Looking For Spring: Random Thursday

We've been quiet here at Chez Sarah these days. Mostly we're hanging on, waiting for winter to finally end. We've had some days that looked promising, but I have a feeling we're going to get whipped back into winter in another week.

It was 40 degrees today and I was in my garage, spray painting a headboard for Anna's Big Girl Bed. Anna was dressed in her hat, coat, mittens, and rain pants. I was chilly in a long sleeve shirt and some bib overalls that I swear used to fit me when I was in college. She was running up and down our driveway, describing to me in detail everything she was doing and everything she saw. She came up the driveway and went around the corner of the garage where the rain gutters leak onto the walkway to the house. I heard a muffled cry and I put the spray can down to see what had happened. Anna was sitting on the wet ice with her legs bent every which way. I asked her if she was hurt and she sighed and said no. As I was helping her up and over the thick ice she said, "I'm tired of the Slippery Season, Mommy."

I know, Honey. I know.

The headboard isn't going to work out, by the way. I had it all painted and put up in Anna's room when I came upstairs to make up the bed. I guess it had been too wet or too cold when I painted it because the paint was coming off in big flakes. The paint can says that it should be warmer than 50 degrees with lower-than-raining humidity for the paint to work best. I guess that means I have to wait until JUNE before I'm allowed to spray paint anything. I love living in Minnesota, but LORD the weather is discouraging.

Another random Bit of Nothing: A week ago or so we were having another one of these strange half-thaw sorts of days and I sent the kids out to play. A day later the Twin Cities was hit with a heavy snowstorm that landed inches and inches of snow within a few hours. I was so glad I had kicked their butts outside when the weather was nice until I heard Peter getting them dressed up to go play in the fresh snow.

"Where are your yarn mittens?"

"Outside."

"Outside? Where did you leave them outside?"

"I don't know. By the tree?"

We look helplessly out the window at the SEVEN INCHES of fresh snow that lay on the ground where only mud and ice had been the day before.

Some days I'm not sure God really meant for people to live here, but that doesn't stop us from trying.

Who Would Have Thought

When it grows dark outside, my kids have a game they like to play called "Darkness". It usually consists of them running around the house in the near dark with wind-up flashlights playing whatever games occur to them at the time.

Tonight they insisted on near total darkness, despite the fact that they couldn't find their flashlights. They are pretending to be bats, which consists in them running from one side of the house to the other while saying "Bats!" over and over.

Really what I want to do right now, aside from enjoying their (repetitive) game, is to knit this little dishcloth I started today. Who would have thought a 32 year old woman, in her own home, would knit in the dark with only the glow of a computer screen because two little people want to pretend they are bats in the dark?

Size Matters

Lately I've been feeling cramped in our house. We've lived here for over eight years and I don't remember ever feeling so penned in.

We bought our house when we had been married less than a year. It felt unwieldy then. The two of us rattled around wondering what we were doing with so much space. We hoped to fill it up with a few children, so we enjoyed the space while we could.

Thomas came along and our house grew a little smaller. We still had plenty of space, but our house was starting to feel like a better fit. One of the rooms upstairs went from being an office to a nursery and everything was great.

Then Thomas grew and little Anna came along. The last office disappeared and Thomas was moved from the nursery into the bedroom next door. Our den/guest room on the main floor turned into a playroom and the house started fitting a little more snugly.

I know that this house is going to feel smaller before it starts to feel bigger again. The kids will start taking up even more room as they grow and develop new interests. And in truth, by modern standards, this 1959 home is on the small side. But we don't want to leave. Financially, this house is a good fit for us, we like our neighborhood, and we have friends nearby.

We aren't a family that is prone to clutter, though the kids create storage difficulties of their own. Our basement is full of out-grown clothes that will once again be useful. Small children seem to require some amount of variety in the toys that are available to them, particularly when they spend very little time absorbed in videos.

I keep wandering around our house trying to figure out what I can get rid of to create some more space in which to live. I eye our little upright piano speculatively ("Perhaps they could learn to play the violin instead?") and I make routine passes through the toy room to weed out underused playthings. I try to discard any kitchen accessories that don't get used regularly.

What else can I do? What are some of your space-making tricks?

In Praise of Garter Stitch

God, I love garter stitch.

There's nothing like a little garter-y goodness to just mellow a person out. Knit, knit, knit, Turn, knit, knit, knit. It's just so good and entirely satisfying.

This week I've felt like I've had a burr mill grinding in my head. There's no very good reason, I suppose, but sometimes things get stressful for me very quickly and I don't have the time I need to relax and let it go. These times are often referred to as "Dinner Prep" time or "No Nap for Thomas" time. I'll start the day just fine, but after a couple of hours of trying to get Thomas to be quiet for two minutes together I get stressed out and worn down.

This week I have discovered that nothing takes the edge off like a little garter stitch. And whiskey. Perhaps a lot of whiskey. Just kidding. Now quit looking at me like that. Stop.

My good friend is expecting a baby at any minute. While I've already finished the sweater and other Standard Baby Accessories, I've been giving a lot of attention to the modern Baby Bib in Mason-Dixon Knitting. It started as a way to kill time while eagerly awaiting the arrival of Baby Nuevo and has blossomed into a full fledged garter stitch obsession. Elizabeth Zimmermann was a smart woman. I love wool with an undying love, but there's a new flame in my heart that burns all the quicker for being made of cotton. Cotton garter stitch has seen me through this week of winter-blues like a hired professional. And cotton garter stitch makes a darn fine bib.

This weekend I hope to take a nap and contemplate how it is that I've never realized before how great garter stitch is. I wonder why it's been so much more comforting than knitting in the round. I am usually a big fan of knitting in the round and turn to it first for Knitting-type Comfort, but this Garter Stitch Fling has been something else altogether. After I've pondered these mysteries I plan on eating some fresh baked bread and drinking some water--you know, for a change.

Have a good weekend!

Some Day She'll Live in Miami

Anna went outside to help P shovel some snow. She came back in after two minutes outside.

"I don't like snow. Throw it in da garbage!"

The Winter of My Discontent

I used to like winter. Love it, really. I went to college in Duluth, Minnesota and never once flinched at a snowdrift, not even when winter was nine months long and the drifts reached the dorm roof. I didn't mind the layers, the bulky clothes, the hats, mittens or any of it. I never really minded the mess that comes from months of dirty snow and salt piling up along roads or crusting up under cars. It just feels good to not be hot. Who could mind a little freezing rain?

And then I had kids. And winter became a whole new ballgame. Yeah, you know what this post is going to be about. It's February. It's time.

This has really been the winter that has made me hate the whole season. This winter will last nine months long, if it doesn't see me in my grave before the end of it. This is the year I've come to understand that Cabinus Feverus is a horrible virus and it can wipe out whole communities. I'm about to paint a black X over my door: "Pass ye not this way". I'd tell you to stick a fork in me, but I'm frozen solid and you'd likely break your fork.

I don't know what the average temperature has been this winter, but it's been hovering around Negative Below Freeze Your Butt Off. I actually feel like I'll never be warm again. Usually in January I start getting sick of being cold and will start nudging the thermostat up a degree or two. This year I haven't bothered because there simply is no hope for frostbitten limbs. I'll simply have to wait for my nose and fingers to fall off like the cat's tail did that one horrible winter back in '88. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been petting her at the time.

The reason the cold has been such an issue this winter is because it's been too cold to send the kids outside. Which means that we're starting ColdWatch: Week 6--weeks and weeks of not. going. outside. for anything but the mail and a quick trip to the grocery store. My children are 2 and 4. I'm not sure I can fully illustrate what this means for them, but for me I can safely say that I most closely resemble a surly black bear covered with the matted hair and filth of a winter's slumber. Only this bear didn't get to hibernate and had to change diapers and entertain whiny cubs instead. Lord, I hate it when the cubs whine.

It's snowing again as luck would have it and I'm about half way out my door now with my hair drier. I need an extention cord first, but I'm going to see if I can do something about the weather. At least you don't have to shovel rain.


*********

I can't say much for their logic, but you can't fault their humor.
Minnesotans for Global Warming

Well, to be fair, it's really just the Global Warming Song video that's actually funny. Though I have no idea why the main guy speaks with a southern accent.

How I Came To Be The Smelly Weekend-Shopper

My poor little bunny has been sick. I won't disgust you with the details here, since if you've talked to me at any point in the last three days it's likely you've heard it already. P and I were hoping that the vomiting and other, ahem, symptoms were caused by the cold she's had the last couple of weeks.

Not so much.

Turns out she has a rotavirus. This meant a lot of projectile vomiting and other intestinal "upset"for our family this weekend. Yuck. I was extremely worried (read: frantically panicked) that it would spread to the rest of the family, particularly T, and that I would spend Christmas cleaning poop and vomit off of every horizontal surface in the house. We were beyond relieved to find out that once you've had it you don't usually get it again and T had it once a year ago.

We shipped T off to my parents' house Saturday night. A was so sick that it was best for everyone if P and I could just focus on her, keeping her and the laundry clean, and putting out fires as they erupted. We spent the afternoon at After-Hours Clinic. Our charming daughter did very well, including the part of the exam when she vomited all over me. I'm pretty unflappable in the face of most things. That very morning when she threw up all over me and the couch was pretty nice. Even at the clinic, P and I had the forethought to pack an extra outfit (AND and extra onsie) for our darling daughter. However, we had failed to pack an extra shirt for me. Or pants. Or socks. My daughter is nothing if not thorough.

I wiped myself up with damp rags and threw my shirt into the Biohazard bag with A's clothes. I was able to wear my coat, at least! There was nothing to do about the smell, though, and if you were at Kowalski's grocery store last Saturday afternoon I would really, really like to apologize about that smell, for it was fearsome. It's just that we were totally out of laundry detergent and needed to have some in a bad way. I'm sure you understand. Thanks so much.

Conventional Wisdom

In order to get myself back on track with posting, I thought I would copy what Mighty Girl is doing over at her blog. She is posting from her book No One Cares What You Had For Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog.

Favorite Advice:

Don't judge people too quickly. Even if you think you know the whole story, chances are you don't so it's best to reserve judgment.

Give yourself more time than you think you're going to need to get some place. You can never tell what might come up to put you behind schedule. If you get someplace early, you can have a book or knitting on hand to amuse yourself while you wait.

It's better underreact than to overreact--unless someone cuts you off in traffic.

Less is more.

Your kids need less stuff than you think they do.

Be patient.

Be kind.

Learn how to make your own bread.

Keep your advice to your self.

Learn how to spell.