So this is a knitting blog, right? So, ummmm, where’s the knitting??????
There’s plenty of it, but you’d have to see the project bags filling the wicker chest behind my knitting chair. Lots of things waiting to be blocked. And photographed and catalogued. For now, my flickr page will have to suffice, if you’re curious. (Or ravelry.)
I try to keep a promise to myself, to knit 2 rows a day on something. Doesn’t sound like much, but some days, it’s a promise I can’t keep.
The past few months have been rather hard and rather lonely. I’m fortunate: I have a great job that I love. It comes with some of the same headaches any job has, but I work hard, like what I do, and do it well. But when the clock hits 4:55, it’s time for the Mommy hat to come out.
I pick up the Darling Bebe at daycare, and from then on, my time does not belong to me. Errands? They depend on when DB last had a snack. If no snack, off we go home for dinner. When the weather is good, we go for a walk afterward. There’s lots of reading, for what DB wants is story after story after story. The Hat has been her favorite for some time now. (I like to think she appreciates all of the knitted objects in it. Ha.) Then there’s bath time and bedtime … then time for Mommy to wash small containers and pack them again for the next day’s meals at daycare, and to do DB’s laundry, and to pay bills, and do dishes, and maybe eat something, and do whatever it takes to keep a household running as (essentially) a single mom.
I don’t know how real single moms do it. I applaud you all. I walk in your shoes, though I do see my spouse late at night — briefly. This has been the situation for months and I don’t know when it will end. For all intents and purposes, I’m one of you.
All the things I used to be able to do have just stopped. And that’s the one thing I avoid doing: stopping. I’m like a shark – stop moving and I’m dead. As in, asleep sitting upright no matter how uncomfortable the chair (sometimes with needles in mid-stitch).
This is not a whinge-fest. I adore my Darling Bebe. My first prayer every night is, “Thank you for my Darling Girl …” (I rarely get much further down the prayers list before coma sets in.) But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to missing the freedom I used to have … the ability to duck into a store to try on a pair of shoes … seeing my gal pals … not having to think before trying to do anything. And the ability to sit for a whole evening of knitting that is uninterrupted by wailing from upstairs or obligations downstairs.
So yes, you will see knitting here, and soon. In the meantime, it’s kind of hard to look at this adorable smoochable face and not have everything else just melt away.