Stuff to Do

I've written openly about eczema, and how it affects our family. Something else which I have not shared, for fear of judgement and guilt, is how it affects my ability to relate to my children. Our family life practically revolves around The Itch. Preventing The Itch, Controlling The Itch, Managing The Itch, and finally, Repairing the damage done from scratching - you guessed it - The Itch. The Itch encourages me to see my children not as God's beautiful creatures, but as yet another thing on my to-do list. I see them as evidence of my own failure to care for a living being. The line between being a child who has The Itch, and being The Itch personified is blurred. Particularly at 3am, when I am up for the fourth time, feeling hopelessly inadequate yet completely necessary, with a toddler who would probably love to sleep. She doesn't know what it's like to not have The Itch. She thinks it's normal to wear socks on her hands, masking tape around her wrists, an

It's not about the chairs, the table, the setting, the catering. It's about relationships. It's about laughter. My husband threw me a surprise party, and he didn't tell me anyone was coming over at all. As far as I knew, it was a typical Saturday. And I hadn't cleaned my bathroom, I'm not even sure if the toilet was flushed. There was typical family clutter hanging about, underwear on the clothesline, and a few dirty dishes in the sink. And the thing is, it didn't matter. My friends came to see me , not to go all Your Royal Judginess on me. They came, they brought incredibly thoughtful gifts, they brought some of their children, and we had a lovely time. It didn't matter that we ate cake (and boy, what a cake!) off of our extensive collection of IKEA's finest plastic plates, and half the people had to use Alexander's feeding spoons. It didn't matter that our chairs and table didn't match, or that we didn't have perfect place s