School Knit

Once upon a time, long, long ago, I blogged about knitting. Truth be told, it was the knitting that got me into the blogging. My return to the needles in my late 20s saw me seeking out new techniques online, which is how I discovered the knitting blog, which led me to the sewing blog, the mummy blog, the any-kind-you-will blog. And eventually I was inspired to start my own blog.

So the knitting did beget the blog, and the blog, in turn, did beget the knitting. I knitted for the love of it, and to feed the growing obsession with yarns and patterns and the finish line. I knitted to clothe and warm other people's babies, and then my own babies, and, ever so occasionally, and far less successfully, me. The blog, meanwhile, was the impetus to keep going, to record, to show off, to share.

And then the blog led me to selling my knitting. And it was wonderful and grand and all things good. But all other knitting ceased. My children grew out of the last of my handknits and nothing has replaced them. No cardigans, no jumpers, no core-warming vests, no funny stripy leg warmers. 

My Lola started kindergarten last year and I couldn't bring myself to dress her in the standard issue acrylic V-neck. While she wore through a few fleecy hoodies, I got my hands on some superwash wool and found a pattern. Winter arrived, and left, and still she wore the hoodies.

This year I was determined to get it done. My hands weren't used to knitting on smaller needles. I wasn't used to reading an actual pattern. I worked at it in bursts, between the hats. I relaxed as we languished in a long, not-very-cold autumn. But when winter hit good and proper, I knew I had to finish.

My big girl, no longer a kindergartener, but a first-grader with a gappy smile and an obsession with books, finally has a handknit cardigan to keep her warm in the schoolyard. Now, back to the hats...

Pattern: Granny's Favourite by Georgie Hallam

Yarn: Cascade 220 Superwash in Navy

Ravelry notes here.

A is for Apple

 

For a brief time as a kid, I wanted to be a teacher. Noble as that career path would have been, I know it was less about a desire to educate and more about being able to write on the blackboard*. My short stint as a teenager giving piano lessons to a handful of neighbourhood kids drove the final nail into the coffin. As highly as I value education, and as much as I love to learn, I am not a teacher.

But back when I entered Year 2, back when 'teacher' was the answer I gave to every well-meaning adult who asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I took to school a set of handmade flashcards that I'd stayed up most of the previous night making. I had thought it through, you see, and I was going to teach my little sister and her kindergarten colleagues how to read. I think it lasted one lunchtime before they gave up on me and headed off to play chasies.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. One evening last week, this was the scene taking place in our lounge room - a very grown-up six-year-old taking it upon herself to teach her little sisters the alphabet. And perhaps she has more of the teacher's spirit than me, because she turned it into a game, sending them off for an apple from the fruit bowl, a xylophone from the music basket, a plastic horse from a bedroom, to illustrate her lesson.

They fight and argue with the best of them, these three, but it's these shiny bright moments of cooperation and care, the encouragement shown by a big sister, and the adoration of two little girls for one big girl, that lets me know we're doing OK.

* Showing my age, I know.

Crackers

The party had a robot theme. I, being me, suggested we get into the swing of things and make some robot masks to wear. They, being them, decided we needed to add a touch of flair - a bunny robot, a three-horned unicorn robot and a horse robot. Neigh.

They're crackers, all three of them. Gloriously, beautifully, relentlessly, seriously crackers.

Vintage Summer Princess

I love her for her imagination, her inquisitiveness, her stubbornness, her silliness.

I love her relentless requests to do "craft", to "investigate", to catch butterflies in the garden.

I love that she can suddenly ride a bike like an old pro, can suddenly read whole books on her own, will make up a song and stop whatever she's doing to write down the lyrics.

I love that she suggests dinner on the lawn, then declares, "Well, isn't this pleasant," as we share our rice with the mozzies.

I love her intensely choreographed dance routines, and that they're often to the songs from Broadway musicals. (And I love how far back in her head her eyes roll when I try out one of my routines on her...)

I love her gappy grin, her impossibly thick hair, her limbs that seem to stretch out longer and thinner every time she falls asleep.

And I love that, given free rein in my fabric stash, she doesn't hesitate before selecting a lairy vintage sheet for her new summer dress (and that when she tries it on the first time, she says, "It's just like a ball gown!") 

Bless.

Dress F from Girls Style Book by Yoshiko Tsukiori.

36/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Previous 52 portraits here.

35/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Three photos taken on three different days:

Lola: Morning, wearing that well-worn and much-loved nightie.

Pearl: Midday, a sit-down protest during our walk around the lake.

Stella: Evening, bath-time. She likes some solo floating time before her sisters join her.

Previous 52 portraits here.

34/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: She (we) made a kite out of paper, pipe cleaners, string and a toilet roll. I was amazed when it took flight. Thank you, August winds.

Pearl: Phrase of the week - "Yes indeed."

Stella: Word of the day - "Whatev-ah."

Previous 52 portraits here.

33/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: She implored me to come to assembly this week because she'd be showing some "incredible artwork." How could I refuse?

Pearl: "I know why it's not working. It's run out of something. We need to put more something in."

Stella: The natural progression of life, according to Stella - baby, kid, big sister, teenager, grown-up.

Previous 52 portraits here.

31/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

We had a very spooooooooooky birthday party here today.

Lola: Vampire.

Pearl: Ghost.

Stella: Witch.

Previous 52 portraits here.

30/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: She likes to share facts. "You know a snake shreds, Mum?" "It shreds, does it?" "Yes, it shreds its skin. It has to." 

Pearl: Watching a roadside crane with great interest, she told me that when she grows up into a man, she'll have long legs and be able to climb cranes. I tried to convince her that, as she was a little girl, she probably wouldn't grow up into a man as such. "Well, Mum...we just need to buy a wand." Righto.

Stella: I call her Mrs McGinty. She calls me Poo-Poo McGann.

Previous 52 portraits here.

29/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: We're all big on trading made-up stories at the moment. When her sisters aren't around, Lola asks me to make up an extra scary one for her - "Make it a PG one, Mum, not just G."

Pearl: If we sing a song together, she calls it "singing all in a row."

Stella: She likes to wear my "dangles" on her wrists.

Previous 52 portraits here.

28/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: Upon being asked if she could sort out the mess in her room, she responded firmly, "I am not a cleaning machine." Teenager much?

Pearl: I looked questioningly at the two little girls in the bath and the flood on the bathroom floor. Pearl's defence - "One of us is responsible but both of us are not responsible."

Stella: I asked her, "Do you know how much I love you? It's a really, really big number, maybe as big as a million. Can you guess?" She thinks for a moment. "Is it 18?"

Previous 52 portraits here.

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"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013" via Che and Fidel.

Lola: Always cutting and pasting and drawing and writing. The other day she came to show me a picture she'd drawn of a "man sitting in a crescent moon with a fishing rod fishing in a pond."

Pearl: There have been a lot of parties recently. Last week she wanted a tiger on her face. Today she insisted on one plait and one ponytail.

Stella: I will never tire of hearing her chase after her big sister calling, "Lolls! Lolls! Hey, Lolls!"

Previous 52 portraits here.

Six

You are funny and bright, and terribly earnest.

You are resilient, courageous, so very determined.

You are messy and flamboyant. You dance with great flair and sing the national anthem with a deep seriousness.

You love and you fight. You are light.

Oh, how I love you, my six-year-old.