Visit to Yarnings

Decided to try and visit Yarnings today, since I'm feeling more into knitting and I love touching yarn. I went with a specific purpose in mind (sock yarn and, perhaps, Berroco Suede for Coachella.), and left with two skeins of sock yarn, several magazines, and some size 0 DPNs.

I was a bit disappointed because they did not have several skeins of Suede in the color I wanted, nor did they have Lorna's Laces yarn. I also totally forgot that I wanted to buy some Debbie Bliss Cashmerino, which they did have!

So, here's some of the purchases I did make. I bought some knitting magazines. They had older Vogues for two bucks a piece. Since I want to expand my pattern library and at least one of the ones I picked up had a pattern in my Ravelry queue, I was happy to pick them up. I also picked up a Rowan magazine on the mistaken belief that I'll ever knit anything from one of them. I swear that I become beguiled by Rowan yarn and their pictures and then the next thing I know, I'm purchasing magazines I don't need and will NEVER knit anything from. I did ALMOST buy some Rowan tweed since I love all tweedy yarns, but I hate to buy yarn without a specific project at least in mind.



I fondled some Kollage yarn made of milk fibers that was called Creamy. I wasn't going to buy any (again, no project), then I remembered those adorable little baby booties that Sophy has been whipping up. Next thing you know, a small skein of the yarn is going to the front of the store, along with some bamboo size 0 DPNs. Why I'm buying the DPNs is beyond me since I've repeatedly said to myself that I'd prefer to either metal or Lantern Moon needles, but I buy them just in case I want to start knitting tonight!



Lastly, because I can't resist sock yarn, I picked up a beautiful greenish-blue skein of Koigu's KPPPM which I know knits up beautifully. I didn't need it, but it will look cute with some of my wintry shoes. I was so happy that I came home and put everything into Ravelry almost immediately, and then I went and bought more sock yarn at Simply Socks Yarn online store for Helen's socks.

things to do on a day 'off'

Started my official leave today, and it was odd. I woke up 'normal' time and puttered around the house for half an hour, staring at the cats, and psyching myself up to stop hurting and start going places. After a short delusional period, in which I considered just staying home and reading all day, I got up and went to the banks. Yes, plural. I had to deposit rent into the rental properties account, and baby shower money (thank you, family Oh) into the joint checking.

After doing this, I meandered over to Starbucks for an early early lunch. Well, it was early to me. To the rest of humanity it was nearing lunch time. After a few moments, I called my mother who had a short, terse conversation with me. It appears she's in a better mood about our last fight, but we're both still slightly upset, I would take it. I tried faking happiness during the call, but it didn't work well.

After that, it was time to get my eyebrows waxed! (I hope to look somewhat okay in photos with the baby.) I also made an appointment for a cut since the ends of my hair now look hideous. A short bit later, I was at the grocery store, buying Pledge and some ingredients for lasagna.

I came home, tired and achy. I spent about five minutes at home before I realized the gigantic package outside our house was Paul's birthday present and I had better get it inside and wrapped, which I did. I had BARELY enough paper, and it was pink paper, so now I have a gigantic present that's wrapped for the birthday of a ten year old girl. It does have cupcakes on it, though, which is a positive.

After doing this, I started to polish all the furniture in the house, as well as Windex several windows and glass panels in our house. I also swept up the nursery and despaired of it ever being fully completed. There is still a swing and bouncer to set up as well as several things to move to the attic. I can't do it alone, though, tomorrow I might try to tackle the bouncer. If I continue to wait for Paul, nothing will ever be completed. I might also move the carseat inset to the car. Why can't it be there? I might not, however, since Paul doesn't want it there.

After all this, I finally finished packing my labor bag. I finally said screw it to the birth plan. I know what my plan is -- give me drugs and lots of them. If I need a c-section urgently to prevent harm to my baby or I, please do it. That's my plan. Also, please bring me ice. I'm anemic and I need to chew on it or I'll die. (That last part might be a bit exaggerated, but all I can think of is ice-chewing nowadays. I watched Iron Chef tonight and watching someone poor ice all over some fish made me very hungry for ICE.)

I hung around a bit on IM in case my replacement needed help, but got no IMs, so I just bothered Paul and E a bit. Doing some review of my labor bag also brought me to mind that I had realized I needed a 'baby memory book'. I remembered seeing some at Michaels, or so I thought, so I decided on a trip there. I also decided to pick up some possible iron-ons (for onesies), a book on how to make cards, some edible glitter, and possibly some cotton for knitting dishclothes.

I got to Michaels, realized they didn't have baby memory books. Depressed, I went through the iron-on aisles and thought that iron-ons were much cooler when one knew the gender of one's baby. (A pink and black skull onesie is cute for a girl, but I'd prefer the gigantic cupcake for a boy.) Also, it's hard to put 'Daddy's girl' on a onesie if I don't know if I'm having a girl. The card making section had tons of materials for making cards, but not a single book or kit on how to make them. Considering my attempts on flying blindly into scrapbooking, I wisely backed off. By that time, I was too depressed to get any yarn or edible glitter, and I simply left.

I then decided I wanted Dairy Queen ice cream, only to drive past it and decide it was too expensive. That's my problem with life -- when I want to shop or eat by myself, everything is too expensive. I have a mental block on spending money in some weird way. I actually need Paul there to prod me into buying anything besides books.

After all this, I realized I was right next to Hallmark and I was able to buy Paul's birthday cards, which I promptly did. I considered the single gender-neutral baby memory book they had, and decided against it when I realized it called for a letter from the father to the baby. In ten years of being with him, I couldn't get Paul to write me a single love letter. I doubt he's writing to this baby.

Got home, and started the lasagna. It was a fairly easy recipe, but I decided to clean the kitchen after I was done and had it in the oven.

Sat down at the computer after, and felt like I had been lazy and gotten nothing done, which caused me to cry. I love pregnancy hormones. To summarize: I did a ton of stuff, felt lazy regardless, got a guilt trip about my mother, ached in my lower back for about 60% of the day, got two shots, cried, and planned for my outings tomorrow.

I am terrified of labor, and I still cannot wait for it. I'm going insane. I'm afraid that if left alone for two full weeks, I might decide to actually repaint some portion of the house with cheap-o paint because it will simply make me feel less lazy.

A Spam Machine

Apparently, Blogger had to review this blog to make sure that I was not a spam site. I wonder what happened in my first post to trigger this fear?

Anyway, I'm rushing along on my baby blanket. It is supposed to measure a good forty-six inches long, and I measured it today and found that I was already at 20 inches, which is nuts. I'm tempted to cast on for a nice soft hat now, but I must stay on target. The hat can be done after Kittle. The blanket must be finished prior to Kittle!

Damn you, Ravelry, for having so many people posting non-baby projects that are just gorgeous.

In other knitting news, I plan to hit some knitting stores in my area this upcoming week, and I want to buy some yarn for Helen's socks as well as buy some yarn for socks for the baby and myself. Perhaps I'll buy some knitting magazines as well.

Failed Blogger

I'm a multiple time failed blogger, but the only time that I was even remotely successful was when I was blogging about knitting. So, why did I stop last time? After years of some interesting projects such as three baby blankets, three tops, and about fifteen pairs of socks, I decided I would knit my husband a Harry Potter scarf and do NOTHING ELSE. I eventually stopped knitting. I stopped blogging. I started to draw and cross-stitch and do other artsy things. Mostly I just sat on the internet.

After a bit of light prompting on my husband's part, I finally finished the scarf, and I was pretty proud of it, but reluctant to move to anything else. Then, two of my good friends decided they were going to have a child, so I started knitting them a baby blanket. As anyone who has ever knit a blanket knows, it can take a good long while, so I hunkered down on that.

By this time, I was almost over knitting. Then, I found out I was going to have a baby! I knew I had to knit just a few things for my own baby, including its own blanket and hat, and maybe a small wee sweater or socks. I finished the baby blanket for my friends Paula and Tom and ordered the yarn for a hat for my own baby. I told my boss, Helen, that I'd teach her how to knit, and I gave her one of my knitting books and some beautiful Cascade Pastaza yarn and some nice bamboo needles.

Bad luck struck at this point for me, I got a blood clot, and a nasty one and ended up in the hospital for several days. Bored, angry, tired of playing Tetris on the DS, I told Paul to bring me the yarn for a second sock I had never finished as well as my needles. Over a year earlier, I had made the first sock in a ribbing that I ended up hating beyond all belief, and I had refused to start a second sock pair without finishing this pair. The small, light project was the perfect thing for laying around drugged up in a hospital bed. I finished the second sock in two or three days. By the time I got home, I was in fine knitting form. My yarn had come for my baby's hat and it turns out my knitting magazines were easy light reading for the bathtub (where I spent most of my time), and knitting was a nice activity to do as it allowed for me to fall asleep into a drugged haze easily. I could knit in bed or on the couch. Since I could read my stitches easily, I never got lost on where I was.

By the time I had finished my baby's hat (or nearly finished it depending on my baby's eventual gender), I had ordered the basic yarn for my baby's blanket and started knitting that. By this time, I had gone back to work (while on blood thinners) and found out about something called Ravelry. I applied to join Ravelry and forgot about it. Then Bryan sent me a link to his friend Sophie's Knitting Blog where she had beautiful work, and the next thing you know, I was writing to her about her blog and listening to her discuss Ravelry.

I joined Ravelry a few days later, and then rapidly became OBSESSED with it. If you see this and you want to see my projects, I'm Septy on there.

would you rather...

I'm sure many of you have played the game, "Would you rather..." or "This or That" where you describe two horrible or great occurrences, and you're forced to choose between the two.

Here is my own pregnancy's version of "Would you rather..."

Would you rather...

"Sleep on your left side or right side."

As some of you might not know, I had a blood clot strike my thigh during my 24th week of pregnancy. This blood clot was large, dangerous, and I'm now on blood thinners shots twice a day. My doctor has advised me that sleeping on my left side is the best option for my baby. My surgeon has advised me that sleeping on my right side takes the baby's weight off my vein and allows the blood to flow more easily back to my heart.

This is a hard one. I mean, I don't want this baby to die after I've put this much work into it, so it seems like sleeping on my left side would be the sensible thing to do. I like my baby after all. He or she is already, obviously, going to be the cutest baby on Earth. (Also? Good news! It's probably smart. Genetics say if both parents have fairly high IQs, it has a good 85% or so chance of inheriting instead of turning out to be dumb. Unfortunately, the few sips of wine I've taken during pregnancy might have counteracted Paul's natural ability with math and science.) Shouldn't I make sure it gets here?

However, on the other hand, I'd like to live, and making sure the blood gets back to my heart seems like a fairly reasonable thing.

RESULT: A compromise. I often sleep on my left side, but in the middle of the night, I sometimes believe I can feel the blood flow having problems in my thigh, so I turn over to my right side. I hope the baby does okay, but I'll be pissed if I die.

"Take Lovenox or Heparin."

Well, Lovenox has one major disadvantage in the late game of pregnancy -- it takes 12 to 24 hours to wear off sufficiently for me to get an epidural. And if you think I'm going through labor without major drugs, you are crazy.

Heparin will allow me to get an epidural only 4 to 6 hours after my last shot, and can be reversed in case of emergency c-section needs. However, Heparin is now killing people.

RESULT: Heparin. I need drugs in case of vaginal labor or c-section. However, I'll be pissed if I die. (As above.)

"Give birth by C-section or vaginal birth."

Well, c-section has a lot of negatives. Okay, two negatives. One, it's a major surgery. Two, they cut open your body to pull the baby out, and you'll need stitches and recovery time for that. However, it only lasts about half an hour, and then you got a baby!

Vaginal birth is natural (but drugged for me) and easier on my body. Maybe. It might not be. It might take anywhere from an hour to 90 hours. Who is to say? It might result in 'tearing'. It might result in me having to have a c-section anyway. It might cause me incontinence later in life. It might cause me to get hemorrhoids. The baby's heart might have trouble with this option. They might have to frickin' vacuum the baby out of me.

RESULT: Since I can't actually keep the baby in me, and it's getting uncomfortable anyway, I'll go for vaginal birth if possible. However, that's just because I fear getting cut open. If I wasn't a wimp, I'd beg for a c-section.

"Get kicked or not get kicked."

I am getting kicked, prodded, pushed, and smacked about by the baby a lot nowadays. It's progressed way beyond the gentle flutters of week 20 when I was entranced with the fact that I had managed to create a life inside of me.

I'm now at the point where I've had enough. This child is STRONG. In fact, I told Paul that when this baby comes out of me, he's going to mock me because the baby won't punch that hard, but I swear, I see my stomach roll with its movements.

It has headbutted me in the ribs, kicked me in the bladder, and punched me in the lungs, I think. I will be happily playing computer, or reading a book, or driving, having forgotten the pain of pregnancy when Kittle gives me a 'gentle' reminder that he or she is still alive.

On one hand, I'm glad this occurs. I'm a natural worrier, and I'm always fearing that I've done my baby wrong by taking Percocet during my blood clot problem. (Seriously, I dreamt my baby had three eyes due to my screwy pregnancy behavior.) Feeling it kick and hiccup and move means it is still alive and probably doing well.

On the other hand, sometimes when it occurs, I wish that Kittle took longer naps so I could not be getting weird pains while I'm trying to buy a cup of hot chocolate.

RESULT: Kicks, but that doesn't make me happy.

"Prefer the baby to stay high or drop low."

Well, currently the baby is high, but it is supposed to 'drop' or 'lighten' within the next two weeks. What are the problems with the baby being high? I feel like I'm suffocating about twenty percent of the time. I literally feel like I can't breathe as the baby pushes against my lungs and I'm forced to sit and gasp for air like some sort of fish out of water. Also, I keep having to throw up late in the pregnancy as the baby sits in places that appear to block comfortable passage of food into my stomach. Which the baby is also trying to take the place of.

On the other hand, lightening is often described as feeling like 'a watermelon is sitting between your legs ready to come out' and increasing your bathroom needs from every two to three hours TO every half hour.

RESULT: High. Getting up to go to the bathroom every three hours already sucks. Getting up to go every half hour to hour might actually kill me.


"Boy or Girl."

Girls have way cuter clothes. WAY CUTER. Way more options for clothing as well. Go to your average Target or Babies'R'Us and compare the girls' clothing section to the boys'. Notice how the boys' section has about two racks of onesies while you can literally barely walk through the girls' section? That's because baby girls are cuter to dress. And you can put their hair into tiny pigtails or tiny barrettes.

On the other hand, at age thirteen, that girl is going to become snotty and fight with me all the time and tell me how much more she loves her daddy. A boy will most likely be mellow at that age, or at least quieter in his dislike for me.

RESULT: Healthy Baby. There's no winning with this one.

please stop showing me pregnanct bellies

Ugh. There is something wrong with the world. Every time I get some new piece of literature about babies from my health care provider, it shows me a picture of a pregnant belly. Why are you doing this, United Healthcare?

I hate seeing my own stomach, much less some other pregnant woman's stomach. Just show me pictures of babies so I can imagine how adorable my own baby will be, and that'll bring back the excitement levels.

In other news, I believe my back is actually giving out.

stupid things i've cut myself on

The title should be obvious, but to be clearer, I'm a clumsy moron who can't be trusted to hold basic household items without hurting myself. Here are dumbest things I've used to injure myself:

1. A butter knife, while used for its intended purpose of cutting butter: This is the harshest cut I've received in the stupid cuts department. I wacked into my forefinger good and bled like a stuck pig through three different bandages.

2. My new contact holder's tinfoil covering: I got my worst "papercut" ever from the tinfoil covering. I actually put off opening a new pair of contacts for three months after this cut, and I live in fear of new contact holders to this day.

3. Tag on the back of a new shirt: I simply slid my finger along the back of a new shirt and managed to cut it on the tag. I cut out the tag prior to wearing the shirt, but the shirt was really dead to me after that incident.

4. Blanket: My most recent injury is from an acrylic blanket I have. Paul and I had accidentally burnt a hole in it last year, and I was playing with the edge of that burnt part when I cut myself on it. I'm the only person I've ever heard of with a blanket cut.

weird facts about pregnancy

1. Kittle always flutters happily around when I look at kitten pictures or videos. No kicks or punches or anything, just happy fluttering.

2. I have to scrunch down when I blow my nose, or I get stomach cramps.

3. Kittle is 'viable'. Which is weird.

turtleneck, i gave you one more chance.

So, as those of you who know me in real life and who read this blog are aware, I'm pregnant. I'm close to five months pregnant, actually, which doesn't sound that pregnant but which feels really pregnant.

Recently, I decided to go buy some new clothes for this pregnancy, and out of nowhere, one of the pieces I picked up was a turtleneck. I've always been enamored of the way they cover long necks and make women look so mod, but I've also always felt I was slowly being strangled to death while wearing one. In fact, it's fair to say that in the past I've hated them, but I was now convinced I had grown up and would no longer hate them.

Damn, was I wrong. It really is like being slowly strangled. I kept on pulling my turtleneck away from my neck all day long. Tug, tug, tug, tug. I can still feel the neck of that shirt around me, trying to kill me. I'll probably have nightmares about it tonight (in addition to my pregnancy normal nightmares of Paul leaving me and being fired). As soon as I got home from work, I changed into a low necked shirt which barely touched my neck in any manner and the depression which had been building all day mysteriously disappeared.

Paul just shook his head at me and told me he was surprised I had gotten the turtleneck in the first place. I asked him, "You stopped wearing turtlenecks because of me, right?" He nodded while making dinner. This is totally true. When Paul used to wear turtlenecks, I'd slip my fingers into the necks and stretch them, asking him if he felt he was being strangled. After about five times wearing turtlenecks around me, I noticed his all disappeared into thin air. Paul hates having his clothes stretched.

So, now, I own one turtleneck which I don't know if I'll ever wear again. I might wear it for some occasion where I only need to leave the house for one hour or two and I can rush home and change into a normal shirt when I get home. Anyone have any non-turtleneck maternity sweaters they can sell me? It's all spring all the time in stores now, sadly.

baby kim, seen and nearly named

It is not every day that you are asked to give your opinion about a baby's name when the baby didn't actually physically come from you in any manner. Today, when Helen and I visited the newly born baby Kim, we were asked our opinion on the spelling of the first name, which thrilled me.

I like to pretend I'm not opinionated, and I can be very indecisive, but when I have an opinion, it's normally very strong. It's a curious mixture of my mom's "got to be right at all times" attitude and the beaten down nature of a child who's had to live with that mother for years.

I'm not proud to say that I was very opinionated about the spelling choices for the name.

The baby Kim is adorable, and tiny. I was too afraid to hold him, and I was terrified watching Paul hold him. All I could think was that Paul would drop him and our friendship with the Kims would be done forever. (How can you forgive even the spouse of the person who has dropped your baby?) I fussed and fussed over the way Paul was holding the baby, silently admonishing him whenever I felt he wasn't standing in a manner which was steady enough. Paul, being less of a nervous Nellie, and more of a person who has held multiple children, simply ignored me and continued to hold the baby without dropping him.

After a few minutes, Paula started to tell us about the birthing, and it assured me that I would not be able to deliver without some drugs of some sort. My mother-in-law's ability to shove six babies out of her body without drugs now strikes me as some kind of super human power. Clearly, her superpower is birthing. My own is paranoia, which does not make birthing easier.

While at the hospital, Tom tried to sway us (Helen, Paul, and I) into believing that his first choice for the baby's name was better than the name agreed upon. However, as Paula didn't like the name, Helen and I fully supported the agreed upon name. As Paul later put it, both parents get veto powers over names. (In my heart of hearts, I think females should get the first choice. I can tell you from experience that pregnancy isn't easy for me, and I think the naming would be a nice reward.)

I'm now in week 21 of my own pregnancy. I envied Paula the fact that her baby was no longer in her. Kittle is draining me of energy, and making me sick most of the time, once again. Further, I no longer fit comfortably into normal jeans, and my skin feels oddly stretched now. I am finally showing if I wear my normal non-loose t-shirts. My recommended amount of food for a person at this time at one sitting is a half of a handful or less. I frankly don't even know how I could gain more than thirty pounds during the whole pregnancy at this point. Eating the amount of food that I used to eat normally is making me sick even when I space it out. Perhaps in months 7-9, I shall feel normally hungry or even hungrier once again. Nowadays, I simply want to throw up after every meal.

As I told Paul when I burped after I woke up today, "Pregnancy. It makes me glamerous."