I haven't blogged in an elephant's age because every time I think of blogging, I'm either in the middle of work, in the middle of driving a car, or in the middle of 50 pounds of suggly children. None are activities I can pause for a quick trip to the old blogspot.
Last week was a week of crochet madness. You never know when these obsessions will strike, but on Monday I was at the craft store and found skeins of yarn in the dollar bin, and the next thing I knew, I'd make 3 hats and a scarf. Only one of the hats is nice enough to brag about, and even then, it's not at all the hat it was supposed to become. But hey, no one has to know that e-baby's white beret is actually a stocking cap in its Platonic ideal.
Speaking of e-baby, she wanted to crochet too, so I taught her to do a chain stich and she's made some doll scarves/bracelets. She and I made up a little song that helps her remember how to chain stich with her hands (I think the hook will have to come later). Before I forget it, I'd better put it on paper:
Put your pinchers through,
Other hand has a job to do,
Grab the string and pull it through,
Make the loop small.
It's a nothing little song, but it worked well to help her remembering what to do next.
I bought 3 more skeins of yarn to take to Ireland and a shiny new shiny (no really, it is shiny! It has LED lights inside!) crochet hook that I can use to wile away the many hours of insomnia and boring airplane travel without internet access. Instead of lugging tons of yarn all over Ireland, I figure I will release hats and scarves into the wild as we go, like a leprechaun dropping little gold coins in the socks of good innkeepers and children. By the way, we leave on THURSDAY!!! I can't wait! It's a ladies-only trip: my mom, SNG's mom, e-baby and me. SNG and Jambuca will bond in manly style eating a lot of burritos and watching a lot of ESPN while we kiss the Blarney stone and get the gift of gab (heh- don't say it, I know).
Updates on our chillies:
e-baby is, well, e-baby. I don't even know how to update about her anymore, since she's really just a normal preschooler who likes to play with her dollhouses, strings, trucks, stuffed animals...
Jambuca has several signs now: water, milk, more, all-done, and dog. He can stand alone, cruise with one hand held gently, climb to the top of all our furniture and go up and down a flight of stairs safely, but he's still too cautious to walk independently. I suppose he'll realize he can do it as soon as he moves into the 1-year-old class. There's a backlog of kids moving up so it'll still be a few weeks before he goes. Fine with me-- we're all crazy about his infant teachers.
OK, so it'll probably be awhile before I write more, but I should be able to blog from Ireland. Wish us a bon voyage!