Bath-Time Resurrection
If you’ve happened to walk past our house on a Saturday around seven p.m., chances are good you considered calling child protection. Judging from Gwyn’s screams, that’s our weekly time for torture. In fact we’re just washing her hair—once a week is frequent enough, thank you. There have been times when Gwyn’s anxiety about hair-washing was so extreme, she began worrying about the next shampoo while her hair was still wet. We tried washing around swimming goggles. We asked Gwyn’s birth mom to share how much she hated hair-washing as a child. Once we called an older neighbor kid to come hold her hand, hoping peer support might help. We talked with a therapist about toddler anxiety. Shortly before Easter, when Gwyn was playing with a watering can in the bathtub and began pouring water over her head, I raised my eyebrows but kept my mouth wisely shut. “Mama, I’m…
Resurrection Socks
A month ago on a long drive to Madison Emily taught me to darn socks. Basically you sew along the circumference of the hole, warp it like a loom and then weave. Darning thread is comprised of four strands so you don’t have to be precise about moving in and out. It’s surprisingly, ridiculously, easy. Ever since, I’ve been (dare I admit it?) ecstatic. Emily and I are reluctant to throw away quality goods (anyone want ten Styrofoam medical coolers?), so my darning abilities now mean that the pile of Smart Wool socks with holes accumulating in our mending basket will finally vanish. I’m suddenly rich in socks. I’ve achieved a new and satisfying level of self-sufficiency. By recovering a small skill that’s been forgotten for a few generations, every time I get dressed I can thumb my nose at disposable consumerism. What could be better? As I revel in…