When Sam was 10

Today Sam is 11. This means that I can report with great accuracy the matters of Sam being 10.

When Sam was 10…

She learned to snowboard, and got her very own. She learned to snowboard with Ken because even the thought of the littlest of my daughters hurtling down the side of a hill strapped to a board is more than I can look at. My daughter is braver than me.

We were visiting our small friend Max one day and I realized that neither Max’s Mum nor I was watching over him. Sam was old enough to keep a toddler safe. This struck me as incredible, since she was a toddler last week. I’m sure of it.

Sam learned what “mean” meant, and how many other 10 year olds you could apply it to.

She found out that I am a dork. Luckily, Joe is still somewhat cool.

Her feet grew a size bigger than mine.

I cried more than once that nobody in this whole house is small enough to fit on my lap. While this is not Sam’s fault, I do hold her somewhat responsible.

Her fish Sharkbait died.

She cycled hundreds of kilometres in the summer without realizing that was pretty cool, pretty far, or pretty unusual.


She swam in the Atlantic ocean, hiked Signal Hill, saw Green Gables, stood on the most Easterly point of North America and shopped for yarn across the Maritimes.


She baked a decent batch of cookies without help.


She drove me insane asking repeatedly about getting the top of her ear pierced.

Sam learned to play the french horn without it sounding like an elephant in labour. (I personally would like a couple of points for this one. A lesser mother would have bought a bus ticket).


She worked on her french and displayed a surprising (and largely useless) propensity for french involving pizza toppings.

She only slept in our bed once. Knowing that it was likely the last time she would ever do so kept me up looking at her.

She went to sleepaway camp and when the bus left, I was the one who cried.

She was smart, funny and the best reward for not having killed the first two.

Happy Birthday Sam. Hope being 11 is a gas. (and no…you can’t have the top of your ear pierced).

The Flower Basket Shawl Scarf is finished. (Interweave Knits Fall/04)


It grew a very satisfying 10 inches width-wise in the blocking, despite me showing some blocking restraint. I am a fan of the hard-core wet block. I believe in full immersion wetting and then serious pinning out. “Misting” leaves me feeling unsatisfied and wanting something more, though I have had profound moments with “steaming” as well. (As I typed that I realized that I have now guaranteed that someone sweaty will find this blog as a result of a Google search involving “hard-core wet…something your mother wouldn’t approve of“. Hi there. Disappointed?)

I’m delighted to reveal that Michael has won the coral fleece. I was actually thinking about rigging this one, mostly because he is an enormous whiner who won’t let up. I thought better of it though, and pulled names from a hat. I’d like to thank the fates for the moment when I withdrew his name, thus freeing me both from the guilt of a fixed selection, and his incessant whinging for a gift.

The finger continues to be troublesome (although it’s much, much better, thanks for asking) so I continued on straight needle knitting last night.


This little sweater from Sweater Kits continues apace. The label says “Kids Handpainted Cardigan”, but I don’t see it on her website. I wrote a little note, but haven’t heard back yet. I’ll let you know. The variegation is still not ticking me off, so I’m sure the yarn is discontinued. (Yarn Rule #12).