Whatever knit-a-palooza I was off on has clearly ground to a halt. Maybe I shouldn’t have blogged about it or been happy about it, but all the knitting in this house looks almost exactly the same as it did yesterday.
(Imagine a picture here. Actually, just scroll down and look at yesterdays again. It’s really about the same.)
I completed two rows of the new baby sweater when I got in last night, and managed maybe… eight rounds of a sock while I was out, because I was skating. While I feel pretty confident about walking and knitting, I don’t like the possible consequences of a (fairly likely) fall while skating, and the attendant possibilities for impalement with fine metal sock needles. If they were nice blunt plastic ones, then maybe you’d only have to worry about… actually. Never mind. Let’s just agree that knitting and skating probably don’t go together. Mostly.
Today I’m at my desk, and helping the World’s Top Knitwear Model move home. That’s right, the nest, she is empty no more, Sam’s back, and I couldn’t be happier about the chance to mother her just about to death. I had always suspected that I was the sort of mum who would love having an empty nest, and looked forward to how it would be when they were grown, and we were all in another phase. Then the ladies all did grow up, and they all left, and it was just me and Joe and the cat, and you know what?
I was right. It was freakin’ awesome.
It’s cool that Sam’s back though, Joe and I are both delighted to have her here. I’m planning on theme breakfasts, and smoothies, and movie nights, and Sam’s got a great sense of humour and can be very helpful around the house, and she is our baby, after all.
Welcome home, my little butterfly. (Don’t get too comfortable. Mummy was sort of planning to put a loom in your room.)