The man and boy flew off to Oahu for the Highland Games, leaving me waving from an empty driveway with the infink - alone and defenseless for the wolves to feast on.
For two days, we ate cookies and watched early-morning Shaun the Sheep. We set Pandora to classic rock and hung out laundry with the Rolling Stones. We mowed half the lawn - I pushed the rotary mower and he raced ahead as if chased by a combine harvester. We dragged out the lawn chairs, sunning our legs and loading squirt guns. We caught up on icanhascheezburger and cuteoverload, and ate leftover homemade pasta.
For three nights, the child was bathed and read to and tucked into bed with a song by 7:30pm. There is nothing quite as heartbreakingly perfect as a sleeping child in footie pajamas. I kissed his curls and tiptoed out of the bedroom, to spend a few hours working on my illustrations with a small glass of whiskey and a few episodes of the Wire and Dr. Who. I've been trying hard to get sucked into Dr. Who, but it just hasn't hooked me the way Battlestar did. I enjoy David Tennant's bugging eyes and tiny teeth, though.
And while Leif dug in the yard with trucks, or laid his head on my chest to watch Ponyo and My Neighbor Totoro in the evenings, my hands were working.
A bit of hobbit-wear for cool nights on the misty mountain with the friends.
For two days, we ate cookies and watched early-morning Shaun the Sheep. We set Pandora to classic rock and hung out laundry with the Rolling Stones. We mowed half the lawn - I pushed the rotary mower and he raced ahead as if chased by a combine harvester. We dragged out the lawn chairs, sunning our legs and loading squirt guns. We caught up on icanhascheezburger and cuteoverload, and ate leftover homemade pasta.
For three nights, the child was bathed and read to and tucked into bed with a song by 7:30pm. There is nothing quite as heartbreakingly perfect as a sleeping child in footie pajamas. I kissed his curls and tiptoed out of the bedroom, to spend a few hours working on my illustrations with a small glass of whiskey and a few episodes of the Wire and Dr. Who. I've been trying hard to get sucked into Dr. Who, but it just hasn't hooked me the way Battlestar did. I enjoy David Tennant's bugging eyes and tiny teeth, though.
And while Leif dug in the yard with trucks, or laid his head on my chest to watch Ponyo and My Neighbor Totoro in the evenings, my hands were working.
Dark heather brown cotton, light and washable.
Leif checked on my progress intermittently, and put his arms out to try it on at every stage of construction. When it was done, he ran his hands over it and said, "Wow. Pretty. For me." My chest exploded from gratification.
I knit to distract myself from my thoughts; to channel sadness or shmoopiness or regret and achieve a sort of mindless focus in the repetitive motion. Every item has a feeling worked into it - some I need to give away, some go into a box, some get ripped out and cussed at. This one is the best of what I can do, because it makes my son feel loved, and that is everything I put into it during these days alone with him.
Great pattern... The boy looks cherubic!
ReplyDeleteHow can I get you to knit me some socks for my hubby's kilting days? I've got tartan to make flashing, but I don't have good socks!
If I ever knit a kilt hose, I would have to hang myself with it. Socks are the devil. They are sitting in the corner with instant coffee and red wine.
ReplyDeleteThe man tried knitting his own kilt hose last year, and there is now half a hose clogging up my stash cupboard. If I could figure out how to make them flat, though...
I will think on it. But only because I like your husband's legs so much.