Fuzzy Love

Trauma

Last night Liam had his first trip to the emergency room since the Oreo Cookie Incident.

Mark was bathing Olivia and trying to coax a, let's say, highly spirited Liam into the bathtub without leaving Olivia's side (I was downstairs cleaning up the kitchen after dinner), when Liam started to cry. At first just a normal, I-hurt-myself-a-bit cry, but it almost immediately escalated into a panicky cry that got me running.

He was panicking because there was blood all over him. I scooped him up and ran into the bathroom to try and figure out what the hell had happened. And it seemed to take forever to figure it out (for some reason I started checking him from the feet up, which makes no sense as he was bleeding from the head down). It turns out that he was whipping his metal soccer medal around and nailed himself in the back of the head.

We threw some clothes on him and Mark sped him to the nearest emergency room (which just happens to have an outpost of Denver's Children's Hospital inside) while I put Olivia to bed. Then I sat next to the telephone and knitted to keep from pacing and biting my nails down to the quick.

Well, it really wasn't a big deal. It stopped bleeding before they got to the hospital, where they were rushed back and treated immediately. Note: if you want speedy emergency room service, even on a Saturday night, bring a small blood-covered child with you. And though I was sitting at home worrying that he'd be scared, those children's hospital people knew just what to do: "Did you remember to bring your belly button? I'm afraid we can't help you without your belly button." Liam had a great time. They did think for a while that he'd require a staple in his head (oh man), but in the end they just used some sort of miracle super-glue.* We are to treat it just like normal and it will fall off all by itself. And you can't even tell.

Today he doesn't even have a headache, evidenced by the screaming contests he has been engaged in with his sister.

Really, with all this child does, it's amazing it's been so long.**

*Which the doctor really thought should be available over the counter, but apparently there are concerns that people would try to do silly things with it, like put limbs back on.

**And trust me, with all the illness in our family, I thank the gods all the time that my children are healthy.

The Voices in my Head

I am seriously too old for this. Or I should be more mature or self-assured. Or something.

Wednesday night I went out with some girlfriends for drinks and dinner at a new local restaurant. With good, non-judgmental, highly-supportive, and casual girlfriends. It was a night too look forward too; nothing to think too much about. But, for some reason, I could. not. get. dressed. Nothing in my wardrobe looked right, fit right, worked together, something. My nice jeans: warn and pale at the knees from too much crawling around on the carpet. My other nice jeans: well, they have only fit for about a week since Liam was born and they sure as hell didn't fit on Wednesday. Other pants: too formal, too casual, make my hips look big, don't look right except with that top I need to pick up from the dry cleaner, don't work with any of my shoes. It took me FOREVER to get dressed.

All to go out with friends who could care less what I wear as long as I'm feeling fine. Which I wasn't, until I got there and got down to having a girls night.

I ended up wearing the jeans with the pale knees and a sweater I feel like I always wear. So I figure that either I need to keep some sort of style guru in my closet (that would say things like, "You can totally wear those shoes with that jacket!") or I need to stop over-thinking this stuff.*

And speaking of over-thinking, it occurred to me for the first time the other day that I have, perhaps, turned just a bit into one of those moms that has let herself go. Now, let's be clear here: I do not wear mom jeans, I do not ever wear sweatpants outside of the house, and I do get out with friends (sans kids) pretty regularly, but I am forced to admit that my kids are better dressed than I am. {sigh}

So all that may have had something to do with why Poppy, which has been whipping up so quickly, got [temporarily] cast aside for something new (well, it also has to do with the sleeves being a little too bell-like for me, so I'm going to rip the little bit I had done and eliminate the bell):

I started Rusted Root yesterday. I love the Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece it calls for, which I used before for Olivia's Sport, and it seems like a good combo of mindless stockinette and a bit of lace. I think I'll have to go back to my LYS and get a fourth ball of it though, since I'm not letting this sweater be too short as I have let others be in the past. I'm thinking I'll do an extra repeat of the pattern and then use the left-over yarn for one of these.

Oh, and I have found my first project for the fall. I have wanted to make this sweater since the magazine came out, but that price tag did me in. Now I can do it.

And finally, can anyone explain to me where Liam got his super-powered memory? Today, after lunch, Liam put on his most polite voice and asked, "Mommy? Can I have some of da trick and treat candy from that basket? Pleeeeease?"

Of course all our Hallowe'en candy was eaten, sent in to Mark's work, or thrown away long ago. Before Christmas, for sure. There certainly wasn't any left to put in that basket way up there and forget about for the next six months.

Well. Lo and behold:

*And I need to go shopping. But serious shopping; shopping with a goal, not impulse stuff. Not my favorite thing.

Conversations With Liam

Scene One: It's early morning, Olivia is still asleep, and Mark has just left for work. There is heavy rain outside, which is a bit of a novelty here. Liam, who crawled into our bed sometime in the night, is kneeling by the window, quietly watching. I join him.

Liam, thoughtfully: Mommy, I fink I need my very own saw.
Me: A saw? Why?
Liam: So I can cut a hole inna fence like Austin [a Backyardigans reference] and go to the x-marks-the-spot fence.
Me: What's the x-marks-the-spot fence?
Liam, pointing to the neighbor's deck, which has trellis around the bottom: Look at my finger. And I'm gonna jump onna trampoline.
Me: So you'd like to make a door.
Liam, with a firm nod: Yeth.

I'm tellin' ya, down with the fences.

And then, since our house has been invaded by spiders this spring,* Liam and I have been discussing them (and reading about them; Are You a Spider is a favorite), and he came up with the idea of making a spider web. Of course we have lots of yarn with which to spin a web, and he selected some of my very favorite Fleece Artist Aran** to carefully wrap around every door handle and table leg upstairs. Then he tossed the ball downstairs and went to work on the living room. That was yesterday.

Scene two: It is mid-morning (today). While I am appreciating Liam's enthusiasm and creativity, I also want to be able to make it to my front door without getting on my hands and knees. I am standing in the living room, winding the yarn back up (Liam was forewarned). He tries to stop me.

Liam: Mommy! Don't take down my spider web!
Me: I'm not taking it ALL down Liam, but I do need to be able to walk around the house.
Liam, very slowly, so I would understand: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Mommy. You have to LIMBO under dere.

(We tried. It didn't go very well.)

And oh yeah, happy birthday Dad.

*Which always reminds me of Charlotte's Web, or, more specifically, her egg sack, and I wonder if any of our spiders have been making one. {{Shudder}} Gives me the willies. But Liam has a bug-catching cage and a magnifying glass, and so far I've avoided spiders as a subject for them. I know he's bound to think of it sometime though, and then I'll just have to suck it up.

** I was perfectly fine with it until he appeared in the kitchen holding up his safety scissors and announced, "Da spider web's all done!" Oh yeah. He cut the yarn.

And These Are The Days of Our Lives

Well, it was kind of a rough weekend. I'm not sure why, exactly, since it was mostly a weekend like any other, full of errands and cleaning out the garage and chatting with the neighbors while the kiddos played. But lots of things made me sad about my mom for some reason. And it seems that's the way it's going to go: happy days mixed with suddenly grief-filled days. Although I think about Mom every day, I usually manage to keep my self busy enough that I don't dwell to the point of getting upset. This, of course, then leads to guilt and feelings like I'm cheating her out of her due sorrow. Man. But my Mom's little sister called yesterday and we talked about the mom that she was and the grandmother she would have been and it was very sad.

And then there was worry for my Dad, who is also in palliative care (for ALS). Honestly, I wish I were making this stuff up (I realize that at this point you're probably thinking that I'm really a fifty-year-old man and soon I'll ask you for a date).

Since I was also overtired, I gave myself a time out yesterday, napped while Olivia napped, then fell asleep again while reading Liam his bedtime stories, and at some point dragged myself into my own bed. Then this morning I got myself a giant-ass Starbucks and I'm feeling much better.

Anyway, one reason why I was so tired is that my friend Jenn had a yard sale on Friday and Saturday and, since I'm a sucker for a yard sale, I hauled a bunch of our stuff over to sell. I've been feeling a bit over-stuffed lately, so a purge was in order. We got rid of a little bit more baby gear (I actually teared up when it was carried away) and this god-awful leather jacket I've been schlepping around since approximately 1988 (can you say shoulder pads?).

But as fun as a yard sale can be, we found ourselves sometimes guilt-ridden, as when hugely pregnant young women snapped up the baby gear (honestly, we should have just given it away, but we didn't) and sometimes just irritated, as when families drove up in giant SUVs just to bargain books down from fifty cents to a quarter. Anyway, the rest of the stuff will go off to charity, except for a couple of big-ticket items that have already sold on Craig's List (yay).

With all the sad bits and the crazy bits this weekend, there were good and sweet bits too. Olivia, for example, has adopted a pig.

She was bound to end up with a few stuffed pigs, because of the book and all, but she's suddenly bonded to this one from her Bobby. His name is Big Pig, because we're so good at naming stuff. He's soft and squishy and has such a solemn face and it seriously makes my heart melt to see her cuddled into him while she sleeps. I'm glad she has a comfort item, but I'm a bit worried that she's not feeling very secure right now.

And most of Liam's sunflowers have come up, even after their trauma (thank god).

I finished Isabella...

and I worked on Poppy.

And Liam was his sweet and goofy self (so happy to help his dad in the garage),

and it was catching. 

Has Anyone Seen My Childhood?

First of all, here's a little Project Spectrum picture for you (we actually had rain yesterday):

And, just an hour or two after I last posted, I found that sneaky little froggy-girl on TOP of the kitchen table, dumping out all of Liam's little sunflower pots onto the floor. Thank god Liam was in another room, playing quietly, so he didn't see me frantically scooping the dirt (and hopefully the seeds) back into the containers. Then, just in case, I planted all the seeds that had been left-over from our first planting. So sad, but Liam doesn't suspect a thing.

Anyway, the point of this post is the following:

When Mark and I were married, we owned a home just West of downtown Denver. I worked downtown for much of the time we lived there, there was a lot of revitalization going on around us, and little boutique-type stores and neighborhood restaurants were popping up within walking distance. We were DINKs with a dog and we liked it.

But the overhaul of the neighborhood wasn't happening quite quickly enough for us. We did know we wanted to have a couple of kids and there were NO kids out playing anywhere we could see. And there was quite a bit of crime there too; if you left your garage door open for any length of time you could be sure something would walk away (Mark lost a mountain bike this way and our neighbors lost a stroller). So we ultimately decided the suburbs were the place for us, and off we went.

And we are in some serious suburbs here. One of the largest in the country, complete with a Home Owners' Association (of course), landscaping committees, greenbelts, and street after street of nearly indistinguishable houses.* We need a car to go pretty much anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. But we thought it would all be worth it when our kids ran outside after school each day to play with the kids that would pour from every house.

Note: I grew up in a small city in Eastern Canada where we ran amuck on a cul-de-sak with umpteen other smallish kids until the streetlights came on. Of course it was the early eighties but I still don't think these are entirely unreasonable expectations. Let me tell you, however: such stuff does not exist anywhere near my front porch. There are kids living in almost every house, but I have no idea where they are most of the time (they can't all be in daycare, can they?).

One barrier to play is that almost every house (including ours) has a fence around the backyard. That's great for tossing children outside without worry; not so great for allowing them to interact with other children. So many homes have fences that it is remarkable, in a, "Hey, that house doesn't have a fence," kind of way when you see a house without one. Liam has a friend that he knows almost entirely from conversations through our back fence. (He also can see three trampolines through that fence, which will soon spark a summer-long whine for bounce time).

So, if kids want to play with other kids, they play in the front yard and, therefore, rarely with the back fence kid unless we make a special effort. Since kids can't be allowed to play next to traffic - with cars driven by strangers - without an adult, the parents in our neighborhood drag out a blanket or a lawn chair and plop down on the lawn or the driveway to watch the kids play. Then the kids can migrate from yard to yard and are never ever without parental supervision. We parents migrate too, although we almost always spend a bit of time on our own driveways. Doesn't that strike anyone else as strange? Or is this a new sort of normal?

Here's Liam (in jeans) playing by the house up the street. Note the parental figure sitting on the lawn.

And here I am (complete with laser), hemming while Olivia draws with chalk.

Look, there are a LOT of good reasons to stay in this neighborhood: great schools, friends nearby, lots of community activities, good neighbors, not too far from the train, lots of parks and playgrounds and moms looking for playdates.

It just isn't 1984 anymore, I guess.

*I realize I'm being a little bit harsh here. This is a clean, safe, friendly place to live. We have it good and I do know it.

Slowly Getting Our Groove Back

It's sunflower time again!

This year Liam selected Lemon Queen sunflowers (which I think is funny, for some reason); they're a little paler in color than what you probably think of as sunflower color. He filled the cups with soil, mixed in a little water, and planted about a dozen sunflower seeds all by himself (that's oh so important these days). In a few weeks we'll transfer the survivors to a warm sunny spot by the back fence.

We've also been reading some books about plants: The Tiny Seed has been a favorite for a while, and Liam has started really liking the Magic School Bus series, so we have been reading the one about seeds as well. We also really liked Pumpkin Circle: The Story of a Garden and Planting a Rainbow from the library.

Olivia picked out some carrot seeds (albeit, with a little prompting) because I have an elaborate plan to grow them in a milk carton with a door on one side so we can watch the carrots grow. We'll just have to see if it happens.

Cheating: Blatant or Just in Spirit?

Well, all those little tiny stitches are starting to pay off. I will probably finish the knitting on Isabella tonight, which means tomorrow I'll begin much sewing down of seams (bleeech). It really is pretty though, especially if you imagine it after a good blocking. Contrary to habit, I'm not going to block it prior to seaming, because I'm really afraid I will abandon it on the blocking board for the sweater that's next on deck: Poppy. Since it snowed today I think it's fair to squeeze in one more winter sweater. Plus it's done on size 8/5mm needles and that really appeals to me right now. Anyway, I don't really enjoy finishing so I'm trying not to put this project at risk.

Like these poor, abandoned, works-in-progress that I dug out from the back of my closet:

All smooshed up in bags for almost a year, so-close-to-done-you-can-taste-it sweaters and their only crime is that, well, they have to be finished. They've only been rescued now because their colors fit in with the current Project Spectrum theme.

So April and May is for finishing around here. Well, after I finish Poppy, which I'm itchin' to start. First up:

This is supposed to be this nameless-and-much-more-shapely sweater from Vogue Knitting Spring/Summer 2005. I can't remember the yarn it called for (and I can't locate the issue just now), but I found some Estelle Silk at LK Yarns* in the Scotia that matched the gauge exactly and was so excited I forgot that I never wear yellow. But then came a problem with sizing: I fell right between the four-inch gap in sizes (is a four-inch gap honestly necessary?). Instead of carefully calculating the numbers that would result in a sweater that fits, I chickened out and went big. And once I could try it on, surprise! It was too big. So all that's left is several rounds of crochet edging that should have taken an evening or two, but I stalled, unsure if I should frog and re-do or somehow fudge the crochet to draw in the neckline and magically make it all work. And I'm still not sure, but right now I'm leaning toward the fudge (mmmmm.....fudge).

Then, the Jaeger sweater. I totally splurged on the yarn for this one, knit it obsessively for a few weeks, and then petered out when the only thing left to do was seaming and about five feet of lace edging. I finished the two lace bits for the sleeves and just stopped. Now, I love this sweater with all my heart and soul, but I'm really unsure if my skills are up to five or so feet of lace edging application.

So it's do or die in April and May on those two, in the name of Project Spectrum.

So here's the cheating part:

Isabella is officially my May sweater in the Sweater a Month KAL. That's sweater number five in 2007 (and don't forget, three of the five were knit for my littlest babe). Then I'm going to boost my numbers with two sweaters that were 90% knit last year (with 10% reserved for all that lace edging). A few more baby sweaters and a tank and I'll be done by August. Mwa, ha ha!

(No, it's not a race.)

*LK Yarns is proof that yarn stores contain some of the kindest people on the planet. Last summer my Mom was still trying to knit but was really unable to follow patterns anymore. She was knitting one of these (the yellow hoodie) for her friend's new grandson and had almost finished, but had made some mistakes and had also lost the pattern. She asked me if I would finish the sweater for her. I tried, but I didn't have the pattern and besides, every stitch just reminded me of what Mom couldn't do any more. Knowing my mother as a frequent frequenter, Louise (the L in LK) offered to finish the sweater for us. She identified and located a copy of the pattern, knit it up HERSELF, and enabled Mom to give the gift: her last finished knitted item.

However unlikely it may be, if you are ever in the Scotia, please visit this amazing shop, say hello to Louise, and maybe pick up some Fleece Artist (yum).

Taekwondo Boy

Of course Liam loved it. We know he really loved it because he listened attentively the entire time, obeyed his teacher without hesitation, and threw a fit when it was time to leave. He gets three weeks of free trial - note that we have not even forked over the $15.95 for the white outfit - and, if he is still enthusiastic after the trial, I suppose we'll commit.

However, I still don't know how I feel about it. Yes: we do live in Boyville and yes: it's all about respect, honor, and integrity and yes: he LOVES it, but man, once he gets his camo belt (camo belt?) he must begin to wear protective headgear and a cup. Some kid is actually going to attack him. I know, there are rules and referees and it's not like Liam won't have any skills by then, but he's my baby.

I'm honestly afraid the first time someone hits Liam I'm going to cry. (Or jump in the ring - do they use rings? - and whale on the kid. One or the other.)

Lasers, Lines, and Leaves

At the moment I am enjoying a well-deserved break from fighting aliens, which have apparently invaded every corner of our home. Fortunately Liam, Olivia, and I have had lasers (a la Buzz Lightyear) installed on the backs of our hands so we can fight back.

Honestly, those Disney movies are more violent than you'd expect. So my sweet dear little Liam, the loving boy who snuggles on the sofa with his baby sister, who notices the new spring buds on the trees, who tells other kids not to scare the wild bunnies, and who has never so much as touched a play "shooter" in his whole entire life (let alone a real one), has created his own weapon with no more than a red marker. So what do I do? Well, I'm really not sure what to do.* So while I think about it I've been helping to fight the aliens. So has Olivia.

Liam has been doing some more peaceful things with his markers, however. More and more frequently he's been requesting them to do a little thoughtful drawing: "Mommy, I need to draw something." These three simple little pictures were done in Scottsdale as we talked about the blooming flowers around us. Mary and Neil actually have lots of red geraniums, but Liam drew them as roses...and of course the Easter Bunny loves carrots...and aren't we going to grow some sunflowers?

For some reason this series makes me very happy. I honestly need to get off my butt and start that embroidery project because the pile of pictures is getting larger. (It now also includes a drawing of Swimmy that cracks me up: "Mommy, does Swimmy have eyebwows?").

Oh, and another thing that makes me happy (ooo, the segues are a-flowin' today):

Man oh man, I could eat a LOT of them.

Anyway, there was little knitting action on vacation. Although I optimistically took the DPNs (used for the finishing) along, it just was more of an action trip then a knitting trip. So it goes without saying that Isabella was not worn on Easter. But I did finish the back and am now about half-way up the front, just at the point where the exciting bits begin: I've got leaves!

They aren't really that wonky in real life; it's the needles, which were curled up for a long time before this project. But Isabella is sort of going like this: many itty bitty stitches, EXCITING LACY LEAVES, lots of tedious finishing work, FABULOUS FINISHED SWEATER (at least I hope).  It's a feast or famine sort of thing. But the finishing line (sorry) is in sight and I really really hope I get to wear this next week.

*Just to add to the poor kid's confusion, Mark is taking him to his first Karate class tonight. Well, technically it is Taekwondo, because Mark thinks it is more respectful or something (I'm leaving this up to him), but it involves kicks, chops, belts, and white outfits, so it is Karate to Liam. This all started (I think) with an episode of Backyardigans that involved some Ninjas and a pie and the next thing we knew Liam was jumping and kicking and yelling, "Hiiiiiiiiii Ya!" It's just a trial class, so we'll see how this goes.

AZ and Back

That picture makes my heart melt. So does this one:

Anyway, we got back from Scottsdale late last night, so I'm listening to both kids talk themselves to sleep right now after a week of adjusting to different beds (and now they must adjust themselves back). It doesn't help that they both napped in the car an hour ago, dammit, but they're very overtired so off to bed they go.

Here are the highlights:

• The Railroad Park. Train ride, carousel, ice cream, wild west playground. Strong contender for Liam's favorite park on earth. If you've ever been compelled by some small person to watch Thomas the Tank Engine, this is a must-see. We went with some friends of Mark's parents' (Anne and Duncan) who were also visiting and in Duncan Liam found a kindred spirit who is a train-nut and apparently a kid living in a grandfather's body.

• The Phoenix Zoo. Farm petting zoo (guess the AZ kiddos don't see farms much on the side of the highway), elephant habitat, tree house playground. And lots of monkeys. Liam discovered that umbrella strollers usually carry the smallest child but Poppa will carry big kids if they ask nicely.

• The pool. Mark's parents' condo has a pool (of course) and we were in it every day. I didn't do a bit of lying next to it, but I did a whole lot of playing in it. We had noodles. We had kiddo flotation devices. And we had these funny water weights (they're buoyant, so the point is to push them down) that enabled Liam to "swim" all over the place. With someone nearby at all times, of course.

And that was about it for the dramatic stuff. Lots of food and wine and Easter candy. We spent most of our time outside in the shade or in the pool, eating meals on the back porch in the breeze and investigating cacti (but thankfully never face-first as my freakish brain frequently imagined).

A quiet visit. Quality time with the grandparents (who enjoyed playing the EB, if you get my meaning).

And Easter loot. And Easter dresses.

As a bonus Liam got some casual swim lessons from the aforementioned Anne, who used to teach swimming. By yesterday he was actually taking a few dog paddles all by himself. And then, flushed with confidence, he began fearlessly flinging himself into the pool, not so much being caught but rescued each time he bobbed back up to the surface. It turns out that both my kids are a mite bit too fearless; Olivia was walking off the edge as well (into our arms), although she'd also be happy to float with Mark's mom on a noodle forever, probably.

There were other little things, like Liam explaining to the security officer at the airport (who quizzed ID-less Liam) that this was his "sister Owivia and she cries and scweams and cwimbs and says, 'Ga!' Or like Liam noticing that "Poppa's beard is very pointy" or Olivia sharing a cupcake with Poppa by smearing her icing all over his wheelchair buttons or even Olivia beginning to mimic lots of sounds including a reasonably scary lion roar. Good stuff.

But now we're back to our pool-less, grandparent-less house and we have to wear pants (as opposed to shorts, I mean). *sigh* Thanks for having us, Bobby and Poppa.