Posts Tagged ‘massage therapy’

I’m Gonna Make It!

July 11, 2014

I might be saying this a tiny bit premature, as I rest with my foot elevated and the perennial sack of frozen peas adorning my ankle, but I think I am.

I am going to make it through my first week back to work.

Today was a pretty damn good day too.

I got to be reunited with my little girl Thursday and she was such a pumpkin and it was so awesome to see her, so many new words and stories and hugs and she immediately demanded to have the lip gloss in my bag.

“What flavor?” I asked her, with an indulgent smile.

“Pink!” she said, then “more, I ate it.”

Ah, yeah, and that’s not what we’re supposed to do, sugar britches, but ok, a tiny bit more.

Today was also my first day doing a nanny share with her and one of my other boys, the youngest, the one who is teething like a poor sick beaver.

I tried it all.

Teething sticks, toothbrushes, ice cubes, frozen mango, frozen grapes, crackers.

He is partial to chewing on shoe laces and the ends of my sweatshirt lace caps from my hoodie.

Anything to alleviate the pain.

Poor guy.

The good news, kid, you won’t remember the pain.

He got super feverish with it this afternoon and couldn’t get settled down and finally I just held him and rubbed his little shoulders and blew on his face and cuddled him until he fell asleep.

Then I just let him sleep there until my other monkey woke up from her nap and miracle of miracles, I mean, how the hell did this magic happen, I swapped them out.


She called from out her room.

“Carmen! I pooped!”

No ignoring that.

Sometimes if she wakes up a little and squeaks, I give it a minute, she might just roll back asleep, in fact, often does, but a poop, nope, no going back to sleep with a load in her pants.

I got up off the couch, with the little boy on me, hot face tucked into my bosom, arms bunched underneath his chest, little legs swinging out and walked to my girls bedroom.

I opened it slow.

“Shhhh, A.  shhhh, R. is sleeping.”

Her eyes got big.

“I pooped.” She whispered.

“I know, I got ya, can you help me like a big girl?”

She nodded.

I walked in, closed the door behind me to keep the room dark.

“Ok, lady pants, stand in the corner of your bed by Massimo (her stuffed bear–dad has a thing for Mexican masked wrestlers, and Massimo often sports one, although today he was in a pair of outgrown red and white polka dot footie pajamas that the little miss had outgrown), and hang tight two seconds.”

She moved over to the corner of the crib by her bear, eyes tracking me, quiet as a little mouse and I leaned over the crib on my tip toes, keeping the small bunny on my chest until the last possible second, then plopped him down soft as soft can be on the warm nest of blankets just vacated.

He rolled over, opened one eye, saw me, I smiled and said, sleep bunny, and he closed his eyes and did just that.

I scooped up my little girl, got her out of her sleep sack, changed the poop diaper, put her in her training pants, she’s almost potty trained, and pulled on her tights, I scooped up her hair elastics and some barrettes, and hugged her tight to me and tiptoed out the door, pulling it shut behind me.


I don’t know exactly how it happened, but my god, it did.

And I was grateful, upon reflection that it had worked out that way, I was now unable to leave the house to do a second outing to the park.

The up and down the stairs–my Thursday family lives in a three-story walk up on the top floor–combined with the outing to the park in the morning, had done me in pretty well.

My little lady and I read books and she had snacks and we whiled away the afternoon reading the entire collection of Lyle, Lyle Crocodile.

It was a great way to get through the afternoon and my little teething monkey slept an hour and a half, his fever broke and he was up just ten minutes before mom came for pick up.


I gave mom the down low on the day and expressed how the massage had work and she said, “he loves back rubs!”

And the words of my friend came into my ear.

“You really should do body work.”

The words of my best friends eleven year old son came into my mind, “oh my god, mom, you’re right, she’s good.”

The words of a lover.

“Why aren’t you doing this for a living?”

While I had sat on the couch waiting for him to settle down, humming my little tuneless song, rubbing his back, with my eyes closed, matching his breath in and out with my own, and then feeling without thought, just touching his muscles in his small little body, I thought, maybe this is what I should do.

Pediatric massage therapy.

It would be lovely service.

I am good with children.

And I could perhaps even help kids with body issues, god only knows I have some experience with physical and sexual trauma from child hood, I can relate to that.

And I love kids.

And I know how to hold them.

So, hmm.

Perhaps something to explore.

I know I give good massage and one of the reasons why I have always said no, I don’t want to do this, is because I feel like there can be an ickiness factor.

An unwanted sexual nature to it and also that there are just some folks I don’t want to touch or be paid to touch.

I don’t think I would get that if I was working with kids.

I feel like this is something to explore and something I could explore while continuing to nanny.

I have some research to do.

And my bag of frozen peas is almost unfrozen.

One more day and I will have made it through.

So grateful for this experience.

For the help, for the love, for all the unexpected gifts and insights.

Looking forward to the full recovery and the playing it forward.

And now off to elevate more and drink some tea.


Oh the pain

February 22, 2014

“I’m gonna work on your quads,” she said to me.

I could almost hear imaginary knuckles being popped.

Oh holy mother of god.

She worked on my quads.

I used the last gift certificate for massage today that I was given for the holidays—I received one for Thanksgiving, one for my birthday, and one for Christmas.

The one I used this early evening was for an hour and a half.

I can’t believe I am actually going to say this, but it was almost too much time.  I felt a little sick toward the end of it.  Like nauseous, sort of sick.

However, I am glad for the bodywork, loosened me up for tomorrow.

I am scared, excited, nervous, a little bit of it all.

The skills portion of the Motorcycle Safety Course is tomorrow and Sunday.  Five hours each day.  And I realized just few minutes ago that I was going to be taking the bus out there.

I keep thinking I am going to ride my bicycle.

Then I remembered that I need to be in boots and I don’t want to ride my bike in knee-high leather harness boots.


I cannot even begin to imagine pedaling five and a half miles in leather harness boots.

So, I will be getting out the door quite a bit sooner than I had planned.

It’s not the worst thing in the world and too, I was thinking that maybe after five hours in the sun and riding around on a motorcycle (I tried to reserve a scooter, but they were already gone) that perhaps I won’t want to get on my bicycle and ride 5 and a half miles back to the house.

I might just be punked out from the day.

My normal Saturday night commitment was cancelled, so I am clear on my timing, but I realized, that I may not be able to get to my Sunday commitment and I am going to have to find someone to cover for that, especially since I have the key to the facility.


I kept hoping I would run into someone today.

I am going to have to make some phone calls and see if I can pass off the key Sunday morning.  I certainly won’t be able to make it to Church and Market by 6:30 p.m. on Sunday, unless the class finishes earlier than I was led to believe it would.

I don’t think that’s happening, though.

I get the impression from every one that I have spoken to about it, that it will be a full day.

And too, I want to make sure that I am comfortable doing all the skills.

I am moving forward.

Through the discomfort, doing the deal.

“Ugh,” I cried into the phone, earlier today, “does this ever go away?”

“Nope,” John Ater said to me, “but you’ll see it sooner and sooner and eventually you may stop acting on the thoughts and the feelings.”

“Fuck your feelings anyway, they are wrong.”  Ater continued with a dry chuckle, “anything else?”

God yes.

Of course.

There’s always something else.

I wouldn’t be whom I am, human, if there wasn’t anything else.

But as I sailed around on my bicycle today, during the nicest Friday afternoon weather, that I was totally fine exactly where I was, riding my bicycle to the Noriega Produce market, to stock up on fruits and veggies.

There won’t be a break to leave the facility and the instructor made that very clear on Wednesday, if we wanted food and beverages, we would have to bring them ourselves.


Check too, the leather gloves in my bag, full bottle of water in my Sig container, washing the jeans, full-length jacket, and helmet (though I may leave the helmet here since they provide ones at the class—one less thing to carry on the bus), and the paperwork from Wednesday’s class.

Not too certain I need it, but I will be reading over the handbook again just to refresh my memory on everything.


A new adventure.

So many new adventures to be had.

I notice all the scooters scooting around and wonder where I will go first.

Probably around the block.

A drive along the ocean?

To the grocery store!

Up the great big hill at the Friday gig I do in the Castro.

I am not certain that I will always ride the scooter to work, but when I do Friday’s in the Castro, I just might.

That hill is a big one, up there, 19th between Noe and Sanchez.

Great view.

Steep as all get out.

I haven’t bothered to even try riding up it.

I just get off and push the bike up.

I could ride around it, head all the way up to 18th and Castro, swing left, and turn up 19th, the hill is more gradual, but I would still be doing a lot of work and probably still walking it up to a certain point.

Yeah, the scooter will be nice for that.

Or no more train rides late Saturday night.

Nope, no thank you, I won’t mind not having to do that.

Nerves are easing up a little more.

The excitement for the adventure is happening.

I was reflecting earlier today that there is a lot of change happening in my life and that there will continue to be a lot of change happening in my life and that most of it is good, in fact, all of it is good (that whole perspective thing really helps) and that my capacity to accept change is changing.

“Honey, I have been telling you this for years,” John finished with me on the phone.

It’s true, he has.

Some of it is actually starting to sink in.

At least I see myself walking through the discomfort a bit faster now then before.

Soon I will be, shall we say, scooting through it.

Here’s to change!

Chin chin.

Scoot, scoot.

%d bloggers like this: