CPSIA and the loss of freedom

It should be my choice where I buy my children's items. What if I don't agree with big business? What if I don't want my children decked out in some popular character? And what if I want to support a stay-at-home mom who is trying to supplement the family income while doing what's best for her children?
What's that you say? I DO have that choice?
Think again.

The CPA has passed a law that all children's items must be tested for lead. While that's great for big businesses (read, WalMart, et. al.), it is devastating to small businesses who cannot afford the testing. Even those who do not sell out of their home will suffer. Less people will be putting money into the economy simply because they don't have the money.

And don't forget that you won't have a choice in where you buy your cute little baby things. Your choices will be dwindled down to Pooh and Elmo.

Environmental issues will be pressed, too. Even with lead being tested, what about all the chemicals used to produce the items in the big businesses. Think about it.

My story - My oldest son sadly inherited the thyroid cancer gene from me, so I have done my best to keep other toxins away from him so that he doesn't have to deal with more problems in his life. He will have surgeries and be on medications for the rest of his life.



If that wasn't bad enough, our youngest was born with an immunity deficiency not yet fully diagnosed. There is an entire sub-class of antibodies he's missing. I struggled with what to do about work. I worked in a fashion design school - clothing construction, pattern drafting, etc. When it appeared he could no longer leave the house without getting sick - forget daycare! - I struggled myself into tears. My sign came when I was let go from my job.



I stay at home with my youngest 24/7, only leaving the house to take the oldest to preschool and the twice monthly trip to the grocery store. We've recently been trying to go to playgroups, which is working out ok.

To supplement the family income - to make up for the loss of my paycheck - I dove deeper into selling my baby items, unaware of the new CPSIA law. I have no other source of personal income. I can't leave the house to work. So where does that leave me? I will switch gears, angrily, wiping away the tears, to men's shirts. It's something I like to do, but not as much as baby items.

My etsy site will dwindle into oblivion until Feb. 9th when it will close. I have lowered the prices in hope to sell what I have listed. http://katrinabelle.etsy.com

But I'm not the only one. Please, please, please, check out other kid's items on http://www.etsy.com to show your support for handmade toys, clothing, etc.

A friend of mine who sells delicious designs for children - http://www.themilkmantees.com - please give them your business before they have to close down.

For more information on this law--

A copy of the actual law as it stands today: http://www.cpsc.gov/cpsia.pdf
The general CPSIA website : http://www.cpsc.gov/about/cpsia/cpsia.html
Standard Operating Procedure for Determining Total Lead : http://www.cpsc.gov/ABOUT/Cpsia/CPSC-CH-E1001-08.pdf
Original CPSIA FAQs http://www.cpsc.gov/about/cpsia/faq/faq.html#educational
Most recent updates to FAQs : http://www.cpsc.gov/about/cpsia/faq/newfaqs.pdf

Fate and Writing

It started a little more than ten years ago when an unnamed event happened in my life. I pulled out my first journal, making each person a character. I had written a few things before then, mostly poetry and songs - I even had one of each published. I liked writing, and this story was inspiring, as I had the same dream for as long as I could remember and here was a way to turn it into real life.

In the summer of 2000, my life took its first unexpexted turn, and it stole any motivation I had to express myself. I put down the pen (yes, I hand-wrote everything) and forgot about it. My life took tumble after tumble - those who know me well have an idea of the corkscrew I was riding, so no need to go there.

In a nutshell (you like that?), my life was not my own for a long time. It was like fighting Fate. What I wanted on one side and the Wheel on the other, pulling at me until I had to give up one side, and Fate won her hand.

But, dear friends, I started to see the surface of the pool I was drowning in. I looked around and wondered What Happened Here? I was scarred, both literally and physically, but I felt strong. Like I could fight Fate again.

And then she came to me. The girl in the dark blue dress who had haunted my dreams so long ago. Her hand brushing along a stone wall in a stone hallway, the only light - candlelight. I can hear her breath as she runs toward something unknown. There's a longing; I feel it everytime. And the dream had always ended with a closed wooden door - the kind with heavy iron hinges and bolts, but this time, the door stood wide open and I gasped awake as she walked through.

Two days later, my writings magically came to me. Physically in my hands. I almost cried at the sight of them. Had Fate herself come to me in the dream?

I dove into it. And I dreamed freely, so unlike me. My fingers found their own way on the keyboard, typing out the visions from the night before. I had not felt so much like myself in years. And the more I wrote, the more I realized it was not Fate who had shown herself, but another version of myself; a side that needed to come out, a side who's story wanted to be told.

This time I will not fight. I will allow Fate to take over without a fight. Maybe she knew what she was doing. Afterall, she led me back to being a stay at home mom so I could kiss my sweet boys all day.

And don't worry, my fans of the needle - I'm still sewing, only now I pause to work on my first novel, Epitropos

EDIT: Shortly after writing this, I grabbed my old yellowed and tattered copy of The Vampire Lestat - the same one I dragged around at the age of 14. The smell of that book is simply delicious. I ran a hot bath and settled in. On the very first page, next to the words, "Here is Lestat" is a handwritten note from the former me. It's a simple note - "p72". I don't remember writing such a thing, but I turned quickly to that page and nestled in between pages 72 and 73 there rested a dried four-leaf clover.
On page 73, the clover had made one paragraph a lime green color - a highlight made naturally over time. And here is what it said:
"'You're the mad one,' I said. 'If you could see yourself, hear your own voice, your music - which of course you play for yourself - you wouldn't see darkness. You'd see an illumination that is all your own. Somber, yes, but light and beauty come together in you in a thousand different patterns.'"
I plan to see myself - to hear my own voice. To make my former self happy.