waiting no more

We welcomed our sweet baby boy at the beginning of September. We are all happy and healthy and slowly adjusting to life as a family of four.

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Alice

Her name was Alice. I wasn’t named for her, but I always liked that our names sounded alike. Alice and Allison. Our own secret code.

She made me cups of milky black tea, the way she liked it, and made a tea drinker out of me. Each morning as I pour a splash of milk into my teacup, I think of her. I think of the balls of snickerdoodle dough she kept stashed in the freezer, ready to pull out to bake a few fresh whenever she had company. She taught me how to make pies, to roll out the dough just right. She told me stories of waking early on Sundays as a child to bake pies before Mass. She was famous amongst her friends and family for her Christmas candy: peanut butter cups, divinity, chocolate-covered toffee, and more. She had a sweet tooth like me, and I feel lucky that one Christmas, just before she gave up candy-making for good, I got to be in the kitchen with her, melting chocolate and whipping egg whites.

I remember Sunday dinners at her house when I was a kid. I played in the woods behind the house with my cousins until it was time to eat, and then we’d retrieve the table leaves from under my grandparents’ bed so that the whole family—her eight children, their spouses, and a bevy of grandchildren—could gather around the table for a big meal that would stick to our ribs, most often something like a roast with carrots and onions and homemade bread, fluffy and white, still steaming as we cut it.

She taught me about mysterious things like guardian angels (hers was named Claire) and the stigmata. She told me if you prayed the rosary enough it would turn gold. She said she smelled roses the moment she knew my grandpa had entered heaven. She had an enviable faith, an unflappable belief in Catholicism, God, the Virgin Mary, and heaven. For most of her life she attended Mass daily, and sometimes when she babysat me she took me on her nursing home rounds, where she visited residents and helped with Mass.

She did a killer impression of the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz. I can easily recall her cackling, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too.” She enjoyed playing cards and drinking wine. She traveled the world—Cuba and New York when she was young and then in her older years places such as Washington, California, France, Germany, Italy, and Yugoslavia. She inspired my dream of traveling to Alaska after she told me stories of her Alaskan cruise, about the beautiful scenery and the lady she traveled with who’d packed enough underwear so that she’d just throw away each pair after wearing them. What an adventure!

She sent me a bouquet of flowers after I gave birth to my son. It was a memorable gift because so many presents were for the baby, but those flowers were for me. A congratulations. A pat on the back. A welcome to motherhood. She always said my boy looks like “a doll baby,” such a great-grandmotherly compliment.

I just caught myself writing that last sentence in the present tense. Even after a couple weeks, it seems strange to think that she’s gone. How can it be that she won’t be at the next family gathering, won’t take her seat at the poker table, won’t hug me or my son again? Her death was really the best she or anyone else could hope for. She lived a long, happy life, was independent for most of her 86 years, suffered for only a short time at the end, and was able to make the choice not to pursue treatment for kidney failure and a recurrence of ovarian cancer. Yet, even with this best-case scenario, the loss feels huge. It passes over me in waves of realization, most often in that moment between sleep and wake, a split-second of terror and grief.

The good part is that with eight children, fourteen grandchildren, and ten great-grandchildren, there are plenty of people to tell stories about her, and she passed down a feistiness and zest for life that really comes out when we’re all together.

And in those moments when the loss feels like too much, well, there’s always tea, with an extra splash of milk for Grandma Alice. 

mothering

It feels strange to be back in this space after so much time away. February passed in a fog of cabin fever; we were cooped up on bitterly cold days and were more than ready when the last snow of winter melted.

Now my boy and I are wholeheartedly embracing spring. He begs to eat every meal outside, even when we have to bundle up in coats and hats. We water our pea plants and check to see how much the tulips and daffodils have grown. It's easy to mark their daily progress and see where rabbits have taken a nibble or a bite here and there. I'm trying my hardest not to begrudge those rabbits their first taste of spring.

I planted those bulbs in the aftermath of my miscarriage last fall, orderly rows of tiny white daffodils, tall yellow ones, and tulips in white, yellow, and pink. I needed something to hope for, and so I buried those bulbs like promises to myself that come spring things would be better. All winter long they slumbered in the frozen soil, and I must admit that on more than one occasion I doubted they would sprout.

But they have!

I sometimes feel silly at how much delight I take in our daily ritual of checking on the sprouts, but I do delight in it nonetheless. My son and I share in the joy of these growing things. It's not a new baby, but it's new life, and I'll take hope where I can find it.

summering

the last string of days has felt like a summer daydream realized.
little hands in the garden: watering, digging, picking.
"be gentle" is our garden mantra
so we don't end up with too many beheaded marigolds.

longtime friends visited from overseas.
i love them and who i am when i'm with them.
they're the people i can be weird with
and they're just as weird, in the most delightful way.

i have been knitting from evening right up till bedtime.
my linen sweater, a gramps cardigan, and some colorwork to be cast on tonight.
pots of fresh mint tea, chocolate, and marzipan round out my evenings.

also, yoga.
i know, this is a summer daydream, right?
i don't know where this came from
but these last few weeks i've found ways to fit yoga into my days
just a bit, but it's enough.

oh oh oh,
that's my own private mantra
"this is enough."
i've been using it lately to remind myself
that really, it is.

and my little guy--
these days we play an endless game of charades.
he has a handful of words that mostly all sound the same,
but he knows so much and has started to show us:

i need a new diaper.
i am hungry.
i am hungry for chocolate, but i'll take watermelon.
will you put the coconut oil on my feet?
there are goldfish in the vent!

* * *

i'm off to wind that pretty blue yarn and make my evening tea. i hope your days are dreamy, too.

allison

first monday of summer in kentucky

jude's day started with yogurt, mine with coffee,
and we split a bagel smeared with avocado.

then it was on to water a garden full of herbs and weeds
with a toddler who, when beckoned, points out basil, calendula, and mint.
today he learned "bird poop" and we searched the driveway for white splatters.

nap time
for him, but laundry time for me,
two loads today,
and a few rounds of knitting on my blue socks.

but then he's up again and we read peter rabbit
while he bounces on the bed
he just learned that today
so it's still charming.

* * *

tonight on my desk sits a yellow teacup
warm milky tea with brown sugar to sweeten the evening's work.

i break to stretch my legs and find my husband at the window.

a hawk perched on the ridge of the house across the street,
unperturbed by the summer rain and the robins diving at him.
he shakes his head just once,
flinging the gathered rain from his feathers.

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thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. i appreciate your thoughts and will have more to say about them in the future. i know i'll be referring back to them when i hit a rough patch in blogging.

the winner of the yarn giveaway is liesl.

one

 

Today we are celebrating Jude's first year. He is one! Already! I have become one of those people who says everything is going too fast. All my life time felt like it dragged on; I couldn't wait for the next thing to happen. But now I just want time to slow to a snail's pace so I can soak it all in. 

And there is a lot to soak in. On St. Patrick's Day, Jude learned to give kisses. Irish boy that he is, that seemed about right. Two days later he took his first toddling steps. He does a sideways shuffle because he's used to holding on to walls and furniture. 

He's such a sweetheart and a cuddlebug. K and I both feel incredibly lucky to be his parents! It's a hard, exhausting, and completely wonderful job. 

* * *

Have a good weekend!

P.S. Notes on the birthday crown are here.

merry, happy, joyful

Merry Christmas from our family to yours! 

Wishing you lots of time with family and friends, good food, strong drinks, and plenty of naps. ;)

something's gained

"Well something's lost, but something's gained in living every day."

from "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell

It's been rough going lately. I usually write about just the sweet moments here and keep the salty, sour, and bitter things to myself, but I'd feel like such a fraud if I didn't acknowledge that there have been some days lately that have knocked me for a loop. Most of it is normal motherhood stuff, feeling overwhelmed and tired, which probably can be chalked up to Jude waking up lots during the night lately. It's hard to think straight with so little sleep. But I've also been worried (so worried!) about a loved one and feeling at a loss as to how I can help. 

I can help myself though, so that's what I'm trying to do. I am working to be gentler, more forgiving, and more patient with myself. I've been drinking tea, taking walks, soaking in hot baths, and most certainly knitting, slowly but steadily knitting. 

I finished a cabled hat with a fold-over brim for K just in time for the first snow of the year. Finally, the man has a hat that keeps his ears warm. And I think he looks pretty handsome in it too. Hehe.  

* * *

I hope you are finding ways to treat yourself kindly.

And thank you for reading. I appreciate it! I will be back with sweet moments soon.

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odessa for alice

I've wanted to write this post for weeks now, but I've struggled with what to say and how to say it. So, I'll just jump in. 

I made this hat for my grandma Alice. She just finished up chemo to treat ovarian cancer. She lost her hair because of the chemo, and when I saw her last month she kept saying how cold she was. So I figured the least I could do was to make her a hat, the warmest, softest hat I could manage, that would keep her toasty all winter long and remind her that she's got lots of people who care about her. 

I picked out the coziest yarn I had in my stash: half a skein of Juniper Moon's Herriot, which is a lush baby alpaca that knits up like a dream. I'd been saving it for something special, and this project seemed like exactly that. The half skein worried me at first, but the Odessa pattern worked well with the small amount of yarn (110 yards or so) that I had. 

My family had a brunch recently to celebrate the end of Grandma Alice's chemo. It was a big get-together with my aunts, uncles, and cousins and more food than we could ever eat. We laughed and talked and held babies. It felt really good to see my grandma in better spirits, smiling and even playing poker with the family. I'm hoping this hat will keep her spirits high throughout the winter.

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If you'd like to make a hat to help keep up the spirits of someone receiving chemo, check out the Halos of Hope Ravelry page. 

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See more details of my Odessa here.

jumping back in

Hello there. I feel like I've been away for such a long time. Sure, I've popped into this space every once in a while, but I haven't really sat down and had a good visit. I miss it. I miss interacting with all of you.

These first three months of motherhood have consumed me. I've been completely immersed in the daily happenings of my little guy. He has needed so much of me. I've spent many hours cuddling, nursing (oh, so much nursing!), and making a variety of funny noises to see which ones coax a smile from him. My conversations have revolved around spit up and poop. At the end of each day, I've taken a hot shower and dropped into bed for a few hours of sleep before being roused for a middle-of-the-night feeding.

Suddenly this weekend I felt different. As cheesy as it sounds, I really did feel awakened to the outside world again. I wanted to emerge from the all-consuming baby time and get back out there. I wanted to reconnect with friends and spend time here on the blog with you. So here I am. 

I have a lot to say but of course can't say it all at once. Who has the time? Not me. Anyway, here's a start.

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I quit my job. It felt momentous and awkward. I never quit things, so it took all my guts and many deep breaths to tell my boss that I wasn't coming back. Later I felt a flood of tears, tears of relief, but also of mourning. I grieved for the loss of two stable incomes and the feeling of competence I found in doing something every day that I knew how to do. I had a sense of pride in my work that helped shape my identity. My work certainly didn't define me, but it did form a part of me.

For years I've known that I wanted to stay home for at least my baby's first year. I've also known that it probably wouldn't be financially feasible for our family, and I had come to terms with that. However, when K and I took a good hard look at our budget, we realized we could swing it. Once that dream became a real possibility, though, I got nervous. Having two paychecks means less scrimping and saving and more money for extras like traveling and eating out. Ultimately, K and I decided that fewer monetary worries would mean more emotional worries, and that trade-off wasn't worth it to us. So I traded in my office job, where I knew what the heck I was doing each day, for one that I'm still trying to figure out.

My mom recently asked me how it felt to no longer be working outside the home. And even though I hesitated to leave my job, I've thought about work only a handful of times since I turned in my resignation. Don't get me wrong, I sometimes miss the daily interaction with other adults and having conversations that don't revolve around bodily functions, but my days are so full now that I don't think about the office.

I hope your days are full too, and I hope I'll get to spend much more time visiting with you in the future.

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weeks 25 and 26

Week 25

During Week 25, we visited K's hometown. We danced at our friends' wedding party and visited with K's parents. While we were there it snowed a few inches, which was a special treat because last year we didn't get any snow! We enjoyed the winter wonderland for a few hours before heading home to celebrate the new year.

We had a quiet New Year's Eve at home. K and I both fell asleep around 11:30, even though I was trying so hard to stay up! We woke up a few minutes after midnight to find Billy Joel singing on the TV and a baby dancing along in my belly. I couldn't believe our boy rang in the new year without us!

* * * * * 

Week 26

We spent Week 26 with my family. We said goodbye to my grandpa and spent the week surrounded by cousins, aunts, and uncles. We talked a lot about babies and how soon this one will be out in the world with us. I watched my cousin's 2-year-old son and three-year-old daughter play together at the funeral home. It felt really good to see them laugh; it was a great reminder of how joyful life is, even when things seem most somber.

This week the baby started stretching out so that I could feel him on both sides of my belly at once. He's getting so big! According to my online reading, he should be about two pounds now. What the what? K and I are really going to have to paint the nursery and pick out a name soon. I definitely feel the clock ticking now and am counting down the weeks until his due date, trying to figure out how I'm going to cram in all the things I want to make and do before he arrives. I need more time!

* * * * *

Thank you for all your kind words yesterday. It helped me so much to share my thoughts about my grandpa and to have your support. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know!

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a goodbye

I said goodbye to my grandpa this week.

I thought I was ready. I knew it was his time. He'd been suffering from dementia for years and the physical effects left him unable to walk, talk, or eat without a feeding tube. It felt like he'd been leaving us for years and was just waiting for his body to finally let him go.

Even last Monday night when I visited him in the hospital and a nurse bluntly told us, "This is it," I felt OK. His breaths were short rasps at that point and he couldn't open his eyes; I felt relieved that he'd soon be able to rest.

But it has been much harder than I expected to let him go. The feeling of finality and sadness wallops me at unexpected moments. I could smile and make small talk at the funeral home, but trying to focus at work today seemed nearly impossible.

I'm grateful to that nurse who openly told us that we should say our goodbyes; the doctors had been unwilling to give such a timeline.

So, I told my grandpa goodbye. I love you. Thank you for everything.

He was an honest, hardworking man. A good man, dedicated to his family. He worked two (sometimes three) jobs to support his wife and three daughters. They did household chores as a family on Saturdays and went for drives together on Sundays.

He worked for L&N railroad for 44 years, starting when he was just a teenager. He served as a machinist in the Navy during World War II and the Korean War.

He took my cousins and me camping every summer. He took us out for pancake breakfasts and old-fashioned cafeteria dinners, where his motto was, "Get what you want, but eat what you get." We had fun together, and I always knew he loved me.

He was stubborn (so stubborn!) and passed that trait along to many of us in the family. Maybe that's why he held on as long as he did.

Last Monday, as I said goodbye, I placed one hand on my grandpa's shoulder and one on my belly. My grandfather and my baby both seemed part of this world and part of another. Although they'll never meet in person, they were both there last week. I know my grandpa would have loved my son. He would have loved to hold this little boy of mine. And even though they'll never meet, I'll tell my son the stories and teach him the values that my grandpa taught my mom and my mom passed down to me.
 

cozy christmas

Merry Christmas to you all!

I hope you are happy, healthy, and spending the holiday with people you love!

* * *

I usually don't get too stressed about Christmas, but this year has felt overwhelming. I keep trying to slow down and enjoy the moments instead of going over my mental to-do list and rushing to the next get together. I'm thankful to have so many family and friends to visit; I just wish all those visits could be more spread out instead of squeezed into two days. 

I'll be back after the holiday to share many knitted presents, some pregnancy updates, and pottery.

In the meantime, I can share one gift I've already given: a cabled hot water bottle cozy for my dad. My dad never really bundles up in the winter, so I've never knitted anything for him before (a shame, I know!). I was really happy to come across this pattern. It's the perfect thing to warm up a bed in winter or snuggle with to ease aches and pains. The cable makes it look even cozier. Plus, you could make the project as easy or complicated as you want by leaving off the cable or substituting a more complex cable pattern.

I used Malabrigo Twist in the Sealing Wax colorway for this hot water bottle cozy. It's luxuriously soft and the color is bright and warm (not to mention, the color of Dad's favorite sports team). I made a few changes to account for the thicker yarn and so that I could make this project with only one skein. Dad seemed pleased with his gift, and I think he'll actually use it!

Find more details on my Ravelry page.

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work in progress

Finally, I can share the reason for my quietness the past few months.

* * *

My husband and I are expecting a baby next April!

* * *

Although it's too soon to know if we're having a boy or a girl, I've knitted a few things. I think this deep blue Baby Sophisticate cardigan will look cozy on any baby.

a place to gather

My father-in-law, David, built us this table.

It's solid oak, sturdy, and has simple lines.

It's the perfect table to laugh and celebrate around.

To hold hands and cry over.

To host holiday dinners.

To make ordinary dinners feel special.

To work on elaborate craft projects.

To play board games (we've already bought a poker-green length of felt just for this).

To keep in our family for generations.

* * * 

It's my dream table (just in time to fulfill those summer dreams).

Thank you, David!

just because

snails make me happy. 

maybe they make you smile, too?

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found this little one while digging in my mom's herb garden. i've got lots of plants to fill my kitchen garden now! 

homemade peanut butter cups

The women on my dad's side of the family make Christmas candy every year. My aunts and cousins set up little candy-making factories in their kitchens and churn out toffee, fudge, peanut butter cups, and more. I'm easing my way into candy making. My grandma let me help out with her Christmas candy a couple of years ago, and my one day apprenticeship made me bold enough to try out some simple candy on my own.

These peanut butter cups are the easiest candy to make. They're a great place to start if you're a beginner or if you just want to put in minimal effort for maximum candy deliciousness. I know Christmas is many months away, but peanut butter cups would be a perfect Valentine's Day (or really, any day) treat. These are much tastier than a box of store bought candy!

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Peanut butter cups

Makes approximately 75 peanut butter cups.

Ingredients
2 lbs. chocolate (I used milk chocolate; Mom uses white. Dark chocolate would be divine.)
1 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter or margarine, room temperature
2 cups powdered sugar

Equipment
Candy molds
Paint brush
Double-boiler

Peanut butter filling:

Make the peanut butter filling first so that it can chill in the refrigerator overnight or at least a couple of hours. It's much easier and less messy to work with when it's cold.

Cream the butter. When it's soft and smooth, add the peanut butter. Beat until completely combined. Whip in the powdered sugar. Refrigerate overnight.

Assembling:

Melt chocolate in a double boiler. Drop a small teaspoon of melted chocolate into each candy mold. Use paintbrush to spread a thin layer of chocolate over the bottom and sides of the mold. Refrigerate for 5-10 minutes until the chocolate has hardened.

Roll peanut butter filling into marble-sized balls. Place one ball in each candy mold, pressing down slightly to flatten. Cover with melted chocolate. Refrigerate for 5-10 minutes. When the chocolate has solidified, unmold the candies. They should slide right out. These peanut butter cups keep for a couple of weeks in the fridge, but they never last that long at our house.

button making

"Can I borrow your hacksaw?" I asked my father-in-law as I bounced into his kitchen on the morning after Thanksgiving. 

He didn't say yes. 

Instead he politely inquired why in the world I'd need a hacksaw and then volunteered to help me with the project I had in mind (probably to protect his hacksaw).   We He spent the morning making buttons for my Levenwick cardigan inspired by these handmade ones. We used a walnut dowel rod he had hanging around his workshop, sanded the edges, sliced off 1/4 inch pieces with a bandsaw, and drilled the holes. The buttons are finished with sealer and varnish.

guide

drill bits 

almost finished

drying

I'm glad our buttons are more polished and less rustic because I had some concerns about snagging my sweater on hacksawed buttons. Not so with these shiny guys. They'll be perfect for my Levenwick!

celebrating

We're celebrating my mister's last year as a twenty-something. 

We've had birthday dinners, birthday cakes, and birthday games.

His birthday may be over, but the celebrating isn't. I've still got some surprises up my sleeve. I can't wait to share with you (and him!) where we're going. 

* * * * * 

Happy birthday, K! You just keep getting better with age.

* * * * * 

Have a great weekend!

picnic blanket

breakfast picnic/photo shoot

After eyeing Amanda's blanket for ages, I finally got around to sewing a vintage sheet picnic blanket of my own. The bright colors and crazy floral patterns make for a festive summer outing. K and I have been enjoying the heck out of it and inviting our friends and family to come share it with us. I'm looking forward to using this blanket even more when the weather cools off in September and October (fingers crossed--it will eventually cool down, right?).

Our friend Christine relaxed on the blanket while listening to a concert by the river.

K rested while my sister and I played gin rummy.

Mom, K, Julie, and I all squeezed on the blanket to play one of our favorite new card games, No Thanks!. 

* * * 

For my next picnic blanket, I'd like to use a thicker backing and make the whole thing a block or two bigger. The chenille I used to back this blanket is on the thin side, so we layer another blanket underneath for cushioning and to sop up any moisture from the grass. 

(Photos by Christine, me, and my mom)