clearbluecup

The tiger costume was really just a bit of cuteness overload:

Also, if you don't already know, we're expecting another baby in the springtime... the beginning of May, to be exact. :)

Knitting guerilla groups cover anything and everything with yarn:

urban knitting: the world's most inoffensive graffiti

Days ticking by and it's time again for an update, but when I sit down to write nothing stands out as noteworthy or memorable. I wish I did more daily journaling, because then at least I'd have some notes to look back on and remember the funny little things that do happen each day. They just get forgotten and swept up with the dry leaves that blow in from outside.

As much as I love being a full-time (stay at home, unemployed, housewife, etc - choose the least offensive label) mom, after weeks going by in which the longest stretch of time I have to myself is three hours I start to get a little burnt out. Maybe this would be different if I were more extroverted and didn't need solitude to recharge, or maybe it would be worse, but in any case it can be hard to make sure everyone's needs are being met in a family. I've been thinking about taking a night or two out and going here, by myself.

This post sounds like I'm depressed or something, and I'm really not, which kind of makes me doubt myself and question whether or not I really need to spend the money and take time away from other things (like thesis writing) to sit in the woods by myself. I mean, I'm generally happy at home. I just haven't spent longer than 12 hours away from Beatrice since she was born. Two years ago.

In many ways I feel like I'm floating in a small boat in the calm before a storm. Things are easy enough now, but they are going to get a lot more difficult in six months. That's not a bad thing, and I knew what I was signing up for and did so gladly, but a little voice inside my head says, "take a little time out for yourself now, while you can really relax and enjoy it." Sitting in an ancient forest beside the sea sounds just about perfect.

So, I went. I retreated for a weekend. It was quiet and peaceful. I napped, went for long walks in the woods, did some writing and some knitting and ate quiet meals while reading my book. I successfully navigated the windy, dark island roads in the rain and found my destination. In some ways it wasn't quite as life-changing as I had hoped, but I'm not sure exactly what I was hoping for. It was definitely quiet and restful though, and worth it for that alone.

Now that I'm back and have had a night of interrupted sleep I feel short on patience again. Nothing makes me grumpy faster than trying to get that last hour of the night's sleep while a little person is scratching at the back of my neck with too-long fingernails. Somehow, I feel like I should have figured this all out during my weekend away. Why don't I have the magic formula now? The only thing I can think of to do is cut Bea's fingernails. Maybe the solution isn't any more profound than that - the best we can do is to be pragmatic and accept such life truths as the fact that parenting a two year old requires a massive amount of patience and frequent fingernail clipping.

Yesterday Bea and I went into our local posh kids shop, just to have a look around. It's always a bit dangerous taking a toddler into a toy store "just for a look", but I was feeling foolhardy and somewhat under pressure to come up with a really great idea for a Christmas present.

While I browsed around the store, Bea homed in on the toddler kitchen set that was there for kids to play with while their parents shopped. It was really a perfect little kitchen - all lovely wood, with adorable little wooden spatulas and fried eggs and knives to chop carrots held together with velcro. She happily cooked and chopped for ages, ignoring my numerous reminders that we were leaving the shop in five more minutes, two more minutes, one more minute. After hauling her out of the store under my arm like a screaming, writhing sack of potatoes I went home and did a bit of research on wooden toy kitchen sets.

Here's the one she (and I) fell in love with at the shop: Ma Grande Cuisine. That's right, $236.00. A bit much for a Christmas present, I think. This one seemed a bit more reasonable: Ma Petite Cuisine. Then Tom noticed the dimensions and we figured that $89 for 35cm of wooden kitchen just wasn't good value.

As I was about to give up on the idea of a lovely wooden kitchen set beneath the Christmas tree, Tom stumbled upon some amazing links to DIY toy kitchens that parents have crafted up for their kids from old TV entertainment units, a tablecloth, and best of all, Ikea components. I have a love for Ikea that is kind of embarrassing, but I had to admit that Ikea or not, this little kitchen set could be built cheaply, by us, for less than 50 bucks, and it is sooo sweet and the perfect size for a little kid.

This crafty little kitchen appeals to me on so many levels: my earth-conscious side is delighted that we could find another use for the Ikea table we already have sitting unused in our upstairs hallway, and my thrifty side is happy it won't cost $236.00. My aesthetic sense is delighted with the slick Ikea modern look, and my cancer-phobic side is just happy with the idea of avoiding another hunk of plastic inhabiting our living space. The part of me that loves to make stuff with my hands is happy to have a project, and hopes that by making things myself I'll teach my kids some practical skills, unlike those kids who are graduating from high school wearing velcro shoes.

Ok, this will probably mean nothing to you unless you follow knitblogging and are part of Ravelry, but I just discovered that Jared Flood just marked my cowichan-style sweater as a favorite.

I feel like I just had a celebrity wave at me from across the street or something.