It’s been a very long time since I’ve written a post like this. I find that cause for celebration. But yesterday something difficult happened. For once almost as difficult for me as it was for Chickadee.

Yesterday my Chickadee had her feelings hurt.

I’ve gotten used to the people who are uncomfortable. I’m used [...]]]>

It’s been a very long time since I’ve written a post like this. I find that cause for celebration. But yesterday something difficult happened. For once almost as difficult for me as it was for Chickadee.

Yesterday my Chickadee had her feelings hurt.

I’ve gotten used to the people who are uncomfortable. I’m used to the fact that they try to assuage their discomfort by comforting me. I understand it even. I’m that person upon a miscarriage, divorce, death, or other life difficulty when those things happen to people I care about. I want to comfort my loved ones, not express the horror at what has happened and thereby make their day, week and life worse. That makes it about me, and I don’t want to have people comforting me about their own horrible problem. I’ve had that done to me too many times, and I wish it inoculated me against doing it ever again.

Chickadee is accustomed to it too. She waits now for me to make some wise crack about her “not being such a sweet spirit, because Chickadee’s so sassy.” or “good thing Chickadee isn’t like that. She’s so smart she’d go crazy.”

People don’t know what to think of me.

That’s okay though, it makes Chickadee smile in an uncomfortable situation. I’m a slave for that. Anything to help her get through the stares on the way to her little havens of acceptance.

But yesterday after I dropped her off and hurried to add thickener to her bottle of formula-so she can drink it without aspirating-something happened. Something I was naïve enough to believe wasn’t happening to my Chickadee.

Chickadee had a visitor sitting next to her.

When I came back, my little Chickadee had her lower lip pushed out. Her eyes were swimming with tears. I whispered, “Here’s your drink.” She glanced briefly at my eyes, which is how she acknowledges your existence. I was worried immediately that something was wrong.. I sat next to her and whispered, “Are you okay?” Chickadee bent over, till her head almost touched her knees. That’s how Chickadee says no. Loudly.

So I sat next to her and watched. I tried to comfort her. She was extremely agitated, and when that happens Chickadee tends to get louder. She has a mouth compulsion-much like her constant hand movements-which probably sounds like someone getting their mouth ready to play a brass instrument. Like the piccolo trumpet maybe? This compulsion gets faster and louder when anxious. The visitor was plugging her ears.

The visitor was staring. The visitor was leaning away. The visitor has been a visitor 4 or 5 times a year. For over two years. But this visitor seems to have become adept at expressing dislike. Chickadee rocked harder. I got out her binkie, not even thinking about the visitor. I just wanted to comfort my Chickadee. The binkie stops her oral compulsion, and I was only thinking in big parental fix-it words.

She welcomed it, but she hated it. Chickadee is more aware of her peers than I am. She tried to turn a little bit toward me. But the visitor saw it. The visitor leaned in.

“She’s really smart.” I said. “She can understand what you say.” The beautiful cherubic face of the visitor was fleetingly shadowed by something akin to shame. I’m not sure a four-year old (or five maybe) can fully understand the impact of that situation. I’m certain actually. Vicious is the only way to describe it, yet how do you convey that to such a young child.

Shortly afterwards, Chickadee and I escaped to “go potty” and we both regained our composure. Chickadee did not want to have her drink early and hide out on the foyer couch. She wanted to go back to her class, her teachers. I’d bawled to her teacher in the hallway, and I think Chickadee was afraid I was going to drip tears and snot on her. The visitor had to leave early, and the teacher had a word with the parents because they do come fairly often. But, before that happened I wheeled my brave little Chickadee in to sit on the other end of the row. Next to a real friend. One that took her hand, and looked into her eyes and welcomed her back.

picture credit
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I do. I also find it difficult not to be sarcastic in my own brain when others are genuinely optimists. It’s near impossible when I feel that a person is faux perfect. Ugh.

But, I’m also having a hard time not criticizing [...]]]>
Do you find it hard to be positive?

I do. I also find it difficult not to be sarcastic in my own brain when others are genuinely optimists. It’s near impossible when I feel that a person is faux perfect. Ugh.

But, I’m also having a hard time not criticizing my kids too much or simply haraunging them so much that they feel harassed. I felt criticized as a kid. A lot.

I find it helpful to thing of ten things I love about those I’m hatin’ on. Or at least ten things I appreciate.

How do you all handle such things?

Mr. Survival needs a new phone. Let’s just say that a phone three updates ago is starting to move like molasses on the new system. If he could even use the new system. His apps to do business were taking up too much memory, and he didn’t have a video camera [...]]]>

Mr. Survival needs a new phone. Let’s just say that a phone three updates ago is starting to move like molasses on the new system. If he could even use the new system. His apps to do business were taking up too much memory, and he didn’t have a video camera or Face time.

But, he didn’t do it. No. He bought Chickadee an iPad.

I

Know.

That man. He just kills me. Or sweeps me off my feet.

I’ve been using every second I can getting it set up. I’ll have to do planned updates on the apps I’ve chosen, but for now I’d just like to share one thing.

You know that stupid new notification center? No? On the iPhone, there is now a function that you can pull down on the center of any screen in any app and see what texts, calls, or other app updates you’ve missed. It’s great. Or so I thought until Chickadee started using her iPad all-the-time-all-the-time. Then it’s just funny.

Until she’s playing her favorite game, and actually almost finished catching all the fish, or untying all the knots, or turning the pages.

Then her yell of anger and frustration is not so funny as she accidentally turns the page, enters settings, returns home or looks at her non-existent notifications. And all her hard work is GONE.

That’s when the mama bear yells, “CHARGE” and everyone backs away.

I’ve not figured out the stupid ding-bell app settings. AURGH. But I have figured out the Notifications Center swipe.

So, if you have a Rett Syndrome child, or maybe want to share your iProduct with your iPooper-I mean baby-then this might be useful. I’ll try to get a tutorial posted soon. But, Chickadee is loving it.

I want to be able to supply this kind of thing for Chickadee through some earnings and what I’m already making for her on my own. So, without further ado:

My Etsy shop!

Prepare yourselves. I am crafty. I may be doing more tutorial things in the future here, but I’ll try to make them entertaining. I promise.

It’s always such a nice moment when what was an onerous task becomes one filled with giggles. It started with Little Whistle’s Dinner Party

by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Tim Bowers. Apparently it’s hilarious when a teddy forgets to eat because he’s too busy trying on [...]]]> Sprout is liking his reading! Hurrah!

It’s always such a nice moment when what was an onerous task becomes one filled with giggles. It started with

Little Whistle’s Dinner Party

by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Tim Bowers. Apparently it’s hilarious when a teddy forgets to eat because he’s too busy trying on hats.

Speaking of guinea pigs named Little Whistle, we have a guinea pig too. Hizzer name is Browny and heschee sleeps at the end of Sprout’s bed.

A few nights ago, both of them were startled awake at the crack of nothing. What caused this mayhem? I’ll give you a few hints:

stuffy nose
Front tooth gap
Mouth breathing

The rest should be pretty self explanatory.

For Christmas we gave the kids coupons for a date a month in their stocking. Miss went out with Mr. Survival, and Sprout had a coupon to shop for and create the recipe of his choice.

We picked this up from a specialty shop:


And bought this [...]]]>

For Christmas we gave the kids coupons for a date a month in their stocking. Miss went out with Mr. Survival, and Sprout had a coupon to shop for and create the recipe of his choice.

We picked this up from a specialty shop:


And bought this a while ago:

So we were ready to go.

Or so I thought. He. I also bought a candy thermometer and some marshmallow fluff.

My kids wanted me to recreate the messed up version that the half giant Hagrid produces in

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

chapter 15.

I tried my best to make the real thing. I’ve never had fudge turn out badly. Especially with marshmallow fluff.

It turned out exactly like Hagrid’s.

I pout. Kids cheer.

Dearest Meister,

My heart has been in turns elated with my position then mournful as I remembered you. I have thought of you often, especially between four and five o’clock. I like to stand in the front window looking for you when the family is not looking. I know that I am to [...]]]>

Dearest Meister,

My heart has been in turns elated with my position then mournful as I remembered you. I have thought of you often, especially between four and five o’clock. I like to stand in the front window looking for you when the family is not looking. I know that I am to stay here to love these people, but I cannot help when the love in my heart tugs me to you. I am trying not to let it interfere with my work, and it is happening less. I will do my best to honor you with my work.

The home you found for me has a nice family. They have a little boy that made me quite comfortable with his games and easy love, also an older girl with a voice like yours Meister. She has me quite wrapped around her finger. She was quite accommodating with her bed and I slept with her for the first two weeks.

As for the rest of the family, I must confess that I waited all this time to write you because I wasn’t really sure I could palate them. I have nothing against stereotypical compulsive hand movements, but they do make a child rather unpredictable. The youngest girl is quite delicious in many ways and we are working out the best ways to cooperate together in our home. It’s just different and we are both learning. Sometimes we are frustrated, but other times it is just right and we spend the sweetest hours napping together.

The man of the house put me off most when I arrived. As you know, I’m not exactly partial to men. I prefer a delicate bit if I must be bridled you know. This particular man invited a horde of three more of them to play games the night I arrived. I took it as a personal offense.

I must say I was highly affronted that the mother did nothing. I visited with her several times trying to convince her that her children were in danger and that she must defend her young, but she did nothing. I tell you Meister, motherhood these days is a dead art. She also allows her children to sleep haphazardly all over the house, and I have frequently had to shame her into bedding them down properly by keeping a steadfast vigil by the wayward child. Since the children have returned to school, this seems to have happened less, so let us hope that it was just a holiday indulgence.

I have been won over by treats hidden on the person of the baby child, as well as daily walks in a lovely park. They are not as diligent about consistent exercise as I would like, but I suppose that to a human twelve inches of snow and a wheelchair might be imposing. It is on those dreary few days that I have missed you most Meister. I have spent much time waiting for the man that brought me here to come back and get me so that I can continue to keep my loving servitude at your side. Him, or the bus carrying the children home from school.

I am your loving ever devoted student,

Mykala

Back off love.

I did finish [...]]]> I have so many ideas to write about, but not much time to write in! We’re experiencing more lean wallet syndrome, and I’m trying to make what I can out of what I have. Sprout and his Bear ate getting pajamas. Miss is hopefully getting dresses for her American Knock-off girl Doll.

I did finish Chickadee’s dress, apron and shrug. I made the girl look Swedish.

This is the shrug. It looks gorgeous, but I’m not at all biased. It’s made from yarn leftover from another project.

This is the plain dress. It has not grown on either Chickadee or Miss. But they both tolerate it because of this:

My Mother-in-law gave me the fabric for the dress. Also, the apron fabric? It seems to be Depression era flour sacks. You know the kind? The ones that the manufacturers printed prettily so that women would buy their brand to be able to use the fabric! I

love

it. Mr. Survival’s Grandmother gave me two prints, and I’ll use the other for Chickadee’s Spring dressy aprons.

So, there you have it. Every second of my “free time” is before you.