Le sigh

Repeat: you already have a baby.

But! Sewing for baby girls…. Sweetness.

Pattern: Itty bitty baby dress

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The tween times

A moment here, a moment there. That’s really all there is these days. A moment to love on each child, to assure them that mama is devoted wholeheartedly to each of them as individuals; a moment dedicated to my professional career; a moment to share a glass of wine with my husband.

In between these moments, I knit a stitch here, a stitch there. And slowly but surely, items are completed…. Thankfully. Knitting is so therapeutic.


A little hat and vest for a new addition to our extended family. That hat looks absurdly large compared to that vest… We’ll see how that works…. Then again, babies have disproportionately large heads, right? And thusly I justify them and into the mail they go.


A slouchy hat for a brother in colder climes. This I wanted to keep. He’s notorious for returning gifts and I thought perhaps it would find its way back to me. I would then feign disappointment and gleefully put it on my noggin. But no. He’s keeping it. Ah well. I have to say, it makes me happy!

I miss sewing but rarely find time to sit with it. Sewing is faster, certainly, so why do I gravitate to the knitting? I suppose because it’s portable?

The wind is howling outside. A cup of tea, some yarn, a babe or two or three to read to… Yes. That sounds good.

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Yes. A lot of time has passed since I last wrote. It’s something I don’t have much of, something that I envy.

My birthday is coming up. Prior to having kids, it never meant much. Well, it meant something probably until I was 25, when you could rent a car at a lower rate, ha. After that, the next milestone is what? 65? Is that retirement age? Anyhow, age is something I never really felt. It used to be that not much changed the currents of my life. One day would bleed into the next. Now though? I feel age in its delicate balance.

Children. They only grow. And this growth is fascinating and mesmerizing. It is brilliant. I see how each new day is truly new. Each day brings new revelations, new maturity. And it brings with it the stark realization that you have each day once. Only once.

Age. I feel it. Its poignant pull.

I spoke with my dad today. I asked him if he ever thought and wondered what life had been for him, what life could have been. I asked, holding my newborn son in my arms, staring down another birthday. He told me that I had a few years left before I could really look back on life. Till then, go forward.

This life. There is only this one. Go forward indeed.


In bullets:

– yes! Another baby has joined our family! What a joy he has been. I’m a blessed mama.
– gingerbread lattes! Love them.
– viruses! Hate them.
– knitting is so fun but why is the finishing, eg weaving in of ends, such a killjoy?
– sewing! I miss it. I need to get back to that quickly, especially since a certain little miss has requested a certain costume.

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And so it begins. Lil miss starts kindergarten tomorrow. Or today, rather.

Where did the time go? And who thought royal blue and khaki only were the way to go? Only royal blue tops and khaki bottoms/jumpers. White undershirt allowed. Nothing else.

I assume button loops and buttons are excluded… And that khaki lace is ok.

(Haha… This is where a photo is supposed to go. You know , if someone hadn’t forgotten their Flickr information.)

Tomorrow. My goodness. Hopefully more typing to come.

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nine years

i pull up my laptop onto the desk and fold my legs underneath me.  life has gotten busy, with an unexpected increase in work.  it’s good… keeps me engaged and interested.  i struggle to breathe, as my screen comes alive.  this cold has decidedly taken over half my face.  i miss having both sides of my face.  i miss breathing normally. dratted cold.

my email starts beeping in, a litany of reminders and asks. i reach for my mug and realize it still has the bitter dregs from yesterday’s tea.  i push it away, faintly hoping that a magic pixie will clean it for me.  and bring me a hot cup of tea as well.

a girl can dream, right?

i dream, still, of having you here, umma.  it’s been nine years.  nine.  i still remember vividly all that unfolded in those days preceding and proceeding today.  then, it felt like a bad tv show, one i couldn’t turn off.  as if every channel was playing the same show.  

it’s become easier over the years to chase those memories and tears with celebration.  celebrating all the beautiful things that you were, to me and to those around you. 

i still dream about what your words to me would be, one mother to another. one mother to a daughter.  i dream about the words and stories that you would have shared with my children. i dream about those eyes.  those crinkly eyes, dancing with the security of knowing that her life is secured and anchored in His grace.  eyes that dance with love for her family by extension.

i dream about sitting on a stool in the kitchen, watching your hands transform humble ingredients into chopsticks-scrape-the-plate good meals.  the conversations over a busy stove.

i miss you.  my children… i wish you could have met them.  i trust that you’re watching over them from your heavenly perch.  love, miss, and celebrate you.

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Laptop + iced chai + knitting = perfect work day.


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so, let’s say that it’s late at night and you have to get ready for the next day – a day where you have to leave early to catch a train for an out of town work meeting. you blearily reach for your (decaf) coffee, strain your eyes at the laptop, and finish up the last touches to your presentation. you straighten up the house, get lunches packed, pick out clothes for the little ones. and also for you. on second thought, you don’t because you can’t think about what might possibly match with what.

you pack up your computer, notebooks, and other things. you look at your knitting WIP and reach for it. darn it. it’s a sweater and, really, not that practical to stuff into your already full purse. instead, you pack up your kindle. it’s been a while anyway and you need to spread the love, right?

next morning.

whoa! you have an entire extra hour before your train leaves, thanks to a last minute meeting time change. what do you do?


this. this is what you do. you look at your kindle apologetically… well, just a little. then, you figure out which combination of yarn shop and train station fits within the train schedule and you GO. once at the store, you run in, grab a sock yarn, wind it, buy some needles.

Emergency project

celebrate your success with some bonus car knitting. ah. now things feel right. choo choo away.

(yarn: wullenstudio’s sock yarn in “here comes the sun”)

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