new year yarn along

In truth these pants are the third item on my needles this year. Which makes it a super knitting year already. Thought I'd join the years first yarn along. I am using some Rowan merino 4 ply that was gifted to me. I really don't like 4ply all that much. I am a dk girl. So I am holding two strands together, one chocolate, one deep dust pink. It's interesting knitting with two strands. But I might miss out the moss stitch sections and do something else on these Kanoko Pants. I love the look of moss stitch, just not the making of. Sometimes it's worth it.





I made this little bag, because my older knitting bag, the lovely yellow Harris Tweed one, was just too small for hefting around my current knits. Or really what happened was this: Esmé needed a bag for her dolly clothes, so I pooped upstairs meaning to hunt one out and instead sat and sewed her a quickie from the lovely purple Harris Tweed sent to me by the even lovelier Jacqui. I brought it down and gave it to her and she stuffed it and then promptly forgot about it. I looked long and hard at it, dumped out the doll clothes and re filled it with my knitting. Whoops. Today then, on my to-do list, is the making of a new doll clothes bag.

I just finished reading The Time Travellers Wife (again) and started We need to talk about Kevin, by Lionel someone. It's really too bad there is a picture of Tilda Swinton on the cover, it's wrecked my idea on what the character might have looked like, had it not already been made into a film. Tilda Swinton scares me. I'd be really nervous around her, she always plays such icy chilling roles. I just read the very quick Books vs Cigarettes by George Orwell too (just to yk, stretch my mind away from modern lit). It was interesting, but I was glad to nose dive back into story-land.

We seem to be playing a LOT of the card game BLINK at the moment. It was a stocking filler and a good purchase, only The Beauty can't stand loosing and she looses every time. Then she insists on swapping places with the other player, sure that over that at that side of the table must be wear the winning streak lies. Then she looses and screams that she is NEVER playing again! Did you CHEAT Felix? She bellows. Again? In a tiny voice not four or five seconds later she is asking who will play next with her. It's sort of torturous really. We see her dealing and edge out of the room.

feel free to eye roll

There is clearly something really wrong with me. Really. What sort of person declares never to do something and then goes right ahead and does it all over again? Well, I do (actually I think I have said I will never eat chocolate again about five hundred times and gone ahead and eaten it, clearly a ridiculous thing to promise one's self anyway).

But the cardigan thing, well I just don't know seriously why I had to knit another. It went something along the lines of my scrabbling through my big tub of woolly-yarns and realising that I had about fifty of so half or quarter balls and not enough of any one thing to use. So I thought I'd make a big old scrap rainbow yarn cardigan for The Beauty, with long sleeves. Then I sat and began to knit, I don't even need to look at the pattern for this cardigan any longer, it's etched on my brain. I can't even say it will be my final-FINAL one, because my words clearly have lost all purpose and meaning. So there we have it, Coffee Bean Number Five. Or is it Six? Lost count.





I totally am in love with dove grey wool for tiny people, especially babies. It's just so soft and gentle looking. And not obvious the way blue or pink can be. I feel like I will be knitting lots more from the monochrome spectrum. Not because I have to knit for babies, just because the colour is really pleasing, just in case you were wondering.





This is so not a harmonious cardigan. It just isn't, but then neither is the girl wearing it. The buttons are all mismatched scrap ones too, because that's what I had on hand, I didn't have enough of any one to use, just like the yarn. It feels quite good though, to fashion a garment from things on hand, rather than go out an buy more with a specific idea in mind. The continuous colour changes kept me busy. I had a grand total of 110 ends to sew in. Two for every colour, every two rows of knitting. I counted. It was that sort of weird project.



Speaking of 'fashioning' things I have a little article out in the current issue of The Green Parent Magazine, in the Ethical Fashion section. Which sort of makes me laugh a bit, since fashion and I long since parted ways. But there you go, life can be quite amusing.





Other people in the house this week made other things. Letters were drafted to Father Christmas, the boys were essentially lists. Nice. But Esmé's was a long long chit-chat and extreame weather conditions and implications of featured highly; she hoped it wouldn't rain on his long journey, or be windy, she would leave a little treat on the doorstep (so as not to get wet), did he too hope for no rain? Or wind, because it might be tricky to ride in rain or wind. She plans on getting up very very early but not so early that he would still be there. I had to dictate and did so exactly. Because it was really a very good letter. Then she said, right at the end, an afterthought, oh and don't forget to bring me a pink scooter and a dolly! Right on girl.





I love the little details in Felix's drawings, as usual he is my hero when it comes to drawing, I admire him greatly.







We made a princess bed with our trusty glue gun and some pom-poms. From a shoe box. There are some good box ideas here. I am a bit in love with the whole kitchen set, and would make it all except that we have a pretty nice wood kitchen I bought for Isaac when he was 2 and really into play-kitchens. That kitchen has had so much use, even bigger kids over the years come in and play with it. Boys as much as girls, maybe more so. A little boy cousin played with ours so much his parents (reluctantly I think) bought him one too. In blue. Of course. It didn't matter to Esmé that she has two fancy basket dolly beds, she likes this one a whole lot.

just phew, and thank goodness

It fits. Goodbye pattern. I really knew how to kill that one. It died slowly. Over and over.



Not super girly like the other one, but as Isaac pointed out - it's even better because it's knit in the colours of Aston Villa football team! By god, he right. It's the exact colours. I can probably eBay this now to some manic fan. Or Esmé can go along with the boys to the matches. Grief. She likes it though, or at least consents to wear it, which is pretty much the same thing.

coffee dislike

Yeah, the real stuff, actual coffee. And tea. Never drank. Never been in a situation to drink it (ie, never 'worked' in a place where I had tea breaks or anything). The only time I liked coffee used to be when it was someone else's and I dipped in a biscuit.



Anyway. The Little Coffee Bean, number four, didn't fit. Didn't. Bloody. Fit. She was not impressed and neither was I. This is an example of what happens when you don't knit a gauge square. I immediately cast on another sweater and then a third of the way in stopped and thought - why? Why am I making another, without a gauge square and also, why this sweater? There are a million and four mini-cardi patterns to pick from out there. I dare say my love of the Coffee Bean is dwindling fast. This may well be the last one ever. Ever. And from now on I will endeavour to at least try knitting a gauge square, just to see if they really work. They might.



This one is cute, despite not fitting, I am planning to gift it now with some knitted slippers, since the thought of another cardigan sitting around owner-less is sort of boring. I took off the one big black button and sewed on lots of tiny wooden ones instead, since I couldn't even get the thing closed around The Beauty's body.

a coffee bean that fits

Hopefully this Little Coffee Bean will have an owner who can actually wear it. As opposed to the other three recent ones :) Still love this pattern, fourth time around. Simple and pretty, no seams and hardly any ends to sew in. Yarn Along time. I have sized up needles in the hope that this will fit my 3 year old. The lilac/dusty pink is a lovely soft merino yarn dyed by Sarah. The sky blue is a Mirasol yarn. Here's hoping it really does fit. It will. I'll stuff her into it. It's been done before. Oh, reading the Earth's Children series again. Not sure if I will read them *all*, they get a bit repetative, so far book two though and I'm not yet tired.



I also finally finished the mittens for Esmé, from my tutorial. She likes them. Phew. It could easily have gone the other way (and still might, lets be honest, her preferences change with the wind). Am making a dark green pair for Felix now (the dog also ate his in it's latest chew fest).

three little coffee beans, and so much more

Three Little Coffee Bean sweaters, in three different sizes, colour and stripe were knitted in the brief time of my too-short last pregnancy. But not *just* three Little Coffee Beans (which were btw fabulous to knit, my very favourite sweater ever now, hands down beats the Classic Cardigan by Debbie Bliss. Sorry Debbie).



I seemed to have knitted all out of proportion to the length of that pregnancy, and it might have had something to do with the notion I had in mind of knitting an entire wardrobe from 0 to 12 months. Uh-huh. I look at this big pile of woolly garments and am astonished I did so much. In so little time. It's nice. I don't feel weird about it all, although I can see how one could very easily tilt that way. The way I see it, I relished the beautiful yarns sliding through my fngers. I loved every inch of their making. But you know what? I feel like shrugging. Sure there is no baby to wear them now. And it makes me sad that it is so. But one day there might be. And if not mine then I am certainly stocked with baby gifts for quite a while.



I am sad, but not excessively so. Because for whatever reasons my body did it's thing. In it's wisdom it was wise. If I listen I can see life does what it does, reasons are not to be queried endlessly. Because you could grieve forever that way. And still be right in the same place when you had finished doing so.

And so I will make soup today, and concentrate on today only. I might see if The Girl fancies making gingerbread. We will walk the dog (in the rain). I will try and finish the girl's mittens. I will think of today, and maybe tomorrow and not ask to much of the reasons for things being so. It's about as happy as a person can be. In fact it's how I get to be my happiest.





What a pile though! I might be in with some record breaking in the striped department. Um, I guess I really love stripes! And multi colour yarn. And knitting for babies. That I do. I really do.



Love to the mama's today and the babies, and the ones who didn't make it. Now and then. And to the gap in between which we all sometimes find ourselves living in.



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edited to add

This is great miscarriage support website. I found lots comfort there. I love it's simple and direct approach. Also Sherene at the nurtured life has some great resources and support links to check out.

I also feel broody. But that's a given, no? I have come to think of it as simply part of the female condition. Of being female, and young and fertile. Of course broodiness comes along with that. Especially now My Girl has weaned. She has done so much earlier than her brothers (they were, um about 5). I realised recently that she just doesn't ask any more and bedtimes she falls asleep after I have read to her and she puts her face into the space between my shoulder and chin. No milk. So I think this lack of nursing, this space I find myself in, physically, contributes to that ache of want.

I am finding that I have these weird moments, these short seconds of something a bit like panic - this feeling of - counting heads and finding myself short. It's sort of as close to that as I can describe. Like there's a certain thing missing I can't quite place. And I have to physically straighten myself shake it off. I think it's the body feeling of having started something that cannot be completed. There will always be that sense of poise on the edge of a thing about to happen. I remember it. And I can feel why woman in this place would rush to get pregnant instantly again.

But also as my years creep by (for once I actually did do just that, hello Esmé!) and the time of being a mother and woman carries me further along I see the rightness in a big pause. A sense of letting time settle and of letting things have their place. Of not rushing, but letting the sadness be if it is, of letting the broodiness sit on me. It won't crush me, but I feel I have a lesson to learn from it. Some days I don't know what it might be, and I weep when the dog causes some mayhem when I might as easily have laughed. I suppose letting things be. As they are. Is a lesson in it's self. There are tiny wisps of time, like early morning mist that soon vanishes, when I do actually feel like I might one day become the woman who fears nothin'.