Finding my Fade

I have heard a lot of Knitters talking about, and knitting Find your Fade.  I finally listened to the sister wife and cast on, after much stash diving.
I realised something about myself fairly recently. I can't properly pair a yarn and project.  For that reason, I am extra thankful for the talents of the sister wife.  I sent her videos of my extensive stash, and she said "this, this, this and this in this order." So that is what I did. 

And it turned out beautifully. I adore it, and have work it very frequently. This pattern was so fun, and the shawl is huge, and amazing. The construction was just clever and awesome as well. 

I have been a little obsessed with it honestly.  So this week, while on vacation in Phoenix, I was thrilled to run into another knitter poolside.  I can't tell you my delight when I found that she was knitting none other than her very own find your Fade!
I actually had a good laugh when I asked her what she was knitting with, and she very slowly explained "This is called FINGERING weight yarn.." as though she was speaking to a very special, new, or possibly Red Heart knitter.

In other news, and speaking of Red Heart knitting...

Once upon a time, someone at my church gave my neighbor a large bag of yarn.  My neighbor brought it to me, knowing that the original giver had intended it to be mine, but had gotten the wrong home. Because of this, I have nonideq who the giver was.  I decided to knit this fuzzy yarn into a large blanket for my husband, who appreciates hand made blankets.  I knit it this summer, and the yarn whispered to me that it was not meant to be knit. So crochet we did. I won't pretend that I didn't fell a little dirty... Hooking in secret, with sketchy, unknow origin yarn... Hiding from my husband day after day, hour after hour...  Running out of yarn, finding it was discontinued, and purchasing more on eBay in a secret purchase.   But in the end, I was left with this, which the hubby seems pleased with . 

What a difference a year makes

After a bone is broken an x-ray will always tell its tale. Though the bone may heal, it very well may always ache with certain factors, like weather changes etc. I find that is a lot how the healing from a loss has been.  It was a year ago tonight that I received the haunting call from my daughter.  This time last year our lives changed so dramatically that I feared the fractures would never heal. I didn't think we would ever be "normal" or happy again.  While things are so very, very different, and we are clearly still broken, things are not as bad as they were at that time.  Things have glued themselves back together in a new, still painful, but with a sprinkle of joy normal.  We are still going on.  We are still putting one foot in front of another, and we are still here.  Still trying. Things are worse than they were a year and a day ago, but so much better than a year minus a day.  Life truly does go on.  It goes on in a different, beautiful way. It goes on in ways I didn't think were possible the night the Drs told us all that they told us. 
Things go on, no matter how slowly, or painfully. The world doesn't stop. It doesn't even slow down.  It doesn't matter how much your own sphere is shattering, it just keeps going, feeling joy, feeling whole.  Eventually it drags those who stay along, and though they can't ever be whole and undamaged again, they can feel joy. They can learn to heal enough to form a new normal that contains so many levels of love, light and happiness to mingle with their sorrow and despair.

A year ago I really believed the world held no more light. I believed that we could never be normal and happy again.  And we won't ever be our old normal.  But we are happy with our new normal, and are finding new joy.  We stumble. We fall. We know what the bottom feels like, and we know how to call on our savior to help us up again.  There is light.

Merry Crankmas? It is around here!

Last year the wonderful man I married decided he would rather enjoy keeping me around, so he decided to ensure that would happen by purchasing the item I had been coveting since Mrs. Amber Linderman (yarnhoarder) mentioned it on her vlog .

Meet my 1942 Verdun Sock Knitting machine.

He got this for me in March, and I was surprised at how little learning curve there was . It came in many pieces, I YouTubed how to set it up, and then started making sock tubes . After a couple, I YouTubed how to make a full sock, and I did .and then I did another, and another, and another . I have made so many socks that I finally opened an Etsy to sell them, because I want to spread the joy. And Kevin wants me to support my habit . Crazy boy. 

I have had s

A vent against God and the universe, sort of

I am so lost, and feel like things will never be ok again.  ,

Today my daughter's 21 year old eternal companion was taken from this earth.  His journey was ended so unexpectedly,  and unfairly. They have been married only a grwat and a half,  and their marriage was a love story for the books.  They bought their first home a coupe of months ago. You know,  3 bedrooms on a coupe of acres, perfect for raising a family. And then on Christmas day they saw the 2 perfect lines that meant that family is well on its way. Hours and days were spent dreaming of,  talking about and preparing for this future mini me.

And in the blink of an eye it is gone.  My daughter and I went out for our typical Thursday mommy /daughter date.  We went to the local Mexican place and got fried ice cream to go,  since my youngest was being a fussy, typical toddler with a cold. As we were just pulling up,  my daughters sweetheart called to say goodnight,  and let her know she needed to wake him to take his medication since he had forgotten to get it out of the car. 
After we got the food,  we went to my house where we sat at home in my bed, eating ice cream, knitting,  watching Gilmore girls and chatting about the future with this beautiful little baby.  At 9:15 we did goodnight,  and my daughter went home.  When she got there she did her night routine and then went to wake her husband to give him his pills. He was asleep on his stomach,  so she tried to wake him.   He didn't wake,  which is very typical.  She started tickling his side,  When he still didn't wake she turned him over and that is when she saw that he had passed.  She performed CPR, while calling 911.

It is 9 months later and I am taking the time to come back to this unpublished, raw post.  I intend to finish it, but slowly and with less anger.  Because I was angry.  Really angry.  Some days, I still am.   Some days it really hurts.  But you know what? We made it.  We walked through hell, and we came out the other side.  Are we better for it? No.  I don't think so. Do we know a higher power? Yes. 

After the ambulance arrived my daughter called me.  I still hear this phone call in my nightmares.  It is the source of many panick attacks.  I saw her on the caller ID, and I answered.  She was screaming "Jacob's dead.  Jacob's dead! Get to the hospital.  Jacob's dead."   The paramedics worked on him for 45 min before leaving to the hospital. They shocked his body over and over, but he was gone.  When we got to the hospital I saw him mother walking into the ER. The ambulance was just arriving.  I went to his mom, and quickly realised she didn't know the severity. I just wanted to hold her and tell her it would be okay, but I didn't.  We walked to the ambulance and my daughter was standing there.  She didn't want to be touched. She was in such deep shock and pain.  We followed Jacob in, and they showed us to a room.  My daughter just kept saying "he is gone.  What am I going to do?" The dr came in and told us that he was putting him on life support, but things doesn't look good. Initial blood work showed his CO2 levels to be at 386. Brain damage starts at 40, o believe he said.   Kyra knew he was gone, so this wasn't new news to her.  She kept telling me that she knew he was gone.  At one point, through tears, she asked "Can o come home?"  It was the most heartbreaking weekend of my life. 

After they moved him to the ICU on life support, my daughter went to be with him.  She never left his side.  The following days were long. They were long. And very difficult.  I remember walking the halls with my husband and baby.  I felt so lost.  Never have I felt such pain. Never have I felt the depths of despair that fee days brought. 
But there were people.  So many good, caring, kind people.  There was never a time when we didn't have ward members, friends and family there supporting us.  We knew he wasn't coming back. We knew hard changes were coming.  I asked one of my dearest local friends if she could move a few of my daughter's things to our home.  She and others went so far above and beyond that there is no possible way to thank them in this life.  They packed her entire home.  They moved a huge amount to our home.  They cleaned out, painted red, and set up the perfect living space for her in my home.   After 48 hours in the hospital it was finally time to declare that our sweet Jacob had returned to his Heavenly home, and to take our broken daughter home to see if we could put the pieces back together at least enough to make them hold.  The next several months were the hardest of my life.  Harder than I can write.  Harder than you can imagine, probably.  Watching her pain.  Seeing her body wracked with grief.   Feeling the anger, the love.  It was all so much.  But time heals, or at least it soothes. Her body grew, and as it did this perfect child formed.  She talks about this on her blog, so I will leave it to her, but life is so full of tender mercies and miracles. 

Don't ever give up.  Don't ever quit. 

There is so much to say, but it has taken me nearly a year to write what I have, and I am ready to move on.

Now for a picture?

After the successful publishing of my least post I have decided to attempt a picture. 

This is the table runner I made in like -10 min.  It is crochet,  because crochet is fast. It is an entire cone of cotton, because cotton is cheap.

How about now?

This really is just a test post.  I have continued blogging,  but blogger will not post anything. I believe this is because I add pictures.  However, what is a blog without pictures???  I have a whole slew of unpublished blogs. I have thought about uninstalling the app to try again.  I worry that all my drafts will be forever lost though. Oh blogger, why must you torture me?

I have turned to the dark side.  It is with shame that I admit that I have been crocheting. Knit is still queen, of course. Of course.  That is a given.  But I needed to make some blankets, and crochet just makes sense.  I have discovered that crochet is not soft like knitting.  It can take the softest yarn and turn it lumpy. I have discovered that crochet eats yarn for breakfast,  which is why most crocheters use cheap yarn I bet....  I have been using cheap yarn. Who am I????  I have also discovered...   That I love it. I really love the act of crocheting.  I don't love the yarn usage,  and I don't love the product, but I love the act itself. That counts for something.  It doesn't give me the satisfaction that knitting does,  but the instant gratification is pretty awesome.  I am currently crocheting a broomstick lace blanket for my oldest son. He has been begging for a really soft blanket.  This isn't it.   He is getting it anyway.  What he wants is a hand knit,  fingering weight,  100% baby alpaca.  What his maturity level gets him is a crochet acrylic. Sorry buddy. 
Here is where I would inset picture number one,  if blogger wasn't a jerk face. 

My other new passion? I got a knitting machine. I love it so much. Of course I equally hate it.  There is a large amount of give and take here.   I have knit a few sweaters. She is a finicky beast. She doesn't like acrylic.  Or worsted.  Ok, she only liked fingering weight yarn.  And only really high quality fingering weight.  She also reserves the right to break up with any yarn at any given time.  This usually happens when a project is 3/4 complete. She isn't big on commitment.  She is also fairly lazy, and whines and cries if I ask anything of her beyond stockinette most days.  Still, I love her fiercely and enjoy the sweaters she has allowed me to create.  She needs a name, but nothing has been perfect yet.
Here is where I would insert picture number two.

And here is where I would insert 389 pictures if my adorable, intelligent,  perfect 20 month old.

See how boring life is without pictures??

Let's get real; confessions of a homeschool mom

Being a mom is hard. Really hard.  (I know. I just totally caught your attention by using a title,  and first line that literally every single home school mom has used)
But really, being a mom sucks sometimes.  Being a homeschool mom with children that are always here (always. They never leave!) Is intense. Intensely rewarding, intensely heartbreaking, intensely panic attack inducing...  the list goes on. 

I am not a great mom. I try. I try super hard. I always fall just a little short of the goal.  Still, so far I have kept track of them. I currently know where each and every one of them are. Well, mostly.

But I wanted to share a few pictures of my life. I want to be able to look back and remember that I fought a battle, and I won. (I hope. Please tell me I win.) I want to look back someday when all of these short people are grown, and successful, and think "I created that."  Hopefully I will be saying it in a *sunshine, rainbows and butterflies sigh* sort of way, and not a *how many years in prison??* sort of way.

This morning I was (am) grouchy. My throat hurts, I am tired, and dieting generally sucks. (I am always dieting, so it is just a given here)

I needed a fee minutes to myself, so I made the mistake of stumbling to the bathroom and closing the door. I know better.  I know better than to think that my butt hitting the toilet seat isn't like an alarm going off at midnight directly in my children's ears.  They think "she is stuck. She can't move.  Now is our time. Victory is ours!" And within less than s minute, this was my view. 

Yes, this is 4 children, and one 130 pound dog.  This is real. This is what my glorious life looks like.  

And people say "Well, you chose it." And I did. I just didn't know what I was choosing, or you can bet I would have chosen differently. Just kidding. Sort of. 

For real though, I am so blessed.  I am blessed that my children want to be with me.  I am blessed that they love me regardless of my many, many  (many, many, many) short comings.  They want to be with me, regardless of my grouchy state. They love me with all their little hearts, regardless of how I look, how clean my house is, how much I weigh, or how my cooking tastes. (Ok, that is debatable some nights) 

And I am so thankful to have the opportunity to chose insanity, and still be sane.