I made the Fidget, and it’s wonderful. I used a yarn that has cashmere in it (plus wool), and it is thick and squishy and cozy. I don’t know who the lucky recipient will be, and I’m toying with the idea of trying to sell it on Etsy (or to you, my reader). I will definitely make more.
I bought some yarn a couple years ago for a project, and when I recently got out the supplies from my stash I discovered I’d purchased the wrong amount for it. So I’ve had to re-purpose the yarns. I made an accessory scarf from one skein of Rowan Tapestry on size 8 needles. I also made a noticeable error when I was nearly finished but had knit too far beyond it to care (I shouldn’t knit while tired). I decided to bind off and just keep it for myself; the error isn’t glaring to anyone who doesn’t knit, and I can tie it so it’s hidden. I have since cast on a simple pattern for a Fidget, using Rowan Cashsoft Aran yarn in a charcoal gray. It’s going to feel yummy around someone’s neck in the chill weather.
Having a child has heightened my awareness in several ways. The predominant pleasure of this awareness is the experience of discovery. We were in her wading pool on a very hot day, and honey bees flew around us to drink some water. Rather than get nervous and try to bat them away, we watched them. I did not know that bees carry their own little straw with them! I was fascinated to see one busily using its proboscis to suck up drops of water. Have you ever really seen — really watched — a honey bee from about five inches away? They are quite intricate.
Bean’s attention is not limited to the miniscule, though. She loves planes; they are huge and loud and scary and exciting. There is a Target store close to the airport that happens to sit in the path of landing planes. We arrange ourselves in the parking lot on the sidewalk under a little tree and watch them approach, getting lower and louder, until they roar overhead. I’d never noticed before that UPS and FedEx planes are enormous. I love how big they are. I can’t explain exactly why, except that you need to see one hanging right over your head a few hundred feet up to really appreciate their size.
Another form of awareness is a heightened sense of caution. I took Bean to the beach last Thursday. She’d only gone once before when she was 13 months old; it was October, and she wasn’t really interested. So I took her to Half Moon Bay, since that was the first beach that came to mind. Well, it’s not altogether inviting. The beach is very steep, and the water becomes quickly deep, so the wave action is intense. There was a sign:
I felt the tug of dread in my gut, but we went to the waves. I dismissed the feeling, but I kept an eye out; I could see the tide was coming in. Bean was thrilled to jump in the waves (we were at the very edge just getting our toes wet), but by the time we were done her arms looked like they were sunburned from the intensity of my grip. I could only tolerate the tension for about 15 minutes. I mocked myself for being a Nervous Nellie. I thought, It’s not like the sea is personified and is going to snatch my child away. But it felt that way to me. I wanted to call my parents and ask them how they’d had the courage to let us play at all the beaches we camped at when I was a kid. I’m amazed they didn’t lose one of us! After awhile she said she was done with the waves, so we went up the berm and made sand castles, but I still felt nervous, and Bean was getting cranky. So we went to the car to change into dry clothes and have lunch, after which we fed seagulls.
It was time for her nap and she was definitely tired, but since she’d catnapped on the way to the beach I wasn’t sure if she’d sleep. I decided to drive down Highway 1 to Santa Cruz, figuring it would be pretty for me and give her two hours to nap. However, she thwarted the plan. She wouldn’t fall asleep. By the time we got to Santa Cruz she said she wanted to get out and walk, so I stopped at another beach: Natural Bridges. This one was much flatter, with calmer wave action, and was populated by dozens of people. She chased seagulls, jumped in waves (with me holding her still, but with less suction that felt as though it might knock me down), and made more sand castles. A kind lady said hello and took our picture. After about 45 minutes of this, I had to lug her up the hill to the car and drive home. She fell asleep on the way for half an hour. Not enough nap, too much stimulation — she was a cranky tired kid by bedtime. But we had fun. On the way I noted many other state beaches that were flat, so we’ll be going to those next time.
I will say this: since having a child, I’ve made a concerted effort not to indulge my imagination regarding all the horrors that could befall Bean. That way lies madness. I also believe that manufacturing things to worry about distracts us from being aware of real threats and risks, because by worrying we feel we are doing something constructive and are bound up in all those thoughts, becoming too distracted to pay attention to what is real. I’m reading Protecting the Gift by Gavin de Becker (his Gift of Fear is worthwhile too), in which he recommends honoring the intuition signals the body gives us when we sense danger. When I saw another sign at Half Moon Bay (below) after we’d gone up for lunch, I realized that my discomfort was entirely justified, and rather than discount myself, I’m going to heed it; we’ll not be going back to that beach. (I also found an article about a tragedy on June 30 eight miles north of Half Moon Bay. Eeeegad!)
There is much more to tell about Bean, but this post is long enough, and her nap will be ending soon.
I’m feeling quieter and quieter on the blog these days. It’s probably evident to anyone who regularly reads it. My hands are busy with knitting, my days are full with activity. We went to the zoo on Sunday; each time we go Bean is more entranced. My mother-in-law is visiting in early September, and my eldest sister is coming for a visit in late September. In just seven weeks Bean will turn two! The photo below was taken by a friend when we visited her last Friday. Bean reveled in the garden and sandbox.
I’ve been knitting and felting and knitting and… I had one small ball of yarn (71 yards) that turned out a cute little scarf for Bean, and I am working through remnants of past knitting projects making felted bowls. Bean enjoys using them to hold her play food. Here are some photos of my industriousness.
We take walks less frequently these days, because the novelty has worn off for Bean, but today was a lovely day for a trek around the block. On the way home my eye spotted this perfect tiny bird egg lying on the ground. I gently pocketed it with a hope to get home without crushing it. Here’s a photo. I nestled it in a small clear container (formerly used for glitter) so that Bean can look at the egg without breaking it. What a find!
I woke feeling lazy, lazy, lazy. However, it is not yet noon and I have managed to vacuum and clean the entire house, get a pork roast started in the crock pot (for pulled pork), and finish knitting and felt two bowls from old stash yarn. I guess the bowls might become gifts… or maybe I’ll try to sell them.
Bean and I were walking the other day, and I spotted this small nest upside down on a bush. There were no eggs nearby, so I think it was abandoned and had fallen. I scooped it up, marveling at the industry evident in the construction. It’s a small nest, no larger than 3 inches in diameter, and lined with something that looks like dog fur. Since Bean wanted to mangle it, I’ve put it aside in her nature box for a future date when she’s able to be gentle with it. I found this on a highly trafficked road, and it reminds me that for all the urban development surrounding us, birds and other animals find room to live here too.
Bean turned 22 months old on the 8th. Each day there is more expression, more knowledge. Watching consciousness bloom is a marvelous thing. Lately she is attracted to the sounds of certain phrases in her story books: “Roo drooped.” “Everyone gasped.” “The bees are suspicious.” “The snow’s so deep.” She loves to make “mouth noises” and silly expressions.
She’s also getting more autonomous. Lately if I kiss her, she sometimes says adamantly, “No kisses!” Sometimes I forget myself and kiss her shortly after she has made this request and she’ll get really mad. Or if I remember, I’ll ask if I can give her a kiss, and sometimes she says no.
When a child grabs a toy from her hand these days, she says, “I can’t share!” meaning she wants the child to give it back. She has never been physical about holding on to items — no grabbing it back, no hitting or shoving — now she uses words, but the other kids don’t understand her yet. Most times a mother is around to mediate and instruct her child to return the toy. Now an interesting development has occurred. The other day at the park we were playing in the sand with her toys, and a little girl joined us. Our practice has been to welcome anyone sharing as long as they don’t wander too far with the toy, but this time Bean said, “I don’t want to share!” Now, I make sure to bring two buckets, two shovels, etc. so that Bean will still have one set and the other can be shared. I explained to her that at the park, the way we make friends is to share our sand toys. She repeated her statement but didn’t get upset. I managed to distract her a little and it didn’t become an issue.
I believe that one can share only when secure in the fact that she possesses something to share. I think it’s a mistake to negate a child’s desire to keep something by saying, “you MUST share” and forcing the toy out of her hands. It is good to share and take turns, but this is a learned behavior that takes time. It’s important to keep reinforcing the message that sharing helps us to have fun.
Here’s another example of the move toward self-direction. Last night, Husband read Go Dog Go to her once, and of course she said, “Again!” He doesn’t like the book, and he asked if they could please read a different book. Her response (exact words): “No, I want to read this book again.” Very determined, this child!
Bean likes to play other games too. The other day, Bean played with her Elmo doll, wrapping him up in a baby blanket and “changing his diaper.” Then she had me lie down on the floor, and she would take the same blanket and say, “I tuck Mommy in, make you cozy.” Then I’d pretend sleep and snore, and she’d “startle” me awake. This is greatly amusing for her for many, many minutes.
The oddest concepts catch her attention. Getting dressed the other day, Husband explained to Bean the image of the Longhorn on one of her t-shirts. (It’s a shirt with the colors of UT Austin and a Longhorn emblem.) He said that he had gone to school in Austin and had been a Longhorn, and this generated a morning’s obsession with Bean saying, “Wanna be a Longhorn, wanna go to school!”
Bean still loves her gym class, where she mostly likes to walk up and down big foam wedges and dance. Her upper body strength is slow to develop; her hands are so delicate and small she can’t get a good grasp on the bars, and she won’t keep a grip. She’s not much for climbing ladders at the park, either. However, Bean can jump straight up and down with two feet, and also off of things, which is a skill that usually develops a bit later. She’s quite the hopper.
Since she was ill recently, she has gotten reluctant to “scooch” down the stairs by herself. She’ll climb up herself, but she wants me to carry her down. We play a game where I stand a step below and open my arms, and she leans forward and falls into my arms, hugging me tight. I don’t mind this regression. I love hugging and holding her, and she won’t be this way forever. Bean is also really good at holding a hand in public, when we’re walking down the sidewalk or at a strip mall. I sometimes wonder if we are too protective in that way. I see other parents letting their children walk by themselves; sometimes Bean wants to also, and we permit her if it’s not a trafficked area. But she often automatically reaches for our hand, and I like the companionability of that.
If the video doesn’t play, go here.
If the video doesn’t play, go here.
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And now I must get chores done, and take the birthday cake for Husband out of the oven (he gets officially older tomorrow). Happy weekend!
I wish I knew where my equanimity wandered off to. I am restless tonight! I went out to be social at the yarn store, but I forgot my essentials, so I had nothing to knit, and I felt out of sync with the conversations there. I was welcomed, to be sure, but it’s been so long that I’ve done something purely recreational with other adults whose life focus isn’t on small children that I hardly knew how to converse. I remind myself that if I keep returning, the connections will flow again.
I’ve been reading steadily, a mixture of fiction and non-fiction. I finally have learned to use the scanner we bought last December, and I’ve scanned much of my art portfolio. I haven’t unboxed the sewing machine yet, but I will in time.
When this was finished, I thought it surely was too big for Bean (I’d tried to make it a bit bigger than her last one so it has room for growth). Well, it does fit (i.e., it’s not too big)! And it still has a little room. I’m pleased with the outcome, and now maybe I’ll make one for myself. (It’s odd… I always seem to make winter hats in the summer.)
A child kicks its legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, Do it again; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, Do it again, to the sun; and every evening, Do it again, to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.
–G. K. Chesterton
Happy 4th! I live near Santa Clara Central Park, so instead of wading through crowds, we watched the fireworks from our home.
As the family photographer, very few photos get taken of me, especially me and Bean. When my mother-in-law visited around the new year, she took a bunch of photos. (She is an avid photographer and quite good!) I asked her to send some of the images so that I could post them on Flickr, and here are two I thought I’d share with the world. They were taken in January at the SF Zoo. (You can see and purchase more of her work at her website, Kay Harper Photography. All rights on these photos are reserved.)
Below is the New Yorker cover for June 29, 2009. Bean looked at it tonight, and this is what she said (note: she is still confused on gender pronouns):
“Man scared. Man can’t see, looking. He klunked. Yes, he’s looking, he klunked.” Klunked is Bean’s term for falling over. I can only guess that the look on the woman’s face seems like an expression of surprise, which is what Bean usually feels when she klunks. I’ve got an observant little kid on my hands!
Hanging Chador, by Barry Blitt
This is how I spent my “me time” today — at the library, drawing the books I selected to read. (I’ve already begun Northanger Abbey.) It felt really good to draw. It’s prosaic subject matter, but this is my life.
I’m so happy to have my little girl healthy again. Husband took the video below this evening. He introduced her to Dave Brubeck, because she really like the jazz songs on her Music Together CDs. If the video doesn’t play, click this link to see the movie.
With the forecast today predicting that it will hit between 101 and 107 here, and given that we live in a house with no air conditioning, life will move at a snail’s pace around here today.
Bean’s fever finally broke on Friday (until then it was pretty high, around 103.4). We saw the doctor on Tuesday afternoon; he said it wasn’t hand-foot-mouth disease because he saw no cankers in her mouth or throat. It was simply a garden-variety virus that would run its course and that I should keep her hydrated and as comfortable as possible. She says still that her throat hurts and she sounds hoarse, but she’s back to eating almost regularly and playing.
That meant my birthday and the rest of the week was fairly low-key and solitary, but this is okay. I got to hold and cuddle one of my best gifts ever. I will say, though, that if I were graded as a parent based solely on Thursday, I’d probably get a C or D. It was a rough day for us both, and I handled it with less grace than I could have.
The goal today is to stay cool and well.
For my birthday, I’m getting a sewing machine! Does anybody have recommendations of books for beginners? My last encounter with machine sewing was in 7th grade, when I managed to sew through my thumb with the machine and couldn’t figure out patterns. I think I failed that unit; I certainly came out of the experience hating to sew. I’m looking to sew simple things — small pillows, crafts.
I’m getting the Brother 25-stitch Free-Arm Sewing Machine, XL-2600i, which was well-reviewed by Consumer Reports.
Poor sweet Bean is ill. We thought it was teething at first, because she said her teeth hurt and her mouth hurt on Saturday. Yesterday I saw very faint red spots on her legs during bath, and a small little pimple-like bump in the corner of her mouth. Today she spiked a fever, doesn’t have much appetite. The advice nurse thinks it may be hand-foot-mouth disease (not to be confused with foot and mouth disease); this illness causes very painful sores in the mouth. When we put her to bed, her temperature was 101.2 after a dose of infant Motrin.
She says, “Mommy don’t put you down. Hold. Mommy make it better.” She spent much of the early evening lying on her tummy against my tummy. She asks for ice cream to eat; it’s cool for the mouth and the insides, and I don’t say no, because it’s full of calories.