopening my daycare. August 17th, I had an offer of a part-time bookkeeping job. September 4th, I was on my way to reliving my old life. And it felt good. It felt very good.

Yesterday ... I got a call out of the blue. A company that I could have seen myself working for called to request an interview with me tomorrow.

It is a six-month, full-time position. I perused the company's postings on the Internet to try and get an idea of the rate of pay. It was enough for me to do a double-take and consider the possibilities.

I got this call at the end of a frustrating Day at Daycare. Toilet training drains me. I felt like I had nothing left in me at the end of the day. Then I see this alternative choice ....

I asked if I could sleep on the idea and call this person back this morning. I kind of knew what my answer was going to be before I asked if I could consider the idea. But I couldn't slam the door shut. I needed to peek into another horizon to see if it held any possibilities worth uprooting my new/old life for.

I have invested a lot of myself and money into reestablishing myself in the Daycare World. I am building trust, respect and relationships with my families. My Youngest seems very happy to have me at home. I love working from home. I could not abandon ship at this point. I knew it yesterday. But I needed to consider the idea.

I sent an email off to my brother ... mostly to just let the words flow out of my fingertips and see how they presented themselves. But my brother's opinion truly matters to me. So I was delighted to find his reply, "If this was you a year or two ago ... You'd consider this as a sign it was time to move on. But this isn't last year. This is after a year of you learning who you are and what makes you happy ..."

If I was to make a rash change at this point, it would be about money and little else. My sense of security would be shattered. At the end of the six month position, I would be back to where this all began. Perhaps with a regained sense of security. Perhaps ... not. Part of me would like to redeem myself in my own eyes. Part of me wants to know if I could survive in the 'real world' ...

But the biggest part of me? Knows that I am exactly where I am meant to be. And as my brother threw my own words of advice back into my own court "If money can fix the problem, maybe the problem really isn't that bad".

I am committed. I will thrive in this new world that I have created for myself. I just needed a little nudge to remind myself that I am in this for all of the right reasons. I am here to stay.

Burying My Head in the Snow

I hibernated yesterday.

I slept in. Then I got up and found the couch. I dozed intermittently throughout the morning and early afternoon.

I didn't open the blinds until the afternoon. It was snowing lightly outside. Kinda pretty in fact. Though my son was ever-watchful of the amount of snow that was amassing on the ground, I kept my eyes upward. Snow is very pretty if you don't have to deal with what falls on the streets and sidewalks.

I got up this morning and eventually remembered to look outside. This is the view from outside our front door:

I am so very, very glad that I work from home!

Even our snowmen look a little snowed in ...

Be careful out there. Be grateful if you don't have to venture out and are able to just sit back and enjoy the view ...

Welcome to December!

The Unexpected Pitfalls of Delivering Flyers

I have been delivering flyers for over three months now.

I started when the weather was fine and the daylight hours lasted past supper time. I watched the days get shorter. I almost appreciated when it cooled off a little. I expected the cold, the snow, the ice and the wind.

It is a little bit of an inconvenience to have to squeeze in delivering the flyers before &/or after my daycare responsibilities. I prefer morning deliveries, but I can't count on the flyers being dropped off on time. So it is a little bit frustrating when a parent picks up their child late and I'm finished my deliveries fifteen minutes before the 8:00 p.m. deadline.

I expected as much. I have done this before and I know it isn't a perfect world. I knew there would be sacrifices along the way.

What I didn't expect?!? Sore thumbs.

I feel like I've pulled muscles in both of my thumbs. If I had a chronic 'texting' habit, I would swear that was the cause. But I don't. The only thing that I am doing differently ... is delivering papers.

I hold the paper that I am going to deliver in my left hand. I retrieve the papers that I will need with my right hand. It is pretty simple muscle movement. It doesn't hurt while I'm out delivering papers. It is the shooting pains that come out of nowhere when I go to pick up something (often a child) after the fact.

I have thought of the possibilities of spraining an ankle or breaking a bone as I weathered the icy days. But never in a million years did I think my flyer delivery career could be cut short due to sore thumbs.

Weird.

I don't like what is happening to my body. I am too young to be moving around like someone forty years my senior. My ankles don't work too well when I hop out of bed in the morning. I can't bend over to put on my socks right away. I can't move from sitting to standing like a spring chicken. I can't go from standing straight, to bending. And my thumbs get sore from delivering papers!!

Of all the preconceived ideas that I had about what this body of mine is capable of ... and the limitations that the years will bring ... never once did I think that it could be sore thumbs that do me in.

Do you think perhaps that I'm just a little bit out of shape?!?!??