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Candid

The start of a new day. The start of a new year. The ocean swirls with relentless currents, churning, pushing down and pushing up. Creativity is much the same. This starts my first blog post of new beginnings. Candid though it be; raw without restraint.  Upon this candid beginning starts the rush for unbridled creativity to be noticed for being outside the box of typical thoughts and solutions.  I seek to enlighten as candid thoughts can do; to bring about responses such like, “I never thought of that.” Candid is spontaneous. Candid is eye-opening. This is my mission: to provide the candid creativity of craft and the crafted.

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Clever Crafty Antimere will present living creatively. As a mother of three boys, candid remedies are a necessity to daily life. Stop in and see how creatively crafty our clan can be. From building a 3D printer without instructions (because they couldn’t be found or they weren’t in the box) to making new and useful items from resourced materials, you’ll find something interesting to buzz about.

Questions or comments?

 

creative

Too Long

I looked at stats and found it to be extremely dismal. This is to be expected from the incredible, personal distractions of life that don’t stop happening.

I suppose I shouldn’t be hard on myself but I find that since life has dealt me hard I should come back harder still, and give it the most intentional punch back.

That intentional punch back is to start with a weekly post. I started many posts but didn’t finish because of all the punching I do at prioritizing the needs I fulfill as a caregiver.

I’m desperately hopeful that I will find my success more and more each week as one more post moves into completion. Cheers to hard-headed determination!

creative

bible.com/bible/116/mat.7.24.NLT

This is so true to me now because of my experience with three days of hurricane. The whole time the wind was blowing, I kept thinking about the storm the disciples were in and how afraid they were to the point of waking Jesus. I held onto that visual all three days. I am so thankful. We truly are small in comparison to Nature, yet we have indefinite influence. Think twice. Act once.

creative · disabilities · parenting · rehabilitation

Progress with Patience and Persistence

My work is never finished. I rise before the dawn often coming from a two hour nap just hours before. He’s been striving to achieve, and I’m thankful. I never know when the miracle comes, and it’s better that way. I persist because of this. I believe he does his best to maintain reciprocity.

It’s these moments I feel it necessary to be his cheerleader.

Overcoming left side defecit.

He manifests progress in mysterious ways. He learns to creep his achievements. Using his strong right hand to hold onto the counter top, he shifts his weight to host his body, while moving towards the sink. Then, as if he changed his mind, he turns his body around, holding with one hand then switching to his weakest hand to hold on the counter. All the while he has nothing to balance himself except for his legs.

I froze as I watched him work this out for the first time.

“Take your time”, I encouraged.

Step by slow, deliberate step. He did it! When he reached me, I pulled him into a big hug. He looked up at me, smiling with great pride.

Each day is new! Hallelujah.

creative · parenting

Eating Better

I’m all about trying to find ways to be healthy. Food seems to be an easier way sometimes since getting outside can be harder. Plus it proves to be a win-win for all involved. I get to be creative, the men in my home get tasty food and everyone dies good for their bodies. Especially since one of my guys has hypotonia. This strongly forgotten and ever present phenomena is culprit to a lot of chronic constipation and medical fragility.

Hypotonia means lack of muscle tone in the body. It means a need for exercise and/or dietary restrictions. The right amount of fiber from vegetables helps the body.

Update:

Coincidentally or not, my son has developed regularity since September 27, 2021. After tracking on a daily basis, I noticed that his hypotonia is less of a variable when the Vegas Nerve Stimulator has a new battery. Everything flows.

We haven’t had to track fiber every day. As long as he eats some fiber combined with the daily water intake each day, he achieves what most elderly don’t.

The bigger test or confirmation of what occurs will happen when we see the battery losing battery life. Will we be using more meds to counter the chronic constipation?

Only steady observation and tracking will help me to find the answers.

creative

Homebound

Here I sit with my disabled son. I love him and yet, I’m frustrated to the brink of a primal scream. I know, I should be ashamed of myself. Not everyone can do this. This job that I have without monetary compensation, but lots of spiritual reward.
I’m thankful for his delightful demeanor. He likes to laugh and play using my hands to clap. He seems to be happy all the time, even when he’s sick. He gets sick often. With music playing, he bops up and down with the rhythm of the song. He’s feeling better after having a miserable week of refusing food, drink and anything fun. His ear infection seems as though it left, but I’m still required to be at his side.
He’s weak from not walking. Watching him all night has left me drained and tired, ready to use the hard wood floor as my bed and pillow. But I hold off and wait for the opportunity to have someone else watch him while I close my eyes for moments at a time. My hope for sleeping at a normal time has slipped through my hands as I receive a phone call from the night nurse. She can’t make it tonight. It shouldn’t matter. I usually work two nights and two days in a row, but it does matter.
Maybe it’s because I was looking forward to a lost opportunity to sleep for more hours than the typical four. Or maybe it matters because the five consecutive years of his needs have escalated to a cliffhanging level.
Irony can be a humble teacher because as of this day (4/18/21), I am the official night nurse. I have all seven nights to watch. My night nurse is now the day nurse. Life has a funny way of teaching us to appreciate the situation present because life happens.

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I Found a 1930s Grammar Textbook in My Closet — Dysfunctional Literacy

Old books are awesome! When I was going through a bunch of stuff in my closets a few months ago, I found this old grammar book from the 1930s. I actually got excited about it. If I had found a grammar book from 1983, I wouldn’t have cared because it probably would have brought back […]

via I Found a 1930s Grammar Textbook in My Closet — Dysfunctional Literacy

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Create Satively

pexels-photo-606506.jpegRecently, the state where I reside has approved the use of medical marijuana or cannabis for children and adults who suffer from Epilepsy, chronic pain, including arthritis and fibromyalgia. My son has a form of Epilepsy that is very hard to control through medications. It’s called Lennox-Gastaut Syndrome. He finally received his identification card from the health department so that I could legally purchase it for him.

He started this treatment in the beginning of February. Before the start of this, he has been taking several seizure medications to manage his seizures. Medications have side-effects, always.

It was Monday, and as Mondays go, they’re always chaotic. The more chaotic, the happier Luis is by the amusement he experiences when everyone is pumping adrenaline to get where we all need to be. His brothers managed to climb into the car for school without too much argument.

Dropping them off, I managed to barely avoid the enormous amount of glass on the side of the road with a swerve of the car. Luis laughed. I stopped before the crosswalk and the crossing guard smiled at me as I waited and watched my growing boys cross the road to school. We turned after he nodded a thank you, and headed for his school, thirty minutes north of us.

About one third of the way there, it dawns on me that I’ve forgotten to give his Sativa blend. I fought in my mind , should I go back or should I skip the dosage and wait until the next dosage. Then, as if someone screamed at me, “NO! You wouldn’t keep driving if he wasn’t given the Banzel or the Depakote! What are you thinking?!”

I turned back to the house to get the Sativa because my conscience is right. I gave it to him before embarking once again toward his school. He took it gladly. We started again.

When I arrived at his school thirty minutes late, I was quietly scorned with serious expressions. My excuse was, “We had to go back for something very important for him. He hasn’t eaten yet.”

The TA lingered in her stare, then replied, “Oh. Okay. We’ll feed him for you.”

When I picked him up from school, the report was how vocal he was and how energetic, how much he wanted to move. This is a good thing. His motivation to move brings progress. His progress brings further rehabilitation. His desire to talk increases as his dosages become more consistent.

The realization through my conscience to look at this treatment no different than any other medical treatment is significant to making my son well again. Creative thinking has the ability to have an open mind more readily than the formed rigidity of routine. When everyone can take this approach, the stigma will no longer prevent healing.