“Mommy, why do you always wake up before Daddy?”
“Mommy, why do you always wake up before Daddy?”
It was early morning, and I was sitting in my favorite chair. We call it the “Mommy chair,” because it is where my son comes to sit with me when he wants to be held.
I’d been writing, as I love to do during the early morning hours before anyone else in the house wakes up...
... except...
... when he asked me this question, it suddenly hit me...
... it hadn’t always been like this.
In my son’s eyes, I was the one in the family who woke up early.
I was the early riser. The get-up and go person. The one who needed less sleep. The rise-with-the-dawn person. The one who was already awake and smiling and busily doing something before he even woke up.
My son was still standing there waiting for an answer.
“Um....” I thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to word this that would make his Dad sound awesome, but I was still reeling from the fact that my son saw me as a “morning person”...
“Um...,” I was still thinking, “well, Daddy goes away on business trips,” I finally came up with, “and he’s always in different time zones, and traveling on airplanes, and misses a lot of sleep. He’s very tired by the time he gets home.”
My son nodded his head, accepting this answer. He then toddled off to play Lego.
As I watched him go, his words kept ringing in my head: “My son sees me as a morning person?!”
When my husband woke up, less than an hour later, I repeated the story quietly to him. My husband laughed.
“I remember when we had to pry you out bed in the mornings. That wasn’t so long ago. But, I guess Alex doesn’t remember that. He only remembers healthy Mommy.”
Wow. My son does not remember the Mom who was so fatigued she was in bed until 10 AM. He only remembers the Mom who is up with the dawn, rides bikes with him to school, and volunteers all the time in his classroom.
Before my son started preschool, we did not have him on a set routine, with a set bedtime.
Alex slept with us, as is customary in Asian cultures, (young children sleep with their parents up until a certain age), and unless he was really tired, he just fell asleep when we did.
He would sleep until 9:30 or 10 AM. This worked out very well for me at the time, because this was in the days before I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and felt horrible each and everyday.
Alex slept with us, as is customary in Asian cultures, (young children sleep with their parents up until a certain age), and unless he was really tired, he just fell asleep when we did.
He would sleep until 9:30 or 10 AM. This worked out very well for me at the time, because this was in the days before I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and felt horrible each and everyday.
After I was finally diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I stumbled about on different prescription drugs before finding the Guai Protocol.
During my first year on the Guai Protocol, I felt “significantly, but tolerably worse,” exactly like the book said.
It was extremely difficult to drag myself out of bed in the mornings.
Mornings were definitely my worst time of day, and the less I saw of mornings, well, the better.
I did not move from that bed until my son woke up. The way I saw it, my duties as a mother began once my son woke up.
Once Alex woke up, I finally pried my sore, stiff, headache-y, pain-filled body off that mattress.
I slowly took the stairs, one step at a time, (I could not walk down the stairs normally), down to the kitchen, and made him breakfast.
The bottoms of my feet were so tender that I had to walk gingerly. My son was not very lively in the mornings either, and was content to spend slow, quiet mornings.
(It was not until later that he was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, but I was beginning to suspect even then. His behavior patterns in the mornings were a lot like mine.)
The bottoms of my feet were so tender that I had to walk gingerly. My son was not very lively in the mornings either, and was content to spend slow, quiet mornings.
(It was not until later that he was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, but I was beginning to suspect even then. His behavior patterns in the mornings were a lot like mine.)
He perked up in the afternoons, just like I did, and by mid to late afternoon, when the body’s natural serotonin levels are highest, we were both agile enough, and functional enough to leave the house and do some fun activity.
We’re fortunate to have an amusement park right in our town, and we get season passes each year.
I’d take my son to that park, everyday sometimes, about an hour before closing, when all the other families were leaving.
He’d get to ride every ride in his age range, laughing and having a grand ‘ol time, without having to wait on line more than five minutes at a time. We’d then head home, make dinner, walk our two dogs, read stories, and be in bed again, by 9 or 10 PM.
We’re fortunate to have an amusement park right in our town, and we get season passes each year.
I’d take my son to that park, everyday sometimes, about an hour before closing, when all the other families were leaving.
He’d get to ride every ride in his age range, laughing and having a grand ‘ol time, without having to wait on line more than five minutes at a time. We’d then head home, make dinner, walk our two dogs, read stories, and be in bed again, by 9 or 10 PM.
I wasn’t going to win Parent-of-the-Year for keeping this type of schedule with my son, but it was the best I could do with the minimal amount of energy I had each day.
I was proud I could manage to walk the dogs.
We had two large dogs, at the time, both of whom have since passed of old age.
“Grumpy ‘ol Max” was a fine looking black lab/doberman mix.
We had two large dogs, at the time, both of whom have since passed of old age.
“Grumpy ‘ol Max” was a fine looking black lab/doberman mix.
I didn’t know he had Dobey in him when I adopted him from the pound, but he sure made a heck of a good watch dog. I ended up hiring a private trainer for him when he was a year old, when he started showing some signs of aggression. The private trainer was amazing, and we were able to correct his behaviors. But, it was the trainer who commented: “I’d bet this dog is at least half Doby. Look at the shape of the head, the ears, the body shape. He’s not barrel-chested like a lab.”
Max lived to be 15 1/2 years old and I always felt safe when he was around. He was my personal bodyguard.
Max lived to be 15 1/2 years old and I always felt safe when he was around. He was my personal bodyguard.
“Tequila” was my husband’s dog, and came with my marriage. It took me a while to learn to love Tequila, and I normally love all animals. Tequila was about the most hyper animal I’ve ever met, and unlike Max, had no training whatsoever. (Unless you count the training video tapes my husband ordered when Tequila was a puppy, but never finished watching.)
Tequila was a sheep-herding dog, and therefore had enough energy to run 18 hours a day on a cattle farm. He was never meant to be a house pet. His breed was a farm dog. When I first met my husband, he didn’t walk Tequila at all, but let him do his business on newspapers in the garage, (the dog was already 18 months old), and played frisbee with him in the backyard. I had a stern talking to (my then boyfriend) about how much exercise dogs need, and Tequila started getting walked for the first time. He was a disaster on a leash. He pretty much yanked your arm out of the socket on every walk.
A friend of ours, Paul, who is as big and brawny as, well, the guy on the Brawny paper towel packaging, offered to help with Tequila, after observing my efforts to “walk” the dogs one evening. He walked Tequila in a tightly-controlled manner, with constant corrections, not allowing Tequila to take the lead in the walk. This method was new to me at the time, but I’ve since seen the technique used many times on the TV show “The Dog Whisperer.” Our nightly walks were a lot more sane after our “session with Paul.” Thanks, Paul. We owe you one!
I once read that “exercise is the lost fountain of youth. If Ponce de Leon had known about the hidden value of exercise, he would have stopped sailing the world in search of mythical fountain of youth, and starting doing push-ups on the deck of his clipper ship instead.”
For some reason, that quote always stuck with me. (Although, I can’t remember where I read it.)
So, now matter how dragged through the mud I felt, I always walked those dogs before bed. It can get well over 100 degrees where we live, (sometimes even up to 120 degrees.) In the thick of July, the needle will pin on our thermometer because the temperature has gone past where the temperature gauge can read.
But, as soon as the temperatures started to cool in the evenings, I stubbornly stuck my son in the stroller, and leashed up those dogs. We had a mile long circular route we would walk. Sometimes it would be well past dark by the time we got home, but I had 160 pounds of canine protecting the baby and me. Who was foolish enough to approach me? With his sleek body, angular head and dark coat, Grumpy ‘ol Max looked downright mean. We were never bothered. Never.
I credit those walks with Max living as long as he did. He lived to be 15 1/2, which is well over 100 in human years. He had no health problems, other than losing his hearing around age 12, which is normal for dogs. He was never incontinent. Never. The night before he died, we still took that mile long walk. The next morning, he went out to do his business, and simply collapsed and died. (We suspect it was a heart attack.) But, God bless his old doggy pride. He refused to have an accident in the house, even on the day he died. He still made it outside first. It was a cold morning, too, with frost on the ground. (It was Thanksgiving weekend.) When we woke up, we found him out there, lying in the frost. God Bless him. I haven’t adopted another dog since. I want to one day. That was almost four years ago now. I still feel Max’s presence with me, though, watching over me, like a sentinel.
Tequila followed him up to Doggy Heaven last summer, after a year-long battle with Type-1 diabetes. You would think that balancing out his blood sugar would have calmed that dog down, but no, it didn’t make a difference. Hyper was just that dog’s nature. Even after he’d been on twice daily insulin injections for six months, he was still so hyper that he inadvertenly broke my thumb and wrist. (That was when I started doing video blogs. It was my right hand and I couldn’t type for two months. The video blogs were a hit, so I still do them, even though my right hand has long since healed.)
But, I’m glad we had those dogs, because they forced me to exercise at a time I felt so poorly that I just didn’t want to move. There’s no way I would have walked a mile after dinner if I didn’t have to. After just getting through the day, and cleaning up after dinner, I was about ready to collapse.
But, I was constantly lecturing my husband about how “all dogs need at least one mile of exercise a day.” (I’m sure some breeds probably need more.) I firmly believe most dogs’ behavioral problems come from boredom and a lack of exercise. And, where you find a fat dog, you’ll usually find an owner of similair physique. (No offense intended to anyone out there.)
So, I stubbornly walked those dogs a mile every night.
And, I think that stubborness had a huge amount to do with why I recovered as well as I did from fibromyalgia.
Exercise is not only the lost fountain of youth. It is the key to getting well from fibromyalgia.
Now that the dogs are both, well, dead, I belong to a gym, and we have cats and an alarm system. But, walking is the perfect exercise for someone just starting out on the Guai Protocol. It is low impact- not stressing the joints. It is something you can do quietly- serenly - which can’t be said of the gym environment.
I slept well after those nightly walks, as did my son, as did the dogs.
And, now, four years later, I continue to exercise, in many, many different formats.
My son and I ride bikes to school, up a grueling hill, (seriously, this hill is killer-steep.) And, yes, I belong to a loud, noisy gym. (I have to wear my noise, cancelling headphones because I am still prone to migraines, which make me sound-sensitive.)
We’re in Hawaii now, and I had an awesome time surfing in Hanalei Bay. We’re headed back to California today. When we get home, I’m going to put together a movie of some of our surf footage. My hubby got some great shots of me surfing. Hey, a little vain, but, well, I caught some great waves!
We’ve gone swimming everyday, either in the ocean, or the pool. We’ve walked, sometimes for miles. When my son gets tired, I carry him on my back. I can carry our 40-pound son longer than my husband can, and my husband is Mr. Muscles.
And, I’m up with the dawn every morning.
I have an incredible quality of life now.
And, I love it. Life is so much fun again.
You will get there, too.
Up with the dawn?
Saturday, June 28, 2008
