DIY no sew weighted lap cushion

Well, it’s been a long week. T has been off school unwell at the beginning of the week which is always tiring. She gets very anxious when she’s unwell, and needs a lot of tlc day and night. She is now back at school, and improving but it has prompted me to look for new ideas to help bring calm!

One that I came across sounded potentially so multi-taskingly helpful that I thought I’d give it a go. Weighted blankets is something we’ve thought about for T but never quite got there. They are pricey or appear to be fiddly and time consuming to DIY (or at least they have become those feelings whenever I think about trying!) But yesterday I came across a no-sew weighted lap blanket/cushion which may give us the chance to find out whether T responds well to having a weighted blanket in the first place before I try and attempt to make one. And into the bargain, it uses mermaid fabric so it can be calmingly drawn and written into whilst using it.

It just so happens I have a mermaid fabric cushion cover waiting in a drawer for the right crafty moment so I have got it out this morning and got going.

The tutorial that inspired me can be found over on ‘lemon lime adventures’.

As is my usual crafting approach I raided the cupboards and used what I had. But I’m pleased with the initial result and am looking forward to T trying it out when she gets back. Friday night is movie night for us so it’s the perfect chance to give it a go. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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  • Raided the cupboards and found dried split peas, and little stones. Ziplock bags and of course the cushion cover.
  • Simply divided up the stones and peas, laid them across an old micro fibre towel and taped them down with box tape/parcel tape. Then folded the other half of the towel over and taped across to hold it all together.

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  • A little bit of careful jiggling and wriggling into the cushion cover, and zipped it shut!
  • Now enjoy!

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What is Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA)?

‘Autism Spectrum Condition’ (ASC, previously ASD (disorder)) is an umbrella term in the UK gathering within it other particular autism profiles, or presentations of autism with their own nuances and quirks. Pathological Demand Avoidance is one of these profiles. I’ve been reading up about it, and about other’s experience of it because although I’m well aware every single child is unique there is something about this particular profile that resonates. It makes sense of some of the dynamics we see at home.

‘PDA is now widely understood to be part of the autism spectrum. Children who present with this particular diagnostic profile are driven to avoid everyday demands and expectations to an extreme extent. This is rooted in an anxiety-based need to be in control. Aspects of the profile may be variable at different times and in different places.’ PDA Society

It is not yet used as a diagnostic profile in every part of the country, it depends on the NHS district you fall into. So over the last few years I have been keen to find out what I can about it because I have found it’s the most insightful and helpful profile for us to gain better understanding of behaviours we see, and to learn strategies that support. As well as the social and communication differences, and the sensory differences common to autism spectrum conditions PDA’s particular characteristics are:

The distinctive features of a demand avoidant profile include:

‘Individuals with PDA can be controlling and dominating, especially when they feel anxious and are not in control of their environment. They can also be very affectionate, charming, sociable and chatty, when they are calm and feel safe.’ PDA Society, about PDA 

I see many unique strengths…

  • fascinated by people, and quite passionate about getting to know what makes them tick.
  • observant and detailed
  • thinking outside the box and problem solving (seen in the many amazing strategies used to avoid demands!)
  • creative
  • feels deeply
  • desire to get things right

I also see such extreme anxiety about almost every aspect of living life in a world that seems confusing and relentlessly, overwhelmingly demanding. I see a need for  understanding, and loving support.

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Snowdrop moments: unexpected breakthroughs

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Love, love, love snowdrops don’t you. Little nuggets of resilience and pioneering spirit. Humble simple beauty when it’s least expected and looked for, when everything is cold & hard, and just when it’s needed to lift the spirits and urge us forward. I carefully divided and replanted some clumps of bulbs last autumn, and am enjoying watching them fight their way into flower in their new homes around the garden. For me they are a reminder of the fact that God is in the business of making everything new – and that begins now, in the unexpected; against the odds; tenacious; fragile and simple yet miraculously powerful breakthroughs that God allows to spring up ready to be found and rejoiced in. They remind me to rejoice with God in the small significant ‘newnesses’ that happen in our family life.

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A sewing birthday party attended despite huge anxiety and thoroughly enjoyed. Huge sense of achievement. The photo shows fluffy the bear, designed and sewed by T alongside a great group of girls from her class.

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T had homework this week to cook a healthy tea for her family!

Andrew helped, I provided emotional support! And T cooked chicken pasta. Exhausting.

Hidden in this amazing event was an equally amazing moment as T sat with B & A and a friend at the kitchen table and all ate some – a new recipe tried by everyone – don’t try & tell me God doesn’t break into our everyday, that’s definitely miraculous.

 

This morning A allowed T to sit in his room, and they peacefully ate breakfast alongside each other. (I know!!!)

College work, a very new way of presenting and handing in, is being completed.

We have had a visit from a good friend, who helps us in ways she probably doesn’t realize. And, in the same few days another friend came round so that Andrew & I could go out for a meal. I know, sounds so ordinary yet never ever taken for granted.

img_20190122_102331_045I am pressing on with the editing of another book – the one that sparked all the others – about time I focused on it again and got it ready to share with you, think you’re going to love it.

Last week I also travelled (not far, but even so, out of my little comfort zone) to help deliver a disability (or diffability as I like to think of it) awareness training session for the diocese and had the chance to share a bit about ‘sense of space’, our accessible worship at church and our experience. And we juggled school pick ups successfully between us.

All of these small, significant, moments – snowdrop moments if you like – can be moments to recognize God is at work in our midst. He is drawing us forward, revealing his faithfulness, his humour, his joy in who he has created each of us to be; leading us into his life – his overflowing, never ending aliveness that he pours into our lives. Tough circumstances, worries, lack of sleep, diffability; none of it stops God in his busyness of recreating. His aliveness is powerful enough to break through the hardest, coldest places of our lives in ways unexpected; against the odds; tenacious; fragile yet powerful.

 

 

Sugar free January??? No chance

Everything on my news feeds at the moment is about clean eating, getting fit, ‘new year new you’, sugar free, dry January. I read them with my chocolate bar open next to me, and take them with a pinch of salt! There’s no chance, not for me this year! With sleep still a constant battle, and worries every which way I turn these types of resolutions are a battle I can’t take on (even if I wanted to – and actually I don’t, chocolate & I are good friends!). I haven’t made any resolutions at all really. I guess I’m in survival mode most of the time, taking each day (or on a bad day, each 5 mins) at a time.

If I did sit here for a moment (my first moment like this in a while, Christmas has been (mostly) wonderfully full on as usual) with time to reflect and dream what would my resolutions be I wonder?

There are many things I would like to improve in family life, or sort out in the home. Yes my diet (and over reliance on chocolate) does need an overhaul – despite Andrew’s best efforts to get me eating good, home cooked, balanced meals in the evenings. And my hair & skin need a fairy godmother! But are these the things I want to resolve to focus on this year? Probably not.

I would love to remember more than I forget that God’s presence is with me – all the time, in every minute of the day & night. I believe he’s with me; Emmanuel – God dwelling with us; yet somehow in the middle of family life’s complicated and stressful day to day it’s something that seems to slip my mind and I don’t want it to! I believe his presence is with me and that I don’t have to work hard, or shout loudly to conjure it up. It’s his promise to me as someone who trusts and loves him. He’s here, right here, closer to me than the breath I take in. His loving, under-girding, kind, powerful, gentle, wise, leading presence is here ready to help and save, comfort and restore.

Oh yes, people of Zion, citizens of Jerusalem, your time of tears is over. Cry for help and you’ll find it’s grace and more grace. The moment he hears, he’ll answer. Just as the Master kept you alive during the hard times, he’ll keep your teacher alive and present among you. Your teacher will be right there, local and on the job, urging you on whenever you wander left or right: “This is the right road. Walk down this road.” (Isaiah 30:21 The Message)

I’m an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
I’m never out of your sight.
You know everything I’m going to say
before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you’re there,
then up ahead and you’re there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
I can’t take it all in! (Psalm 139:1-6 The Message)

“I’m telling you these things while I’m still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught. (John 14:26 The Message)

Maybe I’ll draw out these verses and put them in places I will see as I go about my everyday here in this house.

I need reminding, I’ve been far too good at forgetting, I am not alone.

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Looking at it it seems a rather simple resolution. But I have a feeling that if I were to succeed it could change pretty much everything else – my perspective, my responses, my feelings. So my prayer for myself for 2019 is simply this, ‘my Father God, open my eyes and heart up to your presence even more as we walk through each day of this new year together…’

 

He made his dwelling place among us

I have a fun task this afternoon – creating some palace scenery for King Herod in our Christmas Eve family service this year. True panto style I’m imagining going big, bold and dramatic… he was known as Herod the Great after all…. ‘Oh no he wasn’t!, Oh yes he was!’. We even have a panto camel waiting to join in this year, can’t wait.

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Looking back into history it’s hard to grasp just how vulnerable a baby was, even born into a palace with guards for safety; servants to keep fires going and wood stores full; money for blankets, clothes, and beds; well educated advisers to help; it must have been precarious for the newborn and the Mum. Harder still to imagine the dangers for a baby born outside a palace in an ordinary home, or less. Imagine the dangers of having a newborn at a time when the kings whims were law. Of course Herod the Great could order that all baby boys under the age of two be killed in and around Bethlehem so he could keep a tight hold on his power.

When I think of the vulnerability of how Jesus came to us it astounds me. That the Son of God should hold so loosely to his home in heaven and come to earth in this way (as a baby born into a situation with little political and material security and minimal life expectancy, on top of the innate vulnerable dependence of being a baby) is unbelievable, isn’t it? It fills me with wonder and astonishment that he should be born among us like this, just the same as us, just the same as the least of us – us at our most vulnerable.

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. (NIV Lk 2:6,7)

Christmas with all it’s excitement and busyness, with it’s celebrations, family gatherings, feasts and presents seems a far cry from the moment Mary gave birth to Jesus. We had a card this year with a poignant and provocative picture of the manger in the foreground of a merry-go-round scene, busy with people and noise. It brings home to me the seemingly stark contrast between Jesus’ birth and what Christmas today seems to look like.

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Yet perhaps emotionally it’s not dissimilar. Christmas seems to bring into sharp focus our feelings of insecurity. Will the money stretch, can we get the gifts we want/feel we need to get? Will family all get along when we meet up or will it feel fraught with tension? Have we got enough food in, have we got everything we need? Is my house big enough, good enough for visitors? Are my relationships secure and content? Am I safe? Am I alone? Am I seen? Am I understood? Do I belong? Why does life feel so hard when everyone else’s life looks like a party? Christmas can make us feel our vulnerability. We yearn for home – the home that’s perhaps in our imagination, where there is harmony, peace and love, where every little detail is perfect and safe and cosy. That’s certainly not our real experience. Even putting up our tree this year triggered a meltdown that took a good couple of hours to calm.

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Difficult family dynamics, hard to manage meal times and bed times still happen despite Christmas and feel worse because of it! Meltdowns and shutdowns don’t stop for the holidays, in fact they tend to increase in frequency because of the bombardment of sensory input, and lack of routine – not to mention the number of people coming and going and the demands of increased social interaction. The stresses of the logistics of family life and church life seem to be at their worst at these times as we juggle all the extras that we all throw in because it’s Christmas. The pressure we put on ourselves to make it all amazing and good enough for everyone presses our I’m-not-good-enough buttons. And we keenly feel the losses; loved ones who have died, traditions we always hoped for that are simply impossible for us, family moments we have imagined but have yet to realize.

Jesus came into the midst of all that. The uncertainty, the sadness and grief for what’s lost; the insecurities within us and around us; and into the midst of the hopes and longings. He came and made his dwelling among us – not at a respectable distance where he was less vulnerable but right there at the heart of real, everyday, ordinary human experience. He came into it to reach us, to meet us where we are, despite the dangers, despite taking on vulnerability because of love. He came as a baby to be one of us and died our death to break it’s power. His love was strong enough to come to us, strong enough to free us, strong enough to gather us into his family through the new life he offers. The story of the baby born, fully God fully human, God making his dwelling place in the midst of our everyday is a story of hope. He entered into the insecurity and vulnerability of our existence to find us and love us all the way back home to him.

He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross. (MSG Col 1:19)

In all the moments of insecurity, worry, stress, and difficulty this Christmas the story invites me to see again the truth that Jesus gets it, he understands it; he faced it too so he could have the chance to whisper ‘I love you, you are so precious to me’. (Even when everything is a muddle;when children don’t appear to listen when you read the stories about me; when people get along – and when personal space gets invaded, again; when you stay in with one child who doesn’t want to be out in the snow, and when you’re dealing with the over cold children who did go out to play; when there’s a meltdown; when you worry about the child hiding in their room; when the food’s just not right…. I love you, you are so precious to me.)