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.