Friends

It's carnival time over at One More Thing, and today's theme is Friends. I wrote a rather long post in my head at 2am while I was up feeding the baby AGAIN, but now I can't remember any of it. Sigh.

So now I'm writing something different.

One thing my "real world" friends don't get is my relationship with my bloggity friends. I'll say something like, "My friend Soandso told me suchandsuch," and a RW friend will ask how I know Soandao. When I say, "I know her through blogging," my RW friend will inevitably give me a strange look, like I'm a five-year-old talking about her imaginary friend Princess Puffyfeathers.

But I don't care. Even though I've never met these women, I do count them as my friends. That's not to say every blogger whose blog I read is a friend, but the ones with whom I communicate off-blog, or with whom I trade lots of comments.

There's Fishygirl, who has become a good friend in the year-plus we've been reading each other's blogs. She's also a mother of four, but has two more years experience with it, so she can talk me off a ledge when I get frantic about how hard it is. Plus, she's really cool.

There's Wendi, who is one of the funniest writers I know, and who has become a RW friend to boot. Double score.

And Barb, whom I met before she was a blogger then reconnected with after she started blogging and then she up and moved to New Jersey, so now she's a bloggy friend again.

I can't forget Kate, the sponsor of this whole carnival thing. I started reading her blog last summer after MadMad (another wonderful bloggy friend) did a guest post, and Kate and I started exchanging e-mails, and one thing led to another, and now I consider her a bloggy friend. Plus, her mother-in-law makes mine look positively normal.

I'm very glad I have all these extra friends in my life - there are more I haven't mentioned because I was up with the baby all night and I haven't had my coffee yet. I love reading about their lives and getting their e-mails and sharing my life with them.

(I may read this later and cringe at what I've written, pre-coffee.)

Ah, spring break

The kids started spring break today, and I couldn't be happier. We don't have any plans for the week, except for the San Antonio Zoo tomorrow, and that's just fine with me.

The morning routine had descended into pure chaos the last few weeks, especially with the start of DST. Most mornings I was having to drag the girls out of bed by their feet and propel them into the kitchen to eat. I also found myself yelling things like, "I don't care if your socks feel 'weird,' brush your teeth now!" It wasn't a fun way to start the day for anyone around here.

The after school rush had gotten hard, too. On Mondays Lily has ballet right after school, so I would have to shove a snack in her while cramming her into her leotard and tights so that we could sprint downtown and find parking. Ella has rock climbing practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she was always getting home after the rest of us had eaten dinner. Bedtimes on those nights are particularly hard, and Ella always wakes up cranky the next morning.

But this week we don't have to be out of bed at any certain time, we don't have to rush out the door in the mornings, and we don't have any after-school activities. Bliss. Plus, after a week of rain, the weather has turned lovely, which means I can shove the kids into the back yard to play when they get on my nerves.

We all needed this week of nothingness.

Random knitting things

Thing 1.

The other night I pulled myself together and organized my stash, what there is of it. Ella wandered into my room during the process, and her eyes positively lit up when she saw all the balls of yarn scattered on the floor. I had to shoo her away with the promise of some of my leftovers before she could dive in and help herself. B witnessed the exchange and just sighed, saying, "You're indoctrinating her early, aren't you?"

Thing 2.

I had lunch a few weeks ago with a friend who is a non-knitter. She knows I knit, so she told me a story about her neighbor. The conversation went something like this:

J: My neigbhor knits, and she loves to show me her yarns. They're all from alpacas raised in the Peruvian highlands or something.
H: Yes.
J: The yarn is all hand-dyed and spun and costs a small fortune per skein.
H: Yes.
J: She gets together every Saturday morning with friends, and they knit and then go to lunch and knit some more.
H: Yes.
J: So none of this sounds strange to you?
H: No.

Thing 3.

A friend from high school, R, is in town this weekend for SXSW, and I met her for dinner last night along with another friend from school, J (but not the same J as in the last story), who moved here last summer. It was fun to get together with them. R and J had seen each other this summer at our class's 20 year reunion, which I had missed. I hadn't seen R since graduation, 20 years ago. Anyway, R is a knitter, so we had dinner at Guero's on South Congress precisely because it's across the street from Hill Country Weavers, which I had promised R I'd take her to.

After dinner we strolled up the stree to HCW and promised J we'd try not to scare her in the store. She said she promised not to touch anything, and R and I both immediately said, "No, that's the point of going! You're supposed to pet the yarn and feel how soft it is and think about what you'd make with it." J looked a little concerned. She really did spend most of her time in the store sitting in the corner, trying to stay out of the way, while R and I wandered around exclaiming over the yarn. I had thought maybe we could convert J, but no such luck.

Thing 4.

After a few weeks of almost no knitting, I've gotten back in the swing. The rough spot I went through during the last few months sort of sucked my will to knit out of me. But now I'm back. I've finished one sock for B and have a good bit of the second done. I also finished a gift for a friend who just had a baby. Now I need to manage to get the gift to her before the baby grows out of it. I can't wait to get B's socks done so that I can start on socks for me out of the Mini Mochi I bought while shopping with my mom. Plus I need to knit Uncle T a hat, not that he'll need it for months and months.

Look, grown-ups!

That's what my dad said when he saw this picture of me and B. We went to a wedding last weekend and got all duded up in grown-up clothes. I even wore lipstick AND stockings. B wears real clothes fairly often for his job, but never a suit and tie. It was a big night out.

We tried to get a good picture of us with Elizabeth, but she wanted no part of it. She behaved herself very well all evening, only blowing a few raspberries during the ceremony, but by this time she was tired and ready to go home - as was I.

Now if we could only get a good picture of us with the four monkeys we call children. But I think that may be asking too much.

The larch

Ten points for anyone who gets the reference.

And now for something completely different . . .

I figured I'd take a break from the photos of my greats and grands for the day to show off Elizabeth, who turned five months old last week. She has more than made up for her shaky start - at her four-month check-up she was on the regular growth chart for weight, length and head size. Just this last week she stopped needing to be swaddled to sleep, AND she's been going to sleep on her own without needing to be nursed. (I feel like I shouldn't even say that last bit out loud just in case I jinx myself.)

Here are some new pictures, just because she's so cute that I can't help myself.

Here she is with her "twin" Bitty Baby. When Elizabeth was born, she was smaller than the doll. Elizabeth also figured out how to catch her feet this week, which has provided her with an endless source of entertainment.

Elizabeth still sleeps in her cradle in our closet, but she does like to nap in our big bed. I usually put her in the bed during the day so I can hear her when she cries if I'm in the front of the house. I can't hear her if she's back in the closet.

And finally, another adorable hat from my mom. B says she looks like a baby Rastafarian, which is appropriate since the hat pattern is the "Marley."

More pictures

I had so much fun going through the old pictures for Saturday's post, that I decided to put up some more. But first, to clear up some confusion on names. We called my grandmother "Nona," but she wasn't Italian. Her name was Mona, and somewhere along the line, someone dubbed her Nona as a nickname. She was Scottish. And her mother was named Ella, but we called her "Lala." Lala's husband was William Henry, or Harry to friends, but grandkids and the like called him "Boppy." Confused yet?

These pictures are of Lala and Boppy.



Except for this one. This cute little guy is my dad - RunnerDude from the comments.


This is Lala outside her house in Scotland in 1921, which makes her about 22.


Here are Lala and Boppy from 1960. The photo says it is the HMS Carolina's North Cape Cruise, but I have no idea what North Cape that might be. My great-grandparents and grandparents cruised A LOT, mostly because for much of my great-grandparents' lives that was the only way to get to Europe. My grandmother went on so many cruises on the Holland America line that she became an honorary admiral of the fleet and always got bumped up into a two-room suite with a private balcony. I went on two cruises with her as a teen-ager, and she just loved to sit in the shade and read or knit or do crossword puzzles. It was her idea of a perfect trip.

I LOVE this picture of Lala; she is totally vamping for the camera. The man with her is her brother-in-law, Rob Hill. I have no idea what year this is from. Rob was married to Lala's sister Evelyn. Rob and Boppy were best friends, and apparently they both arrived to take out the Robertson girls and had a discussion ahead of time about who was taking out whom. I guess it all worked out in the end.

More pictures tomorrow!

One year later

Today marks the first anniversary of my grandmother's death, and it is still hard to believe she's gone. Last week I was telling someone about the "Big House" and I couldn't remember some detail. I said, "I'll have to call Nona and ask her." Then I teared up because it hit me, again, that I can't just call her.

But instead of dwelling on the sadness, here are some fun pictures.

Here she is at the beach with her father, William Henry Brown, known to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren as "Boppy."

This was taken in 1940. I love the hat. The dashing man is her brother, William Donald Brown. Many family members think my dad looks like his Uncle Donald. In fact, when Uncle Donald was courting his wife, he took my dad, who was five or so, with him on a date at the Central Park Zoo. Aunt Rose Marie later told us she was convinced that Uncle Donald brought my dad along so he could break it to her that he had a son.

This was taken in 1946. From left are Great-granny Robertson, for whom my sister is named, Nona, with my dad on her lap, and Ella Robertson, Nona's mother. My Ella is named for her.

And finally, Grandpa Tom and Nona in 1995. I love this picture of them - they look so happy. Granpa Tom died in 2006 of cancer.

Getting better

It's been about six weeks since I wrote this post about how things weren't going well at all. I worried a fair number of people with it, which wasn't my intent. I just needed to get my feelings out there.

Since then I've been more honest about how I'm doing with my closest friends and family. And I've been asking for help more often. Things are going better.

That's not to say I'm not still overwhelmed, because I am. Take yesterday afternoon for example. I was working on a fun but complicated homework project with Ella when Lily sliced her thumb with the apple peeler. Even after I got the bleeding under control and her thumb bandaged in a glow in the dark SpongeBob band aid, Lily was crying like she had cut her thumb off completely. So I sent her to her bed to snuggle with a lovie, and she promptly fell asleep. While all this was going on, Campbell was following me around asking for milk and for me to pick him up. And Elizabeth, who still won't take a bottle, wanted to eat. Argh.

I'm still exhausted most days. From 2:00 to 5:00 each morning seem to be the witching hours when Elizabeth and Campbell both wake up repeatedly. I end up sleeping in fits and starts, which is almost worse than not sleeping at all. Many nights, I fall asleep as soon as I get Elizabeth to bed at 9:00, which means I don't get to spend a lot of time with B.

Despite still being overwhelmed and exhausted, I am doing better. The biggest change is that I've made a concerted effort to take better care of myself on a daily basis so that I don't get to the point of writing a frantic blog post or running away from home.

If I can't make it out for a run, I put the baby in the stroller and go for a walk, just to get outside. I've managed to meet a friend for lunch at least once a week so that I can have contact with adults other than my husband. I've treated myself to a pedicure and to a few new items of clothes. I'm sitting still and knitting or reading more instead of worrying about laundry and dishes, and I'm setting regular work hours out each week so that I'm not cramming work in whenever I can. I also told my project manager that I can only handle 10 hours of work a week so that she knows what to expect.

So it's all still day by day, but things don't feel as bleak as they did a month ago. Bit by bit, things are getting better.

Post number 601

I hit a landmark on Sunday without even realizing it - I published my 600th blog post. I started on blogger in November 2006, but I'd been writing bloggish posts on my own website for a while before that.

At first it was an effort to remember to post on a regular basis, but now it's become such a part of my day that it feels odd not to post something. There are days when I write multiple drafts of different posts but then scrap them all because they aren't working. But mostly, I write and publish every day.

So here's to 600 posts down and at least 600 more to go.

Fourth Place

We went to Dallas this weekend for a climbing competition. Ella placed fourth in her division, which is pretty cool considering she was the youngest one competing. More importantly, she had lots of fun. This was a traditional comp, with roped climbing. B was Ella's belay partner throughout the day, and it was really fun to watch them working together.

I think the above picture says it all.

Here she is on her last climb. My camera's flash wasn't strong enough to fight through the gloom and swirling chalk dust in the gym.

I asked Ella what the best part of the weekend was. She said, "I got a ribbon, a climbing magazine and TWO stickers!"

Goodness I love that girl.