To the Zoo

Ever wonder how many kinds of animal fur can be spun? This question was posed at least once or twice last week. With giraffe, bison, longhorn, camels; you name it. So I'm just throwing that in so there is at least something knit-related on here.

The Roger Williams Park Zoo is a fantastic place for kids. And adults. I can't remember ever going to a zoo, so when Blogless Sharon suggested we play hooky last week I was up for it. LBB was too, but since it was so hot most of the critters were laying in the shade. And that was not so fascinating for an infant who is accustomed to bells, whistles, and a mommy that perpetually jumps around and dances in order to win his smiles. (I admit it. I'm a smilaholic.)

But we put on our best safari outfits. And spied on the cheetah, wildebeest, and even a few of those tail-less monkeys. The name escapes me now, but they were cute.

We prowled the gift shop until LBB picked out a stuffed penguin by gummiffication.

gummiffication (n) the process in which an infant pulls multiple items of interest off shelves in order to find a toy of preference. This selection is usually indicated by a large dollop of drool placed on the object.

I left my damn camera at home! If I hadn't, you would see crazy babe and bloglessSharon with wild animals. But you will soon. I promise. And I will be here more often. Another promise.

So I was talking about kids with someone this weekend, which I constantly do now that I have one. You would think I was the expert on mommyhood the way i talk, but really am more an example of what NOT to do. I'm sure other parents are horrified by us. But we lucked out. Somehow we ended up with a foolproof child, and no matter how hard I try to screw this parenting thing up, the more wonderful he is. Or maybe he's just a nut like me, which is wonderful in my eyes.

But I was sayin' KIDS.

Aw hell. Lost my train of thought.

Just look at the cute baby.

And I'll find something knitworthy to talk about tomorrow.

An Enigmatic Post

Hello from the land of non-blog. Its been a tumultuous few weeks, filled with developmental changes in LBB, family drama, work work work, fun times with friends, and least of all, knitting. I'm resuming my work on the hooded sweater for baby's first christmas, in hope of entering it in the Barnstable County Fair, since their critieria includes the work be done sometime in the past year. Yah, I'm sure people cheat, but to maintain my own integrity, I'd like to stick to the rules. And the other projects I have done this year have been mostly quick, simple stuff-hats, scarves, arm warmers. However, with the sleeves and hood to go, and very little time to do it (basically during naptime) it is a bit up in the air.

My little sweatpea is wonderful as ever- healthy, strong, and extremely energetic. He now eats a bit of rice cereal every day, but mostly to oblige his parents. He still prefers the buuub, which is just fine with me, since it is easiest on his tummy. He also has discovered his voice and the ability to rise and drop in pitch, which he does in a hilarious parrot-like sqwauuuck for hours at a time.

And of course, much to my excitement he has developed great manual dexterity, and can now use one hand to hold or steady an object while he manipulates it with the other hand, so he can grasp, shake, and spin his toys without smacking himself in the face constantly. It gives me great hope that we may someday be sitting in a mommy-and-me violin class. If he likes that. I won't make him. Um.

He also sleeps quite peacefully through the night.

But with all this wonder and beauty in my life, there are also some challenges. I have a big "WWJD" test ahead of me-a moral dilemma you might say. In fact, when I look at my life aside from these troubles I can say that every week is quite clear, uncluttered, and pleasant. My home is a beautiful sanctuary by the sea-with a wonderful loving husband, and beautiful son. If you would permit me to get a bit Christian on yo' I would say that all of a sudden my life has been disrupted by something villainous and quite evil. The question is, what part of this is the actual evil? The source that has passed on rumors or information and thereby raised this wicked speculation in my mind? Or the people or subject in question? One of them is cruel, awful, and deceitful. But which one? I've been trying for weeks to wrap my mind around this, and what to do.

One thing is certain, the wrong thing for me to do at this point would be to walk away. The implications this has raised are terrible, that to not find out the truth I would inadvertently be causing someone great harm. To look the other way would be wrong. I'm hoping this all amounts to nothing, but sadly, history is not pointing in that direction. So while I wait for the evidence to arrive I am lost and confused about what would be the right thing to do. Normally I don't meddle, in fact I have had such bad experience with meddling and those type of people, that this is completely out of my realm. My usual tactic is to cut ties completely and run.

Once I know the truth, what do I do? Some say I should just present the evidence and leave those affected by this to sort it out on their own. My own feelings are to simply keep it to myself, and never use this information for any purpose-just keep it under my hat, so to speak. And just know the true nature of these people, and thereby protect myself and my own household. If what I suspect is true, then I need to get away from those in question fast, never look back, never be involved with them again. Of course, it's never that simple though! Sorry to babble on, but I am so lost here. I never knew people could be so manipulative and dishonest. My life is about to become soooo Jerry Springer.

Babies Need No Translation

Once upon a time there was a girl named Heather who was always cold. She was so cold even in the Spring and Summer. One day, Heather realized she could create cute little shrugs out of yarn that would keep her snug and warm, yet not look like an idiot while others were sweaty and hot. So she bought a ton of pointy little sticks and began to make yummy little sweaters. Heather was finally happy. The End.

Its funny how easily babies are entertained. We have a small library of childrens' classics, but sometimes I read the Sephora catalog to LBB over breakfast. He chuckles and smiles to this season's latest trends in eyeshadow every bit as much as the adventures of Wilbur from Charlotte's Web. I was reading Jenny McCarthy's book "Baby Laughs" yesterday, and had a laugh when she wrote about singing her son Evan to sleep. Despite all her preparations for the arrival of her new son, her memory failed her when it came to lullabyes, and the best she could come up with was a soft version of Brittney Spears 'oops I did it Again.'

But it did the trick.

Like Jenny, my repertoire of lullabyes and playsongs includes some gems. For the life of me I couldn't remember the words to that damn mockingbird song, or all that 'go to sleep' crap. Instead, we sing "I Like to Move It" by the Baha Men and "I Get Knocked Down" by Chumbawumba. Hummed softly they sound like lullabyes. Or a little louder with my goofy smile for playtime. LBB really digs it. If I throw some dancing and hair-tossing in, you would think I had spun a disco ball with lights over his head.

New Hampshire Sheep & Wool

Now, before I begin, let me apologize for the ditzy dizzy greeting-and-scurry I gave my fellow bloggers on saturday. It may have been the fleecy-fumes, the fun, the enormous ice cream cone being shoved at me by my husband, or just perhaps my abounding delight at the wonderful weather. But I sincerely regret being such a wingnut (as usual), and hope you weren't too offended!

After a lazy beginning back home, we (me, hubby, and baby) finally rolled into Contoocook around 12:30-giving me only 4 1/2 hours in fiber paradise. To make matters worse, I noticed the battery on our camera was DEAD, so we had to charge it in the car for about half that time....oh mercy.

It was gorgeous!! In fact, the whole weekend was fantastic, but the highlight of my first Mother's Day/Weekend (ok, so let me stretch it out for a few days, ok?) was the sheep & wool show. We introduced little Phil (who I will call LBB for little boy blue) to the sweet song of the alpacas, and tried to push Blogless Sharon and the Doc to buy a few, with sweet promises that LBB would gladly participate in any local 4H alpaca clubs in our area.

We stopped for a snack once or twice...

I contained myself, and picked up just two skeins of yarn at the Foxfire booth in 'tsunami' to make another baby sweater. And spent at least 40 AGONIZING minutes deliberating over my first drop-spindle. And then settled on the least-expensive model they had to offer at the Golding booth.

And there was much rejoicing.

There was also a bit of rejoicing over at the Merlin Tree (?) booth, as it was pickup time for Blogless Sharon and her antique spinning wheel. I especially loved the note left for her on the wheel by admirers...

Mommy Hate

Don't hate the mommy!

Thanks for your supportive emails and comments-it has been a tough week, mostly because little Phil has really hit a stage of cuteness. I am barely able to take my eyes off his little face. In fact, when he wakes at 4am for a feeding, my husband and I race each other to see who can get to him first!

These really are the best days ever.
(And nights too)

Work is a different matter-as some of you have pointed out, my coworkers aren't thrilled with the fact that I work only part time, have four-day weekends, and stroll into work just about anytime before 9AM. They don't realize that I am often out of bed and getting the doodlebug ready for his Gram or Nana around 5AM. Or that I don't take a lunch break. Or that when that office door is closed, I am typing-while-pumping. A newly acquired skill!

Nonetheless, there's still a bit of hostility in the air. Nothing obvious, but detectable in whispers around the office. Or sudden silences when I appear. Luckily, there are half a dozen other mommies in the office, and they give the place a pleasant vibe. And make it very easy to forget about the few sour grapes.

Zipping through the back of the baby christmas sweater-these little cables are a breeze!

Tuesday Morning Cute-Attack

He did it again. The little devil made me cry.

I am so in love with our little boy, that I cried all the way to work today. Its so hard to leave him after four days of utter paradise. He probably doesn't even notice I'm gone, since he gets to play with his Nana today. But I'm feelin' it. Bad. After all, you leave the warm, welcoming rooms of your home and the child that adores you for the cold, uncaring world of work.

It sucks.

But I have a little shot of of the booger in his little sweater, lovingly handknit by Carole. It was perfect for him on sunday, when there was a bit of a chill in the air. And he looked quite handsome in it, I must say.

Who Do You Knit For?

I was talking with Blogless Sharon yesterday about knitted gifts. I have been feeling a bit selfish because I have yet to knit anything for the mister, and have knit only two sweaters for the little one. With the time it takes me to finish a project, I usually think long and hard before deciding what to make. Its quite the committment for me, and not something I would do unless the end result will be appreciated. So if not for yourself, who do you knit for?

There have been a lot of blog discussions about this, and it seems that generally we are in agreement: knitting for fellow knitters is the most appreciated. Only a fellow knitter could know the thought that goes into a gifted knit; the deliberation over what pattern, what texture, and what kind of fiber to use. A non-knitter may not know this, and may toss that handmade treat carelessly into their laundry pile. Or worse, the recipient may handle it like the holy frickin' grail and pack it away carefully, never to be worn. My heart breaks! If this happens, it is doomed to never receive the oohs and ahhs that a handknit should get once it is recognized to be a one-of-a-kind work of art!

There is only one kind of person that will truly appreciate the gifted knit, and use it appropriately. Say, a person who waits for their child to fit perfectly into that adorable sweater so she can then post pictures online and give due credit to the person who lovingly and generously gave that mahhhhvelous shower gift. *ahem*

So onto another subject, we have here some cranberry red yumminess. Soon to be baby's first Christmas sweater because I figure it will take that long to finish it. I've been salivating over this pattern ever since I discovered I was pregnant, and hope to find a pattern that closely matches it for daddy. I was a second away from making this in Debbie Bliss cashmerino when I spotted this Berroco ultra alpaca- its not machine washable, but that didn't stop me.

Like a crow attracted to a shiny object, I am drawn to anything red, and could not resist the richness of this color. It is so merlot-like that I had to rush home and open a bottle of cabernet to celebrate.

Dog Vs. Armwarmers

Everyone needs a mental-health break from time to time. Perhaps an hour or two spent in some kind of calming activity (and I don't mean eating though that is very calming as well). Maybe a walk through the neighborhood, or a moment taken on your back porch. Where you take a few deep breaths. Sigh. Then stretch. Turn. And wave to your neighbor Tony who is raking his yard. Just fifteen feet away. (And has picked up more than just a few details about your personal life than you care for him and his wife to know. But they are retired and watch the neighborhood like hawks. Which will be something you appreciate when your child is at a more troublesome age I suppose.)

I can count many breaks from this past weekend. (I skipped the CT Sheep & Wool Show, dang) A long stroll with the baby around the area, stopping briefly in the cemetary down the street to read some heartbreaking poems on the back of loved ones headstones. A moment taken in the back yard, as I assessed the Spring re-growth and contemplated which annuals would be the brightest against an old stone wall. (But planted nothing) Another moment taken in the nursery while the little monster napped, and I sat in the rocker reading a child's picture book to myself. Poor Despereaux the mouse! Will he save the princess?

And of course some playtime with Scout, who has recently endured a dreadful clipping and the introduction of the electric collar and fence. Despite his elctro-shock therapy he is doing quite well, and loves my finished cabled armwarmers, made from Blogless Sharon's homespun. And not really made from any specific pattern per se, but copied from bits here and there. In order to extend them above the elbows I did four increases gradually, beginning at the thickest part of my forearm.

You might be asking yourself- is she still WIP-less? Ah-HA! She is not! More on that later this week, but I promise it is very very yummy.

NO WIP's HERE!

I am stuck in a rut. All my projects are done, the future is wide open.
What do I do next? Why can't I decide?

When babies fly

This is more of a friday rant. About people. And crap. And people crapping on each other.

Its my theory that negativity is an actual force. An energy that travels from person to person like electricity on a wire. When a person hold feelings of revenge, anger, jealousy, or frustration they need to find a way to release it. Or all that negativity will cause an implosion, like a fart that that has been repressed for way too long. Sorry for the lovely metaphor, but you get the picture.

So I work in a lovely office. Usually. But perhaps while I was on maternity leave someone seriously crapped on their co-worker. Well, that mighty stinking shit has spread. And you can feel it when you walk in the door. I've been absence for eight weeks, so why do I feel outright hostility? I asked a cubicle dweller on tuesday how she was doing. With a sneer she replied "BUSY" and turned without another word and walked away. It only got worse from there-wednesday I was snapped at, and despite my numerous apologies and pleas to assist this person with whatever intolerable burden she may have, haven't received a response. But due to my theory of negativity, I refuse to pass on the nasty vibe.

Hence, the implosion.

I can directly link the infant carseat base and its propulsion across my driveway (didn't know I had that kind of strength) thursday morning to the obvious decline in morale at work. Or in other words, with no better outlet for my hurt feelings, I took out my frustration on inanimate objects. And threw things.

I also have positive outlets for my frustration. Like knitting.

And of course, the little guy:

Everything But the Kitchen Sink sweatahhhh

Finally, I untangled myself from the mess of nursing, cleaning, and arranging tiny socks in order to finish this project! From Yarnplay, which was given to me as a Christmas gift, and I have to say the pattern was very well written and easy to follow. As you see, I even made a little change in the sleeves, since this FO was completed in the Spring, so I could wear it in the milder weather. Thanks to Lisa, the designer!

And there's the red hair! It's a lot brighter in the sun. And my little not-quite-a-schoolgirl but definitely not-a-sloppy-mommy haircut. Its funny that it took two weeks to get a photo, and it had to be taken in the mirror when all is said and done. But once you have that bebe, no one has the camera on you anymore! I certainly don't mind!

Yeah it was my birthday...

But that was last week. And just now I finally get to re-appropriate the camera from one of our baby bags so I can show my brag-worthy knit gifts. See what baby on the brain can do?

Blogless Sharon came back from SPA with more than just some good stories. She came back with gifties for her little girl! On the left (in my favorite colors) is 220yds times two of single strand from Judy and on the right we have merino/nylon sock yarn in raspberry beret from Kim. Does this mean some sock knitting on size 1's are in my near future? We shall see. I'm exploring my options.

I had a dream last night that I knit Monica's Sand River scarf, if that's any indicator. Does anyone else actually dream of their projects beforehand? This is becoming normal for me over the last year- as I get close to finishing one project another one seems to assemble itself in my dreams. What do you dream of?

Thanks to Britt http://pigbook1.blogspot.com for the wonderful idea, but I have thought about my Manifesto all weekend, and couldn't come up with much! Is it too much baby on the brain? I feel like lately all I have to say revolves around diapers and breastfeeding, so its time to branch out a little. So that would be the first item of my personal manifesto:

Vanity:
I will strive to be strong in mind, body, and spirit (even though I’m not always certain what ‘spirit’ encompasses).
I will always try to grow personally by taking risks, seeking adventure and new experiences, and learning new hobbies. I will embrace difference kinds of music, food, and culture with an open mind.
I will take good care of the body given me.
I will not live to eat. I will eat to live. (With the exception of my favorite edibles: red wine, sushi, chocolate, red licorice, and Momma Nonna’s stuffed peppers).

Knitting:
I will try to knit those lovely sweaters for my boys that will be cherished forever. For some time now, I have been doing this all for myself, so its about time...
I will not have a stash. I will buy only what I need. (Yeah, right)

Life In General:

I will not be one of those obsessive parents who swears her kids are the cutest, smartest, etc. But you still may have to listen to ..just...a...little...bragging... Just nod your head and say uh-huh.
I will continue to give people the benefit of the doubt, even though my husband thinks I am too affable, trusting and easygoing.
I will always appreciate my husband for his wit, wisdom, and the strength he provides me. What I love about him is that he is not always an open book, but the lessons I learn from him reveal themselves over time and really help me cope with things as they come my way.
I will always secretly dream of joining the army. Why do the guys get all the guts and glory anways?
I will no longer compromise all the time-and this is an addition after a bizarre family episode last night which I won't go into here-but will try to make a stand against the things that I feel are wrong. I will stand true to my principles. I will no longer look the other way.
I will always remember my education, and the amazing experiences gained (especially at my high school, Dana Hall.) Years later, I can still feel the support and nurturing from that old institution...
I will lead a life of diligent work and disciplined lifestyle-in other words, I will get up every morning and set out to accomplish something, even if its just spending time with my son in some sort of activity, or doing chores around the house. With the exception of Christmas morning and those rare snow days, I will get up early with the sun, get dressed and get on my way. I will not waste precious time sitting in front of the TV or computer.

I certainly do not intend to insult anyone with these statements, so please do not take offense.

Random Acts of Cuteness

A lot of new moms such as myself have been posting about their frustrations with a newborn, or the difficulties of pregnancy and labor. Every one I read with understanding and share their troubles and tribulations. It has not been easy. And now, back at work, I encounter new challenges. It takes all my strength just to leave the house for work, and leave him in the loving arms of a close relative. Not to mention having to pump at work, be up several times a night for feedings, and still be perky. Ugh.

But we have all said over and over that it is worth all the trouble, tears, and pain. And so it is, especially when they are so darn cute.

Or when you get to torture them right back.

Behold Senor Pantalones. Also known as Baby Panthead:

Red is the New Black

I have always thought it takes a strong woman to pull off red lipstick. And that woman has never been me. Sure, I have a tendency towards red shoes. But when it comes to a bold statement in fashion or other personal presentation I have fallen very short of such bravery.

But when a woman spends two months in practical seclusion, suddenly a stranger to the fun life of fine dining and nightspots, gains and loses 30 pounds, and becomes personal chef to an infant, she falls even further from being able to express her femininity. After all, its hard to feel pretty when you can't fit back into your favorite skinny jeans. Or when you cut short your daily beauty routine to nurse on the couch. Blow-dry and straight-iron? Are you kidding me?

But during one feeding session, the shampoo commercial depicting a harried mother caught my eye. It stated that 89% of mothers admitting to letting themselves go. My husband looked over at me, took in my current disarray of sloppy hair, unmade face, and wide-open wrinkled shirt, and laughed. I laughed with him, but that sealed the deal.

Friday I walked into my salon and gave Nicole, my goddess with scissors, a serious order. With precision she removed my soccer-mom blonde shaggy 'do. Three hours later, a woman getting that same soccer-mom style was admiring Nicole's work. "When she came in here, she was a blonde," replied my stylist.

"NO WAY," gaped Mrs. Partial-Foil Soccer Mom.

So, I am very sorry not to share a picture of my new look, but I can only describe it as very very red. As soon as I can get someone to take my picture, you will see true fashion bravery...

The Walrus and the Carpenter

The policeman and the secretary

walked on the beach one day

To stretch their legs and see the mess

the storm had tossed astray

They watched the gulls swirl in the wind

and waves crash with a rage

While counting all the crabs and clams

and even an errant lobster cage...

After the storm we wrapped up the baby and took the dog for a walk on the beach. True to the tales we have heard, the second low tide after a storm is a seafood-lovers fantasy. Washed up in the tidal pools were tons of steamers, razor clams, and sea clams. Our jogging stroller quickly became a conduit for a stash of foraged clams (and if anyone reading this is an employee of the town or environmental police I deny deny deny!). That night I whipped up a dinner of stuffed clams just like Mom used to make for us. Yet another reward of living by the beach!

I also started over on the sleeves for EBTKS. The long sleeves looked chunky, so I decided to try a cap- or short-sleeve. Like I have said before, Lisa's patterns are well written and easy to play with, so I cast on 52 stitches and proceeded with a 2X2 ribbing for just an inch, worked in stockinette for another in, and then started the decreases. The neckline should just have 4 extra stitches, which will work out just fine. Hopefully. AND I'll be finished faster..heehe.

Widdle Hands..

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Have a great weekend!

Burn Baby Burn

Slowly but surely I have been working away at my cabled wristwarmers. The wool my mother spun is easy to work with, but will be very very warm! Had I the motivation to start over I would probably ease up the twist on the cable, and do only one cable on each arm instead of three, as the yarn is very dense. I'm going to find great use for these, as they will be perfect for those days where it is to warm to wear a winter coat, but too cool in the morning to get away without one. More pictures to come as I slog along between feedings and diaper changes...

I've been thinking a lot about the EBTKS sweater. As I have been working on the first sleeve, I'm not a big fan of the bulkiness-it works for the body, but the last thing I need right now are chunky-lookin' arms. So with a little bit of experimentation, I may attempt to short-sleeve it. Still mulling it over though...

In the meantime I wanted to share the dinner and a show we received at New Tokyo over the weekend.

I love hibachi...

Spring Misgivings

Mom & Dad's landscaping crew hard at work:

I will not hate myself. I pledge to love myself the way I am, and take good care of myself. I will not be obsessed with losing weight, or fitting back into last year's denim mini.

March 20th will mark the first day of Spring, a season that I am very fond of because in the past it has meant flounder fishing, maple syrup collecting, and spring lambs. It also marks a period of self-loathing that begins when I spot the first skinny college girls down at the waterfront in their cute little spring outfits. Being a 30-something isn't that bad, but it is hard to face the fact that I will never be a little chickadee again. And I'm sick-I think about it every year.

Luckily, I have my Dad. Being a physician, outdoorsman, and all around down-to-earth guy he is fantastic to talk to about health, fitness, and general well-being. Last weekend we talked about the importance of good nutrition, and treating one's body well. He brought me back to reality: it doesn't matter if we look anything like celebrities or the models from our favorite magazines. It is important, however, to keep in shape and make sure we are in the best of health for the years to come. Looking back, I'm pretty sure we have this chat every spring. It helps.

So I will not stress about fitting into my swimsuit, or foolishly consider tanning. I will, however, keep that bowl on the kitchen table brimming with fruit. And do my 45 minutes of cardio. And love myself just the way I am.

And for a bit of knitting eye-candy, the Kaia sweater my mother (AKA Blogless Sharon) knit for the little guy:

Cookie Mojo

You're looking at my attempt at cookie magic. Look closely at these cookies and you will see them dotted with tropical fishies...

Islamorada is proclaimed to be the sportfishing capital of the US. I bring this up because lately it has been proposed as the destination of the next in-law family vacation. Color me psyched. Four or five years ago I was obsessed with fishing!

I've had to find excuses to miss the last three family vacations because they kept going to the same spot: Disney. Now I won't go into any great explanation about why I detest Disney, because I know a lot of lovers of the place. But what I can say is that they have somehow discovered my most beloved place on earth and turned it into an amusement park hotel. Behold Portofino, Disney-style:

Portofino is the kind of place that is so small and so off the beaten path that it has become an very exclusive getaway for italian gentlemen and their uber-young mistresses. I loved it, but unfortunately cannot afford to skip off to $500/night vacations all the time, so it will have to live on in my memory. The genuine article:

Bellissimo!

With Love From Iraq

And there has been genuine silliness this week. It just goes to show that you cannot put three siblings in a room together without experiencing the following:

bad eating habits
constant laughter
dirty jokes
nipple tweaking

We are really happy to have my little bro home for two weeks, safe and sound and least for now. Tuesday, over dinner and beers we caught up on lost time, introduced him to his nephew, and let ourselves relax for just a little while, now that he is back on American soil.

Mum, or Blogless Sharon as you may know her, will hopefully enjoy two weeks of sleep now that her youngest is home from the war. She also shared some of her homespun with me:

This is destined to be the super-long cabled wristwarmers from the Lion brand yarns website that are worthy of being worn with a vintage style white blouse to my office this spring. I have had WAY too much time on my hands! Too much time reading fashion mags, watching episodes of 'What Not to Wear' and too much MTV. I can tell you with certainty that this has affected my self-image in a negative way. It has also caused an obsession with fashion that I cannot afford! So I have concocted a 'style' of my own that you could describe as vintage/Newbury St boutique. Actually, it is something closer to 'what does TJMaxx and Marshalls have this week?'

While I absolutely love the array of colors from all the aquisitions you made at SPA (I'll be there next year I swear) my favorite will always be the natural shades of wool in their oatmeal-speckled yumminess. I think it reminds me of the irish cable sweaters that I love so much...

Challenges

There are so many things people try to tell you about having children-most of them are ominous or unpleasant. Every person who has ever had children always passed on gems of wisdom to us that made me put off being a parent more and more. Six years of marriage later, we finally took the step and said goodbye to the freedom of dual-income-no-kids (also known as DINK) and waited to see what would unfold.

The horrors of pregnancy never happened-crying, moodiness, puking, hemorroids, etc- so you all were wrong in that aspect- HA HA! The rest, however, was pretty true. Such as 'your life changes completely' and 'say goodbye to sleep.' Thank god no one told me that I would barely be able to knit, or this may have never happened!

All of this can be enjoyed if you put a positive spin on it, and this I am determined to do!

So, maybe last night I was up four times for feedings. Phil, however, is so sweet (and doesn't have that hearty cry yet) that I actually enjoy it. Sick, isn't it. And nursing is no walk in the park either. Lactation experts at the hospital LIE! The latch-on doesn't cause the pain, it is going to hurt no matter what! But on the flip side, nursing our child is the most rewarding experience, and is well worth the trouble and tears. I understand and sympathize with every woman that could not continue nursing, but urge those who want to try to stick it out-it will be worth it.

Must Love Dogs

In light of the upcoming Westminster Dog Show, I would like to share a spotlight on our beloved Scout. He will not allow me to post a letter from his perspective-he's more of the strong silent type. Instead, I'll just thank him for all his support since the arrival of our little boy.

It is his responsiblity to check on the baby every morning, and he dutifully does this by giving a soft gentle lick to the back of his head before baby's first feeding of the day.

Its also his responsibility to provide stress relief for the sleep-deprived parents, a mission that he jumps to complete at a moment's notice. So when the mommy spontaneously breaks into tears, or daddy is awakened for the fourth time for a wet diaper emergency, Scout is there for backup with the most gentle gestures of love.

Coming soon: Scout assumes management of the household food waste and disposal duties....

Back to Blogland

About six months ago a close friend, upon hearing our news, said something very unusual but true. He looked at Phil and said, "buddy, you think you love your wife? You don't even know what love means until you have your first child."

He wasn't kidding. Now I love Phil with all my heart, but I love even more what he has given to me. Its not out of the ordinary to feel overwhelmed when you just look at your infant-the emotions are out of this world. I wish I could share this accurately, but you would have to get smothered in tears and hugs.

Instead I would like to share some pictures of the proud grandparents, and one soft fuzzy hat and scarf I started at the hospital, and just finished almost three weeks later.

Its not easy to knit with one arm free...

I would like to thank you all for your sweet comments and support-it was absolutely wonderful to read while we were home the first week. It really helped to cheer me up too-big warning to future mothers-beware of those hormones the first week or two back home! That hormone let-down is a doozy! Luckily, it didn't last very long for me, but I have heard from others that it can stick around a while and really bring you down.

On a side note, if you are around on a friday night with nothing better to do, don't miss the Lou Dobb's report on CNN. Sometime in the next few weeks they will be doing a brief spotlight on my heroic hubby-I'll let you know the details, but they've told us it will air shortly. (unfortunately, his witchy wife refused to be interviewed. hmph. something about having a newborn, not having enough sleep, et cetera et cetera)

Well, that's my rambling report. Hopefully I will make more sense on the next posting...

Welcome Little One....

Philip III joined us on saturday (his parents' 6th wedding anniversary) at about 5:38 PM. Ten fingers, ten toes, one adorable button nose, blue eyes, and a head perfectly shaped and covered with downy-soft blonde hair.

So now we're all at home resting (mostly) and spending long hours gazing at this beautiful little miracle. He's healthy, active, and always hungry.

And of course, there is much knitting...

The Protector: A Touching Tale of a Boy and His Elephants

GIMME MY ELEPHANT!

The formula for a good martial arts flic:

Young boy from distant village in China/Thailand/Japan journeys to big city to take on bad mob boss and his/her 300 henchmen to recover stolen Buddha/artifact/medallion/chalice/elephant.

Elephant?

Yup, in this heart-rendering story, Tony Jaa goes to Sydney, Australia to recover his dear elephant pals from a nasty dragon lady, in the process slaying her worthless hot nephew, rescuing the fair maiden, redeeming a cop who has been framed for numerous murders, and gallantly beating the piss out of a gigantic aussie dude in the midst of a temple that has been set aflame. All the while, our hero repeats the same line, "YOU TOOK MY ELEPHANTS!" Whowie.

This movie got me thinking-How cool would it be to have henchmen? Nameless and faceless men by the dozens, who suddenly surge into the room at the first opportunity in order to take an inevitable ass-whipping on my behalf?

I can see it now. Paul, the pissy attorney with a severe case of what I call 'newattorneyitis' rushes into my office, frantic because his hearing is five business days away and he MUST have some neurologist write a narrative report because he feels the judge won't understand the handwriting in his treatment notes. Of course, this is somehow my problem, and I am supposed to pull some magic out of my ass and sweet talk Dr. So-and-so of Mayo Clinic to drop everything THIS morning to write a summary. (What the hell, that 8 AM spinal fusion can wait, can't it?)

I glare at Paul and, without breaking eye contact, pull a dagger from my pencil cup and fling it at him with a mighty scream. It bounces off the wall harmlessly of course. I really did it just for emphasis. After all, four dozen henchmen in black suits are about to rush into the hallway from every door, window and orifice, circle the bratty lawyer, and proceed to attack. That's what I pay them to do, after all. And who knows, perhaps Mr. My-Hearings-Are-Priority really isn't a mild-mannered civil libertarian after all, but a deadly force to be reckoned with. And trained in the deadly art of Muay Thai...

T-Minus 6 Days......

Place your bets! When will she blow?!

Less than a week to the due date-do you think its time yet? Absolutely not-I'm still working, even! The midwife asked me if I had any contractions....nope...and feeling of 'lightening' from the baby dropping into position....uh, nope. Let's be frank, I won't feel anything of the sort because there is no lower a position he could possibly go! I'm barely over five feet, so unless he can visit my knees, there's no 'lightening' going on here. In fact, he feels like a real fatty boobalatti.

Then I was asked if he had quieted down at all, supposedly a clear sign that delivery is imminent. On the contrary, he has kicked up a storm, and has been able to twist my poor little belly into crazy shapes, practically driving me to tears.

So what does this all mean, you might ask. I don't have a clue, since this is my first go 'round, but I'm taking bets on what will be the actual day. Maria, my father's PA (but better described as wonderful unofficial adopted family member) has passed on her "one week late" curse to me. My supervisor believes my delivery date will depend on the next full moon. And Mr. has discussed at length with our midwives how we may ensure his arrival doesn't fall on or near superbowl sunday. Heaven forbid.

I feel this last (?) week like a vessel-a baby UHaul or something of that sort. None of what happens next is up to me. It's all up to the little guy. And so it will be from now on.

Truth In Advertising

If I were not married and almost nine months pregnant, I would ask the folks at Boston Bedding of they could prove this:

Since I am too lazy to zoom in let me share with you that Boston Bed Company is boasting that with them you will "Sleep with the Best!"

Really....

I thought that claim to fame was mine...

Read the Directions!!!!!

So where was I?

Getting ahead of myself again, that's right.

Everything But the Kitchen Sink has been a fun sweater-in just a few days I whipped through the body and separated for the sleeves. Last night, feeling energetic, I began decreasing up to the neckline.

Whoops.

So maybe we forgot to read a teensy little part of the directions about decreasing on the purl rows...

I'm not ashamed. Its happened to knitters far more skilled than myself. But what a mess this will be, since I have to backtrack through about six changes in yarn.

Yuck.

And my husband says to me, "that's going to be one crazy HAT."

A Break Away From Myself

I am beside myself.
Perhaps even behind, or better yet, ahead of myself.
Either way, there is definitely no room left inside myself.

There is a 6-ish pound critter taking up most of the space, and whatever is left has been used for food storage. So I am thinking of taking a break away from myself. If I could do this, I would most definitely take a nice long stroll; do some skipping and hopping, maybe even some running and leaping.
Prancing is not out of the question.
I would consider taking a polar plunge in the Manomet waters, and then defer to splashing just my fingertips in it before spending an hour or so half-bent staring at the sand in search of sea glass. I would throw some 80’s music on in the kitchen, drink a few glasses of Riesling, and dance with abandon in my fluffy red bathrobe. I would try on a little black dress and blow kisses at an imaginary audience. Then I would take five minutes to face myself and do some little physical touchups, since I can’t really reach my toes when I am in myself.

Mua-ha-hahh

Behold, one completely un-blocked, unbuttoned baby cardigan. Blah-needs some decorative stitching, bright buttons, or some kind of accent. However, with the new knitting book "YarnPlay" staring me right in the face, I made a mad rush to whip up this project and move on to the next: Everything but the Kitchen Sink. It is the craziest sweater, but I had to. Just had to do it.
Eight various skeins of yarn later, plus whatever leftovers are in my stash I am back in the groove. Most interesting is the pure wool I picked out from Harrisville Designs, a spinning mill in New Hampshire. In lovely "Highland Iris" Yummy yummy.

Just a brief update on the baby situation: 2 1/2 weeks to go, and we are all doing very well! I'm measuring up to normal size and the little guy is in the right position. I do have to say, my mother has filled my head with hopes of a quick 6-hour labor (lucky woman!). However, when I brought this up to the midwife yesterday, she chuckled immediately.

So maybe the average woman suffers around sixTEEN hours-I'm definitely not average! Heather STRONG LIKE BULL! I also have news for them-not eating for over a few hours will either put me in a really nasty mood or a coma. So it is not even a remote possibility that this could take that long! Just wave a cheeseburger in front of me, and that should take care of things quickly. If that doesn't work, wave a bottle of Pinot Noir...

Christmas Booty

Hee hee! My lovely sister-in-law gave me this for Christmas:
Reason #1 why I love this book? It is adventurous. I love playing with patterns, adjusting a neckline here, or adding a vent or seam there, in case you haven't noticed by now. The sweaters in this book allow for variations in guage, yarn, texture, and pattern. After you peek through this book for a minute or two you come up with some original ideas. My favorite is the "everything but the kitchen sink" sweater.

It shows you how (in theory) to take a mishmosh of beautiful yarns and make a pullover worthy of wearing to work, or as the pictures suggest, sitting in a sunlit cafe, wearing seductive liquid eyeliner, sipping a latte. I feel hopeful that if I could complete such a sweater I would most definitely leave work early one day. I would go to Algiers in Cambridge and enjoy a decadent coffee while posing pretty-as-a-picture in my own handiwork. (Reality check: knit with washable wool and dark colors that may be resistant to the staining qualities of baby spit-up. Eyeliner is a no-go, as sleepless nights result in the frequent rubbing of one's eyes.)

Reason #2? It is young and hip. The tops are cute and fitted without being sleezo. If I wanted to knit a potato sack I could knit a tube with sleeves with my eyes closed. In the middle of a Jethro Tull concert. High. No thanks-I'd like to make something more flattering. Someone decided that I would be prone to gaining weight in my lower body rather than mid- or upper-, so I need to work with what God gave me. Baggy pants are good. Baggy tops are out of the question.

Well, enough of the rambling-with the holidays, work pressure, and 4 weeks or less to go before babakins arrives, my brain is mush.

I smuggled a basketball...

Well, back to work. I hope you all had wonderful weekends. I intend to spend the next two days reading about all of it on other blogs in detail! As for us, it was a quiet and peaceful holiday. More anticipatory, really. As we finished opening gifts and sorting through our stocking stuffers (I am sooo spoiled) we enjoyed our last quiet Christmas morning together, knowing the holiday would have a whole new meaning for us next year. For years it has been 'you, me, and Scout makes three' as our little domestic unit and we have been very content! However, having had a taste of what being a parent brings, we know there has been something missing.

But we made great use of the time, and enjoyed some peace and quiet together. We also got in our last sporting event before little Rand arrives:

Basketball.

So there you have it: we saw the Sox back in month 3 and the Patriots season-opener in September. We watched the Bruins take the ice in October, and now have seen the Celtics take the court in December. This baby has been to everything but soccer before he's even been born!

Toys in Babeland

I've been catching some criticism for my lack of knitting lately, and for this I am so sorry! I try to plug away at the baby cardigan, but find myself frozen in mid-purl in front of the latest episode of Nip Tuck or Top Chef. Or standing in front of the cutting board slicing up dozens of biscotti that I will never eat.

Or the latest: organizing the nursery and packing, unpacking, and re-packing the hospital bag. None of this make sense. None of this is typical Heather. I've always been more of a go-go-go kind of person, but completely lacking in organizational skills. Now I'm a sit-sit-eatacookie person who spends an hour sorting baby socks and onesies by size.

Mr finds it hilarious, and turns to me quite often to prompt, "knit, woman, knit!" and makes whipping sounds when he finds me frozen, #4 needles stuck in mid-air. I'd make a great entry in the world's first knitting wax-museum.

One Week Before Xmas

If you worked at my office you'd have a piece of my mocha-almond or cranberry (chocolate-dipped) biscotti right now. To which there is no recipe. Its all in my head. ...like many things...

Well, having a baby changes your life entirely, so I have heard over and over again. Yes, I get it. None of these changes are unwelcome.

Except one.

The hard top is on the Jeep.

Since the day we bought it, the ragtop has been my best friend. And the hard top we removed that same day has been ruminating somewhere on the farm. Last night I finally said goodbye to the freedom of zippered windows, flapping roofs, icy cold morning drives, and said hello to my first concession of motherhood. Automobile comfort and safety.

They still won't get me to give up my heels!