Monthly Archives: January 2009

As promised, or, Don’t Spill!

I did a bad thing.

I spilled iced tea on the keyboard of our laptop, our only functional computer.

This post will be brief, as a result.


Pattern: Shalom Cardigan
Yarn: Eco Wool+ in navy
Needles: 6.5mm circ (maybe 30cm long?)
Mods: many, most notably that it is not a cardigan at all, but is a top-down tunic.

I really like it, though I feel like the neckline doesn’t entirely suit me. I may yet knit on a cowl neck. Or just wear it with a big bohemian scarf. But the yarn is awesome! One giant skein to knit the whole tunic, with leftovers! The wool softened up beautifully when blocked, too.


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*cough*, or, A Bit of This, A Bit of That, A Bit of Fail

You know what bites? Having a cold, and then having pink eye – along with your goopy-eyed daughter – and then having another cold and having that second cold be the cold. from. Hell. Seriously. I was so sick on January 2 that The Man had to stay home from work (also, he hadn’t gotten much sleep since I was too sick to be in the same room with Peanut – my coughing would have kept her awake – and since she generally falls asleep while nursing, it made for a loooong night for The Man, trying to soothe a baby who just wanted a boob). It has been a wretched five days, and now The Man is sick, too, and had to stay home again today. Blegh.

What I don’t understand is why I always lose my voice when I’m sick. It only started a few years ago – really, when my singing started to really pick up – but now, I end up mute every time I have a bad cold. It’s quite frustrating. I now sound like I’ve been smoking non-stop for the past 20 years. It’s interesting. I must be feeling better, though: I just drank a beer. Mmmm….

Due to my incredibly sicklyness, I have not taken pictures of the tunic I knit myself. I’m not taking pictures of myself looking this shabby and then posting them on the interweb. You can’t make me!


New Year’s Day was a second Christmas for us with my mum, sister and BIL, mum’s BF and his son. It was quite delightful. Peanut now has more clothes than she has ever had before! My mum found an outlet store, and this being her first grandchild and the sale prices being quite cherry, went to town. I’m almost overwhelmed when I go to get her dressed: there’s so much cuteness for her to wear, how will I choose? It’s pretty fantastic, and I love that I don’t have to think about buying her much of anything for the next bunch of months. Everybody wins.

I also forgot to mention an additional arrival Peanut received on Christmas Day: teeth! Mum – or Gran as she is known to Peanut – was holding her, and Peanut did her usual trick of grabbing an adult finger and pulling it into her mouth to gnaw on. Mum looked at me and said, “There’s a tooth there!” The right incisor had just barely cut the gum – only just visible as a little white line – but it was definitely there. She must have cut it that day. The corners of the left incisor were starting to peek out a little, too. As of today, she has two small teeth, though they still aren’t all the way out. Hurts like anything when she decides to rake them along a nipple when she’s done feeding. Yikes!

And because I’m a total fail on the pictures of finished knit projects, and my last post was a downer and picture-less, here’s a picture of Peanut from way back in the summer. Because I can, you know?



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Thoughts, or, Waiting

I’ve been struck in the last 24 hours by the nature of pregnancy. I remember feeling – at times, and in some ways – very much alone in my state of pregnancy. But I wasn’t, at least, not entirely. My husband was, in his own and rather different way, pregnant as well. He couldn’t carry Peanut, couldn’t feed her and grow her and build her, but he carried worry and concern and delight and joy and love – so much love – for her all the while I did the things he could not.

I remember when we got the erroneous results from our IPS – triple screen – test that we had a 50/50 chance of her having Down’s, and how absolutely devastated he was, how we sat silently on the couch in the living room, Wembley looking at us confusedly because we were home in the middle of the day and were upset – she can always tell – and how, in a strange way, I was almost a little surprised by how upset he was; in all the nausea and ickiness of the first three months, I had failed to remember how deeply this pregnancy was his also. It wasn’t intentional, just the result of having to turn internally in order to be strong and brave for the work of carrying our tiny person.

In retrospect, I don’t think I gave my husband enough credit during our pregnancy. It wasn’t that I didn’t give him any, or thought ill of him – far from it! – but that, at the time, I simply could not see how deeply moved he was nor how important, nay essential, he was to my health and well-being, and came the time for Peanut’s delivery, how imperative he was to my successful and pleasant labour and birth of her.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and can’t begin to tell him how much I value him. I’ve been hugging Peanut close, kissing her round, smooth cheeks, delighting in her laughter, wonderous that everything worked perfectly to build her strong and hale and healthy. And wondering why, oh why, isn’t everyone this fortunate.

And very, very thankful, that my brother-in-law is the man he is. I’m so glad my sister has him.

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