the one major notable drawback to staggering the kids' naps is, on days like today in the fair month of february (but not really, because most other years today would be march) when it's 60 degrees without a cloud in the sky and we're stuck inside. this can be partially remedied by opening all of our windows and creating an 80mph wind tunnel through our apartment which rather accurately simulates the chicago outdoors.
it's hard to believe that one short year ago, we were still digging ourselves out of snowmageddon, and now we can count on one hands the days that we've even seen snow fall from the sky this season. no complaints here...we had more than enough misery last winter (and the 26 that came before it) to eliminate any inkling of nostalgia over our final "winter," hopefully for the rest of our lives.
speaking of which, the foundation of our future home has officially been poured, a rather symbolic occasion, as though the seed of our life in davis has already taken root.
this past week, grandma jeannette had cataract surgery. while she regains the gift of sight, nani has stepped in to mind the little ones as mom and dad continue to work away, now more than ever with what little we've been able to save transferred directly to our future home. a worthwhile investment, but scary nonetheless. with these extra hands on deck, we've been able to enjoy two recipes from our cookbook this week: open face tempeh sandwiches with mushroom gravy and radicchio watercress salad (dad's favorite thus far) and lentil spinach soup with vegetable buckwheat pancakes and spicy yogurt sauce (mom's favorite thus far).
while i've been scrounging around for odd hours on different units, attending meetings, or working on staff education projects, david has been busily studying away for his final inservice exam of residency, which thankfully concluded 8 hours ago. we're looking forward to seeing more of him around here!
and as we've busied ourselves with work, the kids have been moving right along in their respective development. reese is becoming quite agile climbing to a standing position on more and more challenging objects. he has even stood and taken a few steps with their walking toy (which we purchased to help bean along in her protracted journey to walking, which she of course refused to use properly and pushed around insistently on her hands and knees). both of them have been sleeping quite well this week, with a few impressive naps. those are always a treat.
bean has been very focused on colors this week (most things are bluuuuuuuuuueeeee), counting (every other number is cuatro), and the alphabet (the first line: aaaahhh, bee, see, daddy, ITSYOUUU! some letters have just become words--d is for daddy, and e is for eliana, but she calls herself "you"). a friend of ours recently gave us a puzzle that we had no intention of introducing to her for at least a few months...imagine my surprise the other morning when i saw her dump it out and put it back together in just a few seconds. she's also becoming a very adept sous chef.
her most impressive progress this week has really been her singing. she has taken a special liking to michael jackson (JACKSON!) and adele (DEL!) which she asks for multiple times throughout the day so she can sing along. it's pretty cute. this week she is 21 months old...suddenly so much closer to 2 than she is to 1...when did that happen?
there's another important anniversary i've been meaning to address this month, so i'd better use this one extra day to do so. one year ago, i decided to really learn how to knit. i needed a hobby that i could easily transport, pick up and put down unexpectedly, forget about, remember, one that was baby friendly, requiring varying levels of attention and resilient to curious and surprisingly strong little hands.
i learned to hold needles and work yarn in my childhood from my swiss grandmother, and only now can i really appreciate that early continental beginning which has allowed me to hold yarn in my left hand! i know we excel at what we're used to, but those english throwers just look like they work awfully hard. i digress.
i went in search of a hobby, and found something that has become so profoundly, utterly valuable to me. yes, knitting has provided me much of what i thought it would--a way to pass the time, a fun activity that's relatively childproof, a source of treasured handmade gifts, especially for babies. but i had not expected that it would truly change my life in so many ways.
project by project, piece by piece, from super chunky wool to lace weight angora, aluminum, plastic, bamboo and acrylic needles (my beloved denise interchangeables), knit, purl, cable, rib, seed, moss, beads, buttonholes, i cord, kitchener, long tails, short rows, provisional, finger block, steam block, on the bus, on the train, in the car, on planes, in the hospital, in bed, at the doctor, on every lunch and dinner break, i have worked my way through mile upon mile upon mile of yarn.
knitting has given me a sense of determination and accomplishment that i'm not sure i've found anywhere else. with each completed project i have gained more skill and confidence. i have felt the rewards of gifting my dearest ones with items i have loved making for them, and they have loved wearing. i have learned about patience and flexibility, standards and troubleshooting. i have made friends in the cyber and real worlds of knitting and have found a new community. i have come to love the shape and feel and nuances in color of different yarn from different animals, spinners and dyers. i look forward to reading the next chapter in a knitting book, to learning a new technique. i stay up at night dreaming of new projects, or can hardly stay in bed after reese's morning feeding because i can't wait to start knitting again.
but perhaps most significantly, knitting has become a much needed comfort to me during a very challenging time in my life. there is literally nothing i can do on my own schedule. every second of my life is spent attending to the needs of others. i can rarely eat when i am hungry, drink when i am thirsty, sleep when i am tired, i cannot so much as shower by myself, i am shackled to a space of 800 square feet and if i dare to even look askance at the wrong moment i might be greeted to one or two babies screaming, loudly, for a very long time with nowhere to hide or any promise of reprieve. the days where i might sit and read a book, or take a walk, or visit a cafe, or make a phone call, or any of those great luxuries are a faint, distant memory. any decision i make, literally down to what position i sit in, is 100% determined by the previous, current, and future five minutes of moods and needs of these two precious tyrants.
knitting, not resting or eating or reading or singing, not cooking or cleaning or drawing or painting, not jogging, not watching tv, but knitting, has become my lighthouse in a sea of early parenting unpleasantries, the one thing i can cling to, come back to, and look forward to, every single day. i have been doing it long enough now that the kids can't possibly remember life without it, and it's the only thing i do that they seem to respect, or at least ignore. this incites in me, a sense, artificial perhaps (but who cares), that something is still mine. that i can still focus and achieve, plan and execute, that i can improve and learn and apply without any pressure or set schedule. progress happens organically, but even if it's just a few
stitches, every day it adds up, and then suddenly it becomes something lovely. and i'm reassured that in this life there is a small but mighty compromise, that i can have something so important that is only mine when i have, in spite of my fierce independence, learned to share everything else.
when a day has left me so weary i cannot endure the sound of the first baby crying, awake for the day the next morning hours earlier than i'd hoped, i sigh with relief to know that i will have my needles, and i will find a way to knit, and that is only mine. i will knit as reese lays across my chest to eat, i will knit as bean sits in my lap to read a book, and i will continue knitting long after they've gone to sleep at night. no due dates or deadlines, no weather contingencies, no expectations, it is the one thing that is always just there, no fuss or demands, waiting for my exactly as i left it. and in a life where everything is so constantly, rapidly changing, i cannot articulate the great comfort of having one thing that stays the same.
my first completed piece:
my last completed piece:
to celebrate this anniversary, i intend to take on my two biggest projects to date. one, a wedding gift for some wonderful friends of ours, and the other, a piece for myself. after all, i've been so thrilled to knit for others, i've got nothing to show for it but the cabled hat i made one year ago (and wear every day). i already have the yarn, so beautiful and soft, bundled deep in my closet safe from tangling little fists, waiting its turn (behind bean's much belated xmas sweater, now more of a birthday sweater?). i ordered it from
this wonderful purveyor whose patterns and pieces i've admired a whole year, and finally treated myself to a purchase.
no, thank you.
personally, i find january 1 to be a depressing and artificial start to the new year. maybe it's just me, but it seems very difficult to motivate oneself to start anew in the depths of necessary hibernation. nothing really feels fresh with gray skies, dirty snow, subzero temperatures, and darkness at 4:30pm. jewish people at least push back the new year to the fall, but in iran, they celebrate the new year on march 21. the first day of spring, OF COURSE. what day could indicate more promise, the start of a season of thaw, of new growth and birth, of warmth and green? in every sense of the word, march 21 really seems to be the true "new" year.
of course, any other year, mid march isn't much better than early january in terms of temperature (though at least there are fewer weeks before it starts to warm up and feel "new"). but this year, chicago, like much of the country, skipped spring altogether and went straight from snow to blistering heat. living in the midwest, you grow accustomed to these sudden, severe, unpredictable changes in weather. you also learn not to ask questions, and when the temperature breaks 50, regardless of the calendar day, you better put on your t shirt and organize an outdoor activity immediately.
we had about two days of bliss, and then we were again reminded why i hate living here. our apartment building does not replace ac filters until april, because it is still frigid in april every year except this year. thus, we have no air conditioning. we do however have a lot of windows. on the 15th floor with a lot of windows, clear skies and mid 80s, our apartment has turned into a greenhouse. it's at least 20 degrees hotter inside, no matter the open windows, doors and ceiling fan...we have to lay low since heat rises, play in the bathrooms because the tile is cooler, and run ourselves under the sink to cool off. sleeping at night or naptime for all four of us has become a real challenge. trying to convince bean to sleep without pants is a work in progress. pants. PANTS. PAAAAAAAAAANTS! they do love their routines.
in spite of this legitimate discomfort, i think we're all still grateful for this early thaw, and the ability to get outside. it's a perfect send-off for us out of the midwest, since i doubt i'll ever miss the true winter, and summer in chicago is pretty magical. if the weather keeps up this way, we'll have several extra weeks of beach time before we head west.
other than the weather, life is status quo. we're enjoying a prolonged period of neither baby being sick, which makes life grand. i'm still working my tail off in preparation for our move. david is coming off two relaxed weeks and is about to do the same until he graduates (except without the overtime pay). aside from the constant sweltering heat, we really can't complain.
