Turning a Corner

I learned something new this year. I taught myself, with the help of some books and a youtube video or two, how to construct a mitered square out of yarn. To do this, one has to knit three sides "around a corner" and then finish by completing a square with the mitered section. I know, I know, this sounds like absolute gobbledy-gook--unless you yourself have knit mitered squares. Some of you have.

Another thing I taught myself this year, with the help of some books and a few key people, is that I could turn a corner in my life. I had been doing the same thing for a long time. But this year I decided to do something different. I quit my job; I went back to school. This felt really risky to me. I'm still not sure how everything is going to turn out. But I turned a corner, and I made a change. This is the point at which the mitered square starts to pull everything together and make it all look really good. So if you are one of those people who have been helping me take this risk and turn this corner, thank you.

Where are the balloons, mommy?

Today is my birthday. I am turning 36. It is the kind of age you might rather forget about, since it truly signals the short distance to 40 (but isn't 40 the new 20?). Just kidding. I would rather 40 be 40, since trying to be 20 for 2 decades sounds nothing less than hideous. But seriously, let's get back to talking about my birthday.

When I got up this morning I had breakfast with my family and opened a present, and a card and had "Happy Birthday" sung to me by a three-year-old. It was very sweet and went perfectly with my coffee, which I was drinking throughout. At some point, though, my six-year-old looked around and said, "But Mommy, where are the balloons? When is the party?"

It is with great happiness and contentment that I say I am not having a party for my birthday. At some point in life you realize that in order to have a party you have to either put out some serious effort yourself, or lay all that effort on to someone else. It is such a good feeling to enjoy a birthday without having to run out for balloons, bake a cake, have people over, you know the routine. I won't tell that to the kids just yet, because they are still in the lala-land of believing that all these things magically appear in the natural order of things on birthdays, and I don't want to spoil it for them just yet. But I am very much enjoying having a birthday where I am with all the people I love the most, having a good day (but no balloons).

Animal Planet

Somehow, the job description of "Mom" never seems to include the large and significant amount of time spent taking care of the non-human species in the family. And I don't just mean the obvious, like filling up the dog's water dish or alerting the child in charge when the litter box is getting a little ripe. I mean dealing with another child's anxiety over leaving several bunnies in their outside hutch during a mild thunderstorm, investigating another rabbit for a possible but unlikely pregnancy after discovering her diligence in making a nest in the indoor hutch, and needing to quick-a-minute rehouse tadpoles before heading off to Great-Grandma's for dinner because they might just be at a crucially sensitive point in their metamorphosis requiring access to dry land to prevent drowning. I have found that there is no "out" here other than being the kind of draconian, zero-pet-tolerance mother I never wanted to be. So here I sit, next to the happily swimming (and not drowning) tadpoles who like to hide behind the rock I found for them this afternoon, rather than sit upon it, breathing the same atmosphere as do I.

Cloth Napkins

We recently had a rummage sale at our church. I helped; so did two of our girls, one of whom was on one crutch doing a passable impression of Tiny Tim if Tiny Tim had ever voraciously bought and sold the entire contents of a used jewelry table. (Aside: I sure got a lot of jewelry this past Mother's Day). While my girls were busy with the accessories, I was over in Housewares, enjoying myself.

Now, I never thought I would have so much fun (or take home so much stuff) from the Rummage Sale, but I did. My enjoyment was centered around two things: aprons and cloth napkins. I surprised my husband into a raised eyebrow a couple of weeks ago by hanging the clothes out on the clothesline while wearing one of the aprons; the capacious pockets were too tempting as clothespins holders to pass up. And one of our goals this year was to become more sustainable as a family in terms of our paper product consumption, so the cloth napkins were irresistible as well.

I am a firm proponent of buying used products. Not only is it good to reuse things (remember your three "R"s) but it takes the guesswork out of whether something will survive the first washing. I have no idea whose home these napkins came from, but I like to imagine that it was a place where setting a gracious table and serving a good meal were a priority. So far, having the cloth napkins on the table at dinner time has been nothing but good. The kids like to pick which color we will be using on any given day and I like the virtuous glow I get from not throwing them away after the meal. Win, win.

Bonfire

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cpurrin1/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

We had a bonfire tonight. It smelled like a campfire, and looked like a campfire, except that it was burning inside our broken outdoor fireplace. The kids had done garden chores all day so that they were ready for a reward (AKA bribe, AKA positive reinforcement) for all the toil they put in. Fortunately, I had driven up to Community Supermarket to get graham crackers, marshmallows and Hershey's chocolate bars before supper so we were well supplied to make S'Mores.

I enjoyed making the treats. I always like toasting marshmallows. It's one of the things I think I happen to be good at. But at a certain point in the evening I realized that it wasn't really necessary to stand there by the fire, taking charge and making everything. The kids were doing just fine all by themselves. It was one of those moments you have now and then as a parent when you realize that you are in an entirely different phase of your family's life. So, I sat back, had a glass of wine and enjoyed watching the children have a wonderful evening.

Knitting for the Pens

Some of you may have heard of the tradition of "growing one for the team" as the Stanley Cup Playoffs progress. Well, as a woman, I don't have that option (fortunately...my husband might not be so pleased if I could participate). What I can do is knit socks.

Some people in Pittsburgh seem to have strong opinions against those who have the gall to knit during a hockey game, imagining that it implies a lack of attention, support, or complete devotion to the home hockey team. Those of us who do knit while watching hockey however, I believe, have a perfect combination of something to do which does not require a whole lot of attention (read: I can still watch the game while I knit) while still indulging our love of crafting AND spending quality time with the (ahem admittedly more devoted) hockey fan we live with.

My favorite knitting hockey fan is Michelle, who is so devoted she drives hours each way to attend games at the Igloo and won't even get up to go to the bathroom for the whole game. If that isn't sending a message to the bench, I don't know what is. And you know all those wool socks have to be great for hanging out in an arena all the time.

In honor of Michelle, and as my small contribution to hockey fandom, I'll be knitting tonight during the Penguin's game. I may have kids to get to bed, dishes to wash and other sundry things to do (laundry, for one) but you will find me parked in front of the TV this evening, watching the game, cheering on the Penguins and yes, knitting a sock.

Rain, Rain

I'm up too late, but the one good thing about that is that I got to hear the rain come up from the valley and across our hilltop. I was hoping that it would arrive at some point and soak my new plantings. So much easier than lugging the watering can around to the front of the house. One way you have to splash and drip down one set of steps, across a couple of rocks and up another set of steps before watering the plants; the other direction means avoiding the clinging fingers of the beech tree and stepping over the obstacle course of garden, old tree limbs, even older composter (old enough to contain a duck skeleton from back when we had duck friends in the yard) before arriving at your destination. This way the waxy, pathetic looking rose bushes-to-be get a nice soaking and I get to go to bed. Thinking about ducks.