On stripey birthdays

I was watching an episode of Chef's Table the other day, in which someone talked about the correlation between big feelings and baking. Birthday? Bake a cake, obviously. But also, failed an exam? Bake a cake. Got an interview - bake a cake. Somebody died - bake a cake. Or something along those lines

I think I'm the same with knitting. It feels right, somehow, to try to weave a little extra "but I love you so" into the stitches. Or to let your own complex feelings unravel as the rows slowly grow. 

In the run-up to my smallest boy turning one a couple of weeks ago, I had all the feelings. There was nothing for it but to tip the box of oddments out onto the floor, watch the delight on his face as he tangled his little fingers into the soft fluff, and try to rescue a few balls for his first birthday jumper.

This is what came out of the box, in the end. A mix of cottons and cotton-wool blends, perfect for chilly mornings in spring. 

For the pattern I decided on a randomly striped, simple raglan jumper, based on Tin Can Knits' Flax. It's a very easy, well-written pattern that's perfect for quick kids' knits - I used it for The Bean's birthday jumper last year. 

Since I had DK weight yarn rather than aran, as the pattern called for, I cast on the size 2-4 yrs with 4.5mm needles and carried on working raglan increases until I had the dimensions instead of the row numbers stated. I left out the garter panel too, so as not to distract from the stripes. 

I tucked in the last end a week after The Bug's birthday. Which was perfectly on time, given he was a hot, itchy chickenpox mess on the big day itself. So I suppose he had a spotty, not a stripey birthday, really. But two weeks on he is back to his chirpy self, a little taller and with new walking skills to boot. Spring has burst into perfect bloom and we are so very ready to enjoy the garden in our new home for the first time. The jumper turned into just the sweet stripey number I was hoping for, with a little extra room to grow. 

Because grow, grow, grow they do. The little one starts nursery today. I think I'll go and cast him on some socks. 

The Bean + The Bug | November 2017

In August a friend of mine showed me one of those quotes, one of the many that pop up on facebook every day, but this one stuck. It was in Italian but it goes something along the lines of: There was once a calm and collected woman. Then she had two children. The end. 

They're certainly a whirlwind, these two, and I'm not going to lie: some days I feel it sweeps me up in an endless litany of wiping-soothing-cleaning-dashing-rocking-cajoling and I fear I may never land. We've had a lot to contend with lately, of course, a house move and a new school term that has gotten off to quite a rocky start for the big boy. That, combined with the small boy never sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time day or night, means it is often all too easy to look after, to go through the motions, but not to look at.

There is so much to observe though. More and more, I can stand back and watch them together. 5 minutes, maybe even 10, when they're just content to be in each other's company and forget I'm there. Mealtimes are a-okay with the Bug (who has such a love of food he's more of a big, fat beetle, really) as long as the Bean is providing entertainment. The Bean will get himself dressed in the morning, but only when he has the Bug's undivided attention. It's not hard. He always does. Oh to crawl, to crawl, small one; He's so frustratingly close-yet-far, but I've no doubt he will be the Bean's shadow soon. 

Sure, having a little brother has brought out a jealous streak in the big boy - one that we all have - but there a caring side too, a desire to protect, to make things alright, to just share the everyday. To show him life's small delights for the very first time. Loud toys, banging noise. Tickle attack, climbing frames (perhaps a little ambitious still!), the swings at the park. And yes look, observe: those giggles versus my sanity. It's not that hard a choice, really.

---

I'm joining in with Lucy at Dear Beautiful, Donna at What the Redhead Said, Natalie at Little Jam Pot Life, Keri-Anne at GingerLily Tea, Amber at Meet the Wildes, Katie at Mummy Daddy Me and Carie at Space for the Butterflies for the Siblings Project.

Nikkim Milo

This summer the lovely Petra from Fru Valborg asked if I wanted to try some new cotton she'd be stocking in her webshop. Would I?! To justify yet more yarn parcels arriving when I'm not exactly small of stash, I asked whether she might be happy to provide enough for a couple of tops for the boys {altruism on my part, and all that}. She was, and this arrived:

Vinnis Colours Nikkim, a handdyed, hand-balled cotton produced by a fair trade, women's cooperative in South Africa. I've worked with this yarn before for a commission, and it's truly lovely. The colours are vibrant and enticing, while the cotton itself is much softer than you'd expect. Petra stocks lots of colours, and ships worldwide if you fancy giving it a try.

I decided to make another Sea Breeze Hoodie for the Bean in the "brick red" (because everything must be red at the moment) and "camel". Initially I had planned to make a mini Sea Breeze for the smallest boy in the "pacific blue" and "sand" shades for a bit of sibling non-matching matching, but my severe allergy to Making the Same Thing Twice put paid to that. 

I reached for a knitting pattern I had in my Ravelry Library but bollicksed up the first time: Milo by Georgie Hallam. I think it was the second thing I ever knit and as I don't fail gracefully, a second attempt seemed like a good idea. Luckily it went much better this time. It's a delight of a pattern, one I'd recommend to anyone with little people to knit for. The raglan increases are clever, the garter stitch is appropriately smooshy, the cables add interest. Best of all, there being no sleeves means it works up really fast. 

I had the whole thing done in about a week. The small boy looks so snazzy in it, in my completely biased opinion, that I might even be tempted to make him another in wool now the weather is beginning to turn. With a different cable, mind (the pattern provides no less than six). 

Disclosure: I was sent Nikkim yarn to try, free of charge. All images, words and opinions are my own.

Oof

What, dear people of the Internet, do you think might be the least restful way to spend the summer? 4.5-year-old, newborn, no daycare, lots of guests, a house move, a piddling amount of money, and ALL the rain? Check, check and check.

By the end of it the newborn was suddenly very much a Proper Baby in the throes of the 4-month sleep regression (if anyone tells you this is not a thing, they lie). The 4.5yo had grown out of 90% of his clothes, thought up a whole new arsenal of smart-ass responses, and discovered the joy of Grandmas With Deep Pockets in the Lego Shop. Then as soon as he was back in school, we didn't rest, no we did not. We packed like the wind between the hours of 9 and 2, then spent the afternoons making the most of the late summer sun who'd finally decided to make an appearance. 

The end of the summer, and I'm tired to the bone. I try not to wince at the memory of the many days I was shouty, cross mummy rather than the kind person I want to be. Try, because I think it's okay to cut myself some slack.

Because, no sleep.

Because, despite my grumpiness and the excess of screen time, sugary cereal, and constanstly being told to BE QUIET OR YOU'LL WAKE UP THE BABY, we've somehow ended up with the coolest, funniest of Beans who simply sasses through life.  

Because all four of us managed to get to Copenhagen for a wedding on one sunny day at the end of August, looking vaguely presentable and with no one losing their sh*t.  

Because the comedown after months of flat-searching, penny-pinching, and CV-churning has been more of a crash landing than a slow and measured exhalation (who, pray tell, manages those with two small people anyway, even in the best of circumstances?)

I am waiting for that slow, bumbling sense of contentment, somewhere in the crannies of my chest. I'm waiting to feel roots start to furl out of the soles of my feet. I always do on the cusp of Autumn, but this year there's more to it. We decided to stay in Sweden after so many years of meandering, which has nothing whatsoever to do with a summer spent building Lego or pulling silly faces at the baby perched on my hip, but everything with the hours and hours we worked behind the scenes, all year. All the nights I lay awake worrying, well before the tiniest person in the house decided to add his two-gurgles' worth.

We have a garden now, for the first time in almost 7 years. Woolly sock weather is on its way. And that is about as complex a thought as I am able to hold in my head at the moment. Oof. 

The Bean + The Bug | July 2017

It's not easy, this baby appearing in your home and being so utterly useless yet still constantly drooled over by everyone and YET STILL you're expected to just LOVE HIM. 

Almost three months in to going from one child to two, and it hasn't been easy. There have been times, days and days on end even, where our funny, thoughtful and spirited 4.5yo Bean has been a shadow of himself. I wouldn't have expected anything else, but it hasn't been easy. 

Still, I think it is getting better. As the Bug learns to coo, gurgle and giggle, the Bean finds it easier to relate to him. Yesterday the two of them set each other off on their very first totally-for-no-reason fit of giggles. The little one with that unsure, "I have no idea what my body is doing" look on his face, the big one shrieking and hollering but still with one eye one me that said "he's not about to cry, is he Mum?". But there they were: both laughing, colluding, full of real joy in each other. 

Having a sibling is getting better. The Bug's eager little eyes follow his big brother everywhere, that doesn't surprise me, but the the Bean, the Bean, sometimes I poke my head around the door and there he is. Soothing his baby brother, or trying to make him laugh. Reading him a story or bringing him a toy, wanting to interact somehow. Just as long as noone is looking. 

Having secrets even at this early stage, the two of them. Having a sibling might not be that bad, after all. 

---

I'm joining in with Lucy at Dear Beautiful, Donna at What the Redhead Said, Natalie at Little Jam Pot Life, Keri-Anne at GingerLily Tea, Amber at Meet the Wildes, Katie at Mummy Daddy Me and Carie at Space for the Butterflies for the Siblings Project.

The Fling-It Project

Some projects roll off the hook or needle. The swatch is true, the wool buttery, the colours just so. This kind of project is rare, and to date I think I've only had two: the Floss scarf and the Flax sweater.

Most projects seem to have to involve at least a few hiccups. Perhaps the colours don't quite sing in the way you expected, or maybe you dropped a stitch somewhere and have to go back a bit. You might have to spend a few evenings pouring over blogs and YouTube tutorials, having been a little too optimistic about your own abilities. This is okay. I don't mind hiccups - you always learn something new. 

Sometimes, though, often when you least expect it, you get an absolute b****** of a project. Not so much a WIP (work in progress) as a FIP (fling-it project). Fling it across the bloody room. 

See this lovely, innocent-looking little cardie? It's my FIP. Oh my, am I glad Pinterest doesn't do audio, because the Bleeps and @*!Xs that are woven into those tiny fairisle stitches...

The pattern is from an Editions Marie Claire pattern book I've had for years. It has a bottom-up, seamed raglan construction, and is meant to be knit in 3mm needles. I knit quite tightly, so I went up to 3.5mm to get the right gauge. I picked the smallest size: 0-3 months. Although now that it's finished and finally on the Squidgy One I do think it's rather lovely, but unusually for me, I didn't enjoy making it one bit. Sheer stubbornness to avoid wasting the beautiful yarn (more details below), as well as a looming "oh look mum, I'm about to bust out of this before you've even finished it" situation are the only reasons I didn't abandon it halfway through. 

The thing about baby knits is that they are meant to be quick, satisfying makes but despite its diminutive size this was anything but. I started it before we even knew whether the wriggly baby in my belly would be a girl or a boy, and didn't finish until our Bug had already been with us for good month. This was mostly my own fault, owing to a series of spectacular misjudgments.

No matter how small the cardie, fine 2-ply is never going to knit up fast. 

No matter how small the cardie, trying your hand at fairisle for the second time in your life is never going to be fast. 

No matter how small the cardie, itty bitty pieces with itty bitty stitches are never going to be fast to seam. 

D'oh. 

The yarn probably didn't make things easier either. It is utterly lovely, don't get me wrong - a blend of 50% cotton and 50% merino, both organic, by Hjerte Garn. It's soft and strong, and will probably pill very little. But it's also very fine and kinda sticky, so with all the colour changes it tangled like nobody's business. The stickiness does make the little fairisle Vs stand out and hold their shape very nicely, but an inexperienced knitter like me was always bound to want to Fling It. Lesson learned. 

Part of my frustration was down to the pattern itself, too. As I knitted, blocked and laid out each piece, frowned over them, held them up, put them next to the Bug, frowned again, it became clear that the dimensions were turning out very odd. The body is very wide, but the sleeves and hem line both come up short on my average-sized boy. There are no pictures in the book of the finished cardigan worn by a baby, just of pretty flatlays.  It goes to show how important it is to understand body measurements as well as construction methods - my Bug happens to be long in the body, and (since I wasn't able to measure him when I started this knit) I could have adjusted the pattern as I went had it been a top-down one. So an oddly three-quarter length thingy it is. 

About halfway through I did start cheating a bit to speed things up. To do the raglan shaping I decreased stitches rather than binding them off. The button band and the neckline are meant to be knitted separately and sewn on but, just no. I picked up the stitches along the selvedge edge instead and called it done.

So there it is. A wee FIP cardie finished off with little clear buttons from my stash. And doesn't he look cute as a button in it? Phew. Just don't ask me to make another one.

Sanity walk

We hit the summer solstice yesterday, and I think the best thing about the abundance of light is that it makes short shrift of any urge to wallow. The Bug is two months, the Bean is impossible, and the nights... Let's just say that, had I had another winter baby, I would be spending these newborn weeks shuffling around like some kind of narcoleptic mole. 

But as it happens there is light, there is colour. There is a semblance of warmth. It is impossible not to feel buoyed by it, no matter how many times I've whispered furiously (and fruitlessly) "stop singing please, you'll wake the baby". 

With the Bug tucked up Snug in the sling, I set off. Up the hill, through the woods, past the fields. Sometimes armed with the big camera but usually not, for reasons of "feeling like a school-run pack horse already".  

A pilfered flower here and there, plenty of deeep breaths, and a silent thank you to a sympathetic stranger; To anyone else successfully keeping two small people fed, clothed and reasonably happy without completely losing the plot themselves, you do, indeed, ROCK.

PS If you want to see what the landscape in southern Sweden looks like in winter, have a look at my ode to Brown

Two

"Don't wake up your brother!"

Said the Husband to the Bean.  "Your brother "?!

Crap, I thought. There's two of them.

Four years suddenly seems like a long time to get used to being a family of three. A good while since we did the newborn thing. An eternity to be the sole focus of your parents' attention. 

The jump from one to two children is, indeed, a big one.

A big but delightful jump, in many ways. Much of the Bug's personally is still unknown to us, but it somehow already feels like he was only ever here, making us a Four. This is unexpected, but reassuring.

It's also wonderful to see our two boys together. The little one still jerky and googly-eyed, but so obviously enthralled with the big one that he reserved his first quivering smiles for him. The result is far more than twice the joy.

For the big one the novelty of having a baby in the house didn't last long (like, all of three seconds), but he still likes to help by fetching the nappy or the dummy, and to prove to everyone that "he REALLY likes me the BEST, mum". The implication being, not you mum, of course.

Two boys. 

Two arms, one of me, just not enough when the little one needs feeding (again) and the big one decides he needs me to build him a(nother) paper aeroplane that very moment. But perfectly adequate in the middle of the night, when I am everything for both of them. Even if it means I'm often the only one who's not asleep.

Two o'clock, the time I now pick up the big one. Two hours earlier than I used to, because of Sweden's funny rules on parental leave and daycare entitlement. Two hours extra to spend at the park, for now, but goodness knows what we'll do in winter.  

Two boys, one day at a time. Sometimes an hour.

All the cuddles, big smiles and many, many tearful outbursts. 

Two little hands in mine. 

Two shrieks of laughter when the little one empties his bowels with the most spectacular sound effects. Usually when Daddy's back and I'm just trying to take five, and always when a fresh napy's been on for all of two minutes.  

Two bewildered parents whose paths occasionally cross to share battle stories, pretending-to-know looks and mini-win high fives. Although I think, admittedly, also two parents who are struggling to identify with one another, because it is easy to feel like you're circling entirely different orbits when one of you just watches the world go by with her boobs out all day every day and the other just feels like that world is speeding up underneath them, all day every day. Even Sweden's famously egalitarian parental system hasn't found a way around that one.

One row of crochet here and there: the bare minimum to stay sane.

One bag of laundry parked permanently in the hallway, although at least it is usually filled with clean things. 

Way more stuff than you'd think reasonably possible with only two children, especially when one is so tiny.

Two brothers who will hopefully share many more giggles and support each other through the tears. My two. 

The first days

After over a week of "false alarms", at first I dismissed another bout of contractions on the second Friday after my due date. I had dinner, and they didn't go away. I had a bath, and they didn't go away. But they didn't get any stronger either, so I grumbled and knitted and eventually took myself off to bed at about 11pm, convinced I would wake up in the morning still pregnant. Still grumpy.

I think I slept for all of 90 minutes; In the dead of night my waters broke, and I had a cup of tea. By 4am I figured I'd probably best call the hospital. We arrived just as the sun was beginning to rise. At 6:45am we said hello to our second baby boy. 

Our, in my totally biased opinion, perfect baby boy.  

To celebrate, the hospital gave us tea and coffee, and big open faced sandwiches. They came with flutes of non-alcoholic champagne and a wee Swedish flag on a stick and made us howl. One night in the hospital, and then it was off into the world with our new treasure.

I thought it would take a while, to fall in love, but it hasn't. His soft black hair (so much hair!), his squishy cheeks, the snuffing and mewling and utter devotion to The Boob. I could sit, marvelling, for hours. Right from day one.

Much harder to deal with has been the time warp I feel I'm stuck in with the Bean. His baby brother looks so like him, but there he is, standing a tall and boisterous 4 years old. So big, yet so little. So tender towards his new brother, yet so angry with me. So mature and independent in some ways, yet so scared and needing in others. All the while, I'm mostly unavailable and very torn. He has broken my heart umpteen times in these first days. 

It is true what they say: never worry about how you could love any child as much as your first, for the heart just expands indefinitely. It is also true that change sucks when you're 4 (or the parent of said 4-year-old), the messy bits of post-partum hormones are really very messy, and nothing can soften the pain of just. zero. sleep.

But still. Look at those little old man jowls. 

The best laid plans

... don't involve babies. Or maybe they do, in a roundabout way; When I set out to MAKE ALL THE THINGS before Bug's arrival I assumed I'd only get a fraction done. Turns out that this baby is indeed snug as a bug. 

The Bean was nine days overdue, and back then the waiting drove me nuts. This time around I feel quite stoic about it, really. Yes, I'm aching and tired, I'm excited about meeting this little person, and I don't want to be clucking about for too much longer. But at the same time, when will I next get another chance to just potter, make stuff, snooze, snack to my heart's content? In about 2 years??

So I've been knitting/crocheting/sewing/sowing/nibbling all the things. 

I finished the Bean's Popcorn Vest and made a tiny Harem Romper. I made a Divided Basket for Bug's nappies.

I finally got around to sowing for this year's balcony garden. I started, and to my complete surprise, have almost finished a scrappy baby blanket. I've also started on a Benedetta Cardigan for myself but as it's in sock yarn (AM I MAD??) it is not almost finished. But fun. 

Then there's this one and his Daddy. We've been making the most of our last days as a Three, even managed to get out for our first beach trip last Sunday. It happened to be the day before my birthday too, and the perfect opportunity to celebrate. Sunshine, burgers, ice cream. It was a lovely day, and everyone was happy. 

And now we wait.