Homemade Friday: A baby sweater, but first let me complain

I am grumpy today.  Like super grumpy.  Like I’ll bite your face off if you ask me what’s wrong because clearly you should already know that I am tired and sleep deprived and just all around IN A BAD MOOD.

I have no real reason for how I feel.  I mean, sure, I haven’t been sleeping well.  But that’s not anything all that new.  I’ve been working out like crazy, which is nice but also exhausting. 

Today has been a lesson in patience, however.  As in, I need to learn to have patience for other people even when I want to yell at them for not giving me back my debit card after they used it last and so I wasn’t able to buy all of the groceries we needed for the week because I only had a small amount of cash and the store I go to only takes cash or debit cards.  Because it really wasn’t his fault, Christopher.

Also, patience for the child who wakes up so early and comes downstairs to tell me that he has dry skin on his foot and needs lotion, which is really just an excuse to get out of bed because he knows he’s supposed to wait until his clock tells him it’s okay to get up because if he doesn’t use the clock he’s downstairs at 5:30 a.m. and that is TOO DAMN EARLY FOR ME TO HAVE TO BE A PARENT.

And patience for the other child who loudly tells me to do things for her instead of asking in a nice way like I’ve taught her.  Nope.  It’s “Mama!  Hold baby!  Mama!  Zip up my sleeping bag!  Mama! WAIT!”

And patience for myself when I forget to bring the proof of insurance into the clerk’s office to pay the car registration.  Or when I try unsuccessfully to shove a too-large package into the UPS drop-off box, almost locking up the whole thing.  And when I realize I have to go to the UPS store instead, saying screw it and eating lunch out with Adele even though it really isn’t in the budget and isn’t that healthy but it was right next to where we were and I was already exhausted and didn’t feel like making one more peanut butter and jelly sandwich on top of the homemade pizza I’m supposed to make for dinner because I make it every Friday because THAT’S WHAT I DO.

(Also patience for myself on account of how many ‘becauses’ I’ve used in this post already.)

But this is a Homemade Friday post and so far I’ve said nothing about the sweet little sweater I made for my friend, Jo Ellen.

Jo Ellen and I have been friends for many, many years.  I think I’ve told you about her somewhere but my computer is pretending that it’s on dial-up and moving at the speed of nothing so I’m going to forgo searching through the archives because I just spend 10 minutes attempting to find a post I thought I wrote about her first baby, only to discover that I started this blog after that baby was born.  Because I am good with dates.

So anyway, Jo Ellen and I became friends over a love of playing guitar and being hippies.  And it’s continued to this day.  I don’t play guitar so much anymore and she lives an hour away from me but I still feel like we’re a lot alike.  And whenever we do get together it feels like it used to, only better because we’re grown-ups and moms and married and totally not complaining about how awful our boyfriends are.  (Boys suck and I hate being a girl!) (That was our mantra for awhile.)

Jo Ellen has a sweet, adorable little girl named Elyse, who just turned 3.  Here’s a picture of her wearing the sweater I thought I’d already shown you:

It’s a February Baby Sweater from Elizabeth Zimmerman’s Knitting Without Tears. 

And here’s a picture of the two of us with our little babies:

I’m pretty sure Adele was trying to nurse here and was also pissed at me because I wasn’t letting her.  Also look at my sweet little baby!

Jo Ellen was due with her second little girl this month, and a bunch of friends planned a surprise baby shower where we all drove to her house, unbeknownst to her, to whisk her off to lunch.  We luckily made it in time.  Sweet little Sarah Jane (or Janey Bear, as I insist on calling her) was born only a week after our visit. 

Surprise baby brunch! 

The sweater I made for Sarah Jane was a lot like the one I made for Elyse.  It followed the same style as the February Baby Sweater, but  had a heart lace design on the body of the sweater.

I was rushed with this one because I was trying to finish some other things as well, so I didn’t have time to take it to my mom to sew the buttons on.  I had to do it myself, which means that they will probably have to be re-sewn.  But Jo Ellen’s mom is a seamstress so I have no doubt that she can find someone to fix it if needed! 

The sweater was bigger than I originally intended, but that just means that she can wear it longer, I guess.  I’m attempting to put a positive spin on it because it really irritated me when I realized what I had done.  I didn’t have any time to fix it.  As it was the sweater was damp from blocking when I gave it to Jo Ellen.  And I had to sew the buttons on during the hour long drive to the surprise shower.   That’s also where I t
ook these photos, which is why they’re a bit blurry.

Hello thighs.  Pull your skirt down, heathen.
(I probably should have cropped this.)

However, I think Jo Ellen was happy with it anyway, in spite of the dampness and possible button catastrophe. 

I haven’t been able to meet Little Janey Bear yet, but I greatly look forward to cuddling that sweet girl.  And giving her Mama a big hug.

(All this talk of babies and sweaters has put me in a decidedly better mood so thanks!)

We probably went a little heavy on the wine ...

I'm a little worn out, probably still hung over from a fall break and weekend that included camping and thorough house cleaning and soccer games and wine and a huge pot of chili and good friends and fancy vodka and zombies and pumpkin drops and fresh-squeezed, amazing lemonade and piles of laundry and cool nights and warm days and sewing costumes - batman and ghost with plans for a wizard - and more wine and cleaning the house again and playground time with Nana and wine and not nearly enough sleep.

And cookies.

It was one of the best weeks I've had.

(If you look closely, you can see Adele on the left
sticking her head out the side of the bucket.)

Motherhood and More: Whole-family friendship is much more fun*

This past weekend my family had a long-overdue get-together with some friends.

As many parents know, trying to find the time to leave the house is extremely difficult when you have three other schedules to work around, as is the case in my household of two parents and two small children. We have soccer and birthday parties and work and school and general life duties that take up much of our time.

So carving out a chunk of a day to spend relaxing with friends is hard. But what makes it even trickier is finding people you have commonalities with, and whose kids play well with your kids.

Sometimes it just doesn’t work out. Sometimes you don’t mesh well with the parents but your kids are friends. Or maybe the kids’ personalities conflict and create great chaos, which leads to parents spending the entire visit monitoring the children and making sure no one goes home with a black eye.

But sometimes you find people who are your people. They think a lot like you and they parent similarly. And they pass the ultimate “couples with kids” friendship test — the kids become friends, too.

I look for what I call the ability to “free-range parent.” I will be there to kiss boo boos and be the parental presence, but I expect the kids to play without my interference. I do them and myself a disservice by hovering when they’re interacting with other children.

And this weekend we had the perfect blend of nice weather, nice people and nice behavior. The two other mothers and I became friends through work at The News-Enterprise and our kids are all close to the same age, ranging from around 3 to 6 years old. Our husbands cliqued, too, which was helpful.

When I told my kids who we were going to visit, they both were excited. My son declared he was going to run up and hug the boys he’d been missing.

We can’t seem to find the time to visit as frequently as we probably should, but carving out an autumn Sunday to spend together was pretty amazing.

There was zip lining and baseball and trampoline time — all in one backyard. The children took turns and played nice and ate copious amounts of cookies. The adults watched football and talked and ate. And then ate some more.

But in spite of all the junk food and belly aches from too many cookies, it was a fantastic day. Since I spend most of my time with my kids at home, it’s so nice to be in adult company — especially pleasant adult company.

And even though we wait far too long between visits, it’s great to know that whenever we do find the time again, my kids will have their own friends ready to go.

And that means I can actually enjoy myself instead of worrying. Which is pretty great.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on September 25, 2013.    

Homemade Friday: Semele Shawl

I was checking through my archives and realized that I haven't posted a Homemade Friday post for a month.

Woops.

I'm not really sure why.  I've been making lots and lots of things, as usual.  Just today I made mozzarella and ricotta and butter. 

I've been sewing and knitting and my son has requested that I make everyone coming to his Star Wars Birthday Party a Luke Skywalker costume.

Stay tuned to see if I actually do that.

(Or not.  The answer is no, kid.  Learn to sew.)

But let's jump back in like I haven't taken a long hiatus and pretend that I've been keeping up with this blog like I'm supposed to be.  And by 'supposed to be' I mean 'forcing myself to.'

...............................................................................................................


I knit this shawl for my friend who lost her husband.

I honestly debated on posting it here because it was a personal gift, made for someone suffering.

But this is who I am.  I picked out this pattern and yarn because I felt helpless.  And knitting is a way for me to keep my hands busy, to feel like I'm doing something that may provide a bit of comfort, and to show my friend I'm thinking of her.

The pattern is Semele.  I thought it was intricate and delicate and just what I wanted.  I used Hand Maiden Sea Silk yarn in Mint.  It's so soft and shiny and I thought the color would look really nice with my friend's red/auburn hair.

The pattern was tricky and it took me longer than I wanted because I messed up once and dropped a stitch and had to take out a bunch of other stitches and redo a whole side and it has an imperfection in it because of that but there was nothing to be done. 

That's the way it goes, yeah?

I spent way too much time figuring out how to type an up arrow on the keyboard for authenticity

The other child has been taken over by the stomach virus from one of the really bad circles of hell, but I've never actually read Dante's Inferno so I can't tell you the exact one.  I tried to wikipedia it but it just got me depressed thinking about anger and gluttony and fraud so I decided it wasn't important enough to have an exact circle to describe my son's stomach virus.  Unless it's the gluttony one because he has eaten a whole lot of generic fruit loops lately, which I only realized afterward has some very strong food coloring in it (I know!  Where have I been?) so I ordered a bunch of the hippie, organic fruit loops which he'll probably refuse to eat anyway.

Where was I?

Stomach virus.  So he's home from school today.  And I need a pick-me-up.

I was looking for a picture the other day to illustrate a blog post (this one, actually) and I stumbled across a box of notes my friends had written to me.  Oh yes.

And this was, of course, before the days of texting and email and right in the height of special, origami-type folding that I never quite mastered but that most of my friends were proficient in.

So I'm adding this to the list of Jaime's embarrassing journal entries about boys she loved and also how much she wanted to get her period.  

I think this particular one was written in middle school.  I'm 90 percent sure of who it's from, but sometimes I get confused because I am old and this was 20 years ago (OH MY GAWD).

..................................................................................................................

Jaime,

So wuz ↑? Not much here.  Just thinking of those 2 guys and Ashley.  I still get the jitters when I think of her absence.  It's just so sad.  I hope she doesn't forget about us. (I have absolutely no idea who or what she's talking about here.)

~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~ 

Did you talk to Rosco?  He's so cute!  Especially with his hat on backwards.  You may not think he's cute but I do!  FOR SURE!  Write Back or talk to me at lunch about ROSCO I don't mind if anyone reads this but if they make any remarks about Rosco, just slappem!  See ya at the football game!

A GREAT friend,

Juniper

P.S. You won't have fun at Chasity's cause I won't be there! (Joke)

Circa letter-writing time. Maybe. I
honestly don't know because
I CAN'T REMEMBER.
But my hair looked fabulous.

(Here are the rest of my journal entries if you need a good laugh at my expense.  Go ahead.  I don't mind.)

This week.

I got the call Sunday morning.  It was early-ish, around 8, and people don’t usually call at that time so as soon as my phone rang I felt like something was wrong.  But I always feel like something is wrong when I my phone rings at an odd time, so I went through the spiel in my head: You worry too much, everything is fine, your mother is just calling to see if you’re coming over for dinner.

But that wasn’t it.

My friend, whom I’ve known for my whole life, one of ‘the girls,’ had lost her husband the night before.  He just collapsed.  I didn’t know what to say.  I still don’t know what to say.  He was such a kind, nice, funny man.  And so young.

Heather and Jack had been together for about as long as Christopher and I, give or take a couple of years.  And you couldn’t find people who were any nicer.  They have a little girl, Amelia, who’s 3.  And Heather just had baby Collette two weeks before Jack died.

My mom wanted me to call all of the girls and let them know.  And so I did.  I felt helpless, but this was something tangible that I could do.  Something I could do to keep from someone else having to do it.  Every time I spoke with one of the girls I just kept repeating “I know.”  But what I was really saying was “I know.  I don’t know what to say, either.  I know, I don’t understand how this could have happened.  I know, I’m hurting for Heather and her babies, too.  I know, I don’t know what to do.  I know.  I know.” 

It was the same with each phone conversation.  Our words were stilted and short and full of disbelief.  And  helplessness.

I know.

Sunday afternoon I drove to Heather’s house.  I wanted to be there for her.  Her family was there, of course, and they were taking good care of her.  I held the baby for an hour, because it was, again, something tangible.  It was my first time meeting Collette.  She is as gorgeous as her name, and as gorgeous as her older sister.

I didn’t cry at the funeral, and I have no reason for it.  But I cried each time I called my friends.  And I cried when I hugged Heather.  And I cried Monday night when I was alone, trying to pick out something to wear to the visitation. 

I haven’t been sleeping well.  I just keep having dreams about her and Jack and the funeral.  And I’m just sad.  It takes me hours to go to sleep because my heart hurts.

On Monday morning at the gym after a particularly awful workout I went to take a shower.  It took me a minute to realize that the water wasn’t warming up.  I started to leave but then I thought about Heather.  It was like, this type of pain, the cold water, was nothing compared to the shock and depth of pain and disorientation that she was dealing with.  And part of me believed that by stepping into that frigid water, by letting it hit me, I would alleviate some of her pain.  I know it sounds ridiculous.

On Tuesday the girls decided that we’d order a remembrance blanket from a florist for Heather instead of having flowers sent because it would be something she could keep.  Something she could have.  So I called early, at 8 to try to order one.  And I spoke with a woman who knew about Jack and knew exactly what I wanted.  But she wasn’t officially open yet so I said I’d call back in a couple of hours.  And when I called back no one answered.  And when I called back later she wasn’t there, but a young guy who wasn’t familiar with anything was and he took my number.  And when I called back even later he told me that she still wasn’t there but that I could find the blankets somewhere on ebay where I could at least look at them and pick out what I wanted and be ready.  Except he’d never used ebay and so couldn’t tell me how to find the blankets or even the name of the ebay store.  An hour later than that, because I am an optimist, I texted one of my friends to ask her exactly how much longer I should wait to call a different florist.  It was 3 in the afternoon.  She took care of it, called a different florist and had exactly what we wanted and ordered it.  It took 2 minutes.

The first florist still hasn’t called me back.

The visitation was held in the church gym, which is testament to how well-loved both Heather and Jack and their families are.  We got there right as the prayer was starting, so I found my friends and we huddled together, comforting each other.  

When we got home from the funeral on Wednesday, both Chris and I started cleaning.  Like deep cleaning.  And since then I've gone through junk drawers and tried to organize my yarn/sewing closet, and straightened up the neglected cupboards.  It's like, there is so much disorder.  So much that I can't control.  But this I can.  This little bit of organization can put at least something right again.

I can't imagine what Heather is going through.  Writing this is all I can do.  As my aunt said, who is a close friend Heather’s mom, and who is the person who called my mother, we’re not supposed to have to deal with this now.  We’re too young. 

I don’t feel like I have the life experience to know what I can do.  I have to stop myself from texting Heather multiple times a day, just to let her know I’m thinking about her.  I don’t want to bother her.  But I don’t want her to think that we’re not still grieving for and with her.

Because we all still are.

(I write a little more about the girls here.)  

Potty training and karaoke are not normally written about together

So we’ve been deep in potty training for about a week now.  And it actually seems to be going well.

Sort of.  I mean, the peeing is going fantastic and from almost the first day Adele’s been going when she needs to go, for the most part.  It’s the other thing that’s causing us so much trouble and drama.

There’s screaming and crying and begging for a paci and sitting on the potty for two seconds then getting up then sitting then getting up then sitting then getting up until finally she can’t hold it anymore.  And then there is much rejoicing and cheering and giving of chocolate (don’t judge me).  And saying “All RIGHT!” which is what she says every time she potties because that’s what I say every time she potties.

So we’re almost there.  And it makes me so sad.

 

I know, I know.  I’m insane.  But she’s my baby. 

Sebastian just started bring his lunch to school and the night before, as I was packing up his peanut and jelly burrito and blueberries and carrots, I got a little teary. 

My kids are growing up, guys. 

However sad this may make me, it does offer me a minor luxury in the form of hitting up a local karaoke bar with some friends and not feeling too guilty about it. 

(Awesome segue, right?) (Also, I had to look up how to spell ‘segue’.)

This weekend we had a girls’ night where we went to a local German restaurant and ate schnitzel and drank beer and watched a karaoke contest.  Only one of us was brave enough to actually get up and sing and it wasn’t me.  Lauren rocked out to “Kerosene,” which is an awesome song and she did an awesome job. 

I was unfortunately unable to karaoke as I was having too much fun monopolizing the conversation, like I tend to do whenever I’m around anyone other than my husband because I see him all the time.  So when I see my friends I drink too much and talk too much and generally make an ass of myself.

It’s awesome, is what I’m saying.

But one of the girls is having a baby soon so we sort of mashed up this dinner with a baby shower because nothing says baby shower like beer and karaoke.  (No she wasn’t drinking the beer.  Mostly that was just me.)

But really, we all brought gifts and I wrapped her chair in streamers and we blew up some balloons and set them on the table.

Anybody need me to plan your party?  Cause I got mad skillz.  Yo.

Also I may have sort of hit on a 21-year-old bartender that my friend Robin said looked like wolverine.  I didn’t actually try to pick him up, I was just friendly.  And then he told me his age and I felt vaguely depressed. 

God I love those ladies.  

(Here are some photos that I stole from my friend.  The first one is dinner before karaoke.  Notice the balloons.  The second one is in the bar that's attached to the restaurant.  Notice the beer-reddened cheeks.  And my sexy friend, Laura.)

Things that made me happy this weekend

1. Homemade Pizza

2. Little boys in suit jackets:

3. Shopping by myself

4. Finally being able to decorate the Christmas tree with my children helping me so I don't have to do it all myself.

5. Crappy Christmas parties with Crappy Christmas Gifts (I brought dental floss).

6. Ugly Sweater contests at Crappy Christmas parties, even though I didn't win.

7. Leaving the house in the evening by myself to hang out with friends I hardly ever get to see, knowing that my kids are in fantastic hands with their father.

8. Friends who get me and get my sense of humor and take the time to make me things they know I will love (Thanks, Lauren!):

9. Pancake Sunday

10. Chris taking the kids to Bernheim Forest for 3 hours Sunday morning to give me time to myself, even though I only used it to clean.

11. Having a clean house

12. Sunday dinner at my parents' house

13. Apple pie

14. Warm weather

15. Kick back bruises from the shotgun.

16. Knowing that when the zombie apocalypse happens I know how to handle a weapon. 

Fiona Apple gave me a sinus infection and second degree burns

Guys, I’m cold.  Like COLD cold.  I’ve got five layers on my top half, two of them fleece, and still I can’t get warm.  Maybe that’s care of the three hours of sleep total I got last night because the youngest decided that sleep just wasn’t her thing and her father is out of town so I had the brunt of the sleep deprivation this time.  Or maybe it’s because my husband won’t let me turn the heat on in the house until he’s around because he’s afraid it will blow up or something, and at least if he’s here will all be in it together?  Maybe?  But I guess I can be thankful that the 64 degrees it’s been inside all day has gotten Sebastian to voluntarily put on pants without argument for the first time in a week.  Do you know how exhausting it is to argue with a 4 year old about the weather and how cold it is and how cold he’ll be without shoes and pants outside?

Me and Lauren at the concert. I'm totally not drunk here.
Also I stole this picture.

Or maybe I can’t get warm because of the sinus infection Fiona Apple gave me.

That’s right.  I’m blaming her.

My friend Lauren and I went to see her in concert at the Palace on Friday.  I’m not really a concert-going person anymore, for various reasons, including money, exhaustion, and how old I usually feel.  But this one struck my fancy and Lauren said she’d go with me.  I was super psyched to relieve some of my angsty emotions and feelings that I felt so very strongly as a teenager.  I was even prepared to maybe cry.*

And I had a blast, even though I got a super awful second degree (totally guessing) burn on the roof of my mouth when I was trying to act like I knew what I was doing with chopsticks and popped a freshly-fried wonton appetizer in my mouth and was too drunk on my one Bells Two-hearted to realize that I could probably spit it out and avoid the worst of the burn and inner-mouth pealing.

It blistered almost immediately.

I just drank more to cover up the pain.

But the concert actually was disappointing, unfortunately.

It was just so loud. And that’s not something I associated with Fiona Apple.  To me she’s quiet and pensive and thoughtful and introspective.

Rock?  Not so much.  And my problem was that if you didn’t know the song, you had no idea what she was saying, or singing.  And her words and the musical composition are what make her good in my opinion.  But you couldn’t hear any of that.

She spoke into the microphone a couple of times, but you couldn’t hear what she was saying.  And she came out with a walking stick. 

So.  Concert – disappointing.  Beer and company – awesome.  Raw sushi I at even after the wonton injury of 2012 – so, so good.

But I came home with a sinus infection and a burn that still causes me so much discomfort whenever I eat, although ice water is tasting like honey from heaven these days. 

It makes the hot tea and coffee I’m craving a bitch to drink.** 

(Three hours of sleep.  WTF, Adele?  At least YOU GET TO NAP.)

*Not really, although I cried while watching a mixed martial arts movie the other day but in my defense it was very emotionally moving underneath all the beatings.

**Oh, speaking of coffee – I finally tried a pumpkin spiced latte.  It was disgusting.  You are all liars.

Random Monday: In which I discuss Twilight, Thai tea and TURQUO-TEAL

1. I am babysitting today so don’t have too much time.

2. I’m able to sit here now because currently there is a mad dance party going on in my back room.

3. I never thought I’d be grateful for Kidz Bop. Even Adele is running in circles and clapping.

4. My head is a little fuzzy, partially because of allergies and weird, change-in-weather funk.

5. The other part is because of all that wine I drank last night.

6. I bought a big bottle for me and a friend on Saturday, and I had to finish it before Monday.

7. That makes sense, right?  In my mind it totally does.

8. My friend and I started the evening at a Thai restaurant, which was good.

9. But what we really loved was the Thai iced tea.

10. Delicious.  Utterly delicious. 

11. That may be because of all the half and half and sugar in it.

12. I had two iced coffees myself, though, because I hadn’t slept the night before and needed something to wake me up.

13. I think that worked.

14. It was either that or the ridiculously fun company.

15. I hadn’t been out like that in awhile.

16. I mean, I’ve been out, but I haven’t been able to act like a complete, goofy idiot and have someone else act the same.

17. We laughed a lot.

18. We were so high on fun that we decided to try on fluorescent skinny jeans at Target.

19. Well, I did fluorescent, she tried on leopard print.

20. I refused to come out of the dressing room.

21. She made leopard skinny jeans look amazing.

22. We also coined a new word: turquo-teal.  It must be said in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.  Also – emphatically. 

23. As in:  Those pants are TURQUO-TEAL!

24. We also, as you could imagine, embarrassed ourselves with every server/cashier we encountered.

25. Especially when I was carded at Walgreens for buying wine, and Laura told the height-challenged 20-something cashier that my ID was fake.

26. I said “Yep!  I’m really 19.  Twilight, what!  Team Edward!’

27. Maybe you had to be there, but it was one of the funniest things in the history of ever.

28. The cashier was amused.

29. Or maybe he was laughing at us.

30. Either way. 

31. My husband said he thanked my friend when she left for bring out the old Jaime.

32. I said that if he wouldn’t roll his eyes so much at me when I sing ‘Grease’ songs in a store really loud and dance along, maybe I’d be like that more often.

33. He just doesn’t understand my need to dance.

34. I haven’t had that much fun in years, I think.

35. I needed it.