Yesterday I celebrated the last day of my 30’s by running lots of errands, mostly to get stuff for the kids.

Today I will celebrate the first day of my 40’s by doing laundry, shopping for tennis shoes for my sons, and taking them out for pizza.

Ain’t life grand?

Yesterday, RM amazed me with her cleverness, and keen observation skills. She frequently takes the TV remote to play with, as she loves anything with buttons. Then, however, she pointed it at the television and started pressing the buttons. She has figured out that the little thing with the buttons does something to the big box with the noise and pictures.

I was impressed with her intellectual leap, and how her mind is developing. But then I started to get a little depressed. At only 11 months old, you see, I’ve taught my daughter how to watch television. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

In my defense, it’s really her fault that I’ve taken to watching TV lately when I’m nursing her. I used to read or work on crochet, but these days she does acrobatic tricks while she’s nursing. Anything I’m holding in my hands gets grabbed or kicked or otherwise pushed away. My nursing at the keyboard days are also over, as the mouse gets similar treatment. I suppose I could listen to music, but I’ve resorted to channel surfing instead.

I do need to console myself as well by remembering that she figured out books weeks ago. She won’t even let us read much of them to her these days, she is much to anxious to turn the pages and check out what else there is to see. And when we do have music on, she has that adorable wiggle dance thing going now. She seems to be especially fond of Blues Traveler. Her walking skills are improving every day, and now she’s working on climbing, so she definitely gets her share of exercise in. She is making developmental leaps in lots of areas.

So I guess I won’t let her mastery of the television remote get me down. After all, with TR and SW around, it was bound to happen soon enough anyway. I’ll just enjoy her growth and learning about everything, at least until she asks me for her first gameboy.

I am the fix-it-up person around the house. My husband just throws things away when they break. Actually, that’s not true, he puts stuff aside when it breaks, then never thinks about it again.

I’m not implying that I actually know how to fix everything, or that I do an expert job at repairs. But I am pretty good at figuring stuff out, looking up answers, and solving problems.

Then, when all else fails, I’m really, really good at winging it with duct tape.

I.E.: The shift lever in my car.

For the majority of people, at least the ones I seem to be running in to, the rule seems to be “Get back at them any way you can.” I’m saddened and surprised by how many people feel that if someone wrongs you, that is justification to do anything you want to do back at them.

If someone throws something in your yard, is it OK to throw things back? If someone calls you names, do you call them names back? If someone is rude to you, are you rude right back?

Maybe these are minor things, but then the escalation starts. The person you are getting back at in unlikely to acknowledge they started the whole thing, they will simply counter your retaliation with more of their own. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone say, “Wow, maybe I shouldn’t have done anything to them, look what I made them do to as a result.”

More importantly, it seems to me that retaliation is nothing more than lowering yourself to the level of whoever has wronged you. Think about it, if you think badly of a person for something they have done, what should you think of yourself for doing the same thing? I know some people think their justification makes a difference. I believe people should be treated fairly and with respect. I also believe people should be treated that way regardless of their own behavior, and regardless of whether it’s easy for me or not.

Treat people the way you want to be treated. Period. How much better of a world would it be if people really did this? Really did this, all the time, no matter what.

My life itself is a work in process, always changing, growing and never completing. So why should it be so bad that I have so many projects in progress at one time. Honestly, I never know just what I’m going to be in the mood to work on at any given time.

I shut of the Air Conditioner three days ago. The afternoons are a little warm, but the nights are wonderfully cool. Knowing fall will be here soon I’m trying to crochet several pairs of wool longies for RM. At this moment, I have two pairs in progress. For one I don’t have enough yarn, so I need to get more or decide I’m OK with making them shorts. On the other pair I’m halfway through the first leg. I actually have the yarn ready for two more pairs, but since I haven’t actually chained or stitched any on them, they don’t count in progress. So that’s two projects there.

Yesterday a hank of yarn I coffee-dyed was finally dry enough to wind. This morning I couldn’t stand waiting to see what it’s going to look like as it works up, so I started a diaper wrap with it. So that’s project number three, just barely started. By the way, the yarn is going to look beautiful.

I’ve had some Lion Brand Homespun sitting around for a couple of years, and finally decided I wanted a new shawl from it, a nice big one I can wrap around both RM and I when we out and about. Of course, there wasn’t enough of it and I had to buy more; so much for making a project to clear out the stash. I think it’s a little over half done. I work on it a little while just before bed as the house is cooling down and it’s comfortable enough to be sitting under its warmth. So there’s project number four.

I saw a beautiful pattern for a shrug, made by measurements and not stitch counts to get a fantastic fit. I love the idea, and marked out some measurements and decided on a stitch I liked. I decided to taper the arms a bit so it’s a little more complicated than the original pattern, and I’m not so good with sticking with it for very long at a time. I think about one arm’s worth is finished right now. That’s number five.

I’ve been watching the shipping status for some sock yarn I ordered online. I think it’s going to get here today. So I might have project number six in the works by tonight.

While these other things have been in progress I have finished a pair of slipper socks and a wool shortie. And just to be both silly and practical, I worked up a little bag for my new camera from some nice chunky wool I had left over. It’s very cute, and nice and thick to keep the camera safe when I drop it in my purse. I look at these things frequently to remind myself I do finish things. It helps ease my guilt.

****Update 5:45 PM****

Yes, the sock yarn came today.  Yes, I’m working on a gauge swatch and I’ve measured SW’s feet to start a pair for him.  Number six it is.

I found a wonderful blog the other day and I have to share it. It’s a wonderful bit of history and a fascinating look at day to day life in the 1920’s. A woman named Carol is sharing the entried from her Grandmother’s journals. You can find them here: Ruth Campbell Smith 1925-27 Diaries

I’ve been reading all the past entries in this blog and I’m completely hooked. It’s amazing to read the little details about ordinary, everyday life. And there are a couple of things that really strike me about what I’m reading.

The first is the comparison between what Ruth needed to get done in a day and what’s on my task list. I read about the cooking and cleaning, mending and sewing, and the day to day care of her children. She talks about how she always feels as though she hasn’t accomplished enough in a day, and her work never ends. I have that same feeling all the time, as do so many of us. But the comparison is striking; I don’t have to actually make the clothes for my entire family, a trip to the store is a quick jump in the car for me, and I have all the modern appliances like a dishwasher and a microwave. Of course Ruth doesn’t raise and homeschool a son with Autism, or run a small home business to supplement her husband’s income. But still it makes me think quite a bit about what’s really necessary in my life, and what things that feel like heavy obligations are just work I’ve created for myself.

The second thing that I’ve come to realize is how in total, the brief entries in this diary give us so much interesting information. Each day’s notes are just a few sentences, not long at all. But in reading day after day, these short entries give us a wonderful feel for her life as a whole. How many people think about keeping a journal, but are intimidated about having enough to say? Isn’t in inspiring to see how taking a few moments to jot down just a few brief things about a day, every day, can result in such a rich and interesting picture?

I hope everyone drops by Carol’s blog and takes a look. My thanks to her for sharing this wonderful gift she has from her Grandmother. I hope she keeps it up!

The boys spent this “last” weekend of summer in the backyard. Amazingly enough, they have built themselves a fort in the back corner of the yard.

My kids are really video game type people despite my encouragement in other directions. This is why I am so amazed that they have undertaken such a project. They trimmed brush around a tree, leveled out the ground some, scrounged boards from around the garage and backyard, and bummed nails from the neighbor. They now have a cozy retreat under the branches of the hedge trees (osage orange trees).

It’s not a lot to look at, but it seems to give them a sense of having a retreat to disappear to. They are out there right now. Want to know what they are doing? Playing video games.

RM went in for a quick vaccination today. I cringe every time, because accoring to the “schedule” we are “behind” on her shots. That is, according to the widely accepted schedule. According to my schedule, we are right on time.

We had a wonderful Pediatrician who had no problems at all with the schedule I am following. She gave advice, listened to my concerns, and accepted my decisions. I didn’t make this choice lightly, it’s based on a lot of research, research inspired by the last 12 years I’ve spent raising a son with Autism. Our Pediatrician was also raising a son with Autism, a son born and diagnosed several years after we became her patients. Unfortunately for us, however, our wonderful Pediatrician was as fed up with local resources for Autism as I am. She decided to move out of state, to a place with better support and more options.

We currently are seeing one of her colleagues, however he isn’t as supportive of my choices, and in my opinion not as progressive in his thinking. In his opinion, of the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends it, it has to be right. Just has to be.

Now I’m not saying that Vaccinations cause Autism. I know that childhood shots no longer contain Mercury, a potential cause. I understand that no one “knows” the absolute causes of Autism, why any child has Autism, or how to “cure” Autism. I also know that the diseases we are vaccinating against are serious threats to the health of my children.

But there are a few related things I believe. I believe we subject our children today to more chemicals in their foods, medicines and general environment than children ever have been subjected to in the past. I believe these environmental factors play a huge part in the development of Autism, ADHD, and many other Neurological disorders. I believe there is also an immune system component to the development of and increase in Autism. I believe these same chemicals in our environment are partly to blame for damage to our immune systems. I believe there is also a genetic component to Autism, and all of the above interact with a genetic tendency to Autism or other conditions.

Then I believe very strongly that while I do want my child vaccinated and protected against diseases like Pertussis and Tetanus and Measles and all that, I think we are going at it a bit too strongly. If you give a two month old baby four shots, and at least two of them are combo shots, we are subjecting an immature immune system to six or more diseases and expecting that little tiny baby’s system to start creating antibodies to these diseases all at once. That just seems a little nuts to me.

So, among other decisions we’ve made to reduce her potential for Autism, we are taking it slower with RM and her shots. We waited until she was almost 6 months old to start. We are giving her only one vaccination each month. If she has a rough reaction to one, I wait a little longer. If she’s been ill, I wait a little longer. She will get almost all of them, eventually. None of the illnesses she’s supposedly “behind” her shots for are actually popping up around here at the moment. She’s also still breastfed, which strengthens her immune system naturally as well.

I’m honestly doing what I believe is the very best thing for my daughter, balancing the risks and rewards in a way to give her the best possible outcome.

So, tell the doctors and insurance company and everyone else to get off my case.

I can’t understand my husband V’s difficulties with diapers. We use a lot of prefolds and wool covers, a little bit of folding is involved, but we aren’t talking Origami here. No pinning is even required now, as in between SW and RM some clever person invented the Snappi. You take the diaper, fold up a rectangle the size of the cover, put the diaper on the cover, put the baby on the diaper, hook with the snappi. What is the great challenge?

I gave up after being soaked by the baby girl on my lap after V did the diaper changes one too many times. I bought some used All-In-Ones from a friend. Super simple, put her on the diaper, hook the velcro.

Problem one: V forgets the AIO’s are even there. I don’t use them, I save them just for him. They are on the first shelf of the changing table, right in front. This morning, he comes out with the naked baby waving a diaper in the air and completely frustrated. “Get the All-In-One, I bought them just for you,” I said. “Oh yeah,” he answers.

Problem two: The concept of stretching things a little bit to get a snug fit completely escapes him. He hooks them in such a way that they barely hold on, and often slip completely off now that she’s mobile.

I think I’ll make a little sign to put over the changing table:

Daddy:

Use the AIO’s

Make the tabs meet in the middle
so they don’t fall off and
embarrass me in public.

Lots of love,

Your Daughter

Think it will help? Maybe I need to make him hold her on his lap for an hour every time he changes her diaper. Then make him clean the spots on the carpet. And do the extra laundry from when she soaks and extra set of clothes.

It probably would be easier to just do all the diaper changes myself. I really believe that’s his goal though. The playing dumb is just that: playing.

I have you figured out V. It won’t work. You still have to do diaper changes. You won after you killed my umteenth vacuum, I don’t make you do that anymore. You won on the laundry after you shrunk yet another load of my clothes, I don’t make you do that anymore either. You won’t win on the diapers. I promise, I can outlast you this time.

I had an interesting conversation with my Mom last night. We were comparing and contrasting our compulsions. There’s something a little compulsive about that in and of itself, but it’s funny anyway.

My mother is a neat freak. The joke has alway been this: When having anything to drink at her house, don’t set your glass down. If you leave it too long, she will dump it, wash it, and have it back in the cabinet before you know what happened. She has actually done this to me in the past. Her house on it’s worst day, let’s say a week after she got home from a month long stay in the hospital following near death in surgery, is neater than my house on it’s best day. She’s absolutely compulsive about having things put away.

I am quite the opposite. My house defines clutter. If an item or mess could start to smell or make someone sick, I clean it up or put it up right away. If not, I tend to let it lie until I have time to deal with it, which is usually never. My kitchen table is currently stacked with: a box of tea, a ream of copy paper, a stack of LP’s, three phone books, two swatches of fabric, three packages of notebook paper, a bag of arrowroot cookes, RM’s shot records, a can of deodorant, last week’s grocery store ads, yesterday’s junk mail, TR’s plan book from last school year, a tube of Melagel, three magazines, an origami book, a pencil sharpener, two snappis, a wool diaper cover, a wooden sword, two decks of cards in different sizes, a shaker of salt, etc. That’s not everything, I just have to stop. And yes, that is just the kitchen table. Clutter rules my world, wakes up with me in the morning and rocks me to sleep at night. I live with it.

My mother is understanding about it, in that way that mothers are. She says, “If it’s OK with you then it’s OK. I mean, I couldn’t live that way, but if it works for you it’s fine.”

Now Mom and I have a habit in common also, we make lists. Everything that needs to be done needs to be on a list.

Her lists are scratched into wrinkled little notebooks from her purse. They are written in different colors of ink or pencil. They don’t follow the lines on the paper or any reasonable order. They aren’t spelled correctly and can’t alway be read. Even her lists of phone numbers are a mess. She will often call one of us looking for someone else, just because the list is so hard to read and squished together.

My lists, on the other hand, are immaculate. I print neatly, carefully spaced. I group tasks by room, when they need to be done, and whether or not I’ll need help. If a notebook gets wrinkled or stained, I throw it away. I will not change pens in the middle of a list. I will only use fine point black ink, or a freshly sharpened pencil with the eraser intact. Should I make a mistake, or switch to script instead of printing, I will start the list over. My grocery lists are customized to the store I am going to and grouped according to sections in the store. This is my compulsion.

We found this comparison pretty interesting. I wonder if her messy lists are OK with her, because everything else in her life is ordered and easy to locate? Then my exceedingly orderly lists must be my attempt to impose some order on my chaotic life.