Therapy, Phase One

In times of acute emotional distress, I tend to follow a fairly predictable recovery pattern. Phase One begins when the crying and plate-throwing has (mostly) stopped.* This is the phase in which I Make things.

Ok, I make things all the time, but Phase One usually involves a slightly maniacal construction of something new. (On rare occasions, the recovery of a long abandoned project occurs in cases when Phase One is prolongued).

So today, I made bandanas. And a cape. And I knit on Owl 2 (the colors of which were selected by Sonar X5 and which has been named Hedwig—go read the books). And I pondered buttons for Owl 1 (which is purple and grey, a birthday gift for a wee friend, and which has been named Errol by the Sonars, probably because he’s a bit squashy looking—again, go read the books). And there is a very good chance I will work on the abandoned socks for Partner.

I rationalize, of course, that the preponderance of birthdays we have among our family and friends here in the middle of March is justification enough of such a craft frenzy. Some of the bandanas are for pure whimsy, to be used locally by the Sonars for whatever a bandana can do (cape, mask, pirate scarf, apron, wee blanket, handkerchief, mini-toga, halter top, insert your own bandana use here). Two others are destined for a six-year-old friend, to be accompanied by a compass, flashlight, string, and bandaids for a gift inspired by The Dangerous Book for Boys and The Daring Book for Girls. Call it an adventure pack. The cape will be wrapped around Errol for environmentally friendly wrapping and surprise super-hero garb for a three-year-old friend.

Side note: When I mentioned last night that I was thinking of making bandanas, Sonar X7 said, “Hey, we can tie one around the end of a stick and run away from home now!!” Nearly killing the bandana project before it got off the ground.

Normally, I just think making things is fun. There is something very satisfying about knowing that I have used my hands to craft something fun or useful or interesting.

In times of stress, I find comfort in being a creator as opposed to a consumer or a destroyer. The practice of craft is a good analogy for the way I want to function socially and emotionally. And by taking fabric, or yarn or paper or glue and making something and pondering the idea of creating healthy connections and emotions among people, I find that I am able to calm myself from the inside out, to feel stronger and more stable and more able to fulfill my roles and responsibilities in a healthy, sane and satisfying way.

The craft doesn’t take me all the way though. At some point, when I am sitting in a puddle of fabric clippings and bits of thread and yarn, with glue in my hair, I will decide that I can no longer tolerate the mess.

Thus begins Phase Two, in which I clean with a slightly maniacal vengeance, thus exerting a sense of control and organization. Stressful experiences often feel outside the realm of our control. Another good analogy here. Cleaning and organizing the tangible objects that are around me gives me a sense of control over at least one part of my life. It has the added benefit of creating a serene space in which to contemplate my emotions. I often find that as I organize the stuff and sweep away the debris, that feelings start making sense, that ideas fall into line, and that I feel more calm. A clean house does not necessarily change the stressful issues themselves, but it does create a reserve inside me that feels healthy and strong. Plus, it’s one of the rare occasions in which our house is really and truly and fastidiously clean.

People are sometimes freaked out by both phases. Not the actions themselves, but the, uh, shall we say Enthusiasm (aka Single Minded Vengeance) with which I take on the creation and the cleaning. The Sonars seem to enjoy Phase One. No one likes Phase Two. But I reassure them, that the mama who doesn’t care whether the living room table is covered with ten gallons of K’Nex as long as none of them is on the floor to hurt her feet will return soon.

*No, I have not actually ever thrown plates, but I’ve wanted to. I’m really more of a slammer, which has, of occasion, resulted in broken things. Just this morning I happened to close the dishwasher in a particularly enthusiastic manner and managed to smash a glass.

Vector Analysis

The Knickers will have to wait. I’ve been sick for a few days and I’m feeling a little rambly(manic).

Now, I’m not the world’s best housekeeper. I like to think of our aesthetic as comfortable and lived in, but not necessarily *dirty.* Some would decry the decided rarity of bleach application in my house (my mother would be one of these, but even before she was institutionalized, I found her attitude toward dirt and germs a bit extreme). I find that we can keep things clean and sanitary in other ways, and prefer to save the bleach for extreme circumstances.

There *are* times when various forces conspire to let our “comfortable” aesthetic slide into something else altogether. In the past few weeks we’ve all weathered one cold, then an allergy onslaught. Sonar X7 was home sick on Friday, then again for a President’s Day holiday on Monday, further throwing our routines out of whack.

Sonar X7 has asthma and is allergic to everything that blows on the South Texas winds. Administering his puffers this morning, I noticed that there was some powdery build-up on one and realized that I hadn’t washed them out for a while. And that led me to notice that I also hadn’t washed his peak-flow meter (the little thingy that helps us measure his breath capacity). The puffers get a little filmy from sucking in the medicine, but he blows *into* the meter, which was coated inside with a fine green film of concretized mucus. Ick.

I put the apparati in some warm soapy water to soak and shuffled to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and sit. While I stood there waiting for my hot water, having to shove aside a pile of dishes to make a spot for my teacup, I listened to the rattle of legos from the Pre-school Sonars and started to wonder what other little bits had fallen under my radar this past couple of weeks. What other sneaky vectors of reinfection were lurking under my nose.

Yeah, the dishes were obvious, and don’t get me started on the Legos and the K’Nex. But there are several things that I normally think of as more or less clean that were decidedly not. My teacup, for instance. I normally drink a cup and then rinse it and set it in the dish drainer. The build-up happens so slowly as to not be noticeable, but today there is an oily tea-film that I could scratch a lovely landscape picture into. (Now Scrubbed) For that matter, the measuring cup that I use only for boiling water in the microwave. That should be clean, right? Um. Yeah, all except the field of spatters on the underside of the spout where tea and coffee splashes up against it during pouring. (Now Washed)

I started to feel sort of creeped out, and though I am still sick, I just couldn’t help myself.

I emerged from the kitchen nearly an hour later. Dishwasher was running, dish-drainer piled high with clean pans, sponges were all cooling from a sterilizing stint in the microwave, cutting board sprinkled liberally with baking soda, and counters scrubbed (including the icky residue of last night’s blueberry scone adventure -> the Sonars helped make dinner). My tea was cold, but in a clean cup, and I felt wrung out like a slimy rag. I didn’t have the energy for the floor, but I hope we’ve all outgrown our floor-licking stage.

[Side-note: Anyone who would still consider visiting my house after this little confessional who might need a toilet while here should really try their luck with the convenience store down the street.]

In other news, I’m trying to get some knitting done. I feel a bit knit-rich right now (go ahead, reread that last phrase. No, see, it didn’t say what you thought it said the first time). I’m not a big-stash kind of knitter. I prefer generally to only gather yarn that I’m ready to knit into something. And I usually try to finish one thing before I start another. This doesn’t always work out. I’m working on (finished now) some Easter surprises for the Sonars, and some socks for the Partner. Those of you who know my tendency to procrastinate and knit myself into aching, twisted, gnarled hands the night before holidays might be surprised at my advanced planning here. Frankly I am too. I’m not sure where it came from.

On other needles is a knitted rocking chair seat that has been languishing for nearly two years (three?!). Then there are the pieces of the pink alpaca sweater that are completely knit, but have been waiting many many months to be sewn together. I have a bag of bamboo yarn from Christmas that is still waiting for a deployment plan (summer sweater? moebius wrap?). And another Christmas present, Charmed Knits is calling to me to make something. AND. I’m awaiting a box of sock (for Sonars probably) and sweater (for Partner) yarn, and Sister hinted that she tucked in another knitting book for me in a box of books she’s sending the Sonars.

Phew. I wonder if I could knit and run at the same time? Maybe not. For now, I’ll just go collapse into a wheezy heap.

Happy Day Lovelies

Knit and felted hearts, LionWool

P.S. I opted not to take the little guys to see Hillary yesterday; the pragmatics were just too much for me. But we did watch her live on tv, and I was inspired, knowing that she was in my neck of the woods.

P.P.S. I am still undecided.

Next Time: My First Race

Variety Update

After one week, I’m still on track with my fitness goal. I’ve walked every day this week—170 minutes, or about 9 or 10 miles. My first ten weeks is based on time moving rather than distance. Because I’m walking on sidewalks, my distances are estimated. Though I do know that the trip to the elementary school and back is a smidge over 1.2 miles.

Due to unexpected scheduling, I walked in the dark for the first time today. I live in a safe little town, but the idea of walking at night still made me rather nervous. Many of the streets—even main ones—are sporadically lit, so much of a nighttime walk occurs in real darkness. If I had planned ahead on this one, I’d have taken the giant flashlight with me—you know, the one that doubles as a blunt object? Because I was nervous, I walked too fast, and my lower legs and toe joints are sore for the first time tonight. I had planned to walk one more time tomorrow, then start running Wednesday, but I may have to give myself a day of recuperation to make up for the zoomy walk tonight.

Other issues:

The sleeping goal is mostly still on track. With the exercise, I’m finding that I get impossibly tired at around ten o’clock. The writing goal is turning out to be a bit more challenging…

The exercise and sleeping goals have the advantage of having quantitative markers (moving for 30 minutes; in bed by a certain time). The ‘write every day’ goal is more qualitative. I want this goal to be flexible enough to encompass a variety of different types of writing, but I think I need something more concrete to guide the goal. Perhaps like exercising, I should strive to write for 30 minutes per day. Or have a schedule of different types of writing for each day of the week (such as Blog on Monday, Catch up on Correspondence Tuesday, etc.). I’ll have to think on it.

Oh yeah, I’m still a knitter too! Knitting: scrap sock. Black cuff, then alternating one row of black with one row of whatever teeny ball of yarn I pull out of the bag (currently dark blue). I’m doing a solid black heel and will continue with the blue until it runs out, then grab another ball. The other sock will be slightly different. I’m saving a small ball of a slightly lighter shade of blue to start off the stripes on that one.

Next Post: The Supplemental Laundry Center