Yes, I Am A Knitting Addict

I think my kids grew up hearing “Just a minute, I’ve got to finish this row.”

Need a sippy cup? I’ve got to finish two more stitches.

Want to rock-a-bye? I’ve got to count the stitches in this last section.

Need a diaper change? Where’s your dad?

I am a knitter. I am a very avid knitter. I can barely sit in one place for long if I don’t have a pair of knitting needles in hand. I can’t remember the last time I just sat in front of the television without my next project in my lap. I don’t know if this is because I have a lot of pent up energy, or if I have so many projects to do that any spare minute has to be spent knitting. Whatever the answer, one thing I know, knitting keeps me out of trouble.

I just love to knit. I love the way I can create something out of nothing. I love how I can solve the day’s problems when my mind wanders as I work. I love the smell of new yarn. Yes, when I go yarn shopping I have to feel the yarn, and sometimes I even smell it. I know, I am weird.

Other avid knitters will know exactly what I am talking about. There is something about the allure of a bright ball of yarn. I haven’t really met a ball of yarn I didn’t like, or at least one that I wasn’t already planning what I could make out of it. When I see yarn, I see a new baby sweater with matching ribbon or a felted hat with kicky beads. It’s a problem I am learning to live with. It’s a problem my husband is learning to pay for.

I actually learned how to knit when I was in college. I was living in Norfolk the summer of my Junior year, doing an internship at the Norfolk Daily News. My landlady loved to make afghans and attempted to introduce me to knitting. I didn’t really have time to pick up the habit back then, but it seemed like something I could enjoy doing if I had the time.

Once I graduated and got my job writing for a computer magazine, I still didn’t have time. When I got home I just wanted to veg on the couch or go out for the weekend. Then I had Mandy. Granted, I had no spare time and even less sleep, but I needed something that challenged my brain.

I joined a Mom’s group and made a really great friend, Julie. She loved to knit and had a little girl a few months older than Mandy. She reintroduced me to knitting. I couldn’t remember exactly how to do everything, so I got myself a how-to book and relearned how to cast on and knit. Then Julie and I would go to the Mill, a local coffee house, and work on our knitting and drink coffee. It was almost like we were real grown ups, drinking real coffee. We left the babies home with our husbands and talked and cackled and knit. Really we were just so glad to be out somewhere without someone clinging to us or screaming in our ears. But enough about our husbands. J

This knitting was a real sanity saver. Staying home with your kids 24-hours a day is a difficult transition from the 8-to-5 working world. At the end of the day, it seems as if you don’t accomplish a thing. Plus there is no paycheck making you feel as if you don’t actually contribute to the real world. You make a meal – and then there are the dishes. You do the dishes – and then it is time to make more food or a bottle. You can clean a room – but once you leave the room, the toddlers tear it apart again. You do the laundry – but they have already spit up all over the clothes and blankets they are wearing. It’s an endless cycle. At the end of the day nothing stays done. Nothing was ever actually accomplished. Of course I was raising two beautiful, wonderful children. In my mind, I knew that. But I’m the kind of person who has to see a physical result of my work at the end of the day to feel validated.

And knitting did that for me. Even if I only knit two rows that day, I accomplished two rows. And all the dishes and laundry and toys and crying couldn’t undo those two rows. It was the way I clung to my sanity. In the evening I would think “but at least today I knit two rows.”

The first projects I made were not fantastic and I wouldn’t have given them to anyone other than my immediate family. As my kids grew and my skills advanced, I knit the kids blankets and sweaters and hats and scarves. During my kids formative years they each heard “just wait until I finish this row” whenever they needed something or were tired. I suppose that is why my kids drag their feet whenever I ask them to do something for me now. I have come to the certain conclusion that I am never going to hear “how high” when I tell my kids to jump to it. Or, they might have learned that from their father, that and how to roll their eyes.

Along with baby sweaters for my own children, I made lots of baby gifts for my family and friends. The gifts must have been well received because eventually these family and friends would ask me to make gifts for them to give to their friends. At first I used patterns to knit things. But once I got the basic idea of how to shape things, I would just knit by my own design. Often I would make up my own designs. Sometimes I think these were even better than the stuff out of the pattern books.

And so a business was born. Now, in addition to making items to order for friends and relatives, I knit purses, baby sweaters, hats, scarves, vests, washcloths, bike bags, and other paraphernalia year round. I created my own craft business, called Knitting Novelties. I sell thousands of dollars worth of my own creations. I have a strong following and have even had numerous items at several stores around Lincoln – per their request. I’ve been in an art show at a local art gallery. And every once in a while I actually see a lady wearing a hat I made or a baby wearing one of the baby dresses I knit while I am out and about Nebraska.

I do a few craft shows outside of Nebraska. I do the Rockbrook Apple Days show in Omaha, the Mid-America Center in Council Bluffs, the big Seward fall show (once I did the July 4 show), the Odell Thanksgiving show, the Columbus Scotus December show, the St. Marks Lincoln show, the Clarinda, Iowa show, and the Hillsboro, Kansas show. At several of the craft shows I now attend, the organizers actually contacted me to be in their show. People occasionally come to a certain craft show because they know I will be there; they have actually told me that. It seems inconceivable that other people would like my stuff so much. I can’t believe that other people would like – and especially pay money for – the stuff I love to create.

So now I get to do what I love and support my family by doing it. I can’t think of a better way to live life. During the fall and winter I spend all my time restocking my craft booth or making special orders. Before Christmas I am just overwhelmed. Sometimes I only have a few days or a week to do most of my Christmas shopping. But I love it.

Now I spend my time during my kids’ sporting practices knitting. Coaches and parents often ask me what I am knitting. I’m sure they are wondering how many scarves one lady could need. Or else they are really wondering how many babies I have at home. If I can’t get my knitting done during the day, I often stay up until midnight trying to finish the projects I have to get done for the week. Every once in a while my hands might get tired or my fingers might swell. Or, I might actually get sores on the end of my thumb because I had to make so many wool hats a day to fill an order. Wool just sucks all the moisture out of your skin.

But I love it. And I plan to keep on knitting as long as people keep on buying. I rarely get a chance to knit things for my family and friends anymore, although I try to make the time when it is important. If you get the chance to go to a local craft show, look me up. I have a Facebook page now for Lincoln Knitting Novelties with my craft show schedule and pictures of some of my stuff. (The pictures, however, do not do the stuff justice.) Please don’t feel like you ever, ever have to buy anything. I’m not having trouble making ends meet and I often run out of some things by the end of the season. I just love to visit with the people I know, I don’t mind letting you take a breather to sit in my chair, and I generally have change to break a twenty.

And don’t ask for knitting lessons. I refuse to give them. Mainly it’s because I knit backwards. Yep. I am a right handed person who knits left handed. I guess that’s what comes from teaching yourself out of a book. And I don’t want to mess anybody else up for life.

But I am looking for a new knitting/coffee buddy. Since Julie moved to Minnesota, the Mill just hasn’t been the same. So if you are looking for a break from your kids, like to drink coffee, and don’t mind a little cackling, look me up.  I’ll be there as soon as I finish this row.

Pretty Fly for a White Guy

My son is starting to get pimples. I nearly cried when I saw this.

NO! Not my baby. He is the only one in the house who doesn’t roll their eyes at me behind my back. (Yes, Rick, I see you do it too.) He is the only person who loves to act just as goofy as I do and isn’t too cool to be seen with me. He can’t grow up. Who am I going to make fun of the ironies of the English language with? Who is going to randomly entertain me by singing popular songs with his own made up verses? Who is going to tell me inane facts that they heard on John Tesh or read on the Internet? Oh wait, I’ve got Rick for that last one.

Joe will turn 12 next week. He is in the 6^th grade and enjoys acting like a clown, has no problem dancing like a goof, and relishes screaming like a girl. He still sits on my lap and shares his popcorn with me. He loves playing with his dog and beating up on his sister (when she doesn’t kick his butt). And he isn’t ashamed to do his runway model walk and act “fierce.”

But I have a feeling the days are numbered until the teenager comes screeching out. He thinks Jessica Alba is pretty and his mouth drops open and he looks dumbfounded during the Victoria Secret commercials. He’s started to wear Axe when we go out to the movies on the weekends.

He has been my husky little man, kicking butt on the football field and chugging after the baseball at first base. But I’ve noticed he has started to grow taller. He is only an inch or two shorter than I am. This seems to have happened completely out of the blue. And suddenly he wants to get in shape. He’s been keeping up with his pushups and sit ups to stay in shape for basketball. In fact, he’s been doing an East Supreme basketball clinic twice a week to improve his ball handling. I watched Sunday night and he can really handle the basketball. In the three-on-three tournament he played a week ago, he actually dribbled the ball down the lane to the basket several times instead of passing it away. His shooting, however, well that is going to need some work.

(We signed Mandy up this session for the same basketball clinic, because it’s for boys and girls grades 6-8. She’s going to play recreational basketball this winter in addition to her club volleyball season. It’s somewhat humorous watching the 8^th grade boys fumble all over the place when they have to do drills next to her in line. But at least the basketball boys are closer to her height, although she says several of these boys already have mustaches. And then there are the high school boys who are there to help run the clinic. I’m not exactly sure Mandy will be getting as much benefit with her ball-handling skills as Joe does. But she sure comes home happy. Well, we tried.)

Anyways, I’m not ready for my little man to start changing into a real man. Soon the girls will start giving him the eye. He will actually start using his cell phone to text people, instead of just using it to play games at his sister’s sporting events. Why is it that he rarely texts, but yet he knows how to make just about any texting face with only the keys on the keyboard? It’s probably the same reason he can do more with any of the electronics in my house than I can – he’s an 11-year-old boy.

He is starting to grow up. And this is going to be a problem. I can tell already. He has Rick’s blue eyes and facial features. Now that some of that baby fat is melting away, Joe is going to look just like his dad. Evidently Rick couldn’t even go home over the lunch hour to escape the girls in high school. Yep, the girls are going to be calling and texting. And Joe has such a soft heart, you just know some aggressive girl is going to love him and leave him and break his heart.

I’m just not ready for all of this. It was easier with Mandy for some reason. Maybe it is because she looks and acts a few years older than she actually is. And we’ve been lucky. Most of the boys that pursue her that she is interested in are pretty nice guys. I’m sure it will get tricky once she goes to high school, especially at a big public high school in Lincoln. But I know she has a good head on her shoulders, and just because a guy likes her doesn’t mean she automatically likes him. That is a relief. And she knows the difference between the guys you date and the bad boys (although I think she does flirt with them, as well. It’s in her genes. I will put my foot down, however, if there are any boys with motorcycles. I know there are a good number of people who are laughing pretty hard about that comment right now.)

Maybe it has something to do with mothers and sons. Or, maybe it has something to do with the fact that Joe was such a terror when he was little, and now he is such a joy. He has a lot of personality and an awesome sense of humor. Joe gets up early and makes the coffee most mornings. Today he decided to make pancakes for everybody and was cooking them when we came downstairs. I asked him if he wanted an iPod for his birthday. He said no, he would just take another Playstation game. He doesn’t want us wasting money on something he doesn’t need. He is going to be a wonderful man some day. He already is a wonderful son.

He’s not officially a teenager yet, but I’m the one with the growing pains. It won’t be long until my little boy is too cool to hang out with his mom and he will prefer his friends to his family on the weekends. This next year I plan to cherish all the time I have left with the boy, before he outgrows us. Then it will be just Rick and me. Yep. That better not have been an eye roll . . .

P.S. Rick felt that I did not portray his annoyance with some of my comments in the most literate way. He states that he does not roll his eyes at me behind my back. He is quite adamant that he clearly rolls his eyes at me in front of my face. In fact he states that he rolls not only his eyes, but his whole head, and has no problem with me seeing his annoyance. In fact, he says, he relishes it. Clearly, he has never heard the mantra: Happy wife, happy life. He is a slow learner.

Volleyball, Ice, and Joe Dirt (Not necessarily in that order)

I really hate ice. Ice is yucky. This is exactly the kind of weather that makes me want to turn my cars key in for the winter and hire a driver.

So today was our first day of snow. Oh the joy. I do not like to drive on the wet roads when the temperature is right around the 32 degree mark. Although it may not be slick, you aren’t sure where the ice might be.

And people turn stupid all of the sudden. Some people slow way down. Some people hit the gas and swerve in and out of traffic to show their annoyance. The combination of the two types of drivers equals lots of flashing lights and smoking dented cars. The temperature was 40 degrees when I picked up the kids from school (no ice whatsoever) and some major collision on Highway 2 had traffic backed up as far as the eye could see. People are idiots.

But that’s enough of the ranting. I prefer to move on to much happier topics. This weekend, for instance, was fantastic.

It started with the WELS Lutheran school volleyball tournament Saturday in Waco. Yes, you knew I had to talk about the tournament just a little bit. Both Mandy (8^th grade) and Joe (6^th grade) play on their school’s volleyball team. With only nine kids in grades 5-8, they have to play in order to field a team. The kids played in the B pool against other teams from Gethsemane Omaha, Plymouth, the little Waco team, and Central Lutheran (from the Norfolk area).

The kids have been practicing twice a week for the last month or so at Mandy’s club volleyball facility. I must say that having Mandy on their team (measuring 5’8’’) probably gave the Mustangs some advantage. She is probably several inches taller than any of the girls – and boys – her age. At one time during the tournament Mandy jumped over the net to tip the ball back down on one of the Gethsemane teams. Mandy said the Gethsemane coach just smiled and shook her head. Mandy also had some awesome serves. She was really hitting those back corners (a few even went a little long, which is a real change from the short serves she was making last season). Rick, acting as assistant coach, was giving her signals where to spot serve the ball. He said he regrets that he forgot his black binder so that he could slam the binder down -- Coach Cook style -- whenever the team missed the ball. Oh Rick.

Mandy was the only player on the team with any volleyball experience, so the team played mostly “dump” ball, which means they rarely bump, set, and spiked the ball, like Mandy is used to with her Magic club team. They just dumped the ball back across the net. When you don’t have a lot of players who can bump the ball successfully, you don’t want to waste time setting to someone who is just going to miss it.

However, someone told me that Mandy was a pretty generous player on the court. Several times she set the ball to her friend Braden, or her brother Joe, yelling their name so they could hit or spike it over. It was a great experience to watch Mandy and Joe working together to score points. It almost brings a tear to my eye. All that practice hitting one another has finally paid off.

The kids won all their matches and all their sets the whole day to make it to the championship match. And then things just fell apart. They let their nerves get the better of them and lost the first set of that last game. Things did not look good the second set either. Some of the kids were missing serves. Players were not moving their feet. Mandy was getting frustrated because she couldn’t make it across the court to return every ball. (We tried to tell her ahead of time that one person can’t be the whole team.) And then Joe gets up to serve. The kids’ teacher gets up and yells “Come on Bubblicious,” and promises to call him that all week if he makes his serve. (Joe’s nickname is Bubby, and he likes to call himself Bubblicious. I don’t know. He’s just weird like that. I have no idea where that comes from.) And as my sister Carrie has also mentioned in her blog, it was a turning point moment, just like when Lavonte David stripped the ball and turned the momentum in the Husker/Ohio State football game. Joe kept serving it over and we kept making points. He got the Mustangs back in the game and the crowd went wild. We won the set. There was a lot of yelling and cheering. The kids were jumping around and high-fiving on the court.

Then in the final set the kids started letting their nerves get the better of them again. But they kept fighting for every point and it went right down to the wire. Somehow the Mustangs made it to 25 points first. The kids were jumping up and down and yelling and screaming. The fans were jumping up and down and yelling and screaming. Even my mother was jumping up and down and yelling and screaming. I think my dad might have walked out in the hall. I guess we were loud. Go figure.

So Saturday was pretty fantastic. The kids got together with their friends after the game to hang out. Rick and I went out with the other coach and her husband and kept the pitchers and nachos coming at Grandmother’s. We watched the Husker lady’s lose their volleyball match and listened to some karaoke performers. I don’t think the bell curve was mentioned once. We had plenty to talk about that didn’t involve the long-distant past.

Sunday included even more sports. Joe played in a three-on-three basketball tournament with a few boys from his basketball team. It lasted the better part of the day and their record was 1-2-1. The game they tied was against a bunch of the players from Joe’s Spirit basketball team. I guess only one player threw one tantrum on the court. There are some serious characters on that Spirit team. That is a blog all of its own. Every game is worth watching just for the sheer entertainment value.

I painted myself just short of becoming silly with my sister and aunt Sunday afternoon. They painted Christmas ornaments and Carrie made a gnome. She wants to create her own little gnome colony so she can be hanging with her gnomies. She is so funny. Or else the whole Lincoln library culture is starting to get to her. As Joe likes to ask, isn’t there a pill for that?

On Monday we were stupid enough to agree to host most of the same kids from the volleyball team for some trick-or-treating. The boys tore up the basement beforehand, playing Wii and foosball. Joe dressed as a ‘70s police officer, with black afro and mustache. Mandy went out separately with her friend Megan. Mandy dressed as a vampire, complete with black mini-skirt and fish-net stockings. I said no to the bustiere, although I guess they got some whistles from a few neighborhood boys, none-the-less. But the real looker was Rick. He put on his Joe Dirt wig, cut-off t-shirt, Bass hat, and flannel shirt. He carried a beer can that he quickly chugged before they headed out. He carried it in his pocket hoping that someone would offer him another beer when they gave the boys Halloween candy. But he got no offers. Imagine that. What can I say, you can take the boy away from the rednecks, but you can’t take the redneck out of the boy.

Once Rick and the kids hit the streets, Carrie, my friend Melissa and I turned on the movies and broke out the wine. This year we watched “Clue.” Favorite lines: “To make a long story short…too late.” And, “Men should be like Kleenex, soft, strong, and disposable.”

We had very few trick-or-treaters. Most kids now seem to go to the big events, such as the ones at the mall or the zoo. I think parents think this is safer, and in some cases, warmer. The kids that do come around travel in huge packs. And they seem to be getting older and older. In a few years Rick might not be the oldest kid out there.

But that means more candy for me. The kids aren’t as easily tricked into giving me the stuff they don’t like. I guess I have to fend for myself.

So in spite of the crappy weather today, it’s been a pretty good week. I can’t complain, or at the least, I shouldn’t. I’ve got loads of leftover candy. The Bubblicious is ruling the school. And we are done with all the extra volleyball practices. Things are looking up. So I guess I should wrap this up and make a long story short…too late.

                                                                         Go Mustangs.

                                                                   I'm just a lucky girl.