Author name: Sandra Tayler

Experimenting with sugar and alternative medicine

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In Terry Pratchett’s books the witch Granny Weatherwax uses Headology to help people more than she uses magic. Headology uses both psychology and trickery to adjust people’s behaviors. In the case of a man with chest pains, Granny told him that he’d been bewitched by nymphs who lived in a waterfall. All he had to do was hike to that waterfall, bow three times, sing a song, and leave a small offering once per day and the nymphs would leave him alone. Or something like that. My memory of the scene in the book is a little fuzzy, and I could not find the specific reference. The point is that Granny knew that the only beneficial thing in her instructions was the hike. The man was too sedentary, so she told him a story that would make him be more active.

I took Gleek to a practitioner of alternative medicine. A friend, whom I respect, says that many of her son’s behavioral issues have been greatly alleviated by this practitioner. Since I plan to do some aggressive diagnostics and behavior modification for Gleek this Fall, I decided that alternative medicine would be a low impact and low cost place to start. We went. We followed the instructions for 24 hours until the instructions ran out. My after-the-fact conclusion is that bodies are complex and there are things I don’t understand. I am not ready to dismiss the idea that alternative phenomena can significantly alter someone’s well being. Mind/body connections are very powerful. However I’ve also come out of the experience feeling like I did a lot of dancing around and singing when the only thing that mattered was the walk.

The specific treatment applied was intended to reduce Gleek’s sensitivity to sugar.
In the category of dancing around:
Taping a small vial of sugar-infused water to Gleek’s arm for 24 hours, so that her body could balance to the sugars. I’m particularly skeptical since the vial was created by putting a blank vial into the same machine as another vial for a few seconds. Also when I accidentally dropped and broke the vial at the end, it was filled with something that smelled like rubbing alcohol.

In the category of hiking:
The strict list of things she was not to eat for 24 hours. She was totally off sugar during that time, which allowed me to observe the strength of her sugar cravings and to observe behavior changes. She got cranky, then tired, then sick. The sick shortly proved itself to be stomach flu that she caught from her brother. Having sickness strike mid-experiment mucks up the results quite a lot. However I have definitely proven to myself that more experimentation with her sugar intake is called for. She became jittery and wiggly within two minutes of eating sugary things again.

Having a vial taped to her arm was a very effective physical reminder to both Gleek and I that we were to be careful about what she ate.

In the category of Might be Dancing, Might be Hiking:
The diagnostic method of putting a vial into Gleek’s hand and then pressing down on her arm to see if she could hold strong. I’ve seen this effect many times before. I’ve had it done to me. But I don’t know that I buy the explanations about why it happens. I’m not sure why glass vials containing supposedly different liquids would cause the body to react differently. I’d think the body would react to the glass, if anything. But sometimes Gleek’s arm was strong and sometimes it was not. The practitioner identified her as sensitive to exactly the things which I would have expected. However I also know that magicians and con men can be very good about extracting information and telling people what they want to hear. It could have been a trick.

Making Gleek lay down every two hours so that I could apply a small massager to pressure points in her arms and feet. I don’t know whether the clockwise motion really did help balance her energies, or help her body accept the sugar. I am certain that laying down for a meditative few minutes every couple hours was a good thing for her. Also the vibrating massager was soothing on her skin. She liked that part.

The most important piece of the experiment is that by the end of it Gleek was bemoaning the fact that we had tried it. She was ready to blame her stomach flu on the experiment. I had to explain in detail why that was unlikely. She focused her frustration on the vial, and I would have to talk hard and fast to get her to agree to do it again. I don’t want to do that. Instead we’ll take the useful information and build new experiments to see if we can help her be a calmer, happier person. These new experiments will have less dancing around and more scientific method, because that is much more comfortable for us.

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Howard’s trip to Australia

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Howard’s trip to Australia has led me through exciting new lands of forms and paperwork as I figured out how to send books via a customs broker, buy an international plane ticket, make reservations at a hotel on another continent, file for a visa, find the tax forms to report earnings to both the Australian government and the US government, open a banking account in Melbourne, arrange for volunteers to help at the booth, and assorted other odds and ends. Truthfully, each thing has been fairly simple in itself. I’ve been helped by intelligent and competent people who know what they are doing and a pleasant about explaining the process to me. So I approach a task with trepidation and discover that it is nothing much to worry about. (Well, except for the worry that I’ve done something wrong which will lead to massive stress and failure mid-trip.) It is the aggregation of these tasks which makes me feel like I’ve been fighting my way through a maze of electronic forms and paperwork.

We’re close to done, which is good since Howard boards a plane one week from today. I’ll be happy if none of the pieces I put into place fails. We have confirmed arrival of the books in Australia, but they’ve yet to arrive at the booth and we don’t know how they weathered the shipping. We have confirmed reservations both airline and hotel, but Howard has not actually checked in yet. Many things could go wrong, but I know that they are unlikely to do so. So I just continue along, double checking, arranging, planning. Hopefully all will be well.

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Kiki on the road

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There are many times in a parent’s life when she wonders what on earth she was thinking when she agreed to a particular endeavor. I’ve felt that way about lessons, birthday parties, games, toys, and treats. Today’s revisitation of the feeling was the moment when I sat in my van with Kiki at the wheel. She rounded the corner with a little running dialog.
“and now I slow… and turn signal… all is clear… so gas.” Then her voice raised an octave “Not clear! Not clear!” I watched the car coming our direction far down the street as our van drifted diagonally across the road, blocking all lanes.

“Break Kiki!” I said loud and firm while my right foot reached for a break pedal which was not in front of me. She stopped the van, which really had been in no danger of hitting anything more dangerous than a curb. The other driver, a familiar neighbor, had stopped to allow Kiki to sort herself out.

“Okay, now back up, and pull over to the right this time.” I said.

Kiki laughed nervously. “That was scary.”

I suppressed a smile. “No giggling while you’re driving.”

Kiki sorted the car out so that our neighbor could pass. He pulled up beside us and rolled down his window. It took Kiki a moment to find the window controls on the driver’s side, particularly with the level of flustered she was currently sporting.

“No worries.” The man smiled. “I used to be a driving instructor.”

I smiled back knowing that his amusement also encompassed me, sitting in the passenger seat and wishing for a brake pedal. He has two licensed sons with three kids yet to go. His amusement and sympathy ran deep.

We stuck to quiet residential streets and practiced parking in an empty church parking lot. The parking needs quite a bit of work, but all the stopping, reversing, and putting the car into drive became increasingly smooth. Kiki is beginning to train her hands, brain, and feet into the instincts they will need to drive safely. Hopefully the “Brake When In Doubt” instinct will be an early acquisition. We’ll gradually step up to traffic lights and multi-lane roads. Eventually there will be freeways.

Thirty minutes was plenty of time on the road for both of us. She was tired from concentrating and so was I. Steering a car through voice activation of an inexperienced driver is kind of tiring.

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Two Kids, Two Schools

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Gleek and I climbed into the car and I backed out of the driveway. We were our way to meet her new Fourth Grade teacher and to take a quick reading test. Gleek sat quietly in her seat. Subdued. Not a typical emotional state for her.

“Are you worried about school starting?” I asked her.

“Yeah.” she said quietly.

“Last year was pretty hard.” I said, hoping to give words to her feelings.

Gleek nodded and blinked several times in a way which is common when she is trying not to cry. She was so small in her seat, even though she has grown this summer. Usually she fills more space by sheer force of personality.

“This year will not be that hard.” I tried to reassure her. “I won’t let it be. We’ll do whatever we have to do.” I didn’t say that my determination extends to switching her to a charter school or pulling her out of public school completely. Home school is not something I want to do, but I will if she needs it. Gleek and I both need to give her current school, with its current administration, a solid chance to be better. I need to know that we did everything we could before leaving. So I didn’t tell her about the escape routes I have already begun to map. She would want to run down them now.

We get to the school and meet the young, soft-spoken teacher. I study her as she interacts with Gleek. Will this teacher be able to handle my child? I could not tell. Gleek was tense in the classroom. She got angry over her handwriting and spelling on a quick survey. I saw Gleek ready to burst with anger, and I looked at the mild-seeming teacher. I worried. Then came Gleek’s turn to read, and Teacher spent quite a bit of time talking with Gleek about books. Teacher listened respectfully and made a solid suggestion about how Gleek can find books in the school library. I sat silent, hoping things will be well.

We left the classroom and Gleek began to chatter. She noted that one of the trio of boys who were troublesome last year is in her class.
“But he’s kind of okay. As long as B isn’t in my class. B is like Captain Hammer for Dr. Horrible. A nim … ner…”

“Nemesis?” I supply the word.

“Yeah. B is my nimisis.”

I nod and continue to listen as she relives some of the altercations she had with B last year. Most of them I’d already heard, a few I hadn’t. I will check the class listing for B. I suspect that the trio of boys has been deliberately split into different classes and that Gleek will not be trapped in a room with her nemesis. The answer will add another tick into either the worry column or the hopeful one.

We returned home and the day moved onward. In the afternoon it was Link I loaded into the car for a trip to a school. He also was quiet in the car, but this is normal for him. When we walked into the Junior High Building, I watched his stride. He walks on his toes when he is nervous. He clomped along slouchedly. He has adapted to the idea of Junior High and is looking forward with more anticipation than apprehension.

“How long will this take?” Link asked

“I don’t know. We have to fill out some forms, pay school fees, and pick up your schedule.” I pointed out the multiple lines we would need to stand in before we were done.

Link scowled. He’s become quite good at scowling this summer. Most of the time it is a humor-filled scowl, not an angry one. It matches his leaner face and his greater height. He’ll be taller than I am soon. We stood in lines, mostly silent, except when my worries spill into words.

“So you know how A days and B days work, right?”

“Yes mom.” Link rolled his eyes.

“You go to four classes on A days and four different classes on B days.” I continued, compelled to state the information just in case he doesn’t know what he thinks he knows. I’m constantly startled by astonishing gaps in my children’s knowledge, this leads me to repeating important information until the kids roll their eyes at me.

“I know mom.” Link said, then he turned to wave to some kids that he knew.

We collected his schedule and discovered that the Co-taught English class, which will help Link with is writing, is taught by the same teacher that Kiki loved in 7th grade. We also discovered that Link has been scheduled for German rather than the writing review class I discussed with his counselor last spring. Link was pleased. He wanted German, not more writing practice.

We tromped through the hall so Link could find his locker and open it. I made him do it twice, not because he needed to, but because I wanted to quiet the voice in my brain that worries for him. Junior high can be tough. He’s going to have a lot thrown at him in the next few weeks. So I make him practice his locker combo. One less thing to be new next week.

Papers in hand, we headed home. Next Tuesday he’ll climb on the bus and navigate those hallways solo. I wonder if he’ll be worried about it between now and then or if today’s calm will hold.

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Thoughts on being older and managing my own thoughts

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On Sunday I attended a social event with a group of people whom I enjoy. There were a couple dozen of us there and I had a great time. It was only after the fact that I realized that I was the oldest person at the event. (Howard stayed home with sick Patch.) All of these people are peers for me, many of them are approximately my age, only younger by a year or two. But all of them have families who are younger than mine. They are still firmly in the world of Elementary school and pre-school, while I have two teenagers. The same is true Howard’s siblings, with whom we gathered for a reunion yesterday. Their oldest kids are matched to my younger ones. We’re in different life stages and I have to shift gears in my brain to remember being where they are. Then I feel strange and old because their present is my past. Then I get over it an just enjoy visiting with all these people whom I like.

I begin to understand why people pay attention to forty as a birthday. It isn’t about being physically old. It is about seeing age coming and about seeing the choices you didn’t make. It is about having adult life stages behind me. I’m still a couple of years away from forty and I’ve already got these thoughts in my head. I have never wanted to be a person who complained about getting old. I have always wanted to be happy in myself no matter what. This is the reason that I pay attention to these thoughts. I drag them out in the open and look them in the eye. Then I decide what to do about it.

Of late I have had strong thought elements revolving around being boring, unattractive, and old. These are familiar thoughts. They arrive when I am strained and empty, when I have not had enough time alone to sort my thoughts. I just have to retain enough self awareness so that I can see them for the indicators that they are instead of swimming in them. Right now they flood me because school is incoming and I am uncertain what normal will look like next month. One of the things I have to fit into the new normal is time for me to rest and recharge.

Social events help when I haven’t used all my social energy on business tasks. So I visit with my friends and talk with them about life stages that I’ve already been through. Or I visit with my other friends and talk with them about life stages I’ve yet to experience. These second types of conversations are incredibly helpful to me in managing where I am and where I’ll be heading next. And when I realize that, I’m glad that I get to have the first kind of conversation as well. They help me view my life again so that I can find patterns I did not see before. Then I realize it really is not about who is older or younger, who has more or less experience. They joy is in sharing our experiences so that we all have a broader view of things as they are and as they could be.

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The Addams Family

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This afternoon Howard discovered that Kiki had never seen The Addams Family. The oversight has now been rectified. Gleek and Patch watched it also.

I have to say that the movie still disturbs me on various levels. I laugh and I am disturbed. This is why my kids had not yet seen the film. It also means that the filmmakers did a brilliant job of hitting their intended mark. Patch and I have already had a discussion about how things in the movie are funny because they are exactly the opposite of what they should be.

I suspect we’ll be showing Addams Family Values later this week. Howard loves both films without reservations. I love them with reservations. And I think on the whole I’m glad to be disturbed by the wrongness.

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A Trio of Thoughts on a Sunday Afternoon

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I have succeeded in rummaging through everyone’s drawers and assembling a set of clothes that will look coordinated for a family photo tomorrow morning. The intelligent thing to do would have been to do the rummaging yesterday so that I could go shopping if necessary. But I was not ready to think about it yesterday. Instead we are loaning shirts to some family members and hoping that they will not retain the unpleasantness of loaned-shirt as the primary memory attached to the photo.

Patch woke up with a fever this morning. I discovered it after I was already dressed for church. So I sent everyone off without me, sent Patch back to bed, and sat down to have church at home. Mostly this involved reading scriptures, singing a hymn, and studying the lesson I would have heard if I had gone. The largest part of the time I spent writing a journal entry in my hand-written journal. That is the place I spill my rambling thoughts without editing. In my blog entries I try to retain some semblance of focus. In the paper journal I just spill my thoughts onto the page. Often I am surprise to see what lands on the page. Today the page was much covered with specific concerns for each child as they begin school. I also spent time contemplating my stalled writing projects. I reached no startling new conclusions. I just need to keep on going and hope that the path lays somewhat closer to my hopes than to my fears.

I have three social events this week and I actually have time and emotional energy to look forward to them. This is very nice.

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Getting Moving Again When I have Stopped

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This afternoon I found myself in The Waiting Place straight out of Dr. Seuss’ book Oh The Places You’ll Go! GenCon is finished and school has not yet begun. The space in between is long enough for me to get bored, but too short for me to begin new projects because I need to keep my brain clear for what is coming next. So I drifted around the house a bit aimlessly for a couple of hours. Then I realized I was not truly in The Waiting Place. I was in The Avoidance Place. I’m not sure how I fooled myself into thinking I haven’t got anything to do. So I kicked myself back into gear and began writing emails to straighten out details for Howard’s trip to Australia. I’ve only got two weeks to assemble a support crew for him. Fortunately there are a half dozen Australian Schlockers who are excited to help. Now I just need to figure out job assignments.

Also on the list of things to do: house organization, laundry folding, gardening, adjusting the kids’ sleep schedules, and business maintenance tasks. Oh, and there might be some school prep shopping to do. I should inventory the kids’ clothes. The happy news is that I can proceed at a nice medium pace instead of a dead run. I just need to keep track of my motivational energy. It keeps going awol.

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Dinner, Driving, and the Impending School Year

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I made dinner from raw ingredients and the kids did not like it. This is completely normal, except for the part where I made dinner from raw ingredients. Today provided enough space in my brain for me to notice the half dozen apples which had gone soft, but not yet rotten. I not only noticed the apples, but was able to formulate a plan for turning them into Sour Cream Apple Chicken over rice. I enjoyed it quite a lot once it was done. Getting started was hard though. My reserves of creative energy are still running low.

Kiki kept me company while I chopped chicken, apples, and onions. In front of her was the Utah Driver Handbook. She is currently studying to take the written test to obtain her driver’s permit. I have many feelings about the idea of her driving, but I’ve squelched them for today. She paused frequently in her slog through the text to ask me questions and to snitch bites of apples or chicken. We discussed right-of-way and where-not-to-park while rice boiled and chopped bits simmered.

“This is all common sense. I already know everything in this book.” Kiki complained, angling to get out of studying.

“Yes, you probably do and that makes me glad. However I’m not going to spend $70 on a test until you have at least read through the book.”

Kiki said nothing, but looked at me with a level gaze, as if not quite convinced that I was really going to require her to read the boring book.

“Also.” I added “I really don’t want to stand in line twice.”

“There will be a line?” Kiki asked.

“Honey, the DMV is made of line. I’m figuring the excursion to get your permit will take at least 3 hours. The smallest piece of that will be the test. Hopefully we’ll get to stand in more than one line because that will mean you’re getting your picture taken for your permit. I really don’t want to go through it twice, so we won’t go until I know you’ve studied.”

This convinced Kiki. Her complaints dried up and we worked through a couple of chapters. The reward for studying real driving was some pretend driving via MarioKart Wii. I can hear them downstairs right now, cackling with glee while the food sits uneaten on the stove.

I’m not really minding the uneaten food today. I already knew they were not fond of this recipe. Making it was a symbolic gesture, a stake in the ground to re-establish normal. We have just under two weeks until school starts. In that time I need to bring all the chaos back into balance. We need to find our center because last year school hit us like a wave and threatened to swamp us all.

This year has the potential to be just as hard. Kiki is starting high school with a full load of homework-heavy classes. (This is also the reason for the hurry on the driver’s permit. We want it out of the way before she has school work too.) Link is starting junior high and will need to figure out how to manage 8 different classes per semester. Gleek is headed into fourth grade, which is typically a difficult grade. And so I view the onset of school, not as an escape, but as a shift in my work load. I will have space in the day where I can work in solitude, but the rest of the time I have to pay attention to the kids. Not so I can carry their loads or do the work that they should do, but I need to stand ready to teach them how to manage. Then I have to hope that they learn quickly because it hurts when I know how to fix it but I can’t without stealing the lessons they need.

I am afraid of what this school year will bring, so I’m trying not to think of it except in scheduling terms. I need to know what to watch for and deal with what is in front of me, not fret about how it might go wrong. So I made dinner. And they didn’t eat it. And that is okay. Because today they live in a world where Mom made dinner for them and expected them to go to bed on time. There is security for them in that. I can see them unwind when the day has meals as signposts to mark the progress of hours. They are happier and less stressed. Two weeks just might be enough to give us a good start on school.

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Reorientation

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My front room has suitcases, some of which are newly emptied, some of which are half emptied, and some of which are filled with things belonging to my parents. My desk is covered with receipts, invoices, shipping labels, and post-it notes. Large mounds of color-sorted laundry block the walkway into the family room, waiting for their turn through the washing machine. Mail sits on my kitchen counter to tell me the details of my kids’ school schedules. Then there are the children themselves, who need attention, reassurance, and settling back into a regular routine.

All of that and I am so tired I can hardly see straight. My energy ebbs far more often than it flows today. This is to be expected after the travel and work of last week. But I am working my way through. All of the tasks are closer to complete than they were this morning. This is good because I long for peace and order. I think I will find it soon.

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