Summer, 1980.
Are you diggin' the polyester? My Great Aunt Molly was visiting from England, and decided it was high time this girl learned how to knit. In the picture you can (sort of) see my brow furrowed in concentration as I SLOWLY, painfully work one stitch after another. My mom still jokes that it was the quietest she had ever seen me...both in all the time before the picture, and all the years since ;)
I think about teaching my own kids to knit. I have a hard time imagining that at 6 years old they will be able to concentrate long enough to figure it out....but there I am, living proof that it's possible. I can't wait to pass this tradition on.
I'd love to hear about the traditions you plan to pass on to your own kids.....
I have Multiple Craft Personalities Disorder..... (Alternate title considered for this post : Help me, I'm an Indecisive Gemini....)
Something about spring causes me to pull out my all-time favorite book. Dying to knit is filled with eye-candy that lights a fire in my creative soul! Every spring I lovingly pour over the pages of this how-to guide to fiber dying. I always find something new, something I swear wasn't in there the previous spring. Some new tid-bit of information, or a new picture with colours so beautiful I can hardly wait to heat up the dye bath. Over coffee the other morning, I found this....
On these pages the author, Elaine Eskesen, talks about looking for colour inspiration in your child's art work. How timely!! In the top left corner of the page, she shows readers a batch of newly dyed wool, the colour-way inspired by the art work in the lower right corner. I started rifling through the kids art portfolio almost immediately, pulling out several pieces that caught my eye. I was already imagining what I would knit with the not-yet-dyed wool.
And then I got side-tracked (not hard to do with the young Birds around). The day went on....and then the mail came. And this arrived:
I ordered this pattern last week. Last night I was telling the hubby with a sigh that I want to sew as well as I knit. His response,
"well, then I guess you should sew as much as you knit"
Are men really that simple? Why couldn't he read my mind and understand that what I was REALLY saying is that I want to sew as well as I knit RIGHT NOW....not 27 years from now, which is how long it has taken me to knit this well. In 27 years my kids will have NO interest in wearing anything that I make for them. This is URGENT! I must sew well NOW!
To soothe my panicking soul I went to SuperBuzzy to find the perfect fabric for my sweet Baby Bird's sundress.
As I was straightening up before bed, I stumbled (literally) over Dyeing to knit where I had left it lying (laying? I'm grammatically challenged) earlier in the day. A shot of guilt went straight through my heart. I felt as though I had been caught in a moment of infidelity. Am I seriously considering cheating on my first true love, knitting? Is it possible that I am moving on from an almost 3 decade long relationship, for something new and more exciting? Is there room in my life for 2 loves?
Why is it so hard for me to make a decision about where to start?! Please tell me that I am not the only one out there who suffers from this kind of indecision.....am I?
With the mind of a child....
It started about a year or so ago. One night, while looking at a waning gibbous moon, Big Bird asked me
"mama, what's wrong with the moon?"
It took a few minutes to get to the root of his question. It turns out that he was concerned about the size of the moon. Apparently it was too small. Apparently in his mind it was supposed to be Full all the time.
I explained how sometimes the moon is big, and sometimes it is small, but that it's always changing size.
"That's okay mama, Ito will fix it."
Ito is one of Big Bird's grandfathers. He is legendary for his ability to fix pretty much anything. I realized that in the world of my then 3 year old, it was completely plausible that Ito would climb up his ladder, use his hammer, and "fix" the moon. At the time I thought, oh how sweet, but didn't think much more about it.
Fast forward a year. Last week, I was trying to distract the kids attention away from something they were not supposed to be doing (beating on each other, if you really want to know). Look! A herd of Velociraptors is walking through the yard.... I point out the window, both kids rush to the door to check it out.
"where mama, I don't see them?"
"there, by the mailbox, don't you see them?" I ask
silence for a few moments.....
"oh. you're pretendin'."
And with that, Big Bird walked away. I'm sure I saw a look of disgust on his face.
It dawned on me in that moment, that in his world, it was completely within the realm of possibility that a herd of flesh-eating dinosaurs was indeed walking through his yard. Where he would have thought oh cool! let's go play with them!, I would have thought oh sh*t....., call 911!
And then a couple of days ago....
"mama? is jelly made from jellyfish?"
I rush to reassure him that jelly is definitely NOT made from jellyfish. Poor child...he must be traumatized....but then, I saw the look on his face. And I could tell that he wasn't worried, he was just looking for clarification. He would have been just as willing to accept "yes" for an answer as "no". Again, it was completely within the realm of possibility that jelly is made from jellyfish. If I had said "yes", he would have said, "oh", and wandered off to keep playing. I would have gagged, and thrown the PB&J in the trash.
Okay, I'll get to my point (and I do have one, I promise). Over the weekend, I was at my twice weekly yoga class. At one point I was standing on my head trying to do this. And it wasn't going well. At all.
I was fighting a bit against muscle fatigue (it was the end of a long class), but honestly, I was fighting mostly against my own mind. ummmm, robyn? what are you thinking? this is impossible! you can't do this! That sort of counter-productive internal dialog that most of us (except maybe Buddha) are familiar with. And then, in less than a second, all of those moments with Big Bird flashed through my mind. And it all came together for me. If I approached this pose with the mind of a child I would be just fine. If I believed that it was well within the realm of possibility for me to stand on my head, balance on my arms and just DO the pose, then it would happen!
Of course, it didn't happen.....by then I was too exhausted. BUT.....I have class again on Tuesday. And between now and then I'm working really hard on changing the pictures and the dialog in my head.
Imagine all the things we could accomplish if we approached challenges with the mind of a child.......
We have been sick. All. Week. Coughing, drippy noses, fevers, hallucinations......you name the symptom, we've had it.
And frankly, we've been grumpy too. It's hard to be kind and loving when you feel like....well, like crap. Both kids are at that stage of sickness where they want/need lots of comforting, but they can't find it within themselves to be nice to anyone. Which makes mothering a bit of a....oh, let's call it a challenge. Especially considering that I am sick too, and really just want to lock myself in the bedroom and crawl under the covers.
That said....I did manage to pull it together long enough this morning to get some paint out.
My intent was to use acorns, but in my delirium I couldn't remember where I had hidden them (I can hear the squirrels laughing at me). So we opted for the next closest round object I could find; wooden lacing beads.
Lay some paper in the bottom of a box (conveniently, the average size Amazon.com box is 8.5 x 11 inches) , roll the beads around in some paint, toss them in the box, shake and roll at will.
Voila! A Masterpiece.
Big Bird noticed that this picture looks like it has a T-rex in the middle of it. Of course he did.
Anyway.....my point this morning is not really about this project. It's about what happened after this project actually.
I went inside to find some clothespins so that we could hang our pictures on the fence to dry. Again, in my semi-delirious state, I left the kids outside. Alone. With the paint.
You can imagine what happened next. And I have to tell you, it turns out that covering your entire body with paint is really, REALLY good therapy for sickie kids! And sickie mommies too. Unfortunately for you, I had to put the camera down in order to participate in the fun. I did manage to capture this pic before they attacked me though.
Okay....I'm only going to give this topic about 30 seconds of my time (which is more than it deserves)....but my Bad Idea of the Week award goes to this idiot.
Seriously. If his publishers are that hard up for a children's book idea, put them in touch with me. I've got a million. And none of my ideas aim to teach young children that their mothers will be more beautiful if they get plastic surgery.
Okay...moving on to things that are much more worthy of my time (and yours).
This fabulously inspiring mama is taking the Hope Revolution to Rwanda! And she's asking for our help. Part of her time in Rwanda will be spent with school age girls, working to inspire and motivate them to stay in school.
Find out how to send your Hope Notes to the girls of Rwanda here.
What I love about this story, is that Jen Lemon is a regular ol' mama like the rest of us. And she has found a way to make a huge difference :)
Now stop reading my blog, and go write some Hope Notes ;)
