Weighted blankets

I've been busy lately.  And I mean really busy, not scrolling-through-facebook busy.  School has all kinds of random demands lately--bring cookies for this party!  Bring grapes for that party!  Send in three dollars, must be cash, for the field trip!  There's homework, of course, a daily nightmare.  There's editing my book, which I've started now that I let it sit for a few weeks, and a few people have read it.  (They had some hard-hitting criticism, which stung at first, but I sat on it and I think they're right.  And now at least I have a direction to go in for the rewriting.)  And Christmas presents too!

For Marko and John, I made weighted blankets.  They're very popular for kids with autism, SPD, and anxiety, because supposedly the sensory input is calming.  I figured Marko's would help him be a bit less restless at night, and as for John, he's always loved big heavy blankets, but they make him very sweaty in summertime.  So he is getting one as well.  My hope is that it will feel like a big comforter without being hot.

I read some online tutorials and figured out the basics: you sew around three edges and sew some vertical channels.  Then you pour in the weights and sew across a horizontal row, pour in some more and sew those in . . . until you have little square pockets all over that hold the weights.  That's the way to make sure they stay put instead of all gathering in the corner.

You can use any number of things for the weights.  There are PVC pellets, like in beanie babies and bean bag chairs.  You can use beans or rice if you don't care that it's washable.  You can use BB pellets apparently.  I picked sand.  This was a mistake.  Sand is very dusty and I worry it will wash right out if I attempt to put the blankets in the washer.  Imagine fifteen pounds of sand in my washer.  I'm not even going to try it.  And there is a thin film of dust everywhere I worked on it, little bits of sand on the floor, sand trying to get into the crevices of my sewing machine.  I cannot recommend it at all.  Next time I'm going to see if I can find washed pea gravel or aquarium gravel, because much as I like the idea of something softer that won't feel lumpy . . . I also want something that won't get everywhere while I'm working on it.

My first step to make this was to get my old sewing machine fixed.  My Grandma J -- the grandma who taught me to sew -- got it for me for my 18th birthday.  It's been shipped across the country more than once, kept under a bed, shoved in an attic, left in a garage . . . it's had a hard life.  When Marko was a toddler, I tried to use it and found a little rubber part inside had melted from the heat in the attic where I was storing it.  I took it completely apart, ordered the new part online for a few dollars, and put it back together . . . but alas, it still didn't work.

So a few weeks ago (read: after it had been shoved in a box, broken, for six years) I finally took it to a repair shop.  The guy said it would cost me a fortune to fix, and all because I'd unscrewed something I hadn't been supposed to unscrew.  So much for my repair skills.  In addition, the bobbin case was rusted and would need to be replaced.  The repair man (who was really nice, I'll heartily recommend him to any local people who are interested) told me he couldn't possibly take my money to fix it, because it was a cheap machine in the first place and it would cost me less to replace than to fix.

That upset me because I don't have money right now for either.  So I moaned about it on Facebook and my other grandma (Grandma C) emailed to tell me to pick a new machine, whatever I wanted, and she'd get it for me.  Wow!  I was tempted to say no, but my Grandma J passed away some years ago, and all I could think was, let me let my grandma love me.  I wish I had more memories from Grandma J, let's not make the same mistake with Grandma C.  And there's just something special on sewing a machine that comes from someone in the family who also loves to sew.  So I picked out this baby:

I thought I was being greedy, because it's a high-quality machine with heavy-duty metal parts inside.  The sewing machine repairman recommended Singer as a brand that's easy to repair.  It can do all kinds of things, like a zigzagging and decorative stitches and automatic buttonholes.  But my grandma thought I was holding myself back.  Nope!  I know there are more expensive machines out there, but they're complicated computerized gadgets.  I want something simple and strong.  This fit the bill.  Reviews say it can sew through layers of denim!

The actual materials cost under $30.  The My Little Pony fabric was a little pricey, but I knew Marko would love it.  The other side of his blanket is green, like Link from The Legend of Zelda.  He wears green daily, so he can be Link, so naturally the blanket had to be green too.

John's is dark green on one side, and a green pattern on the other.  It's kind of huge -- about 3'x6'.  That size weighted blanket is over a hundred dollars online.  Whereas with the help of my sewing machine, I was able to make it over about a week's worth of naps, for a fraction of the cost.  Am I proud of myself?  Yes.  Yes I am.

The real question is, are they really soothing?  I tried John's out today to see.  It certainly did smoosh around me in an interesting way instead of tenting the way lighter blankets do.

But I didn't really love the feeling.  It wasn't constricting as I might have feared--it doesn't feel heavy, with the weight distributed over the whole blanket.  But it didn't seem to do anything for me either.  Maybe if I'd felt anxious or overstimulated I might have felt differently.

We'll see how John feels about his!  I gave Marko his already -- he was having a really hard week, and I didn't feel like waiting on something that might be comforting.  He didn't say anything about it helping, but he did really like it, and I think he might be sleeping better.

Now, of course, everybody else wants one.  But no one really cares about the "weighted" part, so I'm going to make a plain cotton blanket for each of the others.  Miriam wants pink on one side, rainbow on the other.  Michael will have to come to the store with me and pick one.

But that, alas, will not be by Christmas.  There's only four days left and Jackie is too much of a toddler for me to take out needles and scissors any time she's awake.  But I'll get them done eventually!

Fashion for the tactile-defensive woman

I don't know if anyone's actually interested in yet another post about my sensory issues.  I guess I feel the need to get this stuff out there, because there seems to be a lot more awareness of SPD and related issues among kids, but not so much said about adults with the same problems.  Naturally adults are more self-aware and able to handle sensory issues themselves, so it doesn't need to be talked about, but I often think that my own experience with them makes it easier to understand my kids' sensory needs.

So let's talk about fashion!

I've complained before that I wear very boring clothes, and that I never can seem to find, afford, or be brave enough to wear the kinds of clothes I admire on other people.  For instance, I love flowy blouses, but I never bought any.  Finally someone gave me some, and I don't wear them.  I like them, sometimes they get put on briefly for a very special occasion, but I always find some reason why I don't want to wear them.  The same goes for everything else I like -- I talk myself out of buying it, or I can't find it, or I can't afford it, or even once I own it, it just sits in the closet.

But recently I had the opportunity to shop for myself without any pressure.  John set aside some money for me to spend on some new clothes, now that I'm at last at a shape and size I can expect to keep for awhile.  I went by myself, because I know that when I go with others, they often talk me into buying things that I don't wind up wearing.  And I made a point not to be limited to the women's section -- men's clothes are often better quality.  So I should have been able to find what I wanted.  I was in Target, where I often admire the clothes on display.

Sure enough, I saw lots of things that, initially, I liked.  But I noticed that I could not even consider buying something until I had touched it.  And most everything I liked -- the filmy, flowy stuff -- felt terrible.  All rayon and polyester.  I realized that if I bought that stuff, I'd never wear it; it was too uncomfortable.  Occasionally I have an item of clothing that is soft enough to wear despite being synthetic, but even then it usually gives me trouble: either static (ugh, fabric clinging to me! NO) or trapping smells (yuck).

I went through that whole doggone Target feeling like the princess and the pea.  Nothing was soft enough except the t-shirts.  I passed up many gorgeous blouses, but I did walk out with some nicer t-shirts in beautiful colors.  I couldn't even make a real effort to buy pants.  There was one pair that was finally soft enough ... and then I realized I was in Sleepwear.  Sigh.

Later I tried a little online shopping, but it's really hard for me to get up the nerve to buy something when I can't touch it first.  Even cotton isn't always soft, and some things just aren't available in cotton.  I did pick out a dress in a linen/rayon blend, because it was just so pretty, and I'd be wearing a slip under it anyway so hopefully if it's rough, I won't feel it too much.

This is it -- though, maddeningly, it's on sale now for way less.  Ugh.

Here's what I like to wear: knit shirts, yoga pants, well-broken-in low-rise jeans, knee-length cotton-jersey skirts, flat shoes, smooth sweatshirts, flannel.

Here's what I don't like to wear: synthetic fabrics, nappy fabrics (velvet, suede, chenille), cable sweaters, anything tight (especially in the arms), anything that touches my neck, tailored or structured clothes, stiff clothes, sweatpants that are fuzzy inside, wool, anything bulky or voluminous, hats, scarves, coats, most boots, heels, gloves, nylons.  Some of these things I used to wear, and probably will wear again when I have a less stressful life (I used to live in a massive floor-length black circle skirt and a variety of chenille sweaters), but when I'm already kind of maxed out, I simply can't.  I try sometimes for special events.  Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I end up spending half an hour trying things on before I get fed up, rip it all off, and go in jeans, a knit shirt, and a hoodie.  I used to feel bad for this -- like I'm failing at something if I can't wear "nice clothes" -- but honestly, I'm lucky not to have to dress a certain way for work, and if anyone has ever judged me for dressing down, they never told me about it.

I usually compensate, given the choice, by wearing brilliant colors that make me happy.  The new shirts I got are coral, red, royal blue, and pine green.  They make me feel "dressed up" even though I'm still just in jeans.  I still wish people made more gorgeous clothes in 100% pima cotton though!

It's taken me a long time to figure this stuff out.  Something that I've been putting together lately is that a kid with sensory problems does not necessarily know his senses are the problem.  I remember so many times as a kid when I found a certain scenario uncomfortable or scary, I wasn't thinking "this room is too loud" or "people are jostling me too much."  I just felt horrible and even sick.  Church was a common place where I would have tense or panicky feelings.  Our usual parish was okay, but others sometimes weren't, and I didn't put together that it was because the music was too loud and the pews too crowded.  I knew there were some textures I hated -- velvet, for instance, gives me goosebumps if I even think about watching someone else touch it -- but it didn't always occur to me to mention "I hate this dress because of how it feels."  I just wore it and felt cranky all day.

When I was in boarding school, I had an outfit forced on me that was just. so. terrible.  It was a dark green jumper and a dark-green-and-white horizontally-striped knit shirt.  Everything about this outfit was horrible: the shirt was very tight in the sleeves, which were three-quarter length so that they hurt my elbows when I bent my arms and collected sweat at the armpits.  The jumper was made of a suede-feeling material that made my skin crawl if I happened to brush against the outside of it.  It had big buttons down the front, which ended short of the calf-length hem, so that every step I took the loose sides would flap against my legs, making my nylons twist around my legs.  Every moment in that outfit was a torment.

And it was pretty ugly, too.

I knew that my clothes were uncomfortable -- not just that outfit, but basically all of them -- but it didn't connect with me till much later that maybe this had something to do with how claustrophobic I became at that time.  I got upset when people would jostle me, or stand too close, or loom over me.  I guess it was just too much stimulus.

And that, I think, is something to remember when dealing with autistic and SPD kids.  They don't necessarily know that they're overstimulated.  They just know that they don't feel good, and that certain things feel better or worse.  Marko does not ever say his clothes are uncomfortable, but he massively resists ever changing them.  He usually has some kind of explanation for it ("I have to wear red for Gryffindor!") but if I provide a different red shirt, that's still no good.  I suspect he's used to the clothes he's been wearing awhile, and if he puts on new clothes, he'll have to get used to them all over again. Who knows?  He also hates having his nails cut, claiming that it hurts even though I never cut them that close.  But I understand totally, because I too hate cutting my nails -- because of the noise it makes, and because my fingertips feel oversensitive for a day or so after I do.

I think the real trick, when it comes to shopping for Marko, is to bring him along and let him see and feel the clothes before we buy anything.  I don't know what it is that makes him love or hate a garment, but I do know it sucks to buy him something and have it wadded up in the drawer because he suddenly "hates trains" or "doesn't like green" or whatever is the explanation du jour.  It doesn't always work -- he swore up and down he'd start wearing underpants if I bought him the Star Wars ones, but he only did it once before abandoning them in the drawer and making a huge fuss if I try to get him to wear them.  So it's back to commando, and honestly, if he's more comfortable without underpants, I can't really see why he should wear them.

Here's the thing: I can wear things that make me uncomfortable.  But it's going to distract and annoy me all day if I do.  So I don't push Marko too much about clothes, knowing that even if I succeed, it might cost me some of Marko's good temper throughout the rest of the day.  Isn't the best way to set him up for success allowing him to be comfortable?  So I have started requiring clean clothes each day (something he resists) but I always make sure one of his top favorite outfits is available.  Unsurprisingly, he gravitates toward knit shirts and sweatpants.  Who wouldn't?

Facebook sometimes shows me ads for various "sensory clothes" -- tight tank tops, vests that squeeze you, even a whole cocoon that covers your whole body -- but that stuff actually sounds awful to me.  Perhaps that's for sensory-seeking kids -- not everyone with sensory issues wants less stimulus, like I do.  Then again, perhaps it's the same idea as white noise -- drown out the unwanted noise with a bigger noise which is at least consistent.  Still, white noise is still noise, and I still don't find that adding more noise to any situation makes it better for me.  But I wonder sometimes, if there is some kind of stimulus out there that would help when I'm overwhelmed.  Right now I just do exercises, and it helps somewhat.

But the best solution for now, when I'm constantly being touched and jostled and pulled on by kids, is to wear the very most comfortable clothes I can find.