MommyCoddle

knitting for baby

Sorry if this blog is being overtaken by baby talk. But at this point, after a midwife check-up this morning where she thought the baby was weighing in at about 9 pounds, "baby" is about all that's on my mind. Well, baby and how hard it is to bend over and pick up toys, and put on my socks, and get the laundry out of the very back of the dryer, and roll over in bed to switch sides. You know, important thoughts like that.

They say that as you go down the line, each child becomes less and less spoiled or something like that. Fourth baby. No baby shower. No registry. Using the same crib linens. The same outfits, the same car seat…But if this baby ever tries to whine to me about the woes of being fourth, I will gladly point him or her in the direction of these blog posts. Because if nothing else, this baby is being spoiled with knitted goods.

I don't know if it was the Olympics, which provides the perfect background for knitting. Or the winter pregnancy, or what, but I'm knitting more for this baby, then I have for any of my other children.

The first fully finished project to come off my needles are these cute baby britches. I found them on ravelry–another dangerous place to hang out when you're expecting–they are the Kanoko Pants, and I loved knitting them.

I also discovered something very important about myself as a knitter while working on them. I have always thought I was the kind of knitter who needed mindless, "knit while you watch TV" kinds of projects. But the changing patterns in these pants kept me interested and moving along quickly. I was always anxious to get the next section and before I knew it, they were done. It was such an enlightening experience! And it has completely changed what types of patterns I look at now.

Now I just wish I had a cute baby bum to slip these pants over!

Sorry if this blog is being overtaken by baby talk. But at this point, after a midwife check-up this morning where she thought the baby was weighing in at about 9 pounds, “baby” is about all that’s on my mind. Well, baby and how hard it is to bend over and pick up toys, and put on my socks, and get the laundry out of the very back of the dryer, and roll over in bed to switch sides. You know, important thoughts like that.
They say that as you go down the line, each child becomes less and less spoiled or something like that. Fourth baby. No baby shower although I have looked through some Baby Shower Venues. No registry. Using the same crib linens. The same outfits, the same car seat…But if this baby ever tries to whine to me about the woes of being fourth, I will gladly point him or her in the direction of these blog posts. Because if nothing else, this baby is being spoiled with knitted goods.

I don’t know if it was the Olympics, which provides the perfect background for knitting. Or the winter pregnancy, or what, but I’m knitting more for this baby, then I have for any of my other children.

The first fully finished project to come off my needles are these cute baby britches. I found them on ravelry–another dangerous place to hang out when you’re expecting–they are the Kanoko Pants, and I loved knitting them.

I also discovered something very important about myself as a knitter while working on them. I have always thought I was the kind of knitter who needed mindless, “knit while you watch TV” kinds of projects. But the changing patterns in these pants kept me interested and moving along quickly. I was always anxious to get the next section and before I knew it, they were done. It was such an enlightening experience! And it has completely changed what types of patterns I look at now.

Now I just wish I had a cute baby bum to slip these pants over!

19 Comments

a bun in the oven

Yes, there is still a bun in my oven. My disappearance is due to "nesting" vs. a new little babe in our home.

And equally exciting, okay not equally, but still exciting, is that there is now a working oven back in the mommycoddle kitchen! It has been so long that when I sat down this morning to plan meals for the week, I couldn't think of anything that didn't require only the use of the stovetop. I'm definitely out of practice.

I am very close to being able to utter those three little words : "I Am Ready". But there is still a short list of things that I'd like to accomplish before the baby arrives.

In a last minute burst of enthusiasm and inspiration, Dan and I are talking about painting the old baby crib versus using one that was given to us. Thumbing through old issues of Martha Stewart baby can be a very dangerous thing when you are nesting.

I truly mourn the loss of MS Baby and Kids. They were full of so much inspiration. These are a few clipped pages from and old MS Baby. And two are the nursery style that has always been in the back of my mind as I decorate and prepare my baby's rooms. Timeless. Simple. Peaceful.

Hope your Monday is full of inspiration and sun, as it is here. Spring must be around the corner — my yard is littered with bicycles, skateboards and chalk. And the chickens are doing a good job of scratching through my dormant flower beds.

Happy Monday, friends.

Yes, there is still a bun in my oven. My disappearance is due to "nesting" vs. a new little babe in our home.

I am very close to being able to utter those three little words : "I Am Ready". But there is still a short list of things that I'd like to accomplish before the baby arrives.

Happy Monday, friends.

18 Comments

FAITH / family / LIVING WELL / MOTHERHOOD

motherhood

With all the baby talk around here, it seemed somewhat appropriate that this mama would drop her calf yesterday morning, just inside the fence on the edge of our property. She belongs to our neighbor, but my girls "adopt" these calves as if they were our own.

There was much concern over this calf. Lots of checking in. Lots of reports coming in to me in the house. And a handful of stern warnings from me about nervous mama cows who need to protect their new calves. And the flimsy piece of barbed wire standing between you and that mama.

The patient nudging of this mama cow reminded me of where I was last week in my feelings about motherhood. I found myself in another season of feeling at the end of my rope. Feeling like nothing I was saying or doing was making a difference. Feeling like I somehow was failing at guiding my children in the right direction. Feeling like none of my children were inherently wanting to make the right and good decisions. Feeling like I had a house full of attitudes, that unfortunately and embarrassingly, probably matched my own.

I shot an email to my husband at work — what do I do? How do I handle this? What should I say to them?

He gave me a few ideas. But a few minutes later he wrote me another email. Just remember, he said, it takes a long time to train a child. It’s like doing the dinner dishes. I get upset at the girl’s lack of attention but they are slowly (very slowly) getting better. It will take time for them to get in the habit of doing the job with the right amount of focus. Then it will take a while for them to learn how to do it right. Then it will take a while for them to anticipate what comes next so I won’t have to tell them. But this all takes time.

I keep reminding myself of that first and last line. It takes a long time to guide and train my children. This all takes time.

Telling them once, doesn't equal a change in heart or an automatic change in the way they do things. They need to be reminded. Reminded again. Taught. Shown. Guided. Encouraged. And reminded again.

Change comes. But it often comes slowly. Much more slowly than I'm willing to allow. But it does come, and is coming, if I look closely.

If I give up, get frustrated, get angry, then no one is learning anything except the wrong way to handle a situation that requires resilience and endurance. And I wonder why I'm not seeing any change.

But the changes are there.

They're not leaving the sofa cushions on the floor when they're done.

The boots are (generally) making it back into the boot box.

She's trying to walk away from the situation instead of reacting in anger.

They're drying the dishes without complaining and reminding.

She's talking it out with her sister, before raising her voice. Sometimes.

This all takes times.

It is the mantra that breathes an extra portion of patience into my mothering.