Take My Hand

Thank you so much for following me here at Fibreholic. Please take my hand and join me in my new space at Four Boys and a Girl . I have a lot left to share!

Full Moon Rising

There are a few things in life that I absolutely, positively do not regret.

Moving back home is one of them.

This was the view from our living room windows Wednesday evening.

Parenthood

Anyone who knows us personally knows that DH has a rotten work schedule. There are many things that bother me about that schedule. The little amount of time DH is able to spend with the boys, the behaviour issues that arise from Daddy being away so much and the fact that anything that can go wrong with the house, car or weather is going to happen when he is away (case in point: The Purolater dude noticed that the siding on one end of this house is coming off. He noticed THIS morning when he was dropping off packages. Naturally, I dropped DH off at the airport this afternoon). Most of my complaints about DH being away are very me-centric though. There is the lack of time off, the 24 hour days and just the general size of the responsibility to name a few. I have suffered from pretty serious depression since Iain was born so we have tried to set up our day to day activities to ensure that I get a bit of a break - thus the full time daycare (and I have no idea how you do it if you are a stay at home parent full time with no break at all. You are my heroes. Seriously.). However, I still find the mostly-single-parenting gig hard.

Enter a newborn into the picture. One of the things I love most about having a new baby is nursing him. The fact that I can nourish and so effectively GROW an eight pound baby named Finn into the eighteen plus pound baby he is today is such a miracle. And, one of the things I find hardest about having a newborn and nursing full time is the absolute lack of a break.

Maybe my expectations were too high when we started our family. I certainly have an ongoing struggle with how much of a commitment this job really is (and considering the amount of time I ask my parents to help out, it is painfully obvious that my time being spoken for by my children is not a short term contact). Time used by children = 100%. My time = what's leftover.

With all of this in mind, please tell me why am I so upset about the fact that Finlay turned five months old today marking one month to go before he starts solid food which, in turn, means the start of me gaining more freedom?

Parenthood. It'll make you crazy.

I love you, Little Boy. Please stop growing so freaking fast.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes..

When I began writing this blog, I was inspired by the many knitting blogs that were available. DH and I had no children, three pets and I was gainfully employed outside the house on again, off again. I also had a little more time on my hands to both type and knit and, she gasps mournfully, even do other craft like things.

Five years later, things are a little different and a lot busier. Three very young children, two pets (more on that in another post) and finite time has meant that my focus has changed from knitting and other fibre arts to trying to make loving, kind, generous human beings. Therefore, I am going to be making some changes here at Chez Fibreholic, starting with the blogs name, layout, etc..

Yes, there will still be the occasional knitting/fibre related content. However, I want the blog to reflect what I am currently concentrating on which I hope will also inspire me to write more blog posts without feeling me like my posts should concentrate on fibre related content (which is totally in my head anyway but there it is). It is my space so I am going to do what I want with it.

Hope you like it.

My Mother's Love

Every week I lose socks when I do laundry. Every few weeks, I go through the socks, match pairs, and put the singles back in a bag for the following week. In a household where I find socks down heater vents and stuffed in the cabs of toy trucks, matching a pair can take months.

 I used to just keep the extra socks in the the bottom of one of the laundry baskets until this past Fall when I had my C-section and Mudder was here full time helping out. 

 Now let me let you in on a secret about my mother. She LOVES to do laundry. Loves it. She will also get a load completely washed, dried, folded and put away whereas I tend to fail at one or more of these steps along the way resulting in unfinished loads of laundry in various stages scattered around my house like small hills waiting to be tackled. The fact that she can stick to completion what I consider to be such a difficult task amazes me. And nothing says love like crisply folded laundry waiting for you at the foot of your bed to put away.

 I guess our odd socks piling up at the bottom of the laundry basket was driving Mom a bit nuts so she put them in a plastic bag and found great satisfaction going through it from time to time and making the occasional pair.

 In my world where I seem to do okay with the bigger details (children fed, warm, clothed) but feel like I fail miserably at the smaller ones, it was such a comfort to have someone else look after and create a lost sock system. This may seem silly but I find the concept of taking the time to match pairs of socks over the course of weeks is representative of my mother's love for me and my family. Mom taking care of my laundry certainly makes me feel mothered myself - a comforting feeling at the age of forty one.  I want my boys to feel that level of comforting and attention so I am going out to find a special box or basket just for lost socks. Turns out those socks are very important.