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!

Adam's First Christmas

Can ours be this cute? Oh please please? This is baby Adam in his PJ's, one of the latest additions to our Kappa Delta Phi circle of friends (but more like family.)

Oh, how things have changed. Last saturday as we all gathered for a Christmas party, we gingerly stepped around the house to avoid all the wandering and tottering kids one of us was muttering, "What in the world are we going to do in ten years when we all have crabby teenagers..."
We won't think of that now. I know it will happen in the blink of an eye (and that scares me!), but for now just look at the little darling! Merry Christmas Adam, Joseph, Lauren, and Nicholas. We will have a new playmate for you soon!

London and a Silly Hat

Hmm...so yesterday I was reminiscing about London. In all the places we have lived and visited, I have never felt so at home. And with all the places on this earth I wish to see, returning there tops my list. Even if I had to choose between jolly ol' England or being the first knitter in space...well, London would win. I would move there permanently if given the choice. (Sorry Boston.)

Traveling is remarkable to me because it packs more surprises than a cheap horror movie. One such occasion that I will never forget was a quick dinner at this funky spot on Drury Lane. We were going to see 'My Fair Lady'and needed to eat first, and were drawn to this cute little wooden door surrounded by a lush little garden. Stepping inside, we found a great long room, decorated something between the theme of Arabian Nights and a high school theatre prop room. The place was called Sarastro, and was supposed to be almost a theatrical dining experience, but it was quiet that night, or maybe we were very early (they eat very late in that city, usually after the show). So we were led to a little nook where we were suited on golden batik-printed cusions and served a half-way decent mediterranean meal.

We were almost done when Mr. decided to hit the restroom. He came back with a stunned look on his face, and after a moment he murmured, "there is porn in the bathroom. ALL OVER the walls."
I couldn't contain myself, and picturing walls pasted with pages from smutty magazines, of course made a mad rush to see for myself. (Later we checked a guide of area restaurants and found that this place was recommended for families. Sweet.) Who wouldn't?

The ladies room as well was painted wall to wall with a fresco of little devils having their way with plump little nymphs. In every possible position. Quite happily too. On every inch of wall. You couldn't find a safe place to keep your eyes, as even while you washed your hands, the mirror above reflected dozens of wicked little figures having the time of their lives, while you cursed having to rush off to a rated G musical....Screamingly funny.

I could have told you that...*sigh*

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock. A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything. No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

Happy Birthday Blogless Sharon!!!!

I happen to have the most wonderful mother on earth- she's free-spirited, intelligent, sweet, loving, thoughtful (and zany like me.) And today is her birthday!!! So I thought I would share some of the wonderful memories and gags that come to mind. (And sorry for stealing the photo, but it just captures her so well.)

1) She is kind and graceful- with her influence even her rough and tumble sons have grown up to be sensitive and giving young men.
2) She spent years organizing a team of women and going to schools to teach children about the dangers of drug abuse.
3) When she enters a room she brings grace and dignity. I love how my mother takes pride in herself-unlike stories I heard from other kids, I was never embarassed to be caught in public with my mom. In fact, when she was a field-trip chaperone, all the 'cool' kids vied to be in her group. Afterwards, the 'cool' kids would give me the proverbial pat on the back and talk about how great my mom was, or perhaps something funny she did or said.
4) She would do anything for us kids. She would sew any Halloween costume we so desired, or spend hours creating an authentic gladiator costume for Ed's latin class (haha, Ed. Do you watch movies about gladiators?) She would wake at 4AM for hockey practice. She would drive to the college library for desperately-needed and last-minute research.
5) She's so creative, off-beat, and takes everything in stride, whether it be having an alligator chase her and a stroller in the everglades, having a team of oxen unexpectedly dropped off at the farm, or coming home to hear chainsaw being started up in her bedroom...
6) She can't say no to a puppy or kitten. Or racoon. Or flying squirrel.

7) Mom is beautiful. Without even trying.

Fuzzy Baby Boggy Brain

I'm sorry for the bland post, but my camera is home. It's getting harder to accomplish even the ordinary tasks, and as for keeping up routine? Even worse. I'm not totally disorganized yet, but in small stages I can see it happening. First came the physical signs; walking trash to the basement went first. Then I became complete helpless in the cleaning department, and the house began looking a bit like a used-clothing drive. I could sort things into piles, but physically the follow-through just-wasn't-a-happenin'.

Now here's the catch-I can shop for three different types of sugar, whip up a batch biscotti, improvise a double-boiler and dip them in chocolate, but I can't find my way to the sock drawer.

Shortly thereafter came the signs of mental weakness- I have always been terrible with the telephone, but now I forget my cell phone even exists. If you want to reach me, send a carrier pigeon, write it in the sky, or shoot an arrow, but don't call! If I don't write it down in my calendar, I even forget to shower.

Again, its bizarre that I can knit half a dozen cabled hats, but if you ask me to call the vet the scheduled a Scout-checkup, I can't find enough time!

Just an update on Dave and the furniture situation- the pieces did not show up thursday as I was told. However, after receiving a visit from Mr. they called just hours later to notify us the furniture had arrived. It must have been magic.

Hats Off!

I finished another fuzzy and soft cable beanie last night, and am reluctant to let it go! But I really did want to participate in the Knit Unto Others KAL, so I gathered all my finished hats for one last goodbye.

Since none of these are made in a washable wool, they wouldn't be too suitable for children. Instead, I'm sending them off to St. Francis House in Boston to be distributed through their means to the homeless.

About five years ago I accompanied our church youth group to an overnight there and helped with their clothing distribution the next morning. It was quite an experience-I wish I had the pictures with me. Ever since then, I think of those people we met when we have cold winter nights, as we learned its quite commonplace for the homeless to freeze to death on particularly harsh nights. It's a little 'put yourself in someone else's shoes,' moment that I have all the time. Imagine struggling to survive a harsh city in the winter, while people in warm coats, with warm offices and apartments are all around you. It makes my heart break.