ChiKat

Being a pin cushion was interesting. I can't say my arthritis is cured, but I wasn't really expecting that. I can't say my arthritis is better, and I was hoping to say that. But the session did have an impact on my body. The acupuncture did something.

I got to the session on time, and we spent over an hour talking about the pain I feel, and how my actions impact the pain. There were leading questions about my relationship with my family (good, so nothing to talk about there), my marriage (also good, despite the dirty dishes) and my job (the one I quit that wasn't satisfying, and the one I have now, which is fine). All in all, the consensus was that the usual stress triggers weren't an issue in my life, but I was still in a pain.

Not a ton of pain, which suggests to me that if I did have the usual triggers, my RA would be much worse.

The final decision was that I have problems with my blood flow, coupled with wind and damp.

I guess that wind and damp are common components of acupuncture. The idea is that cold or damp energy can clog the meridians in your body, or as in my case, be blown around my body, causing arthritic pain. I did a little Googling, and it sounds like the damp/wind diagnosis isn't entirely original – in fact, it's the pretty common cause of arthritic pain in most people, according to acupuncturists.

My acupuncturist put needles along the meridians in my feet, legs and arms, in an attempt to slowly correct things. She told me not to expect anything right away. Instead, she wanted to see me monthly for about two years. At the end of two years, we should have fixed the blood problem and I would have gotten as much out of acupuncture as possible.

I liked that she had a timeline in mind, although two years seems like a long time. Especially for something I don't entirely buy into.

At the same time, I woke up the following morning feeling looser. My joints felt lubricated. Instead of crackling and popping, they moved smoothly. My swollen wrist is a little less swollen.

So something happened. I'm going to stick it out for a few more months. It isn't cheap, but at $50 a visit, it's not unbearable. The visits are coming out of my clothing allowance, so I will be decidedly unfashionable this summer, but I figure I'm spending it on internal beauty, so it can't be all bad.

In a few months, I will either be telling you about all the money I wasted, or I will be raving about the joys of the needle.

This is pretty sad:

According to a 2006 UC study, only 35 percent of CPS graduates get a college degree. You can read the full article at Chicago Catalyst, which is a great site about Chicago Public Schools.

I'm pretty appalled by the 35 percent, although to be fair, I have no idea what my own high school's statistics were. I did find a statistic that said nationwide, 68 percent of high school students go to college.

When I worked in Seattle at a dot-com, I was occasionally involved in the hiring process. We never looked at anyone who didn't have a college degree. Not just for tech jobs, but even temp jobs doing data entry. You had to have a degree to get in the door.

I know there are other avenues kids could take, like vocational training, but 35 percent still seems incredibly low to me.

Today I put my son down for his morning nap. Half an hour later, he started to fuss. He does that sometimes, but it was much too early for him to be awake, so I ignored his fussing. He stopped fussing, only to start again 15 minutes later. I ignored him again, and again he stopped fussing, only to start again. This time I went into his room to try to convince him to take a nap.

He was covered in vomit. The floor had puddles of vomit. The entire crib mattress was drenched. He was miserable, shaking and sobbing.

I immediately began drowning in guilt, but before I could thoroughly self-flagellate, he started vomiting again. What do you DO with a baby who is vomiting, who is covered in vomit, who is sitting in a pool of vomit? My immediate reaction was to scoop him up and hug him, but he was puking – would he really want me picking him up, moving him around, when the entire contents of his stomach were being projected out of his body? This is something I had not read about in my parenting books.

He soon stopped throwing up, and I was able to strip off his clothes and get him into the bathtub. Then I realized that, while the bathtub was easy to clean, it was also cold. The last thing I wanted was to give him a cold on top of his stomach bug. I couldn't leave him alone in the tub to get clothing, because it was too easy for him to slip and fall. So we went back to his room and I toweled him off and put dry clothes on him. Which he puked all over.

Five outfits later, I am starting to figure this out. When he starts to gag, I grab a dish towel and hold it under his chin, so when he starts to throw up, I can minimize the amount that is spewed across the floor. I don't move him, but I keep my arm around him so he doesn't get scared.

These are valuable parenting skills that I have earned today. I would like my Mommy Scout badge, the one for "how to handle vomit".

While I am waiting for my badge, I am also trying to move past the guilt of leaving him in the crib this morning. Having my mom tell me that she did that to me helped a lot. I don't even remember that! And I still love her! I think my son will be ok. More importantly, long-term memory doesn't develop until after three years of age.

I am trying acupuncture for the first time. I have a few friends who swear by it, and a few studies have suggested that it might help RA pain.

I dislike needles, so I really did not want to become a pin cushion, but my wrist has been swollen and achy for two months, so now seems like a good time to be brave and try something new.

Oddly, I'm not worried about the needs so much as I am worried that the acupuncture will work and will drive the inflammation from my wrists, but that inflammation will travel to another part of my body and settle there.

For as frustrating as the wrist pain is, it's very manageable as long as I hold my wrists steady. I can't open jars, or even door knobs if they stick. But I'm still able to lift my son because I use my back and arms instead of my wrists.

When I have inflammation in my shoulders, it is much harder to deal with. I can't drive because twisting to check the blind spot is torture. I can't change gears or disengage the parking break because that involves using the shoulder. I had no idea how often I used my shoulder until it was inflamed and the slightest movement triggered a cascade of pain.

Same with the knees or hips. They are such large joints, so even a little pain in more invasive than the pain I feel in my wrists.

But two months is too long to have an area inflamed. I run the risk of permanent joint damage and disfigurement.

I'm not ready to give up on diet changes and exercise yet, so Thursday I have my acupuncture appointment.

Well, it is not just me. Another southside blogger mentioned the rise in violence lately, and even emailed our alderman.

I receive police updates about our neighborhood. Here are snippets from the latest one:

"As the temperatures outside rise, typically so does Chicago-area crime. In recent days, there have been a number of reports of gun shots fired n surrounding community areas. Police believe the incidents, detailed below, are most likely related to gang violence:

A man, who may have been involved in a street gang, was fatally shot by another …

There were four reports of gun shots fired. Police responded to each incident and were not able to locate any victims or offenders…

A woman was walking when she passed a man who was standing at the open trunk of a car. She continued walking. The man then came up to her from behind, pushed her down, struggled with her for her purse, took same, and drove away. A nearby policeman saw the offender flee and then noticed the victim on the ground. After a car chase, the offender was arrested and the purse recovered…"

I love the notion that as temperatures rise, so does crime. Today's weather! Warm, with a chance of rain and muggings!

I'm also very impressed with the Chicago Police when they witness a crime. I believe they respond very quickly in our neighborhood to violent crime. But there is so much. And so often, the crimes are hidden from the police (i.e., "Police responded to each incident and were not able to locate any victims or offenders").

The more I live here, the fewer ideas I have to curb urban violence. The quick answers, more cops, after school programs, tougher gun laws, pale in light of the root problems: poverty, guns and drugs.

I keep hearing politicians talk about tougher gun laws, but guns are already illegal in the city. That seems like a pretty tough law to me. But I still hear gun fire several times a month.

Wow. I thought Obama's speech was amazing. I really wrestled with who to vote for during the primary. I voted for Obama, but I had deep reservations. I was a huge fan of Clinton, and thought I would vote for her until the debacle in South Carolina. I didn't want divisive politics, so I voted for Obama in the hope that he really would bring a new voice to Washington.

When he says something like this, it makes me so proud to have voted for him:

"The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through – a part of our union that we have yet to perfect."

Read the whole speech here.

I am sick. Ah choo. My little boy, however, has no tolerance for my plan to nap all day. I am trying to convince my dog to watch the boy for me, but that is not working either. It might have something to do with the fact that the boy's favorite game is to grab the dogs trail and laugh hysterically when the dog leaps up in surprise and dashes across the room, dragging the boy along for a ride.

That poor, poor dog.

In two weeks, we are celebrating my boy's one-year birthday. I cannot believe it. He is an entirely different creature now compared to a year ago. He toddles ahead of me, he plays tag, he is ticklish under his chin, he loves to eat crayons. He's a totally perfect, magical little boy. He's so not a baby anymore.

Which means he will have no problem being dragged across South America! Great!

Ok, he is still a little boy, but he is certainly no baby.

I have found that I love being a mom to a boy. I thought I would want a girl, but being a mom to a boy is so delightful. I went out to lunch the other day with one of my girl friends and her four-month-old boy, and we had a fabulous time spending the day with them. Sure, we tortured them by looking at several fancy dress shops, but they loved all the materials and the tags. I'm sure the saleslady loved the two-foot-high trail of drool that we left in our wake. Drool! It's the next big thing in fashion design!

When my little boy falls down, I tell him he's ok. After all, I think to myself, he's a rough-and-tumble boy. I don't know if I would have that same attitude if I had a girl. I don't want my son to be a Mommy's Boy, so I work hard to instill a sense of independence in him. I don't know if that can really be taught, but he certainly does love to explore and I try to encourage that. When he empties out my cabinets for the five millionth time, I remind myself he is engaging in independent play rather than being a pain in the behind. Even though we spend pretty much every single waking moment together, I try to make sure he does his own things and doesn't cling to me. I'm not sure I would be trying this hard with a girl. I can't remember anyone accusing girls of being "Mommy's Girls". It feels ok for a girl to cling to her mom. It isn't the same for a boy.

I'm so surprised I feel this way. If I do have a daughter down the road, I'll try extra hard to give her the same independence I've given my son. I'm a better mom based on all the things I've learned from my son.

So far, he's a happy, happy little boy, so it's working out pretty well for both of us.

My mother-in-law often buys diapers, wipes and clothes for my son. My mother also buys lots of clothes for him. The other day, after my husband and I were checking out the new bounty, he looked at me and said, "Do you ever feel like we're part of a targeted subsidization program to encourage us to produce more grandchildren? It's like tax cuts, but from Grandmas."

Like most Chicagoans, I've been thinking about potholes lately. None of us are in danger of hydroplaning, because there simply isn't enough smooth surface area. The roads are riddled with axel-snapping potholes that are practically deep enough to reach Earth's mantle.

I understand that potholes form when water gets into the pavement, and then expands when it freezes. That weakens the pavement, causing cracks that eventually break into potholes.

What I don't understand is this: where does all the asphalt GO? Once there was a road, now there is a pothole strewn obstacle course, but I don't see any loose gravel. It has to be elves. Little asphalt-eating elves must come out at night and consume all the loose gravel. Clearly, there has been a population explosion of these elves. That is the only thing that can explain these inexplicably gravel-free potholes.

My long-term career goal is to write for non-profits focused on improving inner-city life.

Currently, I'm writing about recycling rates for plastic resins and designing templates for project planning. Which is to say, I'm not doing anything to improve inner-city life (unless you count the pretty flowers that I plant in the summertime).

But despite being far from non-profits, I've been pleased with my freelancing lately. I try to cram everything I need to accomplish in the day (shower, write, dishes, feed dog, world peace) into his naptime. Some days, having to race to get everything done totally drains me. But other days, like today, I'm totally satisfied when I am able to accomplish non-baby tasks and it re-charges my desire to stay at home with my son.

The day-to-day caring for a child can be totally overwhelming. My son is 10-months-old. He eats baby food now, but I have to spoon feed him. If I give him the spoon, he will eventually learn how to eat by himself, which is a good thing because I don't want to be spoon feeding a teenager. But letting him have the spoon means food gets everywhere. Not just on the boy, but on the dog, me, the floor and sometimes the ceiling. And it's mushy peas. The DOG doesn't even like it.

So some days, I am tired and don't feel like cheering my son on while he hurls food around the room in an attempt to feed himself. But other days, when I've completed a project and a client tells me I did a good job, I'm totally able to be the cheerleader and enjoy these monumental developmental milestones that are so amazing in retrospect, but so excruciatingly frustrating when you are in the trenches.