Prairie Knitter

Levi: Months Three, Four, and Five

2008-06-12T16:13:00.004-05:00

Check this out, dude. I'm going to help myself get caught up on these newsletters by combining THREE months in ONE letter. This is also known as cheating. Or slacking. Either would be true. My excuse is this: Month Three looked an awful lot like Month Two. Colic, check. Homebound, check. Frazzled mama nerves that she'd like to forget, check. Your father and I counted the days until your fourth month, because everything we'd read about colic says that after twelve weeks, a magic fairy sprinkles colicky babies with happy baby dust and everything is suddenly better.

At fourteen weeks, we took you back to the clinic because that stinkin' fairy never showed up. The docs continued to say it was colic or reflux or just, you know, all babies cry, deal with it. Needless to say, you now have a different pediatrician. We finally ended up switching your formula yet again, to a type that breaks down proteins so that babies that have trouble breaking them down don't have to, and lo and behold, we got our different baby! No more hours-long screaming fits, no more arched back and red face, no more prune juice and glycerin suppositories to wiggle out your seven-day bowel movement! Someone should have told us that the magic fairy dust comes in the form of hella expensive formula.

Now don't get me wrong. It's not like nothing great happened during Months Three and Four. You laughed for the first time, you started to enjoy tummy time, and you were finally weaned from using the bouncy seat as a bed. We had tried and tried just laying you in the crib, but every time you would wake and cry and we'd have to soothe you to sleep all over. So I asked your father to think of a way to make the crib vibrate like the bouncy seat, thinking maybe he'd use a neck massage pillow that we had. Instead, he built a vibrating motor out of--get this--a used hand-vac motor and a shaving cream lid, and attached it to the crib frame under the mattress. It worked perfectly. The first time we set you in it, you slept five hours! In a row! In a crib!!! Over the next three weeks, Rick's homemade motor started to die down. The vibration became weaker and weaker, until it just didn't vibrate the mattress any more. And that, Levi, is how you started sleeping in a crib. (And how I came to really respect your father's electrical skillz).

So like I said, it's not that the third and fourth months didn't have their charms, but if anyone ever asks me when colic gets better, I'm not going to get their hopes up. Twelve weeks my ass. I'm going to tell them to hold on until the fifth month. Dude, the fifth month is WHERE IT'S AT. This month you started smiling and laughing so much I really did think you were a different baby. You started rolling onto your side and trying to sit up. You shrieked with glee every time we put you in the Baby Bjorn to go for a walk. And best of all, you finally started to tolerate, and sometimes even enjoy, riding in the car. The first four months we were pretty much homebound, because even if we had been enjoying a relatively calm period, you started to scream the second you were put in the car. It didn't matter what we did or didn't do. We tried everything. And then, one day, you managed a five-minute car ride. Soon, you went on a ten-minute car ride. And by the end of the month, we made a twenty-minute trip! Watch out world--we're real adventurers, you and me! I'm just glad you decided to give the car a shot, before I was forced to scratch the eyes out of the next mother to tell me, "Well, that's strange. My baby just LOVES the car."

One of your major discoveries this month was your feet. I called your dad one day to tell him we had a new reason to be proud of our son, because after days of trying, you had finally managed to fit all five toes of your right foot in your mouth. I have never seen such happiness in my life. But one of the things I have noticed about you, Levi, is that you are not one to bask in the glory of a new accomplishment for long. As soon as you develop a new skill, you want to take it further or you give it up altogether for another one. When you found your hands, you were frustrated that you couldn't get them to your mouth. And once you got them to your mouth, you were upset that they didn't just stay there.

This reminds me of your father. Not that I ever knew him when he couldn't get his hands to his mouth, but the way he is always thinking of The. Next. Big. Thing. When he's climbing a mountain, he's planning the next trip. When he's building a piece of furniture, he's thinking of the next thing he'd like to build. And when he's rewiring a house, he's checking out a book on plumbing. It's wonderful to live with someone so interested in life and learning and doing, and as we approach your father's first Father's Day, I can easily and honestly say that I will be happy for you to inheret his passion and determination. But as your mother, I will always be torn between wanting to fix all your frustrations and understanding that you actually need some frustration so you'll learn how to fix it yourself. When you do, can you help your father build me a kitchen island?

Speaking of knitting...

2008-06-03T10:37:00.003-05:00

I just received an e-newsletter from a yarn company, in which ideas for Father's Day knitting projects were given. Which is awesome, because now I'll have Father's Day 2011 taken care of.

Thanks for all the ideas for small/easy/baby-head-friendly knitting projects, and please feel free to keep them coming. I neglected to mention that I also need to knit from stash for awhile, but I think I have some skeins that will be great for hats, and maybe some short scarves. I loved reading your suggestions, and I'll let you know what I come up with. In 2011.

In which the word "knit" is used in a blog post.

2008-05-20T12:02:00.002-05:00

Knitters, you'd better sit down to read this. Though now that I think of it, most people don't stand at their computer screens. The point is, I have a startling confession to make: I haven't picked up my knitting needles in over five months. That's almost half a year. I'm pretty sure my membership in KnitBlogLand has been revoked. At the very least, I'm probably on probation.

It's not that I've lost an interest in knitting. To the contrary, sitting down to knit sounds absolutely wonderful. It's that sitting down part that's the problem. All y'all mommy knitters out there are my new heroes, because five months in, I'm still having a hard time showering and brushing my teeth every day.

Here's what I need in a knitting project right now:

1. No cables or lace. Not that I would reject anything other than garter or stockinette, but charts are absolutely out of the question as I am still functioning on approximately half the sleep I used to get. I need to memorize the pattern fairly quickly.

2. No socks. I'm afraid I just don't have the sock love, despite the fact that they are great mindless knitting.

3. No baby blankets. I think it would take me a year or two to finish another baby blanket.

4. And because it will take me a long time to finish anything, the project should probably be small and/or relatively quick to knit.

5. I need to be able to stop quickly, in the middle of the row, without confusing myself when I come back to it. Did I mention how tired I am?

So it appears I am now the Picky Knitter. Any suggestions for this sorry excuse for a knitter? I mean, besides washcloths? Did I mention the picky-ness?

Levi: Month Two

2008-05-01T22:57:00.001-05:00

Dude. I just don’t know about these newsletters. At this rate, I won’t finish Levi: Month Four until you’re three years old. I barely have time to look at blogs anymore, let alone write for my own. If you ever need to curb an Internet addiction, Levi, try having a baby.

Well, let’s get to it. Colic. I’ve mentioned it before. Colic, more than the fact that your parents will already be older than most of your friends’ parents, is the reason you will not have any brothers or sisters. Approximately one in five babies is colicky, which means that they cry (or scream) for at least three hours (try five or six) a day at least three days a week (or seven) for weeks on end. It is very difficult to try to help a baby who is screaming for no apparent reason, especially when you love that baby deeply and don’t want to see him unhappy or hurt. And especially when you try everything you can think of (and everything everyone else can think of) to distract him from screaming several hours a day. During the colicky time, it’s hard to imagine that things will ever get better, even though that’s all people ever tell you. You tell them your child screams for seven hours a day, and they say, “It will get better,” not realizing you are so frazzled you can barely figure out how to get through the day, let alone tomorrow or several months from now. All you can see is a future of crying and desperate attempts to stop the crying. You will be the only person you know with a fifteen-year-old who has to be swaddled and rocked to sleep while listening to radio static.

The one thing that really helped us was reading The Happiest Baby on the Block, by Dr. Harvey Karp. The title is a little misleading, because nothing was going to take a baby who screams seven hours a day and turn him into a sleeping angel sitting in his carseat at Starbucks while his mother drinks coffee and chats with a friend. That aside, Dr. Karp is a freakin’ miracle worker. His program of using the “Five S’s”—swaddling, swinging, shushing, side-lying, and sucking—would turn you from a screaming meanie into either a bright-eyed, observant little baby or even better, a sleeping baby. As long as you continued to be swaddled, swung, and shushed while lying on your side and sucking a pacifier, you were one happy dude. And your parents were exhausted.

It was during this month that you decided you could no longer sleep in the crib. After all, the crib didn’t swing. So after a few sleepless days and nights, this became your new bed:

You would only sleep if you were swaddled, danced to sleep, placed in front of a stereo which was blasting radio static at levels so high your father and I could not carry on a conversation, propped up in your bouncy seat, and sucking on a pacifier, which unfortunately, would fall out of your mouth as soon as you fell into a deep sleep, necessitating a return to the whole ritual when you woke up angry. See why colic is a five letter word for birth control? I CANNOT EVER GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN.

The best part of our day was when you woke up in the mornings. Starting around your fifth week of life, you had a good ten or fifteen minutes every morning when we would have a little conversation, me sitting on the floor in front of you in your bouncy seat. I would say a few words like “Good morning Levi!” and you would say something like “Ooooohhh” and then we’d do it all over again before the realization hit you that yes, you would have to live through yet another day, and BAM! The colic was back and I hadn’t even had my coffee yet.

One of my favorite memories of your second month of life occurred one evening around 9pm. The phone rang at exactly the same moment that the tornado sirens started going off outside. Your father answered the phone: it was your grandmother, telling us that we were in a tornado watch and to turn on the radio. I was already tuning into KOMA and the first thing I heard Gary England say was, “It’s right at the corner of Blank and Blank (creative fake street names used to protect you from internet predators)!” Except, this being Gary England, he made this statement with about four exclamation points. And that intersection he mentioned? It was one mile from our house! Your father called out, “Get Levi and put him in the carseat and bring him to the hall closet!” I whipped you up from your bouncy seat/bed and did as I was told while Rick emptied the hall closet. When we were safe and secure in the closet, your father took the mattress from your crib (it’s not like it was being used anyway) and readied it in case we needed to cover ourselves. Then we listened to the radio for further information, only to find out that the “it” that was one mile away…was an area of rotation…that may or may not turn into a funnel…that may or may not touch down as a tornado…and that in fact, had already moved another few miles away from us.

The show was over before it began, Levi, but not for you. Nope. You were ready for a party and it took another hour to convince you that you would not be seeing your first tornado and to please, please go back to sleep. It was this experience, your first Gary England-inspired false-alarm tornado-drill that led your father to really, truly feel like a parent. His first instinct was not to go outside and look for the twister (which is what most Oklahomans do when they hear the tornado sirens), nor was it even to protect his wife. You were the first thing, the most important thing, the only thing on his mind.

Love you, kiddo. Hope you enjoyed the show.

Levi: Month One

2008-04-10T09:39:00.004-05:00

So my plan is to write you a monthly newsletter of sorts, for the first twelve months of your life. Who knows, I might continue after your first birthday, but I hate to commit myself to such a project at this time (especially since I’m already behind). Life is short and unpredictable, Levi. You should live each day as if it's your last, but be sure to save for retirement. Life is also full of mixed messages.

We brought you home from the hospital on New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t it be nice to say that we stayed up with you until midnight and toasted the start of our first year as a family of three while fireworks exploded in the background? Instead, we were all conked out in bed, trying to recuperate from the stay in the hospital. Now I know why some of my patients were so mean to me when I woke them at 2 in the morning for vital signs. Another lesson for you, Levi: don’t go to a hospital expecting to rest.

Predictably, the cats didn’t care for you when you first came home. Loki occasionally sniffed your head, but would run and hide under the bed the second you opened your eyes or had one of those spastic newborn baby arm-flailing moments. Shiva, however, pretended not to notice you. She would walk right past you with nary a glance.

I don’t know how that was possible, since you were such a beautiful little guy. You were born with gorgeous, big, steel blue eyes—not that we got to see them very much at first. You were a good sleeper right from the start. In fact, you slept so much the first week that I often had to wake you up to eat. From your second day of life to the end of the first week, we have few pictures of you with your eyes open.

When you were a week old, however, you started to wake up more. You would often sit and watch the world around you, as long as you had a boob or a finger to suck on. We took you to Hideaway Pizza when you were seven days old, and you behaved very well, sucking on Dad’s finger the whole time and looking around at everything going on.

As I said, you were always a good sleeper. But like all newborns, you didn’t sleep all at one time. You started breastfeeding the first day of your life, and breastfed babies have to eat at least every two to two and a half hours. The key phrase being “at least.” Meaning that at most, a breastfeeding woman only gets about one to one and a half hours of sleep at a time. Meaning I was really effing tired, dude.

I planned on breastfeeding you until you were at least six months old, Levi, and you’ll never really know how sorry I am that it didn’t work out for us. I should have known what I was in for when the lactation consultant checked in with us. She stuck a finger in your mouth to test your sucking ability and proclaimed, “Wow! That’s a strong suck. I’m glad it’s your nipples and not mine!”

Things went downhill from there. After three (and a half! Don’t forget the half!) weeks of bloody nipples, engorgement, clogged milk ducts, finding out that I was only producing half the milk a newborn needs, pumping with a hospital-grade breast pump, hot packs, cold packs, appointment after appointment with the lactation consultants, fenugreek capsules, and finally thrush, I gave up the dream. By this time, I had lost all contact with any male friends and family members I once had, because every time they asked how I was doing, I said something like, “Imagine your testicles are so full of fluid that they are three times their normal size and as hard as rocks. Your scrotum has a small area of skin that is raw, bloody, and has recently started burning like fire every time it is touched. Every two hours, a baby sucks on that area for thirty minutes. THAT’S HOW I’M DOING.”

I felt so guilty for finally stopping breastfeeding. You were born into a family that likes to do stuff the old-fashioned way, Levi. We make our own soap, build our own furniture, knit our own scarves, sew our own backpacks, etc., etc. Of course we would also be committed to feeding babies the old-fashioned way. But THANK GOD for formula. You took to the bottle with glee and vigor and a voraciousness that must be baby for “Thank God someone is finally feeding me!”

Honestly, the first month of your life is kind of blur to me. A foggy-eyed blur of fatigue and uncertainty mixed with the wonderful head rush of caffeine after I stopped breastfeeding. Oh, how coffee helps. Through the blur, I remember how serenely you slept on your father’s chest. How your baby breath felt on my neck. The night that just the two of us were awake at two a.m., watching the lightning flashes during the rainstorm. The way you absorbed your surroundings with your eyes. Your first bath. Your hand curled around my finger. The way the pounds suddenly flew back on you, making both of us healthy once again.

Just in time for colic. But that’s another story.

Reason #1 Why Levi Deserves Your Pity

2008-03-28T11:26:00.000-05:00

I told my son a story today. It went like this:

"Once upon a time, there were three little pigs. They each had to build a house...um, for some reason or other. One of them built a house out of straw, one of them built a house out of...something else...and one of them built his house out of bricks. Then this big bad wolf came and he huffed and puffed and blew the first two houses down. But he couldn't destroy the last house, because it was...um...built out of bricks? And the moral to this story is that, obviously, Mom needs to bone up on her children's stories."

It's the Thought That Counts

2008-03-21T08:58:00.003-05:00

Yesterday morning, I did crunches for the first time in over a year.

And yesterday afternoon? Yesterday afternoon, I ate six spoonfuls of chocolate chip cookie dough.

A Few Observations

2008-03-16T20:55:00.006-05:00

1. My toenails are longer than my fingernails.

2. I hope Levi will learn to bite his fingernails soon, because dude, I just clipped those yesterday and they need it again.

3. It's not just his fingernails that are growing. Take a look at these cheeks. Don't they just call out to be gobbled up?
4. The other day I was asked if I could still remember "life before baby". It's true: I can no longer imagine a life with dental floss, a good night's sleep, or a hot cup of coffee.

5. Until having my own extremely fussy baby, I never really knew what colic was. I will never again react to someone saying their baby has colic with a flippant, "Oh, that must be hard." Instead I will probably start crying with them and suggest that we find a support group. And if you don't know what colic is, dear reader, let me tell you: it is a five letter word for birth control.

6. Knitting? What's that? I think this is a mommy blog now.

7. NPR? What's that? What do you mean that life is going on outside of this house and this baby?

8. Surely not...take a look at this:

9. Baby smiles are magical. They must be to make you forget that you have only had five hours of sleep in the last two days.

10. Swaddling is also cool. And by cool, I mean it's a lifesaver. Hospitals should require that new parents demonstrate a proper swaddle before they can take their babies home. Or at least, they should have required it of me.

11. If you take the "L" at the beginning of "Levi" and move it to the end, you get "Evil". I'm just sayin' is all.

12. I have to go back to work next week. I don't even want to talk about it.

Levi: Day One

2008-03-11T21:16:00.002-05:00

(Warning: This is the longest post I've ever written, and there is no knitting content whatsoever.) :)

Right now, you don't know who Heather Armstrong is, Levi, although I suspect that someday you will because I will warn you to avoid being dooced. She is one of my favorite bloggers, someone whose writings have helped me through the difficult period that has been the first three months of your life. She makes a point to write her daughter a monthly newsletter, and has inspired me to do the same for you, despite the fact that I am not a talented writer. I simply find myself wanting a record of this time in my life, and this seems like a good way to go about it.

So, with that, let’s get started on Month One (we’re currently in Month Three, by the way, but it’s taken me this long to get caught up with life enough to sit down at a computer for more than five minutes). Actually, we’re going to start with Day One, because it was a Really Big Day. At five o’clock in the morning on the last Saturday of December, I started having contractions. At least, I was pretty sure the wave-like pains in my lower back were contractions. Your father and I had gone to childbirth classes for twelve weeks to learn about natural childbirth, the labor process, and how to handle the pain of it all. Little did we know that we wouldn’t have time to put any of our new tricks to use.

I woke your father up and told him about the contractions, and the timing began. For the next several hours, Rick diligently recorded how far apart my contractions were and how long they were. And there was no pattern. I was having contractions five minutes apart, then twelve minutes apart, then eight, then ten, then five again and then eight again. They’d last thirty seconds, and then sixty seconds, and then twenty seconds, and then seventy. I ate breakfast, took a shower. We assumed this was false labor because in real labor, the contractions are supposed to gradually get closer together and longer in duration. Right?

Well, not this time, Levi. After six hours or so of this “false labor”, the contractions suddenly became very painful. Painful in a way that left me nauseous and shaking and completely incoherent. We decided Rick had better get the car ready. Because I had yet to have any contractions closer than four minutes apart, your father said, “Okay, after this next contraction, I’ll go work on the car. I’ll be back within four minutes.” But when he came back, I was already having another wave of serious PAIN. “It’s only been three minutes!” he said. He continued to juggle the tasks of getting the car ready and coaching me through the contractions. I don’t know why—like I said, I was pretty much incoherent—but I still didn’t want to go to the hospital. I kept asking to wait. Your father appeased me until I let out a slow and steady scream during one of the contractions. Finally I agreed that if you have to scream to deal with a contraction, your ass needs to get to the hospital.

We arrived at the front door right at noon, as the tornado sirens screeched their weekly practice call, and hurriedly made our way to the triage area of the maternity ward on the fourth floor, where you are supposed to fill out your paperwork before being admitted. Another laboring woman was ahead of us, sitting in the lone chair at the desk. As another contraction peaked, I yelled out, “Why don’t they have any fucking chairs in this place?” I mention this because although I have quite the sailor’s mouth at home, this is something I would never have done in public had I not been in the greatest pain of my life.

Finally, it was my turn to fill out the admissions forms, but after one look at me, the attendant said, “I’ll just have you fill these out later.” Rick and I were sent to a room, and it seemed like forever before a nurse came to check on me. Finally one arrived and requested a urine sample. I asked your father to come with me to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet for the longest time. I was never able to pee, but all of a sudden, it happened: I had to push. The need was so strong, so intense, I thought I was going to pop you out right there, but I had learned that you could do damage to the uterus by pushing before the cervix is fully dilated, and I had no idea how far I was dilated. I said, “Oh God, I have to push!” and your father said something like, “What? Right now? Don’t do it here!”

I desperately tried not to push, but it was impossible. We made our way back to the triage room, where I was rambling/yelling, “I’m trying not to push, but I can’t stop! I have to push!” Apparently "I have to push" is the magic phrase in a maternity ward, because suddenly three more nurses appeared in the room and gloved up. One of them performed a cervical exam and exclaimed, “She has an anterior lip!” “What does that mean?” I asked, and she looked at me and said, “You’re fully dilated.” Just to make sure, I asked, “Is it alright to push?” When she confirmed that yes, I could push, I cried out, “OH THANK GOD!”

The next thing I knew, my gurney was being wheeled into our actual birthing room. Someone had paged our midwife, Pauline, and thank goodness she was already at the hospital, having just delivered another baby. She was paged at 12:28 pm and arrived soon after. Your father helped hold my legs and my back, encouraging me while Pauline guided me through the second stage of labor. I had hoped to be a strong "natural mom" like the one that I saw give birth during my nursing clinicals—she just grunted a few times and her baby was out. All that screaming only happens in the movies, I thought. I was so wrong about that, Levi. One of the things I learned about myself on this day was that one of my methods of coping with intense PAIN is intense SCREAMING. And that there is no shame in it.

Levi, I want to thank you for making sure that I didn’t have to scream for long. Later on, Pauline complimented you on being in just the perfect position for being born. You were ready, baby boy. Pauline was paged at 12:28 and you born at 12:49. It was a crazy, whirlwind experience, the most intense of my life, but I will never forget how it felt when Pauline placed you on my belly, when I looked at my beautiful baby boy for the first time. I have never been happier, felt stronger, been prouder, or felt more alive than on your birthday. I would not have changed a thing, and I’m so thankful to you and your father for all the help you gave me.

This family is a good team, kiddo. I’m so glad you’re here—and that you weren’t born in that triage toilet.

A happy new year, indeed.

2008-01-20T23:13:00.000-06:00

If I still have any readers out there, I'd like to introduce my son. Levi was born on December 29th, all 6 pounds and 9 ounces of him.

Sorry I haven't posted in a couple months. I was so busy and so pregnant that blogging didn't even enter the radar. Little did I know how busy I would be after Levi was born!

I have the next couple of months off from work. I just plan to spend a lot of time getting to know my son and adjusting to my new life. I can already tell that I won't be spending much (if any) time knitting. Last I checked, knitting requires two hands and I rarely have two hands free these days!

Hope all is well with anyone who still meanders over to this site. I've been assured and reassured by friends and family that someday life at Chez Prairie Knitter will resemble some sort of order again. When that day comes, I'm sure knitting and blogging will resume. Until then, I'm just going to enjoy the time I have with my two favorite guys.

Big and Bad

2007-11-06T10:20:00.000-06:00

The Big Bad Baby Blanket is done! I finished it last Friday, including weaving in all the yarn ends but not including blocking. I figure this blanket will get washed plenty of times in its lifetime.

The Big Bad Baby Blanket certainly turned out big. I've already discussed my inability to determine the amount of yarn this blanket takes, but I don't think I mentioned the fact that I never did a gauge check while knitting this either. It's a blanket, for crying out loud. How big can it get? Apparently, it can get really big. This is about 36" by 36", sans blocking. This will be one warm baby.

I would so love to model this blanket with an actual baby, but since mine is still baking, I decided to get some swaddle practice in with this teddy bear.

And here's the blankie chillin' with the bear and some baby books. I'm glad that train knew I could do it. I was getting a little nervous myself.

Not for the squeamish.

2007-11-01T22:25:00.000-05:00

I never knew it, but apparently, Loki is a hard-core Halloween fan. She took her costume for Franken-kitty very seriously. She went so far as to have minor surgery for it.

Too bad she was one day off and there was no one to show off to except Shiva. So now she will be spending the weekend recuperating, chewing on my knitting needles when I'm not looking, and planning next year's costume.

Thank God for Halloween Candy

2007-10-30T10:27:00.000-05:00

The Big Bad Baby Blanket is truly starting to live up to its name. I don't understand it. No matter how much I knit on it, I never finish. I haven't even made it to the last seed stitch border. I measure to see how much further to the border, and it looks like about two inches. I knit for two hours, measure again, and....I still need two inches.

The kicker is that this baby is probably going to prefer some little Sponge Bob blanket to this cashmere-blend blanket 'o luxury, anyway. I think I'll knit some hats after this.

We interrupt this blog for a big thank you.

2007-10-27T10:07:00.000-05:00

It's still crazy-land around here, what with the twelve-day work weeks and the housework and oh yeah, did I mention that someone in Illinois stole my bank card number and went on a $4,000 shopping spree?

It's the weekend now and all is better, and I just wanted to say thanks for all the kind comments on my last post. I'm glad you guys liked the pictures, and thanks so much for all the encouragement. I really have had a great time during this pregnancy, and I'm not hurt by the comments I've received about my weight so much as I am flabbergasted that people feel comfortable making such comments! But as my mom and I were saying last night, this is probably just the beginning. Some people will always let their opinions be known, whether it's that you are gaining too much weight during your pregnancy, or that you should just let that baby cry himself to sleep, or that your child should really be toilet-trained by now. Someone will always be there to criticize you.

There are so many reasons that I enjoy having a blog, but one of the biggest is the interaction it allows with other knitters, bloggers, knit-bloggers, and knit-blog-readers. I don't think I've ever encountered a negative comment left on my blog. And whether it's knitting-related or not, it's just wonderful to hear so many supportive voices.

Thanks again.

Big and Proud

2007-10-17T21:42:00.001-05:00

Despite the fact that my weight gain has been right on target throughout my pregnancy, people seem shocked by how big I'm becoming--or I guess I should say, by how big we're becoming. What's shocking to me, on the other hand, is how quick they are to tell me about it.

A sampling of recent comments made (to my face!):

"Wow! You're really big!"

"Wow! It's like you just EXPLODED overnight!"

"Oh my God, you are HUGE!"

"Andrea wasn't as big at nine months as you are now!"

"You are ALL belly."

"Wow...look at...that....."

And yesterday I finally received:

"Are you having twins?"

Um, no, I am not having twins. Are you having a momentary lapse of reason, in which you no longer recall how to engage in normal polite conversation? In which it is not acceptable to loudly proclaim how large someone is?

To you I say:

Yes, I am big. And I'm quite enjoying it, thankyouverymuch. Neener neener.

My wonderful friend Nanda graciously agreed to take portraits of Rick and me, so last weekend we drove up to Cowtown and had a blast playing in the prairie. I absolutely love the photos and can't wait to get some printed out for an album. My mom only has two or three pictures from her entire pregnancy, and I've always thought that was a shame. Maybe because my own pregnancy has been such a great experience, I don't know, but I wanted to have some nice shots celebrating this time in our lives. Thank you, Nanda, for such a fun time, and for letting us take advantage of your talent. Y'all can check out several of the shots here. And I'm sure I'll be posting more of them every so often, too--just because I want to.

Neener neener.

Willpower? What willpower?

2007-10-10T10:22:00.000-05:00

You know, part of me really thought I could stay away from Ravelry until the baby was born. Now that I'm on it, I realize it's better this way. Hopefully I can get some of it out of my system before January so the little one won't have abandonment issues.

Username: prairieknittah

Come find me!

Musings of the day

2007-10-07T17:12:00.000-05:00

Today is World Communion Sunday. In my limited church knowledge, I guess that means that more churches observe Communion today than on any other day of the year. My own church does not observe Communion every week, but it does commune once a month (and on World Communion Sunday).

My husband is going to be in charge of the monthly communions at our church next year, and needed to be at church for both services, as well as before and after the services, to see what all "being in charge" entails. As you all know by now, I am a very selfish person. My first reaction was something along the lines of "Well, what am I going to do at church for four hours while you're doing Communion?"

To which Rick wisely responded, "Can't you take your knitting?"

Thus, I was mollified into getting to church at 8am this morning, confident that I could get several rows in on the baby blanket while Rick learned his new duties. Except that once I got to church and started seeing people I hadn't seen for a couple weeks, I quickly forgot my knitting and started working on Communion myself. Tricksy church folks, making Katie forget her knitting!

Normally, I get a little peeved when expected knitting time does not come into fruition. Like most busy knitters, I don't get to knit nearly as often as I want. My knitting time is precious to me. In fact, any "alone" time is precious to me, and I am often not a very social creature at all. But today, I didn't seem to care. Communion started when I got to church, and continued as I took the bread and cup with my fellow church-goers, and as I washed the cups after service. To me, communion is a time of mindfulness, of living fully in the present, aware of my surroundings and my senses. I don't necessarily feel closer to God during this ritual. But today, as I took the bread and cup with everyone else, Communion was different. Perhaps it was because I had a hand in preparing that bread and filling those cups, or perhaps it was because my son, unbeknownst to him, was experiencing this ritual with me. Perhaps it was because my husband served me communion today, and I am so proud of Rick all the time that I get weepy if I even start to talk about it. I felt close to everyone in the pews today, and thus, closer to God.

I'm learning to enjoy rituals of the church, for the different ways they can affect you when you least expect it. Perhaps it just requires a certain willingness to give up your own desires and share your time with others...for a short while, anyway.

Oh the dilemna

2007-10-02T12:11:00.000-05:00

There's just something about October. Even if the temperatures are still in the 80's, I just feel better because it's October. Of course, I'd have been feeling good this last month too if I hadn't been too cheap to buy a pair of maternity shorts. Most of the summer, I hadn't gained enough weight to need new shorts, so I just bought some capris and some jeans. When my weight suddenly exploded in September, there was no way I was spending money on a pair of shorts that I would only wear this one month and then have to give away, when I could just....wear Rick's shorts!

Yeah. Real attractive. I guess it worked for all those weekend days spent cleaning out closets, but still. I'll be happier in my maternity jeans in cooler temperatures.

So...in case anyone out there is still interested in the mind-boggling awesomeness that is my life right now, here are the updates:

1. Rick and our friend Adam have completely finished rewiring the house. After only three years, we no longer have to run extension wires all through the house for internet access! Woohoo!

2. The baby's room is completely cleaned out.

3. The baby blanket is about 75% done.

We have soooooo many more projects left to do before January. So many that I probably won't be getting much knitting or blogging done. So wouldn't you know it? My invitation to Ravelry came in. I've been avoiding it for about a week, but I know I won't be able to resist much longer. And then? Then? The only thing that will be able to tear me away from my computer will be the start of labor.

Random Friday

2007-09-21T09:50:00.000-05:00

1. Kay! This one's for you! I'm due the first week of January.

2. Here's our newest portrait of the little boy:

3. Do you guys read Crazy Aunt Purl? I love her. And I kinda sorta followed her lead in making August a month of intense house cleaning. Except that my month spilled over into September, and while she was busy ripping up carpet and sanding wood floors, I was congratulating myself on getting laundry done from last winter.

I've been trying to get the house in order for when the baby comes. Since it's just been Rick and me for sooooo long, our house is far from baby-proof. And also, we live in a small, two bedroom house. One of those bedrooms is being converted from a home office/hobby room/media center/complete junk room into a baby room. I love our small old house in a way that is probably completely irrational, given that it has bricks falling down in the chimney and other such delights, but it is definitely a challenge keeping a small house organized. This cleaning spree has been time-consuming, to say the least, but sometimes, it's really fun to turn inward and just get your house (and your life) in order. (I think this is what they call nesting). Although it probably hasn't been very fun being married to me lately. "What do you mean you want to go to a movie on Friday night? I was planning on organizing the file cabinets on Friday night!"

Life in the fast lane, yo.

4. Last weekend, I scooped up all my yarn from all over the house, organized it by weight, and stored it underneath the bed.

Shiva helped me organize...until it all became too tiring.

5. Still waiting on yarn....do you guys think I'll finish this baby blanket before January?

6. Rick's really been into lightweight backpacking lately (as opposed to the ridiculously heavy backpacking that was required for Denali), and wanted to learn to sew his own backpacking supplies out of super lightweight materials. Always one to support my husband, I bought him sewing lessons back in July. Check out one of Rick's first projects:

It's an incredibly lightweight backpack, complete with drawstrings and adjustable shoulder straps. Isn't he talented? Thank God Rick's never shown an interest in knitting. His first project would probably an intricate lace shawl and I'd never be able to pick up needles again.

7. Actually, it's just six. That's all I got! Hopefully I'll hit my blogging groove again this fall. In the meantime, I'm just enjoying what I'm doing. Hope y'all are, too.

Third Time's the Charm

2007-09-12T10:44:00.000-05:00

So much for that promise to blog more. Sorry I lied to you, Online Yarn Store. You know what else I'm sorry about? I have knit the Big Bad Baby Blanket from Stitch 'N Bitch (good guess, readers!) twice before, and each time I have used a different yarn than is called for in the pattern. Mainly because I hate knitting with two strands of yarn held together, but also because knitting with two strands of Koigu together? While this would be wonderful, I'm pretty sure it would also be The Most Expensive Baby Blanket Known To Man. Anyway, I have always substituted a worsted weight yarn and recalculated the total amount of yarn I would need. And each time, I have underestimated that amount. By almost half. Because I'm that good at math.

Do you think I considered this bit of history when I ordered yarn for this Big Bad Baby Blanket? That's what I'm sorry about. Because now I'm waiting on yarn from Online Yarn Store again.

So last night, I made an addendum to my Stitch 'N Bitch:

Hopefully I'll learn this time.

All better.

2007-08-21T20:45:00.000-05:00

Yarn arrived.

Project started.
Crisis averted.

I need my fix.

2007-08-16T17:11:00.000-05:00

Dear Online Yarn Store,

Hi. Do you remember me? One week ago, I ordered a large amount of yarn from you. You said I would have my crack--excuse me, my yarn--in two to three business days. It has been six. Now I know what you're thinking. That so-called knittah isn't in any rush to get her new yarn. After all, she's only knit one baby hat and one sock all summer long. And she can't even be bothered to update her blog regularly.

But, listen here, Online-Yarn-Store-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. All it took to light the fire under my knitting needles was to click "Confirm Order" on your site. I'm itching to knit, but I can't. The stash yarn just won't do. So every day that I go without my new yarn, you are assuming more of the blame for my less than productive summer. Because I'm sure that if my yarn was here, I would knit it. And, um, I'd also blog more, too. Now please release my hostage yarn.

Thank you.

Prairie Knitter

Boy Parts

2007-08-02T18:11:00.000-05:00

Per Nanda's request, here are some pictures of yesterday's ultrasound.

Can y'all see what that arrow in the second picture is pointing to? The title of that shot gives it away (and cracks me up). It's a boy!

Our little boy, who is currently nameless (oh, how I wish I liked the name Harry better), already has his first knit hat. I'm sure he will one day be inundated with OU clothing from the rest of my family, but I think this hat more accurately represents the family into which he will be born.

Pattern: Umbilical Cord Hat, by Jennifer L. Jones, in Stitch 'N Bitch

Apple Motif: from Tech Guy Socks, by Alison Hansel, MagKnits February 2006

Yarn: Caron Simply Soft from the stash

I may be so computer illiterate that I had to take pictures of my ultrasound pics instead of using the scanner, but I am married to a computer geek and am just geek enough to knit an Apple logo! Poor baby doesn't stand a chance!

Is it bad to start re-reading a book less than a week after you just read it?

2007-07-25T17:29:00.000-05:00

So I have been sitting at my computer for the last half hour, trying to come up with a post-Book 7 blog post. I got nothin'. It's silly to some people, I'm sure, but this series of books means a lot to me, and nothing that I write seems to do my feelings justice (like saying the series means a lot to me). Also, I'm finding that it's quite boring to write a vague and non-spoilerific review, but once I get going and start talking about the book, I can't help but bring in spoilers. Which is completely against Katie morals. In the book of Katie morals, people who give out spoilers are right up there with Voldemort in terms of evilness.

Instead, I'll just say, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

And also, I'll ask a question. Is it just because it's summer, or is there some pathological reason why I cannot finish a pair of socks? I haven't even started the second sock of my Fawkes socks, nor touched the first of my mom's green pair. I'm blaming it on summer. It's kind of hard to get excited about wool socks right now. Especially with this wonderful book to re-read.

A fan's gotta represent.

2007-07-20T21:09:00.000-05:00

Tonight kicks off my weekend 'o Harry. The last ever of self-indulgent weekends spent devouring the newest installment of Harry Potter, avoiding all media sources for fear of spoilers, and being elated by JKR's twists and turns (like when Snape became the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, instead of Slughorn, I absolutely did not see that coming). *sigh*

Anyway, I didn't finish my Fawkes socks in time for the book release (surprise, surprise), but I did finish the first sock. Tonight. One hour ago, to be honest (And do y'all think I'll ever get to a point where I don't have to look up Kitchener stitch to finish off the sock? Me neither). And since 1) I won't be wearing a pair of Fawkes socks to support my Order members, and 2) I refuse to wear a Gryffindor scarf in the middle of summer, I have decided to pair up my lonely Fawkes sock with one of the purple socks I knit earlier this year to make a pair of mismatched socks that Dobby would be proud of.

Hope everyone who is reading the book has a good weekend. But keep your Kleenex handy.