Gimme All the Pillowcases

I do most of my best blog writing in my head while rocking and nursing my boob addicted almost two year old to sleep each night. The problem is that since each of my children was born without the go to/stay asleep sleep gene, it oftentimes takes me nearly an hour to get this maniacal breast-is-best beast to sleep. And after rocking in the dark for hours on end, holding a human heating pad across my chest, as soon as he nods off I typically grab a blanket, throw that rocker into recline and spend the rest of the night swatting at little hands and feet.

So the stories...they stay in my head. They roll around as words or a few sentences, occasionally a loosely formed paragraph. But come morning when I hobble out of bed (the recliner) and am faced with the morning routing (pleas to not go to school and screaming down the street to make the bus), followed by errands, laundry, groceries, Instagram, Facebook, Target and more Instagram, dinner prep, lunch, laundry, homework, afternoon snack, laundry, the pre-witching hour, the witching hour, the bitching hour, and the post witching hour...and finally bedtime; those paragraphs, sentences, and words have been drowned out by the minutia of my everyday life. The minutia of my everyday life basically sums up my bloggy absence.

You may remember that it was about this time last year that I tried to force myself to be a better blogger by giving myself something meaningful to write about every month. I donned my goody-two-shoes and was going to stick to my plan of researching and then highlighting here a non profit organization. 

That lasted until November.  And even then I cheated and tried to get two months out of one post. Shameful.  With Springs come rebirth. So I'm renewing my promise to myself and hope to round things out over the next 3 or so months so I can at least pat myself on the back for making it a year....albeit not a contiguous one (don't even get me started on the pathetic-ness that was my 2015 52 Project).

Since I tend to get my news from Facebook and msn.com headlines and sometimes a Tweeter these days, I feel like sometimes I show up a little behind the times with these amazing organizations. But oh well...we can't all be cutting edge trend setters now can we?

That being said, I think it was Facebook that first led me to look up this month's organization; it's likely that some of you saw the same story that I did. A story about a very old (turning 100 in May!), beautiful woman who has sewn nearly 1000 pillow case dresses for an organization called Little Dresses for Africa.

Little Dresses for Africa: “We’re not just sending dresses, we’re sending HOPE!”

Little Dresses for Africa was founded by one woman,  Rachel O’Neill, (LOVE THAT, and IT CAN BE DONE!) in 2008 and is a registered  non-profit 501c3 Christian organization. The mission of this organization is to "provide relief to children throughout the Continent of Africa and beyond." (all ldfa information from the Little Dresses for Africa blog).

They currently have a volunteer base spanning all 50 US States, as well as international sewing/donation volunteers. "Little Dresses for Africa makes all the arrangements, through missions teams, mailing directly to verified communities and we take them ourselves with a team at least once a year."

Through their delivery of the dresses (as well as shorts for boys) the dresses are distributed via orphanages, schools and churches. (Dresses have been donated to numerous countries including Haiti, Guatemala, Honduras, Panama, and some have even been donated here in the United States).

Little Dresses for Africa is a Christian organization. They go in the name of Jesus (and will distribute Bibles via their "Buckets of Hope" and will also hold informal Bible classes. However, every little girl or boy they come into contact with at distribution receives a dress/britches, regardless of their religious affiliation.

What Else:

Not only is Little Dresses for Africa able to clothe young girls and boys hoping to instill the idea that these kiddos are worthy, they also work to increase each child's knowledge of good nutrition, clean water and sanitation to name a few areas. Through the distribution of these dresses and britches they are also able to identify other special financial projects...they have helped build a primary school!

 

How You Can Help:

1. You can sew little dresses!! So the pillowcases are used because they are ridiculously easy to use. The bottom hem is already sewn, as are the sides. Simply cut off the sewn edge, cut some arm holes and sew rough edges making a spot for the elastic at the top front and back, and then use double sided bias tape (where have YOU been all my life!!??) to finish off the arm holes and make a tie at the top. Done. If I weren't interrupted fifty-billion times, I think they'd each take me (a well below average seamstress!) less than 30 minutes. Pillowcases are also relatively inexpensive to purchase, though gently used ones are acceptable to use as well.  Here is a link to the pattern (they accept any simple dress pattern if pillowcases aren't your jam) Pillowcase Pattern They also need boys shorts desperately.
2. You can make a donation to help cover shipping costs ensuring these little dresses get to the little girls that so desperately need them! You can also make donations to help fund other special projects.(Donate Here)
3. If you have mad sewing skills, there is a special need for something called sani-panties. The issue of menstruation, and the rate at which these older girls drop out of school and are sexually harassed is heartbreaking. (From Little Dresses for Africa site): "According to UNICEF, one in ten schoolgirls in Africa miss classes or drop out completely due to their period, and substitute pads or tampons for less safe and less absorbent materials such as rags, newspaper or bark." If you think you might be able to tackle sewing these sani-panties, please click Sani-panties instructions Even if you don't think you could tackle this project, please take a moment to read about what other menstruating girls and women face in rural Africa.

I hope you consider trying to sew one of these dresses. Or at least get your older kid to do it. I'm going to try a few more myself, and then hand over the reigns to my almost 12 year old. This is right up her ally. Well...if we were sewing dresses for dolphins...THAT would be right up her ally, but she'll dig this too! Here are two I have made so far. One last night, and one this morning. Not too bad for a complete mess such as myself. Also...gimme all the pillowcases.

To find Little Dresses for Africa on Instagram, click HERE. Little Dresses for Africa is also on Facebook, click HERE.

This dress will not be shipped to Little Dresses for Africa. Because I would have to pry it off of her cold, dead body in order to do so.

 

This one's not going either...cause once she sees it...same dead body situation as above.

So here's a funny thing that has NOTHING to do with this post. I have no fricking idea how I did this. Went to upload a picture from my phone and I found this instead....

And Sweet Calico Cats there's this too....drives me batty when people say "I can't even"...but seriously....I can't even with this one...

Two For One...Like Cheating

                                                                                                                                         
The 52 Project:
I've missed a few 52 Project weeks lately. But ya know what? Oh well. I’m finding that sometimes it’s just easier to shove the camera phone back into my pocket, or leave the DSLR home altogether and just be present. I’ve learned being behind the camera can sometimes take away from being in front of my kids, or whatever else is going on. Halloween is a great example. All of the pictures that I did take suck. They are blurry and dimly lit and the faces are all squinty and shadowy and creepy! It was so aggravating to try and take a good picture of the baby as he toddled up to and right past many a front door. But it was so fun to just watch him do it. I became far less frustrated with the whole damned exhausting affair when I just gave up and burned the most important images into my soggy brain.

That being said…there are one or two pictures that I did salvage this week and while they are not perfect they’ll do for week Forty-Four of Fifty-Two...the week of increased and increasingly hilarious temper tantrums. The never ending squishy face. Wearing the wonky hat and walking with his eyes closed. His happy feet, rapid foot fire marching dance move. The best. I mean at this stage in the game even the temper tantrums are the best. This little guy has so much personality...

Monthly Non-Profit Highlight:

So the conundrum here is that these next couple of months are all about extreme giving and gratitude. There are so many tremendous and meaningful ways that we each can give back to our local, national or global communities and the months of November and December seem to be the months where we are most interested in giving, volunteering, donating, helping…generally doing good {I may be way off here, but I suspect this is a relatively true statement}.

So, given the extra generosity that permeates the air, one would think that I could come up with a really phenomenal post about a spectacular non-profit that so deserves and needs help. However. The months of November and December, on the heels of that hellish holiday Halloween, are also when I tend to turn inward to my family. I become far more interested in, and maybe even a bit obsessed with, baking and decorating and memory making and crappy holiday movie watching and shopping and visiting and traveling and list making and crafting. Holy shit with the crafting. Anyway, each of these elements is amped up a bit for me and I tend to neglect other areas. And I can wholeheartedly tell ya that right now this here little blog, and the little {hopefully somewhat impactful} project is going to be at the top of the list of things to neglect in the next few weeks. Third only to laundry and cleaning the house.

Also I kind of feel like with the culture of generosity and giving that flows a little easier around these bigger holidays; the people who are going to give, they kinda have a thing going on already with an organization, or something that has become a tradition for their family. I feel like you all probably have this season of giving all mapped out with who and what and when already.

For example, each year before Thanksgiving we donate a crap load of dry cat and dog food to our local animal shelter and do our part to stuff each and every bus we come across. Those two things happen regardless. And then there are years where we sponsor a family through church. There are years where we hear of a friend struggling to make Christmas happen and buy extra for them. There are years where we pull angel tags off a tree and give that way. There are years that our intent is to wrap our gift giving up with our giving to non-profits {a win-win if you ask me}.

My point is that we have our tried and true giving traditions, and we have our opportunity-arises-might-be-different-each-year giving. And I’m sure you do too. All of this to say…I’ve rounded up a few easy opportunities for giving this month…and holy Christmas Cats I hope to be back with another blog post before the new year.

Stuff the Bus/Buy a Meal/Thanksgiving Baskets via the multitude of local grocery stores, schools, food pantries, churches, Girl Scout or Boy Scout troops, media outlets or businesses who participate in these drives. Click HERE for a link to a Portland, Maine area Stuff the Bus Food Drive happening later this month.  

Donate Blood via The American Red Cross. To find a blood drive in your area click HERE and follow instructions.

Sponsoring a Family via your church/religious organization. For us, while the opportunity to do so is plentiful each year, it requires actually GOING to church. We are pathetic when it comes to attending Mass on weekends.

Donating goods/supplies/food to local animal shelters via your local Humane Society, Animal Refuge League or the ASPCA (click HERE to find local ASPCA chapters). Don’t forget the large animal shelters in your area as well…nothing is more fun than bringing carrots to rescued horses at this time of year!

Toys, toys and more toys via local Santa funds, toy drives or the Marine's Toys for Tots (click HERE to visit the Toys for Tots website and find links to local drop off locations)

Save a Life via Be The Match or Donate Life America! Join extensive Be The Match Bone Marrow Registry and truly make a difference in someone's life! Click HERE to learn about the match program and how you can help! Also, take a minute to register as an organ donor at Donate Life America (click HERE for link); indicating to family or via a driver's license your wish to donate your organs is often not enough!

Lollipop, Lollipop

Week Forty-One/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

Let's not view it as what I have resorted to doing in order to keep my baby quiet for five minutes. Instead let's view it as a celebration of him turning 17 months this week. Okay? Okay.



Also. He giggles when he farts. So there's that.

This Week

Week Forty/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

This week he and I survived a day with no nap.

This week I survived signing my son up for band.

This week he and I survived an epic "help Mom with the cat" event.

This week I survived a Kindergarten field trip.

This week we survived football, barely.

 

And all I have to show for it is this...staring out the window.

Forehead and sweaty palms pressed against the cool glass.

And the realization that screens can ruin a great picture.

{Note to self...remove screens}

  

 

 

 

The Mess. And the Rest (Plus One Swear)

Week Thirty-Nine/Fifty Two

"A portrait of my child(ren), once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

So he's my baby. He's the last (yes, I concede defeat and there will be no more littles running around underfoot) and so ya know...I'm still shoving pacifiers into his mouth even though he hates to use them. I'm still trying to get him to take a bottle when I'm not around, even though he's been drinking out of a straw/sippy cup for months. I still rock him to sleep. I still hold him while he sleeps. I still awkwardly smell his head and try to rub my face with the back of his hand. I've made up his "toddler bed" but know damn well he's sleeping with me for a good long while. Like years. I am  decidedly happy to coast ever so slowly towards true toddlerhood. I'm clinging to the words infant and baby, and when someone asks how old he is and I tell them...sweet sausage on a stick help them if they tell me he's big. Cause he's not. He's my baby.

 

However. The eating. It took him forever how to figure out how to, I don't know...swallow food. For months he balked at baby food. Then for months after that he balked at regular food. He didn't start eating until late in the game. I've had to pull over on more than one occasion to scoop bagel out of his throat cause he just can not figure out how to bite, chew, swallow. Food is still cut into tiny bits for him. Generally he eats with his fingers (holy Moses save me from the mess) and usually almost never ever spoons food into his own mouth. Developmentally I have no idea where that puts him, and I could give precisely no fucks. But for the love of Christmas Cats it would be so effing sweet if I could just hand the kid a cheese stick. Or a banana. Or a French frigging toast stick. Or I don't know, something that gets squirted out of a pouch. I've got other mouths to feed, my own being one of them. So when it comes to food...I'm pushing. I'm hoping. I'm praying that sooner rather than later he'll be mixing drinks and baking pies. But for now...bananas. This is pretty much how he does bananas.

 {the mess}

The good thing about bananas for lunch...is they happen right before nap. Something else I will be clinging to by the way. Because sanity.

{the rest}
 

  *Also, he figured out how to climb out of his highchair this week. Good thing he figured it out while I was paying attention to him. Back to buckles.

**Also again. Five times. Five different times he has gotten out of the bath and we haven't put a diaper on him right away. And five different times he's peed on the floor. How many times before his father and I learn? More than five I guess.



Simply Shoes

Sole Hope
 

I don’t even know how to begin this post, other than to say that I stumbled upon the Sole Hope organization via Instagram. I stumble upon a lot of stuff via Instagram, and while I cannot remember how I found this organization, I’m sure the path was convoluted. Ultimately I’m thrilled that I came upon this group, doing such amazing work in such a beautiful and far off (for me at least!) land.

While poking around the Sole Hope website (click here) I was immediately drawn to the simplicity of their Core Purpose: "To effectively put in place preventive methods to combat diseases that enter through the feet and to create a positive physical and spiritual difference in the lives of individuals in impoverished communities". Yet I had no idea what “diseases entering through the feet” implied, what it might look like, or how such diseases could impart such horrifying physical and emotional conditions upon a person, but I had a term…Jiggers.

So in doing a little research on Jiggers (most definitely NOT the same as Chiggers, found here in the US), I leaned on Google (a gamble for sure). And I saw some pretty horrifying and sad and heartbreaking images. I have a pretty strong stomach, and can handle my share of blood, gaping wounds and broken bones (please, just don’t vomit on me or show me your abscessed tooth), but these pictures of children, adults, the elderly infested with Jiggers were more than upsetting.

If you are curious and interested, by all means look. You can either Google “jiggers” or you can visit the Sole Hope website (click here) and follow the “What are Jiggers” link. But you can also take my word for it because Jiggers are no joke. And what they do to a person’s feet (and body) is serious. The images are difficult to look at.

A Jigger (chigoe flea) is a parasitic arthropod; essentially a sand flea, that is native to Central and South America, but has been inadvertently introduced by humans to sub-Saharan Africa. Jiggers are most prominent in the dry season and live in the dust that covers the dirt floors that are found in the homes and schools of families living in places like Uganda (and those with similar climates).*

At best having Jiggers causes severe pain and limits daily activities such as walking, playing, attending school or work. From there, Jiggers can be debilitating, and if left untreated and not removed can leave victims with infection, paralysis and even lead to amputation. Secondary infections like tetanus or gangrene to name a couple can be fatal.*

While Jiggers can be transferred into homes via livestock in rural areas, they exist primarily on the ground, and therefore the natural and most logical way for a Jigger to embed itself in a person is via the feet.

Sole Hope’s Core Values are admirable and focus on: (from the Sole Hope website)

Relief: We believe in addressing the very real and present problems associated with the feet through medical intervention as well as taking preventative physical measures.

Education: We believe that education of the youth and their caretakers is essential for long-term solutions.

Sustainability: We believe in supporting communities and teaching the trade of shoe making. We innovate and demonstrate solutions that combine the best of indigenous and contemporary practice to create sustainable skills and employment.

And their solution to the problem of Jiggers is basic and beautifully simple. And this is where each of us can help. Of course donations are always welcome, but Sole Hope is also amazing in that there is something for every kind of volunteer, and via their website, under the Get Involved tab, you will find ways to truly make a difference.

Some of us may recognize the importance of monetary donations, but Sole Hope offers everything from interning with the organization, to volunteering in Uganda, to using the Sole Hope Guest House for accommodations if you happen to find yourself in Uganda, to inviting speakers to visit your group or organization, to sending them supplies via Amazon to becoming an advocate via social media. Truly, no matter what your preference or ability, there is something for you to do on behalf of Sole Hope.

But one of the coolest and most important (I feel) facets of this non-profit are cutting shoes. One of the simplest and most effective ways to prevent Jiggers from burrowing into feet is to simply wear close-toed shoes. Sole Hope works to provide those shoes. Quite simply there is a Shoe Cutting Party kit for purchase ($15.00) and through the kit there are very specific and easy steps to follow.  Invite some friends, watch the DVD, and get cutting. Materials needed are basically old denim clothing, pins, fabric scissors and pinking shears, a black sharpie marker and some plastic milk or soda containers. Party guests are generally asked for a $10 donation (and while not required, the donation helps offset Sole Hope’s cost in shipping the uppers to Uganda, helps provide a fair wage to shoe makers and helps purchase the soles for the shoes etc.). Then there is chatting with friends, tracing, snacking, cutting, wine-drinking, pinning, dessert and quality control, and that’s it (once the party is over, the hostess ships the completed uppers to Sole Hope’s office in North Carolina). Voila, a fun party for an amazing cause.

*From both Wikipedia and Sole Hope.

So again, please visit Sole Hope for a more in-depth look at their beginnings, their work, and the beautiful difference they are making in Jinja, Uganda. You can also find Sole Hope on Instagram @solehope  (Click Here for Sole Hope on Instagram); on Facebook at Sole Hope (Click Here for Sole Hope on Facebook); and on Twitter @SoleHope (Click Here for Sole Hope on Twitter)

(These are my feet. safe from Jiggers)

 

Xbox FTW

Week Thirty-Eight/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

 

I feel a little guilty that this series of pictures isn't of us at the apple orchard. Or outside skipping through the grass in the yard. Or taking a walk. Or reading a book. But nope. That's not how this week has gone.

 

This week I have done everything I can to just rest. Just close my eyes for a few minutes during the late afternoon and refresh. (The cruel reality is of course, that when the baby is napping, I'm amped up on about 60 ounces of coffee, and couldn't sleep if my life depended on it)

 

This week, multiple times a day, I have tried to get this little guy to sit and watch TV. I tried to get him to watch a video on my phone. And I have seriously considered going cold turkey on the breastfeeding gig he's got going for himself. Because while I feel like I have exhausted all of the standard excuses as to why he's still not sleeping through the night (teeth, head cold, more teeth, a cough, gas, reflux, teeth, and more teeth) I'm slowly accepting that he's plain old addicted to...well...the boob.

 

But I'm suffering. I forgot my two middle kids at school the other day. I'd like to blame it on a  million other things (but not teeth, gas, teeth, or reflux), but in reality I just forgot. And I blame my forgetfulness on my sleep deprivation.

 

All of this to say, that this week, I threw in the towel. And if he knew how to actually play the Xbox...I'd have totally let him.

 

Overalls for the Win

Week Thirty-Seven/Fifty-Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

I am trying to convince myself that it is indeed the overalls that are making the little man look, well, old, and not the fact that he turned sixteen whole months on Sunday. Still sleeping like a newborn, but looking so much more like a toddler.
Not cool. Not cool at all.

I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com   

One More Time

Deciding to shave my head (again) this month, (read about our June shave here) for childhood cancer research, wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. But it was pretty dang easy. Because it is September after all. And September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month. And I did love my bald head. And my hair is getting kind of long. So I figured one last push to raise money for Childhood Cancer research is a solid focus for September. Any donation received this month and I will gladly shave my head again. Because hair grows back, but kids don't.

 

To donate to St. Baldrick's and help fund/find cures for childhood cancer please click HERE

 

 

 

 

Adjusting

Week Thirty-five of Fifty-two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

This week is about adjusting for me and the little guy. The three older kids are enjoying school and will actually attend for four days this week! Meanwhile he and I are left behind at home. Alone. And it is an adjustment. He misses them. I miss them. He is clingy. My ears are ringing from the silence.

But we will find our groove for sure, we always do. Yesterday I baked brownies and chocolate peanut butter chip cookies. The day before I napped. Today I'm eating bag after bag of chips. Still working the groove thing out, but it'll come.

I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com 

The Way of the Lazy (Christmas Program, and Maybe More Shaving)

Holy shit I napped today. Straight smack dab in the middle of the day. Straight smack dab in the almost middle of the week. The three bigs were at school (hallelujah), and the baby was napping for more than 30 minutes (more and more hallelujah). So I started to knit. And think about what I should be doing besides knitting a scratchy yellow blanket-scarf-type-thing that will spend the rest of its days on a shelf in my closet.

So I was thinking, and knitting and thinking about how I was, according to me, supposed to be writing this month's blog post about a non-profit organization that could use some help. And naturally I had to lay down on the couch and close my eyes to think better.  But great geese it is September. And for the love of tempura paint and textbooks I'm tired. Like tired since 2003 tired. And so because September, and because I'm 2003 tired, I fell asleep.

And now I am here. At 11:00 PM, listening to my husband snore through the baby monitor, which incidentally has got to be one of the most annoying sounds in the Universe. Yet because my thoughts about blogging never made it very far today, and once I have one mid-day, almost mid-week nap, it's likely it'll happen again, I'm calling a truce with myself this month (and again) and taking the quick and easy way out. For now.

I have hope that in the next couple of weeks I'll find another organization to post about. Although in the spirit of my laziness, I may just try to talk said husband into reintroducing our St. Baldrick's campaign (read posts about that HERE and HERE). After all, September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month, and my hair is getting really long, so maybe...

Regardless. This amazing organization (which I wrote about HERE) came across my Facebook feed earlier today, with some very tangible Christmas Program needs. So I thought I would revisit and repost about the Maine Children's Home for Little Wanderers again, with the hopes that some of you may take a peek at their Christmas Program needs and maybe make Christmas for one of the 1,700 recipients a little brighter this year. For a complete listing please click HERE

All the naps, all the thanks and all the thoughts of Christmas to you!

ALSA in August

Holy August. Wait, holy middle of August. Crap.

I made a promise to myself that I would find a charitable organization to highlight each month on this here little blog. And I’m starting to suck at it. I am notorious for shifting self-imposed deadlines. I am a procrastinator. And I tend to start things and oftentimes never follow through. But this lack of regularity is simply due to a lack of time. In no way is it a reflection of my waning interest in my initial undertaking. In fact, I am having fun and learning so much about various non-profits and I love sharing them with you. Unfortunately, where I feel like I should have all sorts of extra time, honestly…as summer draws to a close and the chaos of football and back to school preparations and squeezing the last bits of summer out of summer ramps up…time is something I just don’t seem to have enough of.

With the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge sweeping the nation, and specifically my family’s participation in both donating money and dumping ice cold water on our heads while subsequently challenging fifteen people to do the same, not to mention my monumentally annoying constant pleads to donate to our personal St. Baldrick’s fundraiser…I feel asked out. I feel as though if I even suggest making a donation to a new organization this month, whether monetary or otherwise, I’d be overstepping. To be truthful, I feel as though I need a break from making the ask. Even though these monthly posts aren’t really me making the ask; for some reason I feel nervous each time I ask you to consider helping, or encourage you to take a peek and see what each organization is all about.

So this month I’m taking the easy road and will jump on the coattails of some pretty ingenious people and simply encourage each of you to allow yourselves to be swept up in the Ice Bucket Challenge craze. This particular viral challenge started when a Massachusetts resident diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) started posting about it on social media. He was diagnosed in 2012. He is twenty nine. He was an athlete. He is someone’s husband, son, brother, friend; ALS can strike anyone. This disease is presently incurable and at diagnosis there is a 2-5 year life expectancy. So please, donate what you can. Donate if you dump water on your head and donate if you don’t. And if you can’t or don’t want to donate, you can still do good and raise awareness (the ALSA contends that only about half of the general population knows of ALS), by hopping on over to www.alsa.org and read about cutting edge research, learn the personal stories, and acknowledge those who have succumb to this incurable disease.

And watch the videos. You can scroll by, but you should watch them. Cause they’re cute. And funny sometimes. And creative sometimes. And at most take what, two minutes out of your day? They’re a feel-good kinda thing. And they do serve a purpose. Admittedly at first I was confused by them because I had no idea what was going on, sadly something that tends to happen often (I blame my children). But I asked. And I researched and read. And thanks to our daughters' being nominated, we got on board. And it was awesome.

Again, please visit www.alsa.org to find out more about ALS, to donate, or to read about the great Ice Bucket Challenge. It’s a pretty cool story. With a pretty cool outcome, both for awareness and funds raised.

 





 

This poor guy. We had strapped him in to keep track of him as the sisters completed their IBC. But one sister decided to jump out of the way, and all the ice and water landed in his lap.

He was...not happy.



Staying Small

Week Thirty Two of Fifty Two

"A portrait of my child(ren) once a week, every week, in 2014"

Thursday marked this guys fifteen month birthday. That has always felt like some sort of milestone that solidifies a gigantic leap towards "big-kid-ness." But this little man...I don't know. This week I feel as though he still leans more towards baby. Kind of like his five year old sister.
 
I think it has something to do with the fact that he refuses to talk, which admittedly I'm a touch grateful for, because holy Shiitake mushrooms said five year old sister talks enough for all of mankind. I think it could have something to do with the fact that he still nurses like a newborn baby throughout the night, which admittedly, I could freaking do without. I think it has something to do with the fact that I am wrapping all extremities around this littlest and holding on to all semblance of his infant-ness! I see this week as an accomplishment; a win for me when it comes to preventing his growing up. I think it also has something to do with the baby blanket I knit for him this week. And not baby as in I ran out of yarn and the blanket finished ridiculously small. No, a baby blanket as in not a toddler blanket. Not a big-kid blanket. A baby blanket, it is totally helping! So yes, please, and thank you for that.

Of course, he is laying the drama on thick these days, and this week we have also seen his tiny little temper flare. The way his little fists ball up when we tell him not to chew paper or eat cat food. The way he cautiously and slowly sits his dimply behind down on the floor, and ever so gently lays himself back on the ground, utterly unable to take one more step if we take the broom away from him. The broom which he uses to swipe things off shelves and topple over toys, people and cats alike. The way he grits his teeth, squeal-screams and turns red in the face when we take away smart phones and prevent him from baby dialing (very much like drunk dialing). Or the way he leans into something (people, beds, couches, more people) with all of his might and growls out of some mystery frustration.

He has also mastered nose picking this week. Sorry. But true. He is such a nose picking boss that he can sometimes be found sucking his thumb and picking his nose at the same time. Fire up the college fund people! And maybe his is a little man after all!



I am joining Jodi and her 52 Project at Practising Simplicity  http://www.practisingsimplicity.com 

An Update

About two and a half months ago I wrote about my son's anxiety (read HERE).  It was hugely cathartic for me, and I hope someday it will be cathartic and reassuring for him. In some ways it feels like his diagnosis was a lifetime ago. And like most things in life, it also feels like it happened yesterday. To be blunt, we have come a long way. To be honest, we have a long way to go.



When we finally arrived, after seeing a therapist for a few weeks, at the point where we knew we needed to loop in our pediatrician and talk about medication, I felt both a deep sense of relief and an intensified fear of the unknown. I could not wait to start his medication, and I was terrified of starting his medication. Researching side effects, and overall effectiveness of a medication, particularly in children, is a scary thing.

My son was ultimately put on a common selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), and forever more I will stand by the effectiveness of this drug, for him...for now. He started on a very low dose, and his pediatrician and I hoped and were optimistic that we would be able to keep him at that dose. While we were warned that the drug could take weeks to have any significant effect, I maintain that we saw a difference in him immediately. Perhaps a placebo effect, but my gut tells me it was more than that. I think the biggest and most immediate change was that he began sleeping. My eight year old child was finally starting to sleep through most nights. Bless. It. My heart broke for him and all of the sleepless nights we had struggled through, when he woke up after taking his very first pill and was so excited that he had slept. He was excited to have simply slept. He was proud of himself for having simply slept. He was relieved to have slept, but was skeptical too, as he should have been, since we had tried (and failed with) so many sleep remedies before.

Also, his "tantrums" ceased almost immediately. He smiled and became a hugger reborn. We witnessed tiny but more frequent glimpses of the little boy we had once been so familiar with. We continued with weekly therapy and talked some good talks. And while life was immeasurably improved I still can't shake the guilt.

I remember sitting in front of the doctor in tears quietly whispering that I wished we had done something sooner for my child. Even now there are times when I can not shake the images of his anger, his tantrums, the terror and sadness and frustration in his eyes. Sometimes I can not get out of my head the sound of my shrill voice screaming at him. Sometimes I can feel his sister's frightened tears as I wipe them from her tiny cheeks. And I think to myself...three, nearly four years. We struggled. He struggled. But it took years to finally get him the help he truly needed.

And yet, as things go when cruising through life, before we knew it he hit a wall, plateaued if you will. It was amazing, disheartening and eye opening to watch the medicine decrease in effectiveness. The pediatrician had anticipated that this might happen, and we were scheduled for frequent (and I mean frequent) med checks. In the beginning I was unsure how long he would take the medication, but once I saw the glimmer of hope that this SSRI brought, I became desperate to continue with it. At every med check my heart beat faster, wondering if we had arrived at the point where the doctor would recommend not continuing with medication. Thankfully just before our eleven day road trip vacation extravaganza his dose was doubled and prescription refills granted for the next few months. I was so hopeful that we had found "the answer". I was so naïve to think it was so.

I have to say I signed a tremendous sigh of relief when I knew that we would have a higher dose of medicine for our great family getaway. Because my pre-medicated son would have hated everything about our vacation. He would have hated the uncertainty of the drive. He would have hated the lack of schedule (in fact, he would have hated summer in general for the lack of schedule alone). He would have hated going to restaurants. He would have been paralyzed by the thought of which rides to ride at amusement parks. Tears would have been shed. Hearts would have been wounded. He would have tried to control each of our decisions. He would have missed home and the cat and he would have been miserable. My husband and I counted our blessings, and then watched as we saw anxiety try to push through the medicine and pull my son under again.

We arrived in South Carolina the day after Hurricane Arthur vacated. We were lucky. But Rip Tides remained, and they terrified my son. The girls...not so much. But him...he spent every second that he was in the ocean, not jumping waves or body surfing, but instead pulling his little sister "to safety." He demanded we spend our days at the pool. And honestly, it was easier there anyway because holy wind...so we did. Once the threat of being sucked out to sea diminished, we ventured back to the ocean. After all...we drove umpteen miles and so many hours to play ocean-side...not pool-side. We had one good morning, and then during an evening stroll met a man who had hooked a baby Black Tip Shark. Or Black Finned Shark. Or Some Kind of Shark (perhaps the evening stroll along the beach had been preceded by many Coral Reef Splash drinks??) Either way the next morning was met with more demands for the pool. Because, and we should have seen this coming, the kind fisherman who let my kids pet the Something-Something Shark also casually mentioned that "if there are babies out there, there are also mamas out there." Plans finalized. Pool vacation it was.

Since we have been back we have had another med check and it took all I had in me not to bring up how I felt my son was once again spiraling downwards. I really do not want to entertain the thought of an increased dose yet. But there are times where I feel him slipping. Succumbing. And I'm scared and sad.

While his medication initially allowed my husband, oldest daughter and I to spend two days and one night away from home hiking Mt. Katahdin, even the higher dose is no longer able to usher him through sleepovers at his grandparents.

Where his medication has provided him with a more sound sleep and I can now kiss him goodnight and not wake him up, (before the slightest touch would cause him to wake), he still wakes in the middle of the night roughly four times a week. Thankfully the medication has him in a place where he is able to fall back to sleep with relative ease (provided his father or I are next to him).

While his medication has allowed us to breathe again as parents, and as a family, we are learning that any sort of discussion regarding change...or me taking a vacation, or him going to college, or his sister going to college, or his cousin going to college is enough to allow anxiety to regain control of my child.

While his medication has not protected him from hurt feelings or feeling intensely inadequate in comparison to his friends, or those he looks up to, I am so thankful that medication has allowed the relationship between my son and his older sister to re-blossom. They used to be so close. So. Close. For years I chalked their increasing distance up to a boy/girl dichotomy. They could not find common ground because they were so inherently different is what I told myself. But since being on medication, I am in awe of the change between those two. They do have common ground. They can have a conversation.  They do like spending time with each other, and value each other's friendship and trust. Years of hurt feelings have been repaired in just a couple of months. And while I am so thankful, when I catch them playing together, or chatting over Harry Potter, or asking the other's opinion, I can't help but kick my own ass for not pressing therapists and advocating for bigger interventions years ago.  Yes, bickering and yelling and tattling still happens. And there are times when I want to throttle them both, but I can clearly see their love again. And for a while it was so one-sided. My son has always idolized his big sister, but for far too long she had a hard time...I don't even know what the word is. But she had a hard time with him too.

Ultimately we have learned that we can never let our guard down. We have learned that he takes the safety of his little sister as a threat. We know that when he begins to amass an arsenal of Nerf guns and plastic swords in his bedroom, or when he insists on sleeping with a "weapon," that we better figure out what he is thinking about, or what he has been exposed to. He struggles still to articulate his feelings, and we know that when he starts to unravel at any given time in a day, we need to quickly backtrack and try to eradicate the source of stress (be it a conversation, an activity, a show, a chapter in a book, a news clip).

As parents we have to be intuitive and smart and calculating about what we say in front of him, because we do not want to exacerbate his level of stress. We can not talk about moving. Or my husband's tenuous job situation. Or celebrating my 40th year and our 15th anniversary via an adult only weekend getaway. We can not talk about maybe taking the same weekend hike with him when he is in fifth grade. We can not talk about school. We have had to make a plan for school that includes homeschooling this year, if the first thirty days don't work out for him. We do not expect completely restful nights. We are very, very careful about what responsibilities we give him.

While his medication has allowed us to restock our patience and breathe easier, the wounds are still so fresh that when he has a bad day I immediately think the worst. Immediately I am in the place of "worst case scenario," telling my husband that this isn't working. None of it...the medicine, the therapy, the bazillion hugs that he requires in a day...none of it is really working. I can not ever pull myself from thinking of his future self. I worry about how bad this could get for him.

This learning curve is steep. It is fluid. It is not fun and can be exhausting and frustrating. There is no stopping anxiety. There is only a pause. Perhaps a mute for a couple of days or weeks. There is only coping. Not a cure.