Whatever lullaby was sung to fibro babies must have been the worst lullaby ever. Shush now, while you sleep you’ll be run over by a steamroller and upon wakening suffer the effects, lalalala. Though I suppose the more traditional falling out of a tree ‘cradle and all’ would probably suffice. I’m thinking this is why I am a night owl. It is very hard for a person to motivate themselves to go to bed when they wake up feeling much worse then when they retired. There are some theories that people with Fibromyalgia do not reach the deepest stage of sleep. The stage where the body repairs all that they’ve done to it during the day, the stage where a body makes itself strong enough to do it all again the next day.
In my family it has always taken two of us for me to do anything. As a child, even when I was long past the age of needing to be tended to, an adult had to make sure I was fully out of bed and had my eyes wide open before leaving me to my own devices. I would have never made it to school otherwise. In my last job my husband played a vital role. It’s quite funny really, when you picture it. There I was, in a position where I was hiring a full staff for a manufacturing company, writing policies and developing employee orientations, and if my husband had not packed my briefcase for me I never would have even made it there. He used to set his alarm for half an hour before I had to get up. He’d use that time to start waking me up. He’d make me a coffee, pack up my computer and my lunch, iron my clothes, help me into them and drive me to work. He’s sweet as pie but a person can only maintain that for so long.
So what to do with mornings. Wish I could tell you. They now extend past when my husband leaves for work so they happen a little slower. On the days when he’s home he still makes me coffee though I love that the man doesn’t even drink coffee yet he can make a perfect latte. I don’t know how to make the mornings better. I know that I probably need sleep so I have to convince myself to go to bed and get to sleep. A person with Fibromyalgia doesn’t experience feeling refreshed by sleep so even when the tiredness hurts, it doesn’t hurt as much as the morning. So it’s a tough sell. This sleeping on treetops.
I really love the power of music. Turn on some upbeat music around babies, toddlers or preschoolers and guess what they do, dance! No one teaches them to dance, they just move when they hear music. I think that’s pretty cool. I also think they’re onto something. So, now that I’ve made you all cry with the Dala song (sorry M!), here’s my dancing song. Now the funny thing is, I put this song on when I need to muster up the energy to gather up the laundry -and I had never actually seen the video for this song before today. Hey Ocean! you make laundry fun! “A Song About California”
So today was a pretty darn good day. By noon, I could feel in my bones that I had a couple of good hours coming my way. It was exciting, like a kid in a play park, what to do, what to do? Well, I put a little happy sound track in my head, a little jazzy number, and headed to the kitchen. We shop with coupons so we have a pretty good little stash of ingredients. It didn’t take me long to find everything I needed to make yummy Butterscotch Brownies.
I haven’t baked in a long time and as I was stirring something felt off. Then I heard a clang and looked down and saw the red mark on my hand where the metal spoon was pushing. My wooden spoon. That was what was missing. When I bake I like to use a big wooden spoon. I like to imagine that this is what my grandmothers would have used. We have so little in this day and age that keeps us connected to the days of long ago and for me, baking is it. Such simple and pure ingredients mixed together to make such a lovely treat. My Grandmother didn’t have an opportunity to buy her family’s treats from the store, everyday she worked from the basics up and nourished her whole family. My mother saw the world get busier and in her ingenuity, sold her baked goods at the school’s fun night bake sale. Me, I stood in my kitchen today, soaked up the sunshine coming through my kitchen window and with my magic stick I remembered, I appreciated and I basked in the connection to the women who made possible this lovely treat that my family would enjoy.
Select Read More for the recipe.
Taken from The New Canadian Basics Cookbook by Carol Ferguson with Murray Mcmillan
Chewy butterscotch brownies are easy when mixed in one saucepan. Melt 1/4 cup butter in medium saucepan over low heat. Remove from the heat and stir in 1 cup packed brown sugar, 1 egg (don’t forget to use free range) and 1 tsp vanilla; mix well. In separate bowl, mix together 3/4 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tsp baking powder and 1/4 tsp salt; add to mixture in saucepan, stirring until smooth. Stir in 1/2 cup chopped nuts (I skip this step for better chewiness). Spread in greased 8-inch square cake pan. Bake in 350F oven for 25 minutes or until just firm to touch. (I only bake mine for 20 minutes in a convection oven) Let cool for a few minutes; cut into squares while slightly warm. Enjoy!
I cannot take another day of this unproductiveness. I do quite fear my head is actually going to implode if I have to be this for one more day. I cannot watch another tv show, or have another bath. If I do not figure out something to do soon that makes me feel like a contributing member of society then I may just regress to infancy. Why not? Pretty much the same. Just laying around, only half making sense. If only I was cute enough for people to bring me presents of O’kosh overalls. My butt’s getting to be about as soft as a baby’s too. What I wouldn’t give to exercise! Not this walk around the block or try to stretch just a little bit exercise, but real, heart pounding, muscles screaming, sweating like crazy exercise. Gawd how I miss it.
And making money! Boy do I miss that too. Not having money, but making money. Doing some action that someone perceives as so valuable they are actually willing to give me currency for it. Oh how I miss making actions worth currency. I actually started direct investing so as to have a little bit of action that may result in currency but that’s kinda long going and now that I’ve finished my research my money’s just sitting there growing. Like me. Just sitting there. Hopefully the money grows bigger than my butt does.
Though with this lack of exercise the race is on. The race is on my friend.