Attending to My Spine

Chiropractors have always been a somewhat uninteresting puzzle to me. Are they really doctors? I've never been injured and so never needed to see one, but friends and acquaintances swear by their back adjustments. But I also always had a nagging at the back of my mind about why chiropractic patients seemed to never be weaned away from their chiropractor.

Having never needed a chiropractor, I gave little heed to their advertisements...or to the growing pain in my lower lumbar.

I know, back (ha ha) around Christmastime when I couldn't lie flat or stand up straight in the morning, I maybe should have given it a little thought. I picked up yoga, which helped the pain dissipate, and figured if I didn't complain about it, the pain wouldn't be so noticeable. And it did subside with time...as long as I didn't lie flat on my back...or skip and jump...or make any sudden movement of any sort.

Then a few weeks ago, a representative from Alpine Spinal Rehab in Provo gave lunch and a short presentation at Kent's work. He told of a chiropractor who believed in healing spines rather than adjusting them chronically. My curiosity was hooked.

At my first visit, following a good (and price friendly) massage, a tech took x-rays and the doctor used some sort of sonar device to detect misaligned vertebrae and then adjust them. He showed me some exercises to do at home to stretch and work the imbalanced muscles around my spine. I was happy that he recommended two of my favorite yoga poses: the cat and the camel.



At the next visit, we looked at the x-rays of my spine. It's more of a mess than I ever would have guessed! Straight where it should be curved and curved in the wrong directions. (Kent also got x-rays, and his spine is a mess in completely different ways than mine.) He invited me and the other new and prospective patients to a dinner at Sizzler where he taught about the make up of the spine, it's curves, and how not to mess it up. He explained that all sorts of physiological problems can be caused by the spine pinching any of the multiple nerves that branch from it: headaches, tingling limbs, over-active bladder, etc. His approach to healing the spine is to identify the problem areas, adjust the bones back into place a little at a time, and then build balanced muscles on either side of the spine to keep everything in place. Basically, I get to have a focused workout on different sets of back and neck muscles using some fancy weight-lifting machines. Theoretically, I should be done in ten weeks with a healed spine to last the rest of my life as long as I continue the at-home exercises.

After the first two or three visits, my lower back pain was--and is--gone. Now my back muscles are sore from the workouts, but I'm optimistic that I'll gain good posture and lose my occasional numb fingers and toes. That is, lose the tingling, not the digits.

I consider myself an experiment for the rest of you. If this experience goes well, I will recommend Dr. Clark myself. If it doesn't, I'll tell you that, too. He says he has my back. We'll see!

Winter Olympics!

Due to each of my four siblings losing their minds and deciding to move into new homes last summer, the GFOOC (Glauser Family Olympic Organizing Committee) agreed to hold a Winter Olympics in lieu of our Summer Olympics. We gathered a month ago at East Canyon (in the hills behind and between Salt Lake City and Ogden) to measure our athletic abilities in a variety of indoor and outdoor events.

After team photos in our uniforms, we headed outside where it had begun to snow again. Among the events I didn't take pictures of were a sled race (parents had to pull their kids, but when my parents couldn't even get the sled moving with us on it, we let them just drag my sister) and an indoor sudoku event. My sister, Carolyn, had thought she was stacking the odds in her all-adults team favor with that one. What she didn't know is that Kent and I complete a sudoku puzzle at least two or three nights each week. So, without even meaning to, the Whites came home with the gold again this year. I think our strategy is simple irony. If you don't care about winning, you'll have so much fun that you will. (It's worked twice now!)



I'll end with a short video. We wrapped up the outdoor events with an obstacle course race. I had planned to arrive early and build hurdles out of snow, but since that didn't happen, it was very nice of East Canyon Resort to supply the obstacle course. If you're bored enough to actually spend one more minute of your time on this post, you'll at least maybe be amused by the squealing four-year-old who quickly and effectively demanded my attention at the end of the clip and made us both miss our team's run on the course. (I must say, though, boys are much easier to attend to in such situations than are girls.) Have a look if you like:



Just kidding. I'm not ending yet because I just remembered to journal the unexpected turn of events the following day. Our family stayed at the condo with my parents to enjoy a relaxing Sunday and late Church in Henefer. Well, the snow that started during the Olympics didn't quit all night, and we had at least another foot of snow when we woke up. About three minutes after I put cinnamon rolls in the oven and started sizzling sausage, the power to our condo went out. After we all sat around for over an hour eating PB on bread, my mom found a friend who was also at the resort and who still had power. We finished making breakfast at her building and then waited for electricity in our own, which never came back on. When the maintenance crew had finished digging the snow off one lane of the road, and the indoor temperature had noticeably dropped, we made our escape. I'm glad we didn't wait around to defend our gold against survival of the fittest!

Some Catching Up to Do

If you have surmised from my recent lack of blogging that I have had a very busy past several weeks, then you are correct! It must be contagious, because most of the blogs I follow have also shown recent neglect. I hope that means we all are so busy enjoying real life that we don't have a spare minute to write about it. My plan is to catch up a bit with posts that I'll schedule to show up throughout this next week, but I'm dating them for when they actually happened.

I also wanted to share this photo of #5.


He got really excited about playing in the snow a couple weeks ago when we had our last big snowstorm. He suited up and headed down the street to his friend's house, where there is a big dirt pile right behind the property. I think the boys started by sledding down the snow-covered pile; but as the afternoon sun melted away the snow, they ended up sliding down a mud hill. His friend's mom was very considerate to call and let me know she was sending my son home covered in mud, so I was ready when he showed up. I carried him in the laundry room, stripped his clothes off him and right into the washing machine, and plunked him in the bathtub. He had a great time, and I didn't have to ruin it by complaining about mud tracks or soggy clothes strewn around the house.

Life with a boy child is fun. :)

...Outside the Box: And In It

We recently bought a coffee table from some neighbors who moved away. The table doubles as a big box, where we've elected to store blankets. It's rustic style is good in our family room, though I do plan to do some repair and refinish work to it this summer. The kids have loved climbing on it and using it for a homework and coloring work surface...and a bed.


Our nighttime routine usually includes tucking the children in bed and then returning around nine o'clock to turn off their lights so they won't read into the wee hours. A few nights ago, I went down for the final good-night check and noticed #5 was not in his room. I figured he was cuddled in with #2, which is pretty common. But when I check the girls' room, not only was #5 not there, but #3 was also missing. One child in each bedroom was already asleep, so I quietly began calling for them. No response. I looked in closets. Then the front room, laundry room, and bathtub. Still no response. I checked upstairs in the playroom and glanced around my room. Now I was getting nervous and calling more loudly. No one in the garage, and the front door was still locked on the inside. Where could they be?! Then I had a thought: the BOX! I opened the lid and found both of them snuggled and snickering. They had heard me, but didn't want to answer me because they were afraid I'd send them back to their beds. Well, they looked comfy, and another thought came to my mind.

I remembered a night I spent sleeping on the bottom stairs to our basement when I was eight or nine. I wanted to exercise some independence, which escalated into refusing to go to bed. I proved my point by sleeping in a cramped position on a cold cement surface all night...and felt triumphant. So I left my rascals in the wooden box and turned out the lights, to their delight.

Too bad they hadn't considered my morning routine. When I came down at 6:30 a.m. and turned on the lights for my scripture study, they were not happy to be so rudely awakened. I'm glad they had some fun being sneaky. I'm glad I caught them. And I'm glad they won't repeat that little escapade again.

I'm also wondering why I provide beds for my children when they seem to prefer bean bags, ottomans, floors, and boxes?

Cozy Bliss

Some days are just good. I snapped this picture to try to capture the warmth of a rare night with everyone home.


The children had played happily with Moon Sand all afternoon, were pleasant at dinner, and then sat down to quietly finish homework. You can see #5 warming up by the wood stove. Dad was helping #3 with the dishes. When the homework and chores were done, we all played a game of Pictionary, and even managed to get through it with no one crying. What really warmed my heart on top of all that is that the family room had stayed clean all day. It was a very sweet and cozy evening.

Disclaimer: That picture was not taken today.

Today was more hectic than usual with kids scattered at friends' homes, mock trial practice, a school play, and the district science fair. Kent ran home from work to a friend's home, back for dinner, over to the science fair awards presentation, and is currently across the street playing a basketball game at 10:20 p.m. I rushed home from an evening gardening class to drag sleeping children from the couch to their beds and to get one child started on her book report (at 10 p.m.). Whew!

I'm glad to have some proof that we did enjoy a peaceful evening here and there during my kids' childhood. As they get older, I expect we'll have more days like today and I would otherwise forget the nice, quiet ones.

Super Powers are Exhausting

Kent reminded me that I haven't recorded #5's fascination with super powers.

About a year ago, when he was three, #5 was chatting with his dad and mentioned some super powers that he had recently acquired: flying and running super fast.






#5: "Dad, do you have any super powers?"

Kent: "Nope."

#5: "Well I do."

Kent: "Really? Where did you get your powers?"

#5 (matter-of-factly replied): "Jesus gave them to me."

Kent: "Jesus huh? How did that happen?"

#5: "I said, 'Jesus, may I please have some powers?' And He said, 'Yes.'"

!!!

We have giggled about that exchange many times, and #5 just smiles because he's so happy to have all these powers. In the past year, he has also gained the powers to jump really high and "be google strong" (#5 uses google for really really, or infinitely), as well as the power of "invisible eyes" (which I think means #5 can see invisible things and people, especially bad guys).

For my birthday, #5 shared two of his powers with me. He bestowed upon me the powers to run really fast and jump really high...but only for three days. And he made it clear that giving me those powers didn't deplete his own powers; he can share them so we can run and jump together. Later that evening, when #5 asked for a treat right before dinnertime and I wouldn't give it to him, an angry cloud distorted his face and he conveyed through clenched teeth that if I didn't give him his treat in five seconds, he would take away my powers! Five seconds later, I expressed my woe that I could feel the powers leaving, and he took pity on me and gave them back. He was so happy to restore my powers that he forgot about the treat and happily watched me make dinner. (Little does he realize how expertly I wield the power of distraction!)



Last week I snapped these photos of #5 flopped out in deep sleep on the couch in the afternoon. (My parents have a collection of my brother's weird sleeping poses from when he was a child. Now I'm gathering similar material of my kids.) This little boy burns energy all day. And really, it's tough work to repeatedly jump from six stairs up in an effort to hone one's flying skills. No wonder he's so tired! This second photo especially almost looks like he's flying in his sleep!



A couple days ago, a little piece of my heart broke as #5 grew up just a little bit. Out of the blue, he sprung this announcement on me:

#5: "Guess what? I don't really have powers. They are just imaginary."

Me: "Really? What makes you think that?"

#5: "I just think about them in my mind. They aren't real."

Me: "That's too bad. But [#5], I have seen you run really fast."

#5: "Yeah. Some of them are real. I can run really fast, but I can't fly."

I don't want to see my little guy's imagination be crowded out by reality too quickly! Fortunately, the next day he was running around in his sister's dance leotard with a big scarf tied for a cape around his neck, jumping off the couches.

Me: "[#5], I'm glad to see you're flying again."

#5: "Yeah. And I can still see with my invisible eyes."

Me: [Whew!]

You Know What They Say

An ounce of prevention...


...is worth a pound of cure.


Tomorrow morning I'm taking four of my children to the dentist to have a total of 11 cavities filled. That will bring them to 14 fillings in the space of three weeks. Most of those are due to not flossing, but we could also be better about taking flouride in this household.

I remember having flouride rinses in second grade. Our class would file into the hallway, and we would each be given a small cup of liquid to swish around and then spit into the drinking fountain. My parents were pretty good about keeping us supplied with flouride tablets, too. (I remember that mostly because I remember learning, after occasionally sticking a few purple tablets up my nose, that it was easier to snort it up and then down my throat than to fish it out. Kids those days.) As a result, I never had a cavity until I was pregnant with my fourth baby. The dentist told me at that point that it was pretty unavoidable because repeated pregnancies weaken teeth. Luckily, I've kept the total to two or three. Cavities, not babies.

Last week, #1 was pretty happy with herself for having clean x-rays. (I think it's because we've already filled all her teeth, and the rest have fallen out.) I guess it's nice that I'm not spending an extra $50 per filling on her. Instead, the dentist told me it's time to get her to an orthodontist. Well, now I know what to do with our tax refund!