104 / 3

It's a strange situation for me.  Having knit these 104 stitches (with no stretch, on needles made of plastic, which has been a tactile nightmare for me) for 5 inches, I now have to divide them into three sections and leave them hanging, live, on what approximates large safety pins.  (When I reached this stage, I was secretly thrilled that I had not gained or lost any stitches!)  I know that for veteran knitters (even probably most novice knitters), this is no big deal; for me, it is a leap of faith.  This enterprise could unravel in seconds under the right (wrong) circumstances.  I am reminded of the Yarn Harlot's recent experience with the grape socks and listening to the needle gently hit the floor as hours of delicate sock knitting simply disappeared (although that is probably an obscure allusion to anyone who might happen upon my blog).  I imagine that soon this stealth project will become more recognizable.

I set out to challenge myself and break out of the world of scarves, hats, and mittens, so I am going to trust that this will just work out; may the yarn gods look upon me with favor.  

This blog experience is also new to me.  I am an inchoate blogger, but I am glad that I shared my blog.  Courtney is now thinking of a travel blog; Andrea is thinking her life is too boring to blog (but as a new dog mother with a baby of her own on the way, I disagree); Janine is intimidated by the blog (but sounding intrigued); Marcie and Roger are my idols as novice bloggers who are documenting Baby Ben so beautifully.  As for me, I'm enjoying the writing, having a place to post some pictures, and the sharing.  Thanks to my tiny little audience for reading so far!  Maybe soon I'll figure out how to add some links so you can check out the blogs I'm reading!

Wary of the Ides

Today is:  Einstein's birthday, Baby Benjamin's original due date, the last Friday before Spring Break, and one day before the Ides of March (of which we are wary).  I'm not sure how we can mark this excitement, so close on the heels of Duncan's birthday, except by posting a picture of the ever-famous "TRACTOR!"

Let Them Eat Cake!

We are all wiped out by the sugar, the tractor, and various additions to the GeoTrax collection, but here's a picture in case you worried that the birthday boy wouldn't get his cake.  Up next in the post queue...fun with knitting fiascos!  (Unless something more exciting happens between now and then!)

1 + 1 = 2

So far, being 2 has consisted of eating a bagel on a ride-on John Deere tractor and taking a dozen cupcakes to daycare.  Last year, when Duncan turned 1, he had no interest in his cake (though he ate brussels sprouts like candy).  Apparently, turning 2 is all about cake.  When we inquired about his preferred birthday dinner, he replied "cake."  When we asked "what tomorrow is," he said "cake."  "Whose birthday is it tomorrow?"  "Cake."  "How old will you be on your birthday?"  "Cake."  Our unwillingness to serve cake on the penultimate night of his second year as well as our unwillingness to serve cake for breakfast to mark the beginning of his third year were met with admonition.  Never fear, young toddler, there will be much cake in the week to come.  

By the way (refer to previous post), Duncan DID wake me up at 12:40 so that I would spend the moment of his birth with him at 12:41.

Cake and tractor pictures to follow, but here is a picture of his first birthday for comparison.

1 X 2 = 2

Tonight, while I sleep (hopefully), my baby will turn 2.  I'm sure the event will be much less dramatic than his actual birth day, which was a very long day with myriad twists and turns that narrowly avoided an emergency c-section, visited a vacuum extractor, and ultimately resulted in the arrival of Duncan Collins Martin, 7 pounds 14 ounces, 21 inches.  He missed his due date by 41 minutes, a lateness that can be attributed to my utter hopelessness at "pushing."  (Give me a break...I'd been awake for about 24 hours and had all kinds of chemicals pumped into my body).  

One day you're pregnant, and the next day you're some one's mother.  You go to bed 1 and wake up 2.  It's surreal.

Cotton: The Fabric of Our Lives

This yarn has been kicking me in the teeth for at least a week now - longer if you count the 3 separate internet orders to accumulate the yarn (plus extra to replace what I used in numerous gauge swatches), stitch holders, and long enough needles. It has required two gauge swatches, neither of which actually "GOT GAUGE," though one came closer to the other. This is a secret project for a secret person; its identity will gradually become apparent, however, and if you know me, you'll be able to guess the recipient. I decided to make a bold foray into the land of knitted garments, leaving the scarves, hats, and mittens far behind. I am doubting whether I have the fortitude for this project.

The yarn is nothing fancy: Lion Bran Organic Cotton in Sage. It needs to be wash and wear, and the recipient's mother (too many hints) will appreciate its organic nature. I've never knit cotton before and am struggling with its lack of stretch. It's taken me 4 inches to achieve a tension that is almost comfortable. I'm also not fond of the feel of this cotton on these plastic needles. Next time (I aim to make three more of these babies), I'll knit it on metal circulars (probably Turbo Addi's). I'm glad that it's beginning to feel better because I need to get some better karma into this piece!

Today is a day for rain, vanilla cupcakes, meatloaf, painting with Duncan, and the long wait for more pictures of baby Ben. In short, hibernation is the name of the game.

A Healthy Sense of Wonder

Our new friend Ben was born today.  I haven't met him yet; I haven't even seen him yet for that matter, but I hear that he is pretty special.  His arrival has left me nostalgic for our early days with my own son, Duncan, who will turn 2 in 6 days.  How these little people arrive in the world is nothing short of magic, no matter how they get here.  Sometimes, I can't imagine how Jamie, Duncan, or I survived to see him turn 2 given our lack of experience with the whole baby rearing game.  Sometimes, each day feels so long that you can't foresee waking up to do it all over again; then, suddenly, 724 of those days are gone.  Childhood is fleeting.  My eyes have welled with tears all day as I have been completely overwhelmed with love for my beautiful, 2-going-on-20, little boy.  I hope that I can always recapture this feeling.  Especially after he drives my car through the garage door.