Pygmies, Peas, and Quilts

After Pygmy Child had been out of touch for a week, Brown Boy was missing her so very much. So off Pygmy Child goes to Florida this week to visit him and his family. She is in a frenzy of making and buying small gifts for his family, (with mom's help of course, can you show me how to do that, please?) She will enjoy the warmth of Florida, we always tease her about being a sun seeking reptile. I am a bit jealous since I love the beach so much, but ah well, at least someone will be having fun!
Speaking of fun...
I finally finished the quilt I started for Pea a couple of months ago. Pea decided she needed to help.



And this is what I call really enjoying your fiber art! You could say she was "hungry" for some quilt'n,.



Here is a picture of the finished product:



I am really pleased with the results. This type of quilt is called a
rag quilt,I love the frayed edges, they seem so homespun and comfy.
When Pea gets older, I will let her pick out her own fabrics and she and I will sit down and her grandma will teach her how to tie a quilt of her own. My kids still have some of the quilts we made together. Just because I am a believer in women's rights, doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed some of the more domestic side of life.
My friends in college seem so surprised to find out that I am a quilt'n, breadmaking, fruit canning kind of mom. But I am. Far less crunchy granola than I was when the kids were small, but the values and skills are there.

For Your Enjoyment

Now I don't know about the other parents out there. Okay, truthfully, the mothers. I suppose a few fathers belong in this catagory, but I don't personally know any. Oh my gosh. Family pictures. What a horror. It is amazing there are any smiles at all, because it is pure torture getting them done. This time was NO exception. First, there are an awful lot of people to coordinate. Not just clothes, although of course I must add that particular form of bamboo-skewers-under-my-nails to this whole experience. I guess I am the kind of person who does things well, and this my bloggiest snickerdoodles includes suffering. Nine people must be in the same place at the same time. That was awful. A couple of temper tantrums, the most spectaular done by oldest son! He is 21 folks, yet he had the biggest hissy fit before we left.
The clothes alone were a three day torture-fest. Finding something everyone was willing to wear. The boys were the whiniest about it. The girls didn't care. Up until the moment we went in the room to get the picture taken, I was dealing with boys who were unhappy with their clothes. I swallowed my small amount of vanity and wore white, because the girls ended up wearing white, and while my sons don't like to admit it, I am a girl. I didn't want to wear white because it makes you look bigger and boy, I don't need any help in that department. You guys already heard the story of how Little Man acted and we had out of town company and this was the ONLY day this month this whole thing was happening and oh my gosh repeating all this reminds me why we only do this about twice a decade! But done it is and without further ado:




It isn't perfect, they cut Little Man's side of his face off. Pea isn't smiling and I do look bigger (even if I don't, please say I do!) BUT, we are smiling! Don't we look like a happy family? And really, sometimes we are. Along with some of the sad things, mad things, frustrating things, the picture is true, we love each other and at the foundation of it all, we are a happy family.
Run down on the peeps in the pic: Pygmy Child to the left in front. Princess holding her Pea, Me, Little Man. In the back: Bald Man, Oldest Son, Tank and JJ. There we are. Hope you enjoy it, I am just going to try to forget how horrible it was to get it taken and remember the smiles instead.

Mother's Day Gift

Last night Girlfriend came over with a Mother's Day gift for me. Here it is. It left me all teary eyed.

Dear Jo,
Thank you. That is the only way I can say it. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for caring if I am happy and safe. Thank you for the comfort of a mother and the support of a friend. Thank you for all the times I've cried to you and not felt foolish. Thank you for family dinners and family outings. Thank you for letting me be a part of your amazing family.
You have taught me so much aobut the person I want to be. About life lessons and understanding them. Because of you I've learned how to better accept those who've hurt me and still love them. Because of you, I've learned to love myself andnot waive my feelings aside as silly or unimportant.
You are a beautiful woman, an amazing mother, a strong saint of Chirst and I am proud to have known you. I love you.
Love,
Girlfriend.

I hate that the letter feels like goodbye.

We Are Home (sort of)

Yikes! Still trying to get my life back to a place of being semi organized. When you come home from a trip, you notice how the car vomits all its' insides into your front room? Still have bits and pieces there, but it is mostly put away. I am feeling a bit, um, well, frazzled? Fuzzy? Not sure of the word. But it is because we were gone for a week and I am still not feeling completely home, AND now I can not ignore the fact we are moving in TWO weeks and we have to pack up our lives of 13 years here. I am tired, tired, and really tired. We arrived back in Utah at 3 AM and I was up by 8 to help get Little Man off to school. No nap and Little Man did NOT go to sleep til past midnight last night. ARGH. I am NOT thinking about that. Won't think about it, too hard to think about him not sleeping and what it does to our lives. I hate that we live our lives in a such a fragile space. But there, we do, there is no helping it. And am I packing today? Nope. Friday breakfast with a friend, off to Salt Lake to see a friend's sick child in the hosp and then a visit with an out of towner and to Borders to spend a 40$ graduation present.

Sisters

Sisters. Such a small word, for a huge amount of experience, life, laughter, tears, fury and love.


Here I am with my three sisters. With suprise we have gotten along so well. I feel as though maybe we are, I am? Finally growing up. The relationships for some reason feel simpler, easier, like an old familiar and comfortable pair of shoes. Sure there is that lump in the sole, but you are used to it, and it doesn't bother you most of the time. The places where the shoe is worn the most, where your flesh presses hardest, perhaps is the most comfortable, the grooves worn and the leather softest. In a way, comforting to know, even in the irritating things, you know what to expect and in spite of all the changes in your life, some things haven't changed at all.

On the Rez

Sorry my Bloggiest ones, no time to resize pics. As it is, I am stealing a minute from all the craziness to post to you! I have missed you all, and I can't stand it anymore.
Things are going well! Very well actually. Everyone is getting along, and no fights! I haven't even had to hold myself in, yay!
So far, we went and visited the buffalo on the reserve, enjoyed a prarie sunset, stared at the prarie dogs, and visited and laughed way too late at night.
Living off the reservation it is so easy to only remember the things about my culture and heritage that are whole and beautiful. Coming home means the ugly and hurtful is right in my face. Along with the things I love, the things I hate live here.
Geez, I gotta go, catch up with all my bloggy friends later.

Shoes and Love

Jenny asked for a picture of Brown Boy's shoes when he deplaned. Here they are.

Now my whole family is awaiting for the mystical fortune telling by our beloved Jenny on what exactly those shoes mean! Kind of reddy brown sorta bowling shoes.. Well Jenny?

Brown Boy passed our family tests with flying colors. He was polite but obviously smitten in a good Mormon boy way with our Pygmy Child. Being raised LDS if you behave yourself means, you will be celibate until marriage. And by way of TMI (too much information) Yes, Bald Man and I were good Mormons and we behaved ourselves until our wedding day. Not that we were not tempted, but we felt strongly about it, so we kept our hands pretty much to ourselves until that day.
The chemistry between the two seems of the normal variety. He did say that our family was pretty silly and interactive. We are very hands on, lots of tickling, wrestling, hugs and kisses in this household. We tease and have a lot of insider family games and jokes. Brown Boy said he enjoyed that about our family. He even got to witness Little Man at his absolute worst at the Picture Taking Fiasco and didn't run screaming, so he must really like Pygmy Girl!
By the way, in spite of Little Man's not so great behavior, I am so pleased with the picture we got out of it. All the portrait place gave us was a tiny computer printout of it, but I went ahead and scanned it in. That amazing picture taking lady even got Little Man to smile! Wow. Small taste of what is to come in a couple of weeks for your perusal.

Pygmy Child expressed her continued approval of Brown Boy. I also had a chance to speak with Brown Boy's mama, who was very nice also. I told her she had taught her son well and he was a credit to her teaching.

The romance continues.


So what do you guys think? Will they or won't they?

So Scared

What a crazy day, but I will post about that later, when I am in less ruffled mood to do so. Pygmy Child is enjoying her visit with Brown Boy and so far he is passing our family tests with flying colors. But this post is not about them.
Due to insane schedules of many adults and the fact we are moving to MO at the end of the month, to say nothing of our road trip next week, suffice it say that today was the ONLY day to get all the kids together to get a family portrait done. The last family portrait we had done was oh... when Little Man was a year, and he is almost 9 years old now. Time to get it done, or it wouldn't be happening in the next decade I think.
Little Man was HORRIBLE! I am really traumatized by how awful he was. He walked up to me and bit me on the breast, (what the heck? He has never done anything even remotely like that before) He pinched me, HARD on the neck, he scratched me, he screamed, he cried and in general carried on terribly. He made our trip for a family picture into a complete nightmare. Autism+retardation+his other mental disorders= a really bad time.
I know it isn't his "fault" and he has a ton of problems that contribute to times like these, but even though understanding helps, it does not take away how hard it is to remain patient with him, nor does it take away my fears.
What my sweet, (ha!) boy does not understand is that days like today scare me to death. I think that is ultimately my trauma about his behavior, it scares me! It makes me wonder about the future. What about when he is bigger than me? What about puberty hormones? Will the future bring uncontrollable aggression on his part?

He doesn't understand that days like today leave me in terror of a time when he might not be able to live with us. There are quite a few children with Little Man's syndrome who have been moved out of their family homes permanently, and more than one child who has had to live separately temporarily. I just pray our little guy won't be one of them. Days like today leave me fear and doubts.

Things I am going to miss

Today is the big day! Brown Boy arrives in Utah later this evening. Today is a busy day getting ready for his arrival and the usual daily busy-ness.
As we are getting ready for the big move from UT to MO, I find myself wending my way nostalgically down memory lane. Because we are moving from a five bedroom house to a three bedroom apt, there are many things going to be left behind. Some of the things, all I have to say, is good riddance! Two broken down couches, an older freezer, things like that. Teenage boys who like to wrestle have been very hard on our furniture.
But some of it! Oh it is going to be hard to say goodbye...

My lilac bushes


Close Up


The Wisteria


Close Up

Because of space constraints, we are also leaving behind our nice grill, it is only one season old. I really enjoyed it while I used it. Sigh....
And Igamu.(that is Lakota for cat) Our sweet kitty. He is 12 years old and only has half a tail. He is filled with spunk and curiousity. He was licking (tasting?) the rat last night! But the family who is buying the house wants to keep him. I really think he will be much happier staying in his familiar house than picking up and moving somewhere. So I will miss

Igamu

Good bye grill, goodbye wisteria, good bye kitty...

P.S. A Tale from the Bathroom

By the way, my Bloggiest ones, do NOT buy the Neutragena Micromist Tanning. I like the color, great color. The spray sucks! You will end up a striped tiger, it is impossible to do it well, so don't bother spending the money. Also, you will use more than half of the almost 10$ can for just one use! I had to go back 3 more times trying to get rid of the stripes and I still had paler spaces. Dang it. I am going to see if they sell it in a lotion instead.

Participate in ending the Genocide in Darfur!

Bombadee has asked everyone to please blog about sending a postcard to Bush to help end the genocide. Please, please go to this link and send a postcard to Bush, telling him we need to stop this!
Send a Postcard to Bush Please send the postcard and please blog about this issue too. I can't imagine how difficult these people's lives must be and this is a very small thing I can do.

Mutant Pygmy Child

The early promised post was mostly written and almost ready to go when my connection to AOL was lost. Along with the connection there went my post into cyber space. So if this rewrite doesn't meet with your high expectations, blame it on the puter. So my little Blogger Snickerdoodles, here we go. Pygmy Child.
Pgymy Child came into our family in the most common way, albeit a tad bit early. (four weeks) She was a wee thing of just six pounds, but we found her uncommonly beautiful.

She was always just a little snip of a thing. Being the first child overly concerned with parental approval and perfection. (She is still that way, 25 years later, anyone who says kids don't come with their own personalities, either has NO kids or only 1!) She was an easy baby, easy to entertain and rarely even needing a scolding. My husband and I were convinced it was our amazing prowess at parenting that was the root of her delightful and well behaved self. The Princess was sent to us to cut us down to size! We quickly learned from the Princess that we were incapable and in fact, probably rotten parents. Now we have teens and are are CONVINCED we suck at the parenting thing, but we can't find the place to return them, so we are stuck with them.
Back to the Pygmy Child. By the time she was 7 or 8 it was obvious to EVERYONE that she was not a normal sized kid. I remember someone asking me in a public bathroom if she was potty trained already. I replied, I sure hope so, she is four! At eight years old she only weighed about 32 lbs.
Child in the center is Pygmy Child, she was probably about 13. Child on left is brother Tank, 6 years younger! Child on right is a cousin, 6 1/2 years younger.
We took her to some specialists but it would be a few more years before we got an answer to her problem. She has a rare form of dwarfism.
-A small aside on political correctness among those of below average height. There is no such thing as a midget, all people under 4 ft 10 in are considered Little People and suffer from a form of dwarfism-
The form of dwarfism our daughter has is actually what makes the pygmys short too! Hence, the name Pgymy Child. When I quizzed a doctor as to how we had produced a pygmy child, seeing that even though Bald Man and I are short, neither of us are pygmys. We were told it was probably a mutation. There ya go! Mutant Pygmy Child!
Here is a more current pic of the darling.

To the right is Tank, 5ft 10in, and to the left is Oldest Son, 5ft 8in. Pygmy Child in the middle makes them look much taller than they really are.
Currently Pygmy Child is a junior in college. She returned from a mission for our Church about a year and half ago. She served in Venezuela and Aruba. She now is a fluent spanish speaker. She is still a pleaser and a perfectionist. She is really a kind person and I am proud of her in terms of the person she is becoming.
A few months ago Pygmy Child joined an internet LDS dating service and a couple of months ago she began a long distance relationship with Brown Boy who lives in Fl. I know, I know... we feel uncomfortable with the internet thing too, but I think this is getting to be a more common way of people meeting, as the world wide web shrinks the globe.
So far, everything we know about Brown Boy has impressed us. Brown Boy has a degree in computer stuff, is employed by the public utility company in Florida so he is a college grad and he is gainfully employed! He has a good relationship with his family and treats his mother with respect and love. (I have always told my girls to watch how a boy treats his mom, he will treat his wife with the same amount of respect. It has nothing to do with weird Opedial urges, it has to do with a man's perception of the worth of women)
To bring us to the entire focus of this post:
Brown Boy arrives to meet the fam on Fri! We shall see. Watch this space for updates and even possibly pictures!

It Happened!

Paradox: one that possesses seemingly contradictory qualities or phases.
Ladies and Gents (or Gent, I know at least one left a comment) You see before you a living, breathing paradox.
Yup, your beloved Jo is a true paradox. And what, you may ask, has brought about this unusual condition, that they do not teach you about in medical school? Nor is it treatable by any means available to the medical community. Okay, I take that back, large doses of pyschotropic drugs would probably take care of it.
We sold our house.
Yup, by the first of June, we must leave the fair state of Utah and we will move 18 hours away to the (hopefully!) fine state of MO.
And the burning question before all of us. Will Jo continue to be Utahjo? Or will she become......

MoJo?

That my bloggy puddings, will be answered in the weeks to come, since even the aforementioned Jo has no idea!
Grad school is calling my name. I just recently graduated from a pretty good school here in Utah. Too many white people, too many Mormons. (Doesn't matter that I am Mormon, in large numbers they become mindless lemmings who seem to be unable to have any thought beyond the status quo, which is nothing the Church teachs, just a result of groupthink)
I have been offered a great scholarship opportunity in MO, so off we go. Selling our house has been the thing keeping us here, and it happened this weekend. But now I must leave!
Want to know a weird number? 13. Bald Man and I have been married 26 years in Aug. We lived in Cali for the first 13 years of our marriage, the next 13 in Utah, and now?? Who knows.
Leaving California was difficult as in leaving my friends. I have not made the number or quality of friends here in Utah that I had in Cali, but there are a few that will make me cry.
But here is why I am going to be completely devastated:

My little Sweet Pea will stay here in Utah, along with Princess, Pygmy Child, Oldest Son, Tank, (used to be middle son, but I changed it)and Girlfriend, who is no longer girlfriend, but still loved by our family.
Honestly, leaving the older kids will be easier than leaving my granddaughter. They are grownups, can make their own decisions. But little Pea, she is changing every day,and she loves me so much, and I adore the child. Ahhhhh!!!
So packing will resume at a frenzied pace, and in the midst of all this, we have that trip to South Dakota for our big family thing.
It is of comfort to me, (I am not kidding) that my bloggy buddies shall come along with me. A bit of continuity in the midst of a great deal of change. It happened, my life is going to change hugely in the next few weeks.
My plan to deal with my state of paradoxity? Put off thinking about who I am going to miss until the day I move and enjoy as much time as possible with my beloved family and friends. No drugs for me, thanks.

The FBI and Dogzilla

Oh gosh dang it, I was almost done and I lost the whole post!! WAH!
Ok,now you guys get the shorter version, sorry. Basically we found out that the arrest of the Babysitter was a joint effort on the part of the local Police, the U.S. Postal Service,(my mom the attorney says it probably has something to do with mailed porn) and the FBI! We were told by the not very bright and not very nice detective on the case, that at this point there isn't anything that should concern us. Meaning the porn they have found so far doesn't involve young boys. Big sigh of relief on that one. Still upset about it, of course and your kindly thoughts on my behalf have been deeply appreciated. I continue to be more angry with myself than with the babysitter. I guess I feel it is our job to keep our boy safe and not any one else's. But your kindly thoughts have helped me be a bit less emotional and more logical about the part we play in this.
Here is a good place to share a pic of Little Man. The part that is important about this is that this is school picture. Normally Little Man's school pictures are less than stellar. It is bad enough Little Man is retarded, he doesn't have to look it! But this one is nice, so I will share.

My sweet boy. He is so handsome. And because he is delayed, he still LOVES to snuggle and kiss his mama. His mama feels the same way, so cuddling is a daily thing.
Speaking of things Little Man likes, one of his current obsessions is Dogzilla. Dav Pilkey wrote it, along with the Captain Underpants series. They were a big hit at our house. This is the original picture out of the Dogzilla book.

See how Dogzilla is licking up the barbeque?
Now with Jo's amazing new talents at Photoshopping!


Little Man was quite amused with his mother's newly learned skills.
The week is over and I am soooo glad, this is not been a great one and I need unwind. Watch the coming days for Jo's opinions on foster care, Pygmy Child's new guy in her life, my obsession with
Cute Overload and other timely and interesting topics.

A Clearer Head

Funny, how when you are in shock, you don't even know you are. This morning I know I was in shock last night, kind of numb and thinking perhaps I should do nothing, I am sure in a effort to avoid having to deal with this at all.
This morning though, clearer head, and plans and feelings. Grief, for the boy who I have known so long, for his poor, poor mother and all she is going through. Anger for even having to deal with this at all, IT ISN'T FAIR!! I cry to the heavens, my poor Little Man has already been through so much. And even IF, if, if, if nothing "touched" my child, he has lost his best friend as he calls him. Sorrow, for me, for my boy, for our family. I cried this morning, feelings finally seeping through the cracks of my fortress of shock. Sweet emails from people who care, touching me, helping me remember what my head knows and what my heart doesn't. That we are not the world's worst parents, that we didn't intentionally put our beloved child in harms way, that it isn't our fault. And that it happens, in this sucky world, stuff like this happens.
Plans, to call the sheriffs office, to make sure it was "just" teenage girls, hopefully to take in a picture of Little Man and make sure his picture isn't on the internet anywhere. If I can't get anywhere with them today, I will be calling my mom (she is an attorney) and asking her what I need to do next. I will call his Disability Case worker and find out what resources they have for him. That for now, along with all my feelings is enough for the day. Thanks for the support, I really need it now. I need to hear your kindness because I have very little for myself right now.

Heart Sick

Two things happened yesterday and today that have made me heartsick. Both of them involve our Little Man.
Yesterday night, Little Man fell asleep in our bed, Bald Man was sitting on the bed watching TV and waiting for a commercial so he could put Little Man in his own bed. Little Man kinda sat up, had a seizure and then fell out of bed. He hit the nightstand on his way down and gashed his mouth open. Nice, great. He was so out of it from the seizure he didn't even wake up as I tended to his mouth wound. I really hate this. He is on four different meds and has a VNS (vagal nerve stimulator) to help with his seizures but we still deal with them pretty much on a daily basis. I guess I feel helpless about the whole thing, and that somehow I didn't do my mommy job right, to protect him from getting hurt.
The gut punch today involves Little Man's favorite babysitter. This is a young man we have known for years, and Little Man just loves him. Basically we pay this kid money to come over and play video games with Little Man. Doesn't matter to us, we just need to know that Little Man is safe and happy.
Oh... that one hurt, safe. What rotten parents we have turned out to be. The baby sitter's mother came over tonight to tell us that her son was in jail due to child pornography. I was just sick when she told me. I did ask her straight out if it involved little boys. She insisted that it was "only" teenage girls.
But how do we know? All we know is what she told us. Asking Little Man about it is a bit problematic, because his verbal skills are not good. We have not been really able to teach him personal safety, because he just doesn't get it. How do I know this young man hasn't molested my son?
I suppose I need to call someone in the court/legal system tomorrow and find out how we go about finding out if our son was in danger. The babysitter never looked at anything on our computer as far as I know, because I sometimes check the history and there has never been anything on there, just the stuff Bald Man and I have looked at. I hate this. I really hate it, mostly because I don't know what to do. I can't ask my son, because he can't tell me. If we somehow find out that the child porn involves little boys, what do we do? Take Little Man in for counseling? Not sure how that work, since you can't really hold a conversation with the child. I hate that I didn't know, didn't protect my son, hate that helpless feeling, of not knowing exactly what do to. Why didn't we know? There weren't any neon lights pointing to the kid's head, saying, watch out this kid likes child porn! No signs, nothing. I feel so horrid about this whole thing. I just feel heart sick.

Fairest of them all!

Ah, dearest bloggiest friends, something you do not know about me and my family. Actually when you think about it, I suppose there is very little you know... hmm. At the same time, you know things that others do not. Now that is something to ponder.
Well the part I shall reveal to you now is that the Princess sings! I mean, really, really sings! In fact, two years ago, (before mommyhood) she won a local contest for American Idol and we went to Vegas to audition. That was a serious joke, won't even get into it unless someone expresses interest about the story.
Anyways... back to today. The Princess was asked to sing at a local Baby Fair, and as always, she knocked their socks off. She is such a tiny thing, 5ft nothing and she has a HUGE voice. So I did a tiny video, it is kinda horrid, off sync a bit and then I drop the camera at the end because I was trying to video and hold the Pea at the same time! But here is a way to see a quick clip of the Princess singing.

Video Hosting - Upload Video - Photo Sharing
Then there was the baby fair, The Pea won 3rd Place for her age catagory! We are so proud!
Here is cute pic of the Pea with her medal. What do you think of the flower?? Make fun of it if you wish, but we think it is cute!

Although I think she gave us her real opinion of the Flower headband later!
I love my little Pea!
Quick Gramma braggin', our Pea is walking! She just turned 8 months old! Now the Princess walked at 7 months, so the Pea is a bit behind her mama, but still WAY ahead of most kids. This is fun, cause everyone expects me to brag, so I do! Oh, she is also signing more, playing patty cake and so big! She is really amazing. One day soon, I promise to write my point of view on being a grandma, cause I love it.
My other activities right now are posting on two blogs about Homebirth and safety. As a mama who has had four homebirths, and as a midwife who has caught hundreds of babies in safety, I have a pretty strong viewpoint on it. If you want to read those blogs I shall give you the links. Look in the comments for my contribution if you wish. Gotta watch the Leery one though, that mama is Jo too, so you you have to scroll down to the end where I refer to myself as Jo in Utah.
The first is Leery Polyp
and the second is Selkie
There ya go! The weekend in Jo's house and more tibits of info about our always interesting family.

It's about Passion and Creativity!

Now, now, children, get your little minds out of the gutter! This is not about sex, although with my background as a midwife, I probably could give some tips to both men and women! (and have! but I will leave that for another post)
No this post, my little Bloggity Ones, is about needle felting! This topic was briefly touched on in my post about Owlhaven's challenge. But now I will go into detail about it. I just recently picked up this new obsession, (Thanks Auntie Karen!) and the felting bug bit me bad! I love doing it. Felting, either the wet kind or the dry kind,(needle) is a way to make wool fibers basically stick together and become more dense. Rather than trying to write about it, why don't I show you? (You know I did this little project just for you, my bloggy dears!)
First, the tools of the trade:
This is a felting block, a rather dense foam, and felting needles. Felting needles have very small barbs along the sides to help tangle the wool fibers together. They are very, very sharp! Just ask my little fingers! Be careful! The foam is your artists canvas.

Your artist's palette of colors comes next:
Lovely, lovely shades of wool roving. Roving is carded wool, that has been dyed, or left in natural sheepy shades. Aren't they lovely?? I want more! Can't have enough colors, it is amazing. Just go to Ebay and type in needle felting, and you will see!
This is a piece of roving.
After you have decided what colors you are going to use, you pull off enough roving to begin the process.

I want to make a ball, so I take this piece that I pulled off and I roll it into a general ball shape. Then come the fun part, THE POKING!
Take that needle and poke away.
It makes this rather crunchy sound and feel that is soooo satisfying. Don't know why, just is. Before you know it, taa daa! A wool ball!

After you have felted all the pieces you are going to use:

You use your needle to felt all the pieces together. When you are all done, look what you have!

Now some of you are thinking, why would I want a sheep. Well you don't have to do a sheep, you can make anything your heart desires.
My finished pieces:

You can make and decorate just about anything with it. It is a wonderful feeling to make something that is out of your very own creativity and heart. I really, really like it. Here is a lady blogger who is a very gifted fiber artist:
Artsy Granny
And that my blogging darlin's is part of Jo's passion and creativity.

Owlhaven's Challenge

Okay, here is my response to Owlhaven's challenge. We were asked to post 3 pictures that are reflections of who we are. Some of the spots I considered were the cobwebs in the corner, the spots on the carpet, the handprints on the wall, and my messy bookcases, but I decided while those things certainly make a commentary about me, it is not a pleasant one, nor who I would claim I am. I am NOT my messy house! So without further ado, are my 3 special spots that I think say the most about me.
Spot #1

This is the top of the bookcase in my living room. On it sits some special things to me. A cottage that I made from polymer clay, two needle felted dolls, the smaller one was a gift from a dear friend, and the larger one I made, a native american baby doll, and a glass wolf from Oldest Son and Girlfriend for Christmas. The lamp is an antique from Bald Man's family, but I like it. Way in the back is a wedding pic of myself and Bald Man.
Spot #2

I am imagining that you are asking, What are those? Are those binders? Why does Jo have a stack of these, and how in the heck can that be a reflection on anyone? My little pretties, here are your answers: Yup, those are binders, a whole BIG bunch of them. What they are is a binder for every college class I have taken in the last 3 1/2 years. What they mean is Phi Kappa Phi, Honors, Magna cum Laude, 4 semesters of 4.0, hours and hours of work, a bunch of scholarships, my door to grad school, and the fact, that brown or not, I am just as good as any white person and a good deal better than some! Honest, I really mean that. Ever heard of the "black tax"? (Having to work twice as hard just to prove yourself equal?) Well there is a brown tax too, and I paid it in those binders.
Spot #3

This is my craft corner. My sewing machine is obvious, the stack of flannel next to it is a rag quilt I am making for the Pea, the plastic box has my sculpting stuff in it, my sewing box and my tool kit round out so many of the things I enjoy doing, rarely have time to do, but LOVE with all my heart. This stuff is soul food, people. The stuff that makes the sun shine even when it is raining outside and makes you feel like you are alive and doing what you were put on the earth to do.
And that is my response to my home reflecting who I am.
(If anyone wants to know how to put a link in that goes to a blank new page instead of losing your current page, feel free to leave a comment or an email and I would be glad to give you the place where I got the information)

Keeping Promises

I promised last week that I would sort through some photos online so we, (we, as in you and me!)could decide on another picture for my profile. The current one has too much Pa-Pa and not enough Jo, I think. Here are some photos to decide from. And a couple, (well, one particularly) for a laugh or two at awkward teen-ness.
Here I am as a young-un.
This one is me in Kindergarten- I believe the youngest of the group of pictures. My mom made that dress, smocking and all.

I had had long hair up until that year, when my mom did the pixie cut thing, right before we left Italy.
This I believe is me in 1st Grade.


I hadn't lost any teeth yet, so I suppose this young might be me at four? Who knows?

This next one is 2nd or 3rd grade, once more, the date is a bit blurry.

This next one is me as a VERY serious Brownie, I remember the setting of the picture well. My mom was gone to my grandfather's funeral, and I was staying with our next door neighbors. They had just bought me new sneakers and I was as proud as I could be!

Okay, it is fine to laugh at the next picture, I thought I would include it just for the humor of it. I was a sophomore in High School. I had wanted my hair cut and my mom's friend did it for me. While I wanted it shorter, THIS was NOT what I had in mind. Add the ugly glasses, (all our insurance would pay for) and I was soooo dreadful looking. Poor me...


And just to show you that awkward age didn't last forever, this is me just out of highschool, and I was a bridesmaid at my girlfriend's wedding. Whew, much improved, I think!

So out of the first four, which one do you think I should use for my new profile picture?

Seamy Underside

I started this blog as a way to be able to openly talk about things. Things that I couldn't usually. The only person who knows about the blog is Pygmy Child, and she isn't allowed to read. Now that you know a lil bit about my current life, this post goes to my "other" life. The one that happened before I made this family.
My parents were married in 1959.

My dad was in the army. My mom a resevation girl living in California with her sister. My dad turned out to be a real loser. A drunk, and a wife beater to top it off. My parents made 4 girls. One sister 1 year older than me( Terese), I am next, one sister 1 year younger (Jan) and the youngest by 3 years after me, (Anita) It was probably all the for the best that he was gone so much during the Vietnam War. To make a long story short, he left all of us, when I was 10. I never saw him again. He died about a year and half ago. Leaving all of his girls to mourn what would never be.
This leads me to my confession about how angry I am with my youngest sister Anita. We used to be so close, and I think that really is part of the hurt now. Through her divorce with her ex, I was there, always supportive and loving. She was remarried about 2 years ago and pissed my mother and my sister Janet off royally by acting like a spoiled rotten brat at her wedding.
Part of this story would be incomplete if I didn't mention that she is some sort of evangelic Christian. Hey, I am a Christian too, but not according to my sister, she knows we are all headed for hell, and in recent years has become very intolerant, smug, self righteous and quite the little hypocrite. I miss my sister, the one who I used to be close to, the one who was so loving to me. I miss her a ton.
This all leads into the fact that I will be seeing her in a month, and I am so angry with her. I kinda feel like I need to deal with this now, because I don't want to ruin our family celebration by getting into it with her.
My current gripe with her is over my dad's things. She was the only one with the resources to be able to attend his funeral. In the process she received a bunch of his stuff, which not only has no one else seen, we don't even know all of it. She says, well it isn't fair that the rest of you remember him, this is all I have. Oh I get so mad when I think of it. She was kind enough to scan some of the pictures and email those, but she has kept all the originals for herself. I despise her for her selfish brattiness! Here is what I think should be done: She should bring everything she has received to the family gathering in May and we four girls can sit down, sort through it and divy it up. Don't you think that would be the fairest thing? I am sure some of you are disappointed by how petty this is, and how mad I am about it, but what can I say, it is the way I feel. Thanks for letting me vent about it. That is a really important part to me sorting all of this out.

My Weekend in 2 Parts, Sunday

I woke up tired on Sunday, I battled and battled with myself about whether or not to attend the Immigration Reform March in Salt Lake City. I finally decided that I could not excuse myself because I was tired. I really feel that the undocumented workers in Utah get the short shrift and that I was obligated to show my support. And honestly, I think a bunch of white people, (no offense intended!) who are ultimately all immigrants, need to be more sympathetic to those seeking the same dreams. Ya, Ya, if you disagree, post a comment and I will defend my position, I have given it a ton of thought.
So here we are marching up State Street to the Capitol, it was wall to wall people, amazing! Over 20 thousand. It was awe inspiring, really!

Here is a couple who came with my favorite sign!

And here I am, with my sign. Look closely, you can see that I am also wearing one of my eagle feathers:

And that my peeps, was my weekend! I came home so hot and tired on Sunday, I could hardly move.

My Weekend in 2 Parts, Saturday

I guess I will let the photos do the talking for me. Saturday was frybread flapping day. Actually the lady who made the dough didn't go it right so we actually had to roll it! Ha, ha! This is me cooking fry bread:

This is Pymgy Child (age 24 1/2) enjoying said fry bread. She put powdered sugar on hers, which is way better than putting salt on it!

And this is Blogger Jo, wearing one of my graduation gifts from my mom.

I was sooooo tired by the time I got home at 10:30 that night.

Better Living Thru Pharmacology

Achromic asks about Little Man "do (his problems) they mean that he has to be watched if he is awake?" Oh my good gosh freak out yes! I guess I need to be more explanatory about our beloved son's "issues".
We call him alphabet soup boy, he has so many letters. EOBPD, CAPD, ADHD, and so on. Those letters, by the way stand for Early Onset Bi-Polar disorder, Central Auditory Processing Disorder and Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder. The way these letters impact our lives, follows: EOBPD, the way it is mostly manifest is by irritablity, whether he is manic or depressed. It is part of the sleep issues. Probably, besides his genetic syndrome no one has heard of, causes us the most problems. CAPD: nothing wrong with his ability to hear, but his ability to process what he hears is significantly impacted. Sometimes you feel like you are talking in slow mo trying to get him to "get it". ADHD is probably self explanatory. Unmedicated, he moves constantly and has the attention span of a mosquito. Besides all that, he has a refactory seizure disorder, which means he still seizes daily, inspite of his 4 seizure meds and a
Vagal Nerve Stimulator. He also has Raynauds Syndrome, which cause his blood vessels in his hands and feet to constrict when it is cold outside. And last but certainly not least he is also autistic. He is delayed mentally, (IQ of 51) He is delayed physically, he can walk and run and talk, but all below what he should be able to do.
This is a long winded answer to dear Achromic's question. Yes, he needs to be watched like a hawk, all the time. It is time consuming and energy depleting. Kind of like having a baby in a 8 year old body. He is rather dangerous, and he is also capable of getting in or out of places he shouldn't. Lest you should think it all dreadful, it isn't. For the most part, within the house, while we are up and about, he is pretty good. I can usually get dinner cooked, or something done. (Usually, but not always.) A bad day might mean I had to give him just about all my attention the entire day. He does go to school, and he is in a theraputic afterschool program too, So that means I have plenty of time during the day to get things done that are important to me. And yes my little dumplings, that includes keeping my bloggy friends happy!
I just got a call from the psychiatrist's office and we are going to try going up on one of his meds. Let me tell you, messing with our boy's medications frightens me to death. I feel as though I am walking on the edge of a cliff and anything could blow us off. Since sleep has been an issue since his birth, according to hospital records and his first foster mother, we assume the prenatal heroin exposure also has something to do with it. The cause of the problem means a good deal less than the direct result, which is that his daddy and I can only go a few days without sleep without going completely out of our minds.
This is a fairly depressing post so far, but don’t worry little darlings, I will leave you with cheerful words and the exquisite delight of the 1000 word essay in just a few pixels.
First, the 1000 word essay:

Second: Our Little Man, problem or not, is beloved and cherished by our entire family. My heart has been seared in pain, and my love expanded by my son’s incredible courage and amazing ability to laugh and have fun, even in the tough times. He is a hero, our little guy and there is never a day that I doubt God chose him for our family. Not for him to be blessed, but for us to blessed by our son’s love, given, as he says, “Big Much!”

Very Unsatisfying

If you will take a moment to check the time that I posted this, you might wonder perhaps, why is our Jo awake at such an hour? Does she suffer from insomnia? Is her bright and busy mind too engaged to allow her to sleep? Perhaps she does meth on the weekends so she can purposefully post new blog entries at an ungodly hour. My dear readers, bold and beautiful all of you, the answers to all the questions above are no. The reason our entire household is still awake is that Little Man is still awake. This is in spite of enough sleep medication that would make any normal adult sleep for two or three days. You think perhaps I am exaggerating? Tut, tut dearest blogger friends, I do not exaggerate. Okay, well I do as a general principal, (all good story tellers do!) but on this particular issue, I am not to be accused of hyper-illuminating my son's medications. Bald Man and I are shivering in horrible anticipation of all heck breaking loose on our lives.
This leads me to the post title. By being a Mormon, there are just some things Mormons, (at least good ones) don't do. They don't drink tea or coffee, or smoke, or drink alcohol. They also don't swear. This leaves me with few ways to express the depth of my horror and fear about the current sleeping, (or lack thereof) in our home. If I could, I would even drop the f-bomb. But I can not. So I shall regal you with the G-rated version of swear words, Mormon-style. Gosh Dang it all to heck!Freaking, fetching, flipping, heck! Good Gravy! Darn it, Darn it, Darn it. Crap, and crapola! You see what I mean? Very unsatisfying.
The level to which Bald Man and I are scared, angry and horrified is boundless. We both live in terror of the return to our incredibly sleep deprived years. And once more, in spite of my tendency to distort the truth for the stories sake, this is not hyperbole! This is the gosh dagnabit truth, we almost lost our minds with the horrible sleep deprivation we suffered and we are scared crapless at the thought of the return to that 7th Circle of Heck. Even with as many extra meds as we dared to add to the Little Mans bedtime routine, he was still awake at 1. I am so sure our Nurse Practioner is going to love my call tomorrow. When we first started on this whole, make him sleep, we don't flippin care how, just make the brat sleep road, we tried every medication known to man that is used specifically to make people sleep or even has the side effect of sleepiness. We are pretty much down to nothing now. I don't know what we will do, but I do know this can not go on for very long. Our sanity, (you think I am kidding, I am not!) is at stake here peoples! We need to sleep. Dang it anyway.

Them that asks, gets!

Ipodmama took the time to ask some questions in the comments section, so here are the answers! And in the process you shall learn a bit more about my little tangled self.

"from where in CA are you all from?"
Well, we need to go back a bit in time. Ok, not a bit, many decades! My dad was an Army man, so I was an Army brat and moved around, ALOT! I was born on the coast of California, and then we spent the next few years in Europe, mostly in Italy. I came to Central California just in time to go to Kindergarten with an Italian accent. Then we moved to Georgia, ( I lived in Georgia when MLK was killed, on my birthday no less!) My parents divorced and my mom went home to the Rez, (reservation) to her parents. After living there a year, we were relocated by the BIA Relocation Program to California, San Jose to be exact. The BIA relocation program was an attempt to get the Indians off the reservation and into jobs in the cities. That is a whole 'nother post if you want to know how I feel about that! We moved from there after my mom was done with her computer school, (think giant mainframes and punchcards here people, this was the '60's!) to Sacramento where I lived from the time I was 10 until we moved to Utah 13 years ago.

"and may I put you on my list?" Thanks for asking, and after checking your site for any child porn or racist comments, yes you may!

"is your picture you as a wee one? and upon whose lap are you sitting?"
Yes that is me as a wee one. Cute little thing huh? That is my paternal grandfather, Old Bald Man. I have no idea why I put that picture up there, except perhaps it is because my father passed away a year or so ago and I feel like I don't know his side of the family well at all, and I worry that perhaps I will lose them, with my father gone.. I am seriously looking for another picture though, of just me. Perhaps I shall put some on as a post and let you guys decide which one I should use.
Thanks for the questions, it was fun to use it as a springboard to another post!

A Picture is worth?

Generally speaking, they say a picture is worth 1000 words. But let me add a couple, because it will make the picture more meaningful. The Princess, (age 23) has a little Pea, (age 7 1/2 months) who is perfectly capable and perfectly bright enough to understand the request for kisses. This little brat, (said with lovingly clenched teeth!) is so dang stingy with her kisses. Mostly she will get turn her face away. Monster child, after all the clothes and toys I buy her? Hmph. Now the picture:

She will ALWAYS give Little Man kisses. We had to redo this particular picture over at least 5 times before we were able to capture the sweetest moment. Not only will she ALWAYS kiss Little Man on demand, she will OFFER him kisses. Little Monster.

Frybread Flapping

Well now that I am feeling better, (bald man went to work anyway, even though he still isn't feeling too hot) I thought, oh cool, I have a lunch date with two different friends this week, a quilt to finish, my needle felting to poke at and the regular running around to do, (dang my family thinks they need to eat everyday, sometimes more than once a day!) But last night, my dreams for the rest of my week came crashing down. I forgot I promised to go flap frybread at the local college for a fundraiser.
Let me explain frybread. Made from white flour, baking soda or yeast, powdered milk, sugar sometimes and FRIED in oil or lard, it is NOT good for you.
Once upon a time, Native Americans certainly had none of those ingredients, so the origin of this now ubiquitous "Indian" food has much more recent beginnings. With the treaties a hundred years ago, the loss of the typical way the locals fed themselves long gone, the treaties included food stuffs to feed the brown people, resulting in what has now become commodities or "comods" in local parlance. Some of the more basic things given to the brown people were things like flour, lard, powdered milk and being the creative souls we are, fry bread was born. While it is NOT good for you, man oh man does it taste good!
Well, it does if you eat it right.
I live in Utah, by far and away the most numerous of the local tribes is the Navajo. And boy oh boy they are weird! The RIGHT way to eat frybread is with honey and butter on it, HOT of course. Those Navajo, (shaking head slowly back and forth) put SALT, that is right folks, salt on theirs. Weirdos.
And this leads me to the title of today's post. Back home,on the Dakota plains, our people, (the Lakota, or our white-given name, Sioux) use rolling pins to roll out our frybread, and we never ever put salt on it. But because I am helping out locally, I will be forced to flap frybread back and forth like a Navajo for the rest of the week, and then the entire day on Saturday for the pow wow too. Sigh. Hopefully none of the folks from home will see me. And they can NOT make me eat it with salt on it, I won't, I won't! Flapped or not, it tastes like a bit of heaven, and if you come by, I promise to make you yours to order!

Some Birthday

It's my birthday. I am 45. Bald man rearranged his schedule so we could spend the day together. It is now noon. What have we done? I am still recovering from the tummy troubles from the Puke Factory incident and Bald man woke up this morning with the symptoms. So far we have both taken naps today. Hey, not that I am complaining about that! Naps to me are heaven. When Little Man joined our family, even though I had already been through many years of what I thought was sleep deprivation, let me tell you, I HAD NO IDEA! This child did not sleep. He was 3 1/2 months old when he joined our family. And the child never slept. Never napped. Night time. oh my gosh, he woke up, and I wish I was kidding when I said this, every 15 minutes. Is it the drug use from the uterus? His rare genetic syndrome? A combo of both? Who knows. I about lost my mind until he was 18 months and we were able to convince a doctor they either needed to drug the kid or put his parents in the funny farm. He does better now. Only up about twice a night. With drugs. (we are not discussing his nightly seizures right now) Our family motto now? Better living through Pharmacology. But 8 1/2 years of sleep deprivation of varying degrees has made me think that good sleep is akin to the best chocolate or the best sex in the world. My first birthday present of the day? A dang good nap! My next act? Go to the video store and rent a movie. I think Bald man and I will be snacking on popsicles and drinking Sprite. Happy Birthday to me!

The Big Break Up

Opps, spoke too soon about Oldest Son and Girlfriend. These two dated off and on during high school, and exclusively the last two years. They have also been living together for the last 7 months or so. Aren't they beautiful together?
They officially broke up today. Are there any ceremonies or cards or anything for when a couple like this breaks up? What do we do about Girlfriend? We love her. All my kids love her. She babysits my granddaughter. We have a history together now. How do you do this?
Girlfriend comes from a less than functional home. Our holidays especially are very meaningful to her.She had never carved a pumpkin before, (her mom said that is too messy!) Our family always has a live tree, she had never picked out a Christmas tree. Our tree is decorated with silly glitter handprints from when the kids were small, and we generally try to make a new set of ornaments every year, so that the years are marked by which ornaments we made. The year we got to see the Wall of China exhibit has a cute Chinese boy and girl ornament to mark that fun time we had. We have some Japanese ones to remember our Japanese friends. We trade ornaments every year with our best friends, so those ones have a really special meaning for us. We usually all decorate our tree together and laugh and tell stories about the year this one was made etc.
The first year Girlfriend decorated our tree with us, she kept asking where each ornament went. I finally said, where ever you put it silly, what do you mean, where do they go? At her house, if the kids made ornaments in school, they got hung up that year and thrown out with the tree. Their tree is always one of those decorator trees, beautiful and perfect, but meaningless. That year, Girlfriend made ornaments with us, and as she wrote her name on the back, said, next year, and all the years after, you will say, "Girlfriend made this ornament, right?" This past Christmas, Girlfriend was frantic to find the ornaments she had made, to make sure we had kept them.
This is why I am so sad. Some of Girlfriend's grief comes from having to say goodbye to our family. Even though we keep telling her we still love her and want her to come around, it won't be same, it will never be the same again. I don't know how to say goodbye to this sweet girl. I had hoped Oldest Son would marry her, and we could keep her forever. There are no official ways to find out how we keep Girlfriend when Oldest Son said goodbye. When you look at their picture, don't they belong together?