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Happy 100 Days of Making

It was brought to my attention by Ms. Kim Werker, the lady who turned me onto this idea, that last Friday marked the first 100 days

for My Year of Making. You  may vaguely remember this project.

You may also remember my realization that I’m much more of a maker than I had previously recognized. March Making collage3

Either way, I kept at it, recognizing and recording every act of creativity I demonstrated each day

from cooking to picture-taking to writing to arting.  And I have these pictures to prove it. Fiona projects on Shalavee.com

I created a collage in February to commemorate my first month of making which you can see here . This project is important to me because I tend to not appreciate the cumulative effect of my life and experiences.

But this project really forces me to keep an eye the quantity of my creativity in front of me.

And I recognized that I’m an uber-creative.Making collage on Shalavee.com

So here’s to 256 more days of keeping track of my making madness because, like it or not,

I’m on a making roll that will last a year. And probably a lifetime.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

I Have To Diddle With Her Diddle

(Be forewarned, there’s a doctor visit with a slightly graphic female parts description coming up .)

At Fiona’s recent Doctor’s office check-up, the doctor’s last bodily inventory check was her diddle, or as I call it, her twinkle. And then he checked it again. And he explains to me that her inner lips around her urethra had partially joined back together. Meaning that the smaller exit area for her pee can be of concern for future cause for infection. And of course I’m knowing, this was all my fault and here’s why.

First everything that befalls our children is somehow our fault. And this I knew had happened because I hadn’t been diligent enough in cleaning her diddle. Surely better wiping would have prevented this. He said it was a common problem. This is my excuse.

Fiona and her broom on Shalavee.com

While I changed her diaper when she was a tiny baby, I would have visions I couldn’t unsee. Adults wielding incredible power and her meekness. She was so tiny and vulnerable it was painful to think about all the wee people across the globe experiencing atrocities I never wanted to know about. Female circumcisions and rapes and monstrous crimes against their little persons and bodies. Something in my Mom mind just kept recognizing the vulnerability of this baby.

When my son was a baby, I had read up on keeping him clean and from what I read, uric acid is a sterile acid and doesn’t cause infection. I’d wipe really well after she pooped but her body would also keep the poop from going where it shouldn’t. I’d check to make sure but wouldn’t work too hard at cleaning it out. I always put soap in the tub and give her a good swipe through her butt area when I gave her a bath. All good then. Fiona and Grammy's garden statues on shalavee.com

The doctor did not disagree or admonish me for any of this. He has prescribed me some estrogen cream to apply daily to her inner labia to help the skin thin and separate. And there I am doing the thing that I’d tried to avoid, diddling with her diddle. She doesn’t like it. She says “Ow” when you go to apply the cream. Because I think it’s instinctual for children to know what’s private on their body as it is to want to poop in private. I go back in a week to find out if were good to go. If my intrusive diddling can end.

1 yr old Fiona and Mr Crackers in the window on Shalavee.com

I’m doing what the doctor told me. I’ve got my game face and all business-mode down but I’d like to stop now. I know that I’ll have to teach my daughter how to wipe herself when we actually get to the potty training. It’s a fine balance between showing her how to take care of her body, taking care of her body, and going too far in taking care of her body. To teach her to respect her body and say no to bad touch when I am walking a fine line in the touching department. Such is the mortar of parenthood’s bricks.

Girls are higher maintenance folks.

Anything else you need to warn me about in your experience?

The Easter Egg Debacle

I know you think I am a nice person. And I am most of the time. But a patient person? Having a toddler has shown me all of my imperfect impatient downfalls. These became glaringly apparent when we went to dye Easter eggs this past Saturday morning. How quickly I had forgotten the Christmas cookie baking lesson. Dying Easter eggs on Shalavee.com

I thought I would be able to figure something out on the fly. Give her a way to dye the eggs. But boom, she’s trying to lay the egg down on the flat table, grabbing the cups of dye, and there’s just no way to baby proof this event. As I was already twitching from the rest of the morning, the moment she took the egg and crushed it in her fist, I knew we were done.blowing bubbles on Shalavee.com

I bloody well love dying Easter eggs. It’s totally a thing for me. Mandatory seasonal crafting along with carving pumpkins. But there are certain things that need to be done without two year-olds and this was one of them. I didn’t mention the brain exploding amount of patience it took the other day to hold the bubbles for like 45 minutes straight while she attempted to blow them, did I. I’ve just gotten rid of the eye twitch and pray it won’t return.

Yes, some women are born to have and raise children with infinite patience and no other expectations. Pas moi. I could do without this toddler phase except for the utter heart stabbing cuteness of her saying “Wogger” for water. And the shrieking contagious giggles she gets when her Dad zerberts her on her tummy.eggs and bowls on Shalavee.com

So I am now completely aware that again, I’m not a toddler crafter. I need to leave this stuff to the pros. I’ve learned my lesson. And I’d like to apologize to Fiona, and I just might some day, but not today. I am however secretly praying she doesn’t take this event personally and have it thrown back in my face at age thirteen.

The posts are no longer truncated and all words will appear in your mailbox. However, if you want to see all my lovely full color pictures, you’ll still need to click over to the blog to view those.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks a bazillion for your visit.

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