Fuzzy Love

How I Torture My Children

But now I know it will fit over her head.

Katja

Olivia has a new sweater.

It's Katja! Man, what a quick knit. Really, just a few hours of knitting and one ball of yarn. And it's so damn cute, although Olivia was really against the whole idea of standing still for one second to have a picture taken, so I don't have any good ones. So just trust me, with her little pink-trimmed chinos and those espadrilles (eee!), she looks pretty stylin'.

Oh, and the drool. Don't forget the drool (fashion accessory #1 around here).

Anyway, I did write more about the creative pattern-following I employed for those who are interested.

I'm also this close to seaming up Trellis, so today or tomorrow we'll get some buttons and be through with it! The fact that I'm not through didn't stop me from casting on for something new. Of course.

Isabella from the Spring Knitty (three knitty patterns in a row, didja notice?). Now this sweater is a whole lotta knitting on itty bitty #3/3.25mm needles with tons of finishing work. When do you suppose it will be done? Never? Ever?

I'd like to wear it on Easter morning.

Hey, I hear laughing.

A Little of This....A Little of That

First of all, thanks to everyone who reassured me that I'd have lots of company in the yelled-until-a-small-child-cried area of hell (doesn't sound like one of the deeper levels, do you think?). Today was a much better day even though poor Olivia is still quite sick. Thankfully she's not throwing up anymore but she now has a middlin'-to-high fever. We talked to the on-call nurse and Olivia is drinking lots of water (and even eating a bit), so she should be just fine in a day or two. The silver lining of this particular cloud was, while Olivia napped much of the day, Liam and I caught up on those much-needed snuggles. That part was very good.

I also got a chance to do some knitting.

That was one of the front parts of Trellis. I say "was" because, just a few rows after this picture was taken, I bound off for the armhole and realized that my numbers didn't add up. More precisely, two stitches were missing, and had been the whole time. Again: rrrriiiiiiiiiiiiip.

My relationship with this sweater is becoming a tad antagonistic. First the gauge problems, then the ripple effect of the bottom edges (I'd even read about the issue and how to fix it just a couple of weeks earlier*), and now my own stupidity is coming between us. But I've cast on again, counted the stitches four times, and am still hopeful for an adorable sweater.

Fern is still coming along too. When the warm weather hit I confess I cast it aside for a while, but I worked on it a bit after the sad frogging today. The back and one sleeve are done and I'm about half-way up one side of the front.

I'm just not sure I'm crazy about those ruffles now that I've seen them in real life.

But could someone please explain this to me?

"You are pink aluminum. Retro, straightforward and fun, you love classic things. If they're 99 cents at Goodwill all the better! You are moved by striking colors and tasty morsels, and you like a stitch-n-bitch session in the sun. Just remember, while you're being kitschy cool, don't get too cold. Ice cubes are best kept in your cocktails, baby!"

Look, I am a complete and utter yarn and needle snob, but I did that quiz about three times (with different answers, obviously) and each time it firmly stuck me in the pink aluminum category. But I always asked for a soy chai (it was just so right), so can someone please tell me how soy chai and pink aluminum go together? Humph.

Anyway, back to the sweeties. Here's Olivia a couple of days ago, when she decided to decorate herself with anything that would fit over her head.

And here's Liam today, freshly cuddled.

*My process for starting a new project is always the same: find something I covet, search internet for finished products and any errata or caveats, purchase yarn, start project (although sometimes there may be a huge window between the purchase and the starting, during which time things sometimes go amiss). Trellis was all impulse. I wanted a new project NOW, so I just printed the pattern on the way out the door to the yarn store and cast on when I got home. Lesson learned. Again.

Not My Proudest Moment

Warning: all matter of disgusting and disturbing stuff is discussed here. Today might be a good day to keep surfing.

I should have known that today was going to hell in a handbasket when the cat threw up while the kids and I were eating breakfast. It's never a good day when the cat throws up. Although, on the plus side, I didn't discover the cat puke by stepping in it.

Today was supposed to be a good day. Jenn and I planned to pack picnic lunches and troop out to the park (with the kids, of course) for a few hours. We planned this because I always assume the weather will be the same as it was the day before, which, in this case, was 70 degrees. But amazingly it was cold and rainy today. So no park. As a backup plan, we hung out at Jenn's for a while and then headed to the Horrible Place (McDonald's) for lunch and playtime.

Unexpectedly, about halfway through lunch, Olivia threw up. Granted, she wasn't inhaling her french fries as she normally would, but she did chomp a bit on an apple slice and I didn't notice that anything was wrong until it was much much too late.

What could I do but pack everybody up and go home? But Liam had not had any time to explore those McDonald's tunnels, so upon hearing this he promptly burst into tears. Trust me, my heart was not exactly bleeding for him at this point, but Jenn kindly offered to bring him home, so I dumped his booster in her car and took Olivia (sad, stinky, and soaked) home. She immediately fell asleep in the car, stayed asleep (for the most part) as I changed her clothes, and napped for the next three hours.

Fast forward three hours.

Liam had been delivered and had been wanting to play in his room for a while, but I wouldn't let him because he isn't exactly quiet and Olivia needed her rest. So the second she woke up, he bolted upstairs. Olivia was clingy, so I got her a sippy cup with a little water in it and we cuddled on the sofa. She immediately chugged the water. (There's a touch of foreshadowing there; see it?)

Now, Liam has been having some toilet training issues ever since my mom entered the hospital and the stress level in our house has skyrocketed (actually, it may have started before that - maybe when I went back to the Scotia in January). Specifically, he won't use the damn potty for poo. Since he still wears a pull-up at night, usually he just takes advantage of that first thing each morning. But not today.

So you know where this is going, don't you? Olivia threw up the water all over herself, me, and the sofa. She of course started to cry, which caused Liam, now naked from the waist down, to appear at the top of the stairs and declare that Olivia should, "stop being noisy."

Liam is half-naked because Liam is a mess. Not because of the accident he obviously had, but because he attempted to clean it all up by himself. There is poo entirely everywhere in the bathroom, including the floor, cabinets, garbage pail (oh, that's where the undies went), and a spot on the wall where he must have leaned over.

Unfortunately, my patience is a bit lacking right now. Normally I believe that yelling should be reserved for running-into-traffic-type emergencies, and I especially know that yelling is counter-productive when a small boy is suffering from stressed-induced potty regression. But I yelled anyway. Stuff like, "What are you doing?" and "You need to tell me!" and "Never put poo in the garbage!" Not good.

And you know what that sweet little guy said back (through his tears), "Mommy, you're hurting my feelings!"

Truly there is a special place in hell with my name on it.

Finally, Some Warmth Around Here

After such a crappy, snowbound winter, Denver is finally getting those freakishly hot days that we residents expect from time to time (and, frankly, deserve). The temperature this week has been hovering around seventy, so we're outside every chance we can get.

Poor Liam doesn't even have any spring clothes yet, so he was a mite bit hot in those pants. But Olivia! Little Olivia! Tell me it isn't fun to dress a little girl? Tiered skirt, embroidered shirt, and espadrilles! Espadrilles! Okay, I know, deep breath....calm down.

And, since they're both good about staying in the front yard (Olivia, for example, gets down on her hands and knees to back off the curb, giving me lots of fair warning), I had some time to work on this:

That's Trellis. I'm making the largest size, in the called-for All Season's Cotton. And it's been a bit frustrating so far. Since the gauge swatch was to be done in the cable pattern, I did what anyone would do (assuming everyone's as lazy as I am) and cast on for the back, just to see how it would all turn out. Right away I could see that the seed stitch part was about three inches too wide, but I forged ahead, just in case the cables pulled it all together. They did, a bit, but it was still very very wrong. Rrrrrriiiiiiiiiiip. So now I'm working it on #6/4 mm needles and it's much better. Still about 1/2 inch too wide at the cabley bits (you can see the seed stitch bottom is a bit wavey because it's much wider), but I'm hoping I can fudge it all so it will come out okay in the end. It's such a cute sweater, it better turn out okay.

Olivia's a Big Girl Now

Relatively, anyway. Olivia had her fifteen-month check-up yesterday and thankfully all is well. She seems tall for her age (32 inches), seems slim for her height (22 pounds), and is meeting all the regular milestones: attempts to use combs, toothbrushes, spoons, and the like; hugs her dolls; uses a few words and signs. (There are more, of course, but I've forgotten them already).

I say "seems" because she was a complete disaster at the doctor's office. I wouldn't think that she'd remember a nurse she saw once for approximately five minutes three months ago, but the second that poor sweet woman (well, I guess she's not really that sweet) entered the examination room Olivia screamed bloody murder. I guess those immunization needles are memorable, even in the very small.

So Olivia fought tooth and nail through the weighing and measuring part, rendering all results suspect at best. Case in point: her head size has apparently shrunk by three quarters of an inch since her first birthday.

Then she was perfectly nice to the doctor. Maybe she's a sucker for the little plastic cups and wooden tongue depressors he hands out. Or, oh yeah, that he's never hurt her.

Liam, by the way, watched all this and then announced to Mark last night that, "Owidia was naughty at de doctor's and so dey shot her."

Anyway, Olivia at fifteen months will climb practically anywhere to get her hands on the telephone, which she then hits me with, saying, "Dada!" The beatings will continue until I agree to call him ("Hold please for Olivia"). She then carries on extended conversations with him using only one word - gah - but many different inflections.

Olivia will answer yes and no questions with very vigorous nods and shakes of the head. Such action sometimes knocks her off balance, so she plants her feet firmly and a bit apart, puts her arms out for balance, and leans forward just a bit. Then she nods or shakes away with all the enthusiasm she can muster without falling over.

When extremely excited, Olivia tucks her elbows into her waist, brings up her hands near her shoulders, and flaps those hands like she's trying to take off.

Olivia is not particularly patient. I realize patience is in short supply in any toddler, but I do think Olivia falls below average in this area. If she wants something and we do not MOVE to get it, well, she does a lot of whacking to get her point across, not only with the phone, but with her milk cup and books (must work on this). She will also pull on our clothing. Hard.

Olivia is the cuddliest little girl. Thank god, too, since I had been told many times that girls just won't cuddle and I'm happy to say that Olivia blows that unfortunate stereotype right out of the water. She snuggles in for book-reading. She backs up and plops (beep beep beep) on any lap she can find. And, for no reason at all, she'll lean in, wrap her arms around us, and say, "Awwwwww."

One Happy Hen

Thank you guys for all the nice comments and emails and calls (and that Frappachino especially helped <grin>). As you know, with little kids there is little time to sit still and dwell too much, which helps, I guess. So we are hanging in there.

Anyway, Olivia's Happy Hen sweater is finished and man, it feels good to be done with all that color work (and all those ends). I am pleased with this sweater. Olivia seems to like it too. Since I made the 2-3 year size, I thought it would be a smidge bit bigger, but there's still some room to grow and she should be able to wear it all spring (with fingers crossed for fall).

Not the most smooth intarsia ever, but I'm fine with it (picture taken in bright light and heavy shadow to distract you). But, this sweater is supposed to have a patch pocket opposite the happy hen. I haven't done it yet, since I really like the sweater as it is and I don't think I have enough of the green to make it happen anyway. (Note: if you ever make the middle size of this sweater, three balls of the green will NOT do - I made the smallest size). I'll probably try, since pockets are just plain fun when you're little. But at least she can wear the sweater now and I'm technically calling it done.

So yesterday we indulged in a little bit of retail therapy. Olivia got new shoes, Liam got a baseball cap ("Dis issa cool hat, Mommy."), and I got this:

Well, I had the purple (#79) Cash Iroha already (it's almost been two or three things), but I got the Silk Garden (#224) to go with it and make a Poppy from Yarn Play. I love these colors, even though I never knit with (or even wear) purple. I'm excited to start, but I am forcing myself to finish up a couple of other things I've got going first.

Sweaters, Lots of Sweaters

You probably haven't noticed, but I have made a commitment to knit twelve sweaters this year. One a month. It doesn't sound so hard (and wouldn't be for lots of knitters), but the most I've ever done in a year is six, and all of those were for little kids. So this will be a challenge for me. Amazingly, I've almost finished three, and it's still February. Of course two of those are also for, ahem, little kids. Babies even.

I do need to bank some time, however, since one of my projects coming up soon is an Aran sweater for my (adult-sized) brother because he would like something hand-knit to wear with his kilt. Really. I picked out this one: Rhapsody in Tweed from IK Fall 2004. He likes the pattern, I like the pattern, and the yarn isn't too horribly expensive. It will be the biggest sweater I've done, ever. It might take a while.

In the meantime, Olivia's Happy Hen sweater (sweater #2) is waiting to be blocked and seamed and for all those ends to be woven in (oh, and some more embroidery). It should be finished this weekend.

But the line of stitches next to each pink stripe are a bit wonky. I don't know what to do about it, although perhaps blocking will straighten them out a bit? I don't mind too much, though, and I'm sure as hell not going to rip it out. Besides, it does look worse in this picture than it does in real life. Or at least I tell myself that.

Sweater #3 is a gift for someone who reads this blog, so, unless you are Jenn (and don't you dare peak, Jenn) you can see a picture of its progress here. It will also be put together this weekend, hopefully, although the zipper is on order, so I probably won't complete this project until next weekend. I've never put a zipper into anything before, so I will require Mark to distract the kids and perhaps even clear the house for a few hours. I know so little about anything-but-straight-line sewing that the kids and I trooped out to the fabric store yesterday to carefully compare colors and pick out the perfect little zipper for this sweater, just to discover (after Olivia chewed through the package, rendering it un-returnable) that it doesn't open at the bottom. Did you know there's more than one sort of zipper? I never really thought about it before.

Then the next sweater up is for me.

Fern, from Rowan 36, in navy Kid Classic (love love love KC). Perfect for Project Spectrum as well.

In kiddo news, Olivia is slowly getting over her cold, but still has a very runny nose (The Return of the Snot Monster). There are little snot prints all over the sofa, my legs, my shoulders, Liam, the cat...and lately when we pull her soother out a long snot trail continues to connect it to her. Anyway, one of the funny little things that she does from time to time is to stick her soother into my mouth (or Mark's or Liam's). This is very funny - much giggles. This morning she did that trick while I was sitting on the floor shoveling clothes from the washer to the drier. Immediately I noticed that the soother was extra-wet, extra-slimy....you can imagine, right? Oh yuck.

At least Liam just wipes it on his sleeve.

Home

The good news is that the weather has turned very warm here in Colorado. Yesterday and today the temperature has been in the sixties. We actually took down a few of the outdoor Christmas decorations, but only those we could reach without touching snow.

More good news is that I've actually recovered from my trip home to Halifax, and it only took a week. Certainly it is difficult to see my mother in this state, but honestly I think most of the issue is handling a toddler on twelve-hour (door-to-door) plane trips with three-hour time zone changes. It took Olivia two days to convert going East, but on arriving back home in the West she was still waking up at four-thirty in the morning four days later. Plus Olivia just doesn't sleep well anywhere but in her own bed. If I do go to Halifax again, I'll try to do it without children (yeah, like that could happen. I can't go to see my OBGYN without at least one kid).

Anyway, when we arrived, my Mom had an infection that came with a fever. That first day she barely spoke, and even then only in response to repeated questioning ("Does your head hurt? Does your tummy hurt?"). She looked at me that day for the first time in months and, though I'm secretly sure she knew who I was and was happy I was there, she showed no recognition or emotion. That was tough. The palliative care nurse came immediately and soon Mom was on some very effective antibiotics, so by the next night she could carry on a bit of a conversation and even laughed at some jokes. However, she wasn't really better until the day after I left, so I do feel a bit ripped off. But I also feel like we had one moment where we connected, and possibly two, and that did make the trip worthwhile.

That's saying a lot, actually, since the actual traveling part of the trip was horrible.*

I bought my ticket online. There is nowhere online to declare that you are bringing a "lapchild" with you; I were instructed to inform the check-in agent. But I guess no one actually told the website writers that there are no check-in agents anymore. Just a bank of computer screens and some bag handlers that know nothing but how to strap stickers on luggage. After I had checked myself in I managed to track down someone who was willing to take on the task of issuing Olivia a boarding pass, but she admitted she'd never done such a thing before and that it might take some time.  No problem; I had a full forty-five minutes before the plane left. Well, she managed to eat up thirty of those minutes before Olivia and I could be on our way. As you can imagine, it was enormously frustrating and involved not only an additional $12 fee but the accidental issuing of four lapchildren, three of which had to be deleted before I could leave.

So Olivia and I had to RUN for the plane. Full speed through the airport, Olivia in her stroller with bags hanging from the handles, through security (where we got a hard time about the apparently gel-like raisins and Gerber Fruit Snacks we brought), on the train, and up to the gate, where I heard the announcement, "This is the final call for Katherine." So I arrive at the gate just in time, sweaty and out of breath, boarding passes in hand, just to be treated rudely by each and every airline employee I come in contact with until I take my seat. Because obviously this must be my fault.

So I plopped down, breathless, in our middle seat with bags and Olivia on my lap and Olivia promptly burst into tears.

I am so glad to be home.

*There's more than just that one story, actually. We arrived in Halifax without the car seat bag and had to use a loaner (not too bad; we even got the same model). Then on the way home we couldn't take milk through security (of course), but didn't expect to find that milk was not sold in the terminal on the other side. And then the plane we rode on was too small for refrigerated products. And then, racing from gate to gate in DC with only fifteen minutes to spare, I stopped at Wendy's for a take-out lunch and Wendy's, that day, happened to be OUT OF MILK. Finally, our car seat bag did arrive in Denver, but it was ripped to shreds. The airline is replacing it.

Well, This is Trouble