I recently finished this sweater for Wyeth. It’s larger, will probably fit next fall. Since the last sweater I knit turned out too small, I’m going with larger sizes. I just don’t have the patience/time to knit swatches for baby sweaters. So they’re going to be big from here on out. This was fun because it was my first real go at using a chart. Excellent because I’m going to revisit the daunting Exeter here in the near future (gave it a go awhile ago and it did not go so well). Ok I’ll be good and swatch for that.
My wrist still gives me some problems but not like it was. Thank you, cortisone shot! So I’m back to knitting frequently. And by that I mean during the evenings while watching Netflix or Amazon with Chris (season 2 of House of Cards right now… OMG). I’m on the sleeve portion of my next sweater for Wyeth. It’s also blue. The kid looks great in blue and I guess I’m in a blue phase because it’s a calming color. I think the next baby sweater will be brown. Got to mix it up… or just use up my stash.
Right now Chris is making pizza and I was knitting, drinking a cocktail, and listening to One Bad Mother before writing this post. The evenings are quiet. The baby goes down and stays asleep for a good 6-8 hours before waking up. If we’re lucky it’s only one time. Thanks for being awesome, baby.
Time to eat. Knit. Sleep.
I promised Elena I’d name my next post Soul Massage.
But for real, don’t you ever feel like you need one? Arranging flowers by myself, when it’s quiet, or sometimes even if it’s loud, everything else gets quiet and I’m in it. Just moving flowers around. Snipping ends. Dripping water everywhere. I don’t feel that way about anything else. Definitely not sewing, which is a huge chore for me and I do only for the finished project. Knitting is fun but it hurts my hands. I can totally zone out with flowers. Love it. There should be more flower arranging soul massage in my life. And I think there will be. I was walking around in the extremely ugly winter garden and noticing signs of life. Tiny crocus, tiny iris, tiny aster (I think?), and even some muscari. Spring! Come on, pretty spring.
Big sigh. The past couple of months have been hard. Full of sleep regressions, irregular napping, sickness, stress, snowed in cabin fever anxiety, weird aversion to a mess (childhood packrat speaking). I’m thankful for the times I get my soul massage. For the few minutes to myself in a day full of taking care of the sweetest little guy who makes me smile more than ever, even when he’s scratching the bejesus out of my face with unmasked glee.
(crazy photo of me and Wyeth by my dad)
You may have heard a mom say, like she would say she was eating lunch later, “I’m a bad mom.” I know I heard it lots even before I became a mother. It’s something I didn’t understand until Wyeth was about 3 months and went through a period of time where we could not get him to sleep in less than three hours of screaming and crying. Nobody was sleeping well. I read a bunch of sleep books all of which I will happily throw into a bonfire because they made me feel like a bad mom because my baby wasn’t sleeping and I was screwing up his sleep for his entire life. That’s a heavy burden for a sleep-deprived hormone-crazed new mother, let alone a normal person. At that point in time I know I said to myself, “I’m a bad mom.” It just made me feel more guilty than I already did.
Don’t worry, I totally got over it. The baby started sleeping better and as a result, so did I. My logic returned. Sanity! But that nagging idea of being a bad mom stayed. What is up with that? It’s such an intense judgement on oneself. It’s heavier than saying “I’m a bad person.” It’s saying “I’m more than a bad person because my mistakes (or my child’s mistakes) have negative consequences on another person therefore I suck worse than anyone else.”
Now some people say it like it ain’t no thing. To you, I say, cut it out! Stop with the excess guilt and shame! Because you know what, you’re trying. I’m trying. Bad decisions are made. Mistakes are simply mistakes. You screw up and so does your kid, so did your parents and their parents. I made bad decisions and mistakes all over the place before I had a kid, and I’m going to continue to do so because I’m human, I’m complicated and I’m imperfect.
Sorry if this is a little ranty, but this has been on my mind a lot. Parenting is so hard (and good, too!). Everybody does it differently and there’s an incredible amount of judgement coming from every corner as well as inwardly. I really feel one of the best things to do is to encourage each other.
No more bad moms!