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So many people whine about the “terrible twos” and I’ve got to wonder what’s going on at their house. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had the toddler version of Charlie Sheen level rampages. Let me tell you it was tempting to hide in the bathroom like one of his paramours. But it seems like we saw those more in the first half of the year. The unreasonable cranky moments are interspersed amongst periods of pure awesome.
I wrote the above paragraph a few weeks ago. Today has been one of the more challenging days. Not much sleep for any of us last night resulted in lots of meltdowns and whining today. She has hives and I’m not sure why and they make her very uncomfortable. I needed a reminder of the wonderful things I love about this amazing creature who lives with us. So I’ve revisited this draft to clear my palette of today’s crazy.
I’m starting to build a library of Sparkle Girl-isms: My “thank you” is followed by “A gelkum” . She will repeat “thank you, thank you, thank you” until she hears “your welcome”. If she sees me resting she gets in my face and says “akup mommy”. When she wants me to carry her she asks for a “hug”. When asked if she’s OK she responds with “yes, yes a foin”. She’ll ask for something and when I repeat it back to her to confirm what she wants, she’ll respond with “OK”–in a tone that indicates she thinks I just suggested the best thing ever. If something spills or breaks “oh dear!” or “uh oh!”
She loves The Wiggles (Wiggos) and Kipper (Tipperrr). She talks about the characters up in her crib. “Hellllo Tigah”, “Pig and Anold”. She sings along to the Wiggles songs and dances along with them. But if I sing… “no mama.”
She enjoys the Richard Scarry books–poring over each page taking in all the little details. There’s also a “Hello Kitty Across America” book that she reads in the car. She enjoys reading coloring books but not actually coloring in them . She loves puzzles, Little People, and coloring. She scribbles a lot. A month or 6 weeks ago she made a scribble, pointed to it and said “hand”. Her first representational drawing–I’m so proud.
When we are out on a walk, she invariably picks up rocks and sticks one or more in each hand. She will carry them home with her if we let her. I know that there are rocks buried in the back seat of the car. The ones that make it home get put in our plants. She likes to tuck things next to her in the car seat–including food. She’ll pull on my pant leg and say “run!” wanting me to run with her. She’ll say “sorry” when she bumps into something inanimate or when I bump into her. She will proudly proclaim “I did it!”–usually when she has dumped her snack cup everywhere, but often when it is really appropriate.
The mirror is one of her favorite toys. She will dance and play in front of the mirror. When she’s crying she’ll go to the mirror and watch herself. When the diaper comes off she runs to go look at her body. Sometimes contorting her legs to check out her parts. It’s hilarious. Boys don’t have to go to these lengths to get to know their bodies. We’ve had a couple of incidents where we picked her up from her nap to find her completely naked–diaper thrown across the room. Once this had disastrous consequences.
She’s starting to play more interactively with other kids–especially at our Co-Op preschool. But she continues to be very content to go off and do her own thing. She likes to line things up in a row. Loves the small stuffed animals–one tucked under each arm. At home it’s the Mousey, Hello Kitty (plaid dress), Hello Kitty (pink fur) trio in her summer purse.
We bought a purple witch’s hat last Halloween. I found it and put it in her dress up box the other day. Adorable to see her putting it on and watching herself in the mirror. She will occasionally put a giant scarf around her neck and call herself “Super Dog”. She pretends to fly sometimes. She likes to pretend that everything is either a phone, ice cream, cake or a cookie. We rarely give her such treats but she is obsessed with them.
We’ve been spending a lot of time in the pool at our condo complex. It has been so much fun to see her go from timidly standing on the stairs to jumping to me and using her hands to hold on to the edge–”walking” back and forth along the wall. Each dip into the water finds her braver and more adventurous. I love that she enjoys this so much since my sister and I spent so much time in the pool when we were kids.
Hide and seek is a favorite game of hers right now. We have removed the barrier in front of the stairs so she is free to go up and down as she likes. I’ll go up to the bathroom and find her in the closet buried in towels. She’s giggling thinking she is fooling me. It just melts my heart. She also likes playing on our bed in the covers. She’ll pretend to go to sleep making the funniest snoring noise ever. She likes putting the blanket over our heads and whispering. She’ll ask by saying “light, light”–I think she uses this word because she likes the way the light looks different through the blanket.
She likes to joke with me by asking for food she knows I’ll say “no” to. For example–in the morning she’ll ask for a popsicle (really frozen Naked or Odwalla juice or yogurt mixed with fruit). She’ll ask with a big smile and I’ll tell her no with a big smile. She’ll keep asking and laughing the whole time and I’ll keep telling her no laughing the whole time. Her sense of humor has traditionally run toward slapstick (laughing her butt off when another kid falls) so it’s funny to see how it is evolving.
Her smile lights up her face, eyes twinkling with a spark that ignites the spirits of all around her. She is my heart. I love watching her navigate her world and explore what her body can do. She is a beautiful and amazing little creature and I’m so awestruck that I get to help her grow into a fun and intelligent child, teenager and woman.
Days like today I need to remember the wonderful things we get to experience every day. Today is a challenge, tomorrow will be a wonder.
In my past two and a half years as a parent there have been a number of “mommy fail” moments. You know those times when you struggle to get her shoes on despite the toddler histrionics only to realize after you get to the car that you put them on the wrong feet. Or forgetting that your baby has learned how to roll over and she falls off the ottoman. Or you are annoyed that she’s being so whiny and acting out only to realize that it’s a good half hour past her dinner time. You know, those moments.
None of them compares to the realization that we lost one of her favorite lovies. She has become attached to a small Hello Kitty that my mom got her at Christmas and a velour Minzie Mouse made by Zutano. Kitty and Mousie are quite the pair and go everywhere together—one tucked in each chubby little arm. Sometimes they are toted in her backpack, sometimes in her cute summer purse. When it’s time to leave the house she runs and grabs them to come along for the ride. They are always with her for naps and bedtime.
Because these two have had a lot of adventures (and more than a few spills onto the asphalt) Kitty usually looks really filthy, you know she’s a white cat after all. Mousie got pretty filthy herself too. She wears a green and white striped jumpsuit. When I went to wash her and peeled off her outfit she had a “farmer’s tan” of filth. She washed up perfectly, Kitty still has a residual aura of dirt though.
One Sunday we decided to have a picnic in the park. We grabbed our food from the grocery and headed to a beautiful park where we could sit and watch the Sparkle Girl run around on the playground. I carried the picnic basket and Sparky and the Sparkle Girl trailed behind. We had a lovely time and when it was time to pack up I noticed something that made my heart stop. The cute summer purse only had one occupant. Mousie was missing! Oh no. To say that I freaked out is a major understatement. I grabbed the car keys and headed back the way we came.
No sign of Mousie anywhere. Not in or under the car. Not next to the car. Not on the ground anywhere between the road and the playground. It wasn’t on or under the play structure. I may or may not have completely melted down expressed my concern. The details are a little fuzzy (OK, I made a scene and it was unpleasant for my husband and anyone around us). Ugh. She must have fallen out and someone must have picked her up.
Let me take a moment to rant here: Who finds a stuffed animal that is obviously very much loved and takes it? Why not leave it right where it is–or if it is in the bushes or is otherwise hidden place it in plain site? What is wrong with people?!
So we go home and swing by the grocery where one of H’s babysitters is now a sacker to see if she fell out there. Babysitter said she’d keep an eye out. I start furiously looking online. The only place I saw her listed didn’t actually have them. None on e-bay, none, nada, zero, not happening. So I take a chance and post a note on Zutano’s Facebook page asking if there’s a chance to find a Minzie Mouse knowing that it had been discontinued. It was a long shot and I was desperate. I finally go to bed with a heavy heart.
Next morning a little voice called out while searching her bed: “Mousie, where are you? Mousie? Mousie?” I felt sick. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her it was over. I gently said “I don’t know where Mousie is, let’s go downstairs.”
That day someone at Zutano responded to my post. They asked me to email them with the color and they’d see what they could find, but that she hadn’t been produced for over 5 years. Such incredible sweetness, but I didn’t have high hopes. I mean, 5 years! I also knew that a fire burned their warehouse to the ground last year too. So I continued to check places like Lostmylovey.com, Babycenter, Twitter spreading my hopes around as far as possible. I went back to the grocery and to the park. Nothing. I also started checking with the consignment shops. Nothing. I got lots of great support from other moms, which was very much needed and appreciated.
The next morning, again “Mousie, Mousie, where are you?” I had to tell her “Mousie’s gone honey.” I wanted to throw up. Seeing Kitty all by herself in the summer purse just looked wrong. It all felt wrong. I was distraught. I think that this episode brought up some of my own stuff. That’s one of the hazards of parenthood, all the crap that has lain dormant from your own childhood comes raging back at particularly inopportune times. My sister left her bear in Virginia when we were kids and it was never seen again. She forbade my nephew to let his panda (that I brought him from China) out of the house. Panda had his own adventure when he was left in a hotel during a move out of state. Luckily he was express shipped to their new address and was waiting for them when they arrived. When we moved after my dad retired from the Navy I was ten. The A list toys were unpacked but the rest remained boxed forever (along with a lot of our clothes and other important items). I was moving beyond dolls and toys, but wasn’t quite there yet. It was kind of forced on me. I keep hoping to run across a box of toys from 1978 when I go to my mom’s house. I think there was a low-grade sense of loss over that, which had remained unaddressed for years and years. We call those dormant explosive issues “sea monsters”–they rise up from the depths when least expected.
In true toddler resilience she had started to move on. A teddy bear my aunt sent at Christmas was showing signs of becoming the replacement, but not with a lot of enthusiasm. I had mixed feelings about it. Glad to see her resilience but still stinging from the loss myself.
Cut to that Wednesday, I heard from Zutano: “I have found what may be the last Aqua Minzie Mouse on earth :-) Please send me your mailing address (usps) and I’ll pop it in priority for you.”
I got completely emotional. Teary-eyed relief flooded through me. Mousie was on her way home! What incredible customer service!! Can you believe that they did this?! Words cannot convey the appreciation I have for Betzi and Zutano. You would never, never have this experience with a large corporation. If you got a response at all it would be to steer you to buy one of their newer products. I can’t imagine what lengths Betzi went to in order to find Mousie. Did she have to beg an employee to turn over their stash? Did she steal the last sample in the archives?
Friday I received the package and cried. Sparky made me wait until he came home from work to reveal it, which nearly killed me. In retrospect we should have waited until Saturday morning since this ended up being right before bedtime. We propped it up on the ottoman when Sparkle Girl’s back was turned. When she saw it she ran to it with a GIANT smile. Mousie was grabbed up in her chubby little hands. She grabbed Kitty and had them talking to each other in moments. When we put her up in her crib we could hear her chattering like a spider monkey on crack for a good couple of hours. Apparently everyone had a lot of catching up to do.
Saturday morning we headed out with Mousie and Kitty in the summer purse and a smiling toddler. At one point she said “Mousie where are you?” Then held up the bag and said “There you are!” Love just flooded out of my heart. For her and for Zutano. I have been telling everyone I know. Now I’m telling you. That teddy bear hasn’t been picked up since. Her heart always belonged to Mousie.
My “mommy fail” moment was converted into a “mommy is a hero!” moment. You can be absolutely certain that we will be extra-cautious with Mousie 2.0. This was a redemption miracle and it’s not likely to happen again. She’s staying in the car from now on. I’m sure it will result in a much cleaner mouse now too~
(This is one of Mousie’s near misses earlier this summer at the zoo.)
PS–this post was edited slightly so I could do the Mama Kat’s Losin’ It writing prompt link-up for this week.
The Swing
Robert Louis Stevenson
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside–
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown–
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
The Sparkle Girl loves swings. She loves, loves, loves swings.
When she was a tiny baby she spent hours sleeping in her swing. Sometimes bundled up tight with the noise machine tucked in next to her. LOVED IT. I was usually laying next to it on the couch in a haggard crispy mess. Popping awake only long enough to stuff the pacifier back in her mouth. Good times.
I used to love swings too (now they make me sea sick). I remember this poem and how it ignited my imagination of going up sooooooo high in the swing and all the amazing things you could see from such a height. I would imagine the vast fields and pretty rooftops. The tops of the trees full of birds’ nests.
We used to lean back as far as we could. I would watch enviously as my friends with long hair could lean back far enough for it to drag on the ground. Even after we learned to pump with our legs we begged adults to push us higher and higher. Underdogs were best (running under the swing as they pushed). Occasionally our fingers would get pinched in the chain links or our hair would get caught. A small price to pay for that exquisite pleasure.
There was the myth of the older kid at another school who swung so high he went over the top. We all tried to do it well after we knew it was only a legend. Sometimes at a friend’s house we could swing so fast that it would lift a leg of the structure–a feeling that was scary and thrilling all at once. Some daring kids would jump out of the swing while it was still flying high. Usually they were OK but there were the occasional mishaps.
In college I worked at a YMCA day camp. Two summers in a row the same kid broke his arm in the same spot while playing on the swings. My sister was unfortunate enough to be riding a tire swing at our friend’s house when the rope broke sending her sailing. I think her pride was hurt more than anything else.
As we got older we began to do “dangerous” things in swings. Twisting them tight and then spinning furiously after we let go. Delirious as it re-twisted the other way from the momentum. We would play bumper swings. A fun game that involved grabbing the big leg of the structure and letting go, bashing into the person next to us. An activity that I’m sure would be actively discouraged on today’s elementary school playgrounds (if they even still had swings).
When we go to the park the Sparkle Girl makes a bee line right to the swings yelling “SWING SWING SWING” at the top of her voice. When I think she is getting tired of it I ask her if she’s done. Usually she shakes her head and says “more swing”. She loves the wind in her face, the fast motion, being way up high. And who can blame her, really?
At our preschool co-op there are kids that spend much of their time on the playground on the swings. Our arms get tired pushing these kids higher and higher–up with the birds and clouds and airplanes. They love it and only reluctantly give up their coveted spot to another toddler. We have to invoke the ABC method— singing a round of the ABCs, when the song is over it’s time to switch. Amazingly it works every single time.
Swings are one of those sweet pieces of childhood. And have been so for hundreds of years. For much of that time it was the only way to safely leave the earth and sail in the air. Ever since someone first tied a rope to a tree branch kids and grownups alike have felt the peacefulness and excitement of “going up in the air and down”.
I’m loving this Twitter theme #seniorhottie, dream child of Liz a.k.a. A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog. Post pics of yourself at your glorious Senior Hottie best–brilliant.
Originally I was bummed because most of my high school evidence photos and whatnot are buried somewhere in the depths of our storage unit. Tonight I realized that procrastination has paid off yet again and that I had photos I brought back from my sister’s to scan. Voila! Senior Hottie goodness.
I lived in a godforsaken remote town in the heart of the Ozarks, Ozark County in fact. 700 people might seem like a lot at a party, but when it is your reality it means that everyone every where knows everything about you. We moved there when I was ten when my father retired from the military. I went from attending a school that looked like the UN–my three best friends were LaTonya (black), Gene Rose (Filipina) and Stacy (white)–to Oz. My school not only had no brown people (except for a couple of really tan folks) but everyone was related in some way and most people’s grandparents had known each other as children. We were, as the local folk say, “from off.” Meaning: not one of us–”you’uns ain’t never gonna be us so don’t even try.” Culture shock is a vast understatement.
Flash forward to Senior Year. Time to get the heck out of Dodge and flee to the Big City. By that time I had weathered all the humiliating drama of junior high and early high school. I had evolved from “what the heck just happened?” to “to hell with this”. This was 1986–what was then called a “bi-level” hairdo had not yet been demoted to the “mullet”, we were glimpsing all those big bangs and metal hair just a few years off.
Living in a hillbilly town I aspired to preppy. I loved Adam Ant when everyone around me rocked to Dokken and two-stepped to Bocephus. I was going to college and some of my friends were already married and/or pregnant; by junior year one was already divorced and the mother of toddler. I like to tell people that my home town is a robust mixture of “Footloose” crossed with “The Dukes of Hazzard” with a splash of “Deliverance”. The first high school dance in the school’s history was held my freshman year in our cafeteria as was our prom.
Here I am in all my Senior Hottie glory:
This was the beginning of senior year. My hair was shorter and curly-ish. I look pretty happy for a girl with a raging bad attitude. (Note the pearls–A gift from my Grandmother at 16, they were a gift from her father at 16 too. It was kind of my signature look, you know being preppy and all.)
This is another one that captured my “playful side”–the popped collar was a staple of 1986.
We hated the ones that were taken at school and regrettably ended up in the yearbook. These were taken at the local newspaper. You can do things like that in a small town.
This photo was taken not long after graduation. My hair had grown out and was permed. That was mandatory in 1986. One girl in my class was permed on a strict 8 week schedule. Those reading this from the Class of ‘86 won’t need a name to identify her. Many of us permed the back but not the bangs so they would feather correctly. In college we had learned the benefits of the spiral perm and our lives would never be the same. Cute and Sexy Full of Tricks, We’re the Class of 86 was our informal yet catchy class motto. Our real motto was “We Came, We Saw, We Conquered”–a classic since ancient times. I was a proponent of “This Ain’t No Party, This Ain’t No Disco, This Ain’t No Foolin’ Around”–clearly I was not among my people. Plus, the only thing most of us conquered in our short lives was figuring out how to get older people to buy us wine coolers and Boone’s Farm Tickle Pink.
I’m on the left. Pearls have been replaced with a shell necklace I bought on our Senior Trip to Florida. I wish that the 17 year old me could look at these pictures with my 40-something eyes. See how bright and fun she is, how NOT FAT she is, how much wonderful stuff is ahead but also how much wonderful stuff was happening right there where she is at that time. How many people were there waiting to be friends if she could put down her snotty attitude for just a minute. How things didn’t have to be as hard as she made them. (I’m sure the 60 year old me will look at pictures from 2011 and tell that woman the same exact thing!) I confess: I was a Senior Hottie!
When I was driving around with the Sparkle Girl the other day a childhood memory came flashing back. One I hadn’t thought about in years and years, but it made me smile and I thought about Lenore Skenazy’s campaign to bring back formerly normal pursuits for children. This is a totally Free Range Childhood memory and I’m not sure it could happen today.
We lived on a military base outside of Memphis, TN. NAS Memphis was a Naval air station that has since been decommissioned. We lived in the Hospital Quarters near the bright shiny new hospital and a few blocks away from my elementary school, Millington East. We walked to school every day, without my mother or any other adult. Usually we walked with another child from the neighborhood through the chain link fence topped with razor wire, across a busy street where the cross guard would call me “Elly”, then on to school. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood and played outside all the time.
My sister and I bickered incessantly, which I’m certain contributed to my mother’s desire to get us the hell out of the house. Often we played with the neighbor kids and sometimes by ourselves. We rode bikes all over. We sometimes walked down to the pool in summer, but usually we spent the day unaccompanied at the Officer’s Club pool. If my mom was with us, she certainly wasn’t hovering over us reapplying SPF 10,000 sunscreen, feeding us healthy organic snacks, reminding us to play nice with the other kids and making sure we didn’t drown. We played “Man from Atlantis” and mermaid, tried to see how long we could hold our breath under water, jumped off the high dive and ate popsicles from the snack stand. We had dance classes and Girl Scouts and day camp but these activities didn’t consume our lives. We had plenty of breathing room.
The particular memory that came to me the other day involved a time that I went out exploring on my own, if my sister was with me I don’t recall it. There were some barracks that had been demolished but the debris had not been cleaned up. There was a whole area with rows of stoops leading to rubble. I climbed all over it and made an excellent discovery. Telephone wire! Lots and lots of colorful telephone wire. For those of you unfamiliar with this wonderful stuff it is thin plastic coated wire. The plastic is all kinds of amazing colors, some of it striped like candy canes. I hauled this stuff home and showed it to my mom, who is the craftiest woman I know. We turned this “trash” into so many treasures. We twisted it into bracelets and necklaces and all kinds of shapes. Endless fun. I have a vague feeling I might have skinned my knee or cut myself on the debris, but the memory of the adventure and the discovery is so much more potent!!!
These days I don’t think I would be allowed out on my own like that. I certainly wouldn’t have access to a giant pile of housing rubble since it would be surrounded by plastic orange fencing to keep out little explorers like myself. Cool stuff like telephone wire would be removed for recycling or reuse (which really is a good thing). This magic discovery just wouldn’t be possible today and that makes me a little sad. So many kids will never know what it is like to just wander around on their own time and under their own direction. Today’s kids are so scheduled with activities or so sedated with video games that there is no opportunity to get out alone much less be allowed to do it. Even kids that get to pursue their own personal world without adults live in a much more sanitized environment. Sure we feel “safer”, but I’m not so certain that is true. It’s an illusion of safety. It seems that we’ve traded “danger” for self imprisonment and that makes me feel clausterphobic.
I fully intend that my daughter will have opportunities for such self-directed adventure. That I can provide opportunities for her to spend time exactly like she wants and in the process learn self-reliance, build confidence and exercise her imagination.
Free Range Kids from about 1975
We’ve had a crazy couple of months. Pretty busy and not much time to blog lately.
On the knitting front, it’s been almost all booties. New nephew (need to actually mail those before he outgrows them), two friends having baby girls. I found out I had a $25 credit at Twisted! That was awesome…and I got to spend it at their Spring Cleaning sale. Very fun. But I’ve also started organizing my stash to make it easier to pick up the next projects—adding to the instant project bag. Last night I went through the stash to weigh it all so that I really know how much of each item that I’ve got. I had totally forgotten all the juicy stuff just waiting to become something beautiful. There were also some things that I marked for trade or sale. Definitely time to let go of yarn that is special but that I haven’t made plans for. Need to do that with my books and needles too. I’m on a lace kick these days and have been wearing the heck out of my orangy-greeny bamboo-silk and LOVE it~
On the Sparkle-Girl front– she’s such a wonderful 2 year old. She’s been playing “house” in her Little People doll house rather than just shoving the toys in and out of it. She’s still into puzzles, still into paper and markers. With good weather comes bubble time. Favorite words: “what happened?” “Open Open” (meaning do something with this) “Nernie, Melmo” of Sesame Street fame. Hello Kitty still reigns supreme and she has added to her collection. It’s so funny to see her little arms full of so many different sizes of Kitties. I’ve decided that a grouping is a Glitter of Hello Kitties. I know most parents look at their children and marvel at the amazing creature that chose to join their family—and we do this every single day. Her smile just melts my heart.
Sparky and I have paid our taxes and started laying the groundwork for moving out of the condo. I’ve been sending out requests for the universe to show us the path towards the next phase of our lives. Lo and behold… things started moving. The right conversations with the right people happened at the right times for us to have a much clearer idea of where we need to put our energy. One component of this path involves me joining our condo board. Oh Lord save me!
I used to think the gods of timing hated me… it certainly felt like the right opportunities happened at the wrong times. Jobs that I could have landed came open 6 months after I moved out of state more than once. Relationships were doomed because of issues with timing. Etc. etc. etc. But now I know that my timing was exquisite…it was my patience that was all wrong. Since joining forces with my husband our timing is always perfect. We get to the restaurant right before they get swamped and it’s that way with so many things in our lives. It’s hard to have faith in our timing and be patient when we see so clearly what we want to happen. But I know that even though opportunities look good now there is absolutely a better one that will come at the perfect time.
The sun has finally started shining, at least for today. That means time spent at the park and yelling “whee” on the swings. Watching the plants grow more and more lush each day. Farmer’s markets to get sweet berries and kettle corn. Trips to the wine country for the best Pinot Noir anywhere. Meandering along the walking path next to the river picking up sticks and stones and whatever else catches the toddler’s attention.
This is the Feather Lace Shawl by Gardiner Yarn Works. It worked up pretty quickly and easily. I had a couple of issues but they were user errors. After frogging it a couple of times I got the hang of the structure of the lace pattern and it went just fine. The yarn is Gingko by ArtFibers. It’s mostly bamboo with a thread of silk wrapped around it. I love the colors and it is super-soft.
This picture is what it looks like straight off the needles–nice but kind of floppy and there is no definition to the lace. Next photo is after I pinned it out for blocking. You’ll notice that there is a lot more definition and there’s a crispness to it. What’s wonderful is that after it dries, it will stay that way. Nothing short of miraculous~ Sorry about the color variations. I just didn’t have the patience to fiddle with it anymore. The first one is probably closest to what it looks like in real life.
OK, so I’m closer. The pieces of the sweater have been blocked and I’m ready to take a big deep breath and start sewing it all together. Once again, let me reiterate, not my favorite part.
So blocking this was a quite an undertaking. The big round piece is REALLY big. I blocked it once and didn’t have enough pins. The nature of ribbing is that it wants to shrink up like an accordian. Think of the ribbing on your sweaters at the cuff and waist. Chances are pretty good that it contains the same number of stitches as the sleeve or body of the sweater. But notice how much narrower it is. That’s just what ribbing wants to do. That’s its nature. What is amazing is that blocking can make ribbing overcome its nature.
When you block something you give it a bath and lay it out flat. You should do this when you hand wash your sweaters and scarves. Either pin it or lay out it per the appropriate measurements. Sometimes you have to convince it to stretch or shrink to the right shape and measurements. The first time I didn’t have enough pins and the fabric between the pins contracted in. This left big points where the pins were. I wish I would have photographed it for you. Alas. So I re-wet it and pinned it out. This took 3 boxes of pins. Sorry for the bad picture but it was laying right under a bright light and I didn’t want to deal with moving it.
Here is what it looks like after it has dried and been unpinned. Notice that the sleeves are shorter and wider. This is due to the fact that the pattern measurements were significantly shorter than what I ended up with. Notice that the big circle is much wider.
Someone wanted to get in on the action (short sleeves and bare feet in January–quite a warm day).
Slowly, we’re getting there. My hope is that you will see a picture of me wearing it before next week.
Plus, I’ve started another project–made from the silk/bamboo yarn I purchased at Art Fibers when I was in San Francisco 2 1/2 years ago. Pictures forthcoming.
Have finally finished the knitting portion of the Traveling Sweater. Holy Moses has that taken a long time. I can’t tell you how many hours of two by two ribbing and short rows have already gone into that thing. Considering it was a Mother’s Day gift last year and I’m only now to this point–it’s a lot of hours. Of course I also took detours to knit two stockings, read two Connie Willis books and teach the Sparkle Girl how to make jazz hands. All important projects in their own right.
So here is where we find ourselves today:
I’m a little annoyed that there is SO MUCH yarn left over. Sure some will get used up in sewing the darn thing together, but not even close to using that much. Maybe I’ll make a belt to go with it? Or a little sweater for the Sparkle Girl? When there is this much left on a $30 skein of yarn you darn well want to use it all up. It will be fun to see how it does after blocking. Chances are very, very good that I’ll have to take it into the store for help sewing it up. Not my strong suit anyway and the directions are already making my head spin. Of course, it’s always easier when I have the actual item in front of me to help visualize what I’m trying to do. We’ll see.
I’ve converted another knitter. Seriously, where’s my toaster? I should have won SOMETHING by now for all the people who’ve taken up the sticks because of me. This warrants a sternly worded letter to someone. Maybe Barbara Walker? Welcome to the fiber fold Steve. Happy Knitting. I can’t wait to see all the yummy projects you’re going to cook up.
We have so much for which we are thankful this year. We have a home and are not in danger of losing it. We can pay our heating bill. We have food to eat and warm clothes. We have cars that run well and can put gas in them. More than these basics that far too many people in our midst don’t have, we are so thankful for so many other things too. I’m married to a man who is perfectly suited to me. He challenges and compliments me in very important ways. We have FUN together and laugh every day. After three years of marriage and four years together we feel comfortable and fresh all at once. We have a gorgeously amazing daughter. She makes me laugh every day too. She’s smart, tenacious, funny, has such a fun little personality. I’m so honored that I get to watch this little creature grow into an amazing woman and get to shape who she will be in the world.
All too often we forget to say our gratitude prayers and start to chug along taking our lives for granted until something grabs our attention. Until something snaps us back into the alarming reality of how fragile it all can be. This happened last month when a local family experienced a tragedy that I’m still trying to wrap my head around. The dad was walking home from the store with his son (who was around the Sparkle Girl’s age) in a stroller. As they were in the crosswalk an elderly man hit the gas instead of the brakes on his car and ran into them and another young man. The men were hurt but ok. The child died the next day at the hospital. My heart breaks for everyone in the situation. How do you live the rest of your days knowing that your mistake caused such unspeakable damage? How do you go on having lost the most precious thing in your life? This family is still reeling from this disaster. A friend of mine whose son is one of H’s favorite playmates is a friend of this family. She’s still reeling too. Knowing this brings it still closer to home. I’m so glad I haven’t heard anyone say that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I really hate that expression. It implies that the injured person was out of place. That they were someplace they shouldn’t be. These people were in their own neighborhood in a crosswalk. It was exactly where they should be. I’m sure everyone involved will be rehashing that day over and over…what tiny change could have altered the course of events? But really, all you can do is go about your daily life.
Thinking about it makes me squeeze my own girl tight. It helps me to be patient when she’s getting in touch with her inner Charlie Sheen and tearing the place apart. It helps me relish those adorable toddler kisses and hugs. It helps me stop to listen to her absurd chatter. It helps me walk slowly with her as she investigates every tiny crack in the sidewalk, leaf, bird, squirrel and blade of grass. It helps me stop what I’m doing and dance with the girl as she discos to Latin Pop. It helps me find strength when she has thrown herself on the ground in Hulk-like rage because I wouldn’t give her cookies for breakfast. It helps me stay present in this moment instead of thinking about what’s for dinner, or the errands I need to run, or the million other thoughts that crowd my brain in a given day. I get to watch my little girl grow up to be an amazing woman. I get to shape who she will be in this world. I’m so very, very thankful for that.
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