Holiday Domesticity

I am on holiday break and am having a blast. I have been knitting, baking, gift wrapping, and organizing stuff here at home. It amazes me just how much I enjoy doing domestic kinds of things. This is not how I once imagined my life at thirty-two years old, but I could not be happier.
The baking: Michael and I made a batch of peanut butter fudge (my favorite) that just turned out beautifully. Peanut butter fudge, because of the high oil content in the peanut butter, can be sort of hit and miss. We used the recipe on the label of the Kraft marshmallow cream jar, but made a few changes. We substituted one cup of peanut butter for the chocolate, and we boiled for five minutes instead of four. We didn't measure out the marshmallow cream, just used half of the big jar. If you have the small jar, use all or very nearly all of it. I think one key to this recipe is not to make it in a kitchen that's already heated from other baking. Possibly, this doesn't matter, but I think a cooler area to let the fudge cool in helps it set up better. I have decided that this is why in the past, my second batch has never turned out as good as my first batch.
The knitting: I picked out a beautiful cotton fleece yarn (80% cotton and 20% wool) worsted weight yarn for a baby blanket. It's made by Brown Sheep Company, which is my absolute favorite yarn company. If I never used anything but Brown Sheep, I could be completely content. I got the yarn in a pale green that's perfect for babies. My only problem is that I'm having trouble coming up with a pattern that I like. I am still suffering from pregnancy brain, so I don't think I'm up for anything too complex. I thought of doing cables, but can't really find a pattern I like. I'm kicking around this pattern for a garter stitch ruffles blanket. I just have to work out what size needles would create the best effect. This means the dreaded S-word. Swatching. Still, it is a blanket, so I'd rather do a few inches of twenty stitches and decide I don't like the pattern than go to the trouble of casting on 135 stitches. Here's a website with lots of free patterns. Consider it my holiday gift to you. And if you have other free pattern sites, please share them with me in the comments.
http://www.knittingpatterncentral.com/directory.php
The organizing: This project is well underway, with the knitting stuff very nearly organized, although not yet in its new permanent location. I had a bit of a slow down because I lost my needle gauge, then found it—broken. Don't ask me how I managed to break a metal needle gauge, but trust me, it can be done.
I've been out a few times to do last minute errands. People are really sort of bitchy this time of year, huh? I've witnessed a server getting cussed out, an ambulance getting cut off by some asshole driver, and other drivers screaming at cops who were working a rainy Friday night accident. What the hell! Chill out people. I know it's a stressful time of year. Newsflash—it's stressful on everybody. you acting like a jerk is only adding to the collective stress. Get over yourself. So what if Wal-Mart just sold out of the very last Skydiving Elmo and now you have to sell a kidney to buy one for your already spoiled rotten, ungrateful kid just so little Timmy won't be devastated on Christmas morning because after all, children really should rate their self worth by the loot they take in at Christmas, right? Here's an idea Jackass, how about teaching your kid that it isn't about the stuff and that poor kids who get nothing for Christmas are just as worthy of love, affection, and gifts as is your little darling. Teach him that Christmas can be wonderful no matter what presents he gets, and then make it wonderful by spending that precious Wal-Mart time with him. Take him to the Humane Society to adopt an animal, or just let him see you giving a donation. Better yet, let him make the donation. Why not try putting the caring and creativity back into Christmas in place of the commercialization. This has been a public service announcement from Kimberly.
I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday with family, friends, food, and joy.

Holiday Break

Today is my last day before I begin a two-week holiday vacation. We aren't going anywhere, just staying home and making the usual holiday rounds. I will do some shopping, first for last minute gifts, and then for maternity clothes. Tops on the agenda is doing my usual home organization tasks. I always put this off until my December break. Foremost on that list is organizing my yarn and associated knitting crap. It has really gotten out of hand. My knitting stuff is currently in what will be the nursery, so we have to move it out of there and into the office, which will cease being an office and will become more of a catch-all room. I wish we had a bonus room or a den, but we don't. We just have a gigantic living room that despite its size, I try to keep clutter free. I have yarn for a baby blanket that I'm doing, but I can't in good conscience start the blanket until I get all my other unfinished projects wrangled into some kind of order. The new blanket will be done in a pale green cotton fleece yarn. It's a seashells and scallops pattern. I substituted for the yarn, so here's hoping it works out.
I'm looking forward to this break. I have so much on my mind lately-- pregnancy, the baby, and what life will be like after having the baby-- it will be good to be able to focus on those things without work. One thing I likely won't be doing much of over the break is blogging, but I'll try to post from time to time.
During my various family functions, I am going to listen closely to the conversations around me in hopes of being able to recount to you more like this one from Michael's family's Thanksgiving dinner:
Brother in law: "You might as well leave the drinks on the table. We have to keep refilling these fancy glasses that Mom likes to use."
Sister in law: "These glasses came from Arby's."

Thursday Thirteen: Things I Wish I Could Do

1. Play a musical instrument-- Well, I used to play the flute, but the flute doesn't lend itself to being an adult hobby. I wish I could play the piano, the guitar, the bagpipes, and the mandolin.
2. Speak French-- I have tried to learn a couple of times, but not planning on going to France anytime soon, I lack the motivation.
3. Knit lace-- I have tried this, but I simply don't have the patience for it. I'm not really a lace kind of person, but it would be nice for doing edgings on sleeves and towels and stuff.
4. Garden-- I'm actually going to give this one another try this spring. It just looks like so much fun, and it is extremely practical to grow your own vegetables, but I am such a girl when it comes to dirt and worms. Oooh, gross.
5. Pottery-- It's the start-up expense that keeps me from doing this one.
6. Touch my tongue to my nose.
7. Make wine-- This is something I always wanted to try. Wine can be made from lots of things, but I honestly don't know how it's done. I think it would be great for gifts or just to have for yourself.
8. Run-- It's good exercise, and it's faster than walking. But blind people don't make really good runners. The laws of physics are against us: The faster you're going, the harder the impact when you meet something.
9. Braid my own hair-- It's getting long now, and it's limp and lifeless from pregnancy. It would be nice to be able to wear it braided so it would be off my face and not look like I'm going to the gym.
10. Drive
11. Plan, cook, and eat healthy meals every night for dinner, even when I'm really tired.
12. Be easy going and free spirited and just let things roll off my back. This one is so beyond me, I don't really even try, I just dream about being this way.
13. Write in public places, like bookstores and coffee shops-- I'm too easily distracted.

Bah, Humbug!

I used to love Christmas. I would start playing Christmas music right after Halloween, and the tree was always up and decorated by Thanksgiving. In recent years though, I have gone from loving Christmas, to being apathetic, then to downright dreading it. I'm pretty sure it started a few years back. Michael and I spent all of Christmas Eve and Christmas day traveling between a three-county area in an attempt to be everywhere we were supposed to be and see everybody we were supposed to see. I remember that Christmas. We had done such a whirlwind tour of family events, that we never stayed at one place long enough to enjoy ourselves, or even eat a meal. At 6 p.m. that Christmas Day, we were driving around town looking for an open restaurant because we were starving. I think we ended up going home and having cheese and crackers. That year, we vowed we'd never let that happen again. The following year, we enforced our vow, which led to a huge Jerry Springer style redneck throw-down with Michael's family in the driveway of his grandparents house on Christmas Eve. Boy, wasn't that fun. Then last year, we knew we just couldn't put up with anymore Christmas shit, so we went away for Christmas. We rented a cabin in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee and that was the best Christmas ever. This year though, we're trying to save money for the baby that's on the way, so we opted not to go away. No doubt, this will be cheaper, but it will cost me in sanity. What is up with family being so everloving demanding during the holidays? I mean, seriously, Christmas happens every freaking year! Do we really have to do the same thing year after year after year? I think it stems from some morbid fear that every Christmas might be Granny What's-her-butt's last, so we all get guilted into the same Christmas crap again and again.
Well, so my attitude has been less than festive so far this year. The ghosts of Christmas past, coupled with my constant nausea and morning sickness are making me really look forward to December 26th. Realizing that my attitude is at least partly to blame for this holiday funk, I went home yesterday evening fully intending to get in the damn Christmas spirit. I planned to bake Christmas cookies, listen to Christmas music, and decorate our Christmas tree. You know what they say about where good intentions can lead you, right? I knew I was doomed when I was refilling a canister with sugar, and turns out, I was refilling the coffee canister with sugar, not the sugar canister. Then, I realized we were out of Christmas tins, so Michael had to go to the Dollar Store to get some. Michael has a head cold and it was raining outside, so this was a pretty substantial inconvenience, but he went without complaint. Then we baked the cookies. Christmas butter cookies that we were going to adorn with sprinkles and cut into festive shapes with cookie cutters. A grand idea, don't you think? What we ended up with were little cookie dog biscuit looking things that were still doughy on the inside. So, we tossed them. I was being a trooper, so just decided to ditch the cookies and move on to decorating the tree. And that's when I threw up.
We finished out the evening with a smattering of ornaments on the tree and Michael and I comatose on the couch, him from NyQuill and me from Phenergan. Christmas, it seems, has defeated me after all.

The Same Old Terror

I am twelve weeks pregnant today. From the beginning of this journey, twelve weeks was a sort of milestone that I was striving for. At twelve weeks, I would start telling people at work. At twelve weeks, I could start buying baby things in earnest. At twelve weeks, I would start buying maternity clothes. So now I am twelve weeks pregnant, and suddenly, I am terrified. As a milestone, twelve weeks signifies both a point of progression and a change in direction. Perhaps not a literal direction, but there is a change in my thinking. Until now, I have been fixated on the baby inside me. Now, I'm suddenly thinking about the baby coming out, and people, let me just tell you, this is terrifying.
I have had much (too much) experience with the medical establishment. I began having surgeries when I was ten years old. By the time I lost my sight at fourteen, I had gone through upwards of twenty operations on my eyes. We lost count somewhere along the way. I have had six brain operations and one on my spinal cord. Yes, I know about the medical establishment. And now, I face yet another encounter with that cold-hearted beast. If I could choose, I would give birth at a birthing center. I would much prefer a nurse midwife to an obstetrician and labor and delivery "team." But because of my medical history, that isn't an option. Due to the trauma my brain has already endured, there is a risk of a rise in my intracranial pressure during delivery. I have to think about my health and the welfare of my family. Because of the unique risks that I face, I will have a scheduled C-section. In essence, another operation. Certainly, this is not how I would choose to bring my baby into the world, but I knew going into this that I did not have the luxury of choice.
Now, twelve weeks in, I have started to think about what the birth will be like. Will it be cold and clinical like my other medical procedures? Will I be as afraid? Will I experience that familiar yet terrifying sensation of having no control over what is done to my body? I expected morning sickness. I expected discomfort. I expected weight gain and mood shifts. But this fear, this old fear that I have experienced so many times, this I did not expect. I did not want these specters of past terrors to intrude on what should be the most wonderful experience of my life. This fear is not welcome, and it has no place here. Except that it does. This fear is always with me, ready to tap me on the shoulder at the slightest provocation: a medical drama on TV, a routine check-up, the smell of rubbing alcohol. Even this most wanted and hoped for event is not immune from its familiar yet chilling grip.
Logically, I know that there are things I can do to combat this fear. I will learn more about C-sections. I will tour the hospital birthing rooms. I will explain this situation to my doctor and continue to explain until he finally understands that I insist on having control of this process. And I think he will understand. He seems very compassionate and open to hearing about the concerns and fears of his patients. And most important of all, I must remember that this time, unlike all the other times, I will not be alone. Michael will be with me. Through all of this, he will be there. This time, I do not have to face the terror alone.