Knit One, Purl Two: Part Deux

I actually had to go back in time to see when I first posted about wanting to take up knitting and laughed when I saw it was one year ago. October 3rd I had posted on the sirens call of the clacking needles, while tightly woven, fuzzy strands emerged as if by magic into a creation I could call my own. What I didn't write about was the holes, the dropped stitches, the yarn ripped off needles over and over again. I didn't write about screaming obscenities at YouTube videos meant to show me 'simple' cast on's and mysterious increases. Nor did I write about the cathartic effect it has had on my mental state, turning anxiousness into focused repetition. It technically started in October of last year, by the end of Winter, or more accurately, the end of December, I had managed two pretty sorry scarves and a hat for Eric that the pom-pom promptly fell off of. I find it hysterical now to see patterns for wavy scarves, I did that on my first one, random increases and decreases my elusive nemesis. I admittedly, relegated it all to the closet to be picked up again when my patience was a bit more refined. Which takes us once again to another October. A weekend getaway with some friends and the need for a project. I find myself once more pulling out the needles and some yarn and packing them in the overnight bag. I completed my project, a skirt for Elaina, relatively quickly and the clincher was, it fit! I made another and then a hat. Then another hat, then I tried felting and more hats started rolling off the assembly. A pilgrimage was made to a real yarn store and there is now no turning back. Most are presents, which I have found in itself oddly enriching. When I make something for a friend or family member, I know going into it the project is for them. The yarn and pattern are chosen specifically for them of course but even more important is the time it takes. Whether an afternoon or an entire week, the time spent on the item is also spent thinking about that person. Good points and bad, relationships are sorted out, gone over and ultimately knit together with contemplative time alone between the strands emerging and I. Most projects I sadly can't show yet because they are presents and Christmas still looms. This year I hope it to be less commercial and more personal. It was thought to be cheaper but after that trip to the yarn store have discovered otherwise. So with meditative resolve we enter the holiday season, I will do all I can to squelch the frantic-ness that takes over my being. Knitting a little bit of peace into the season.

All Alone...

While growing up, the worst thing I could do to my sister was to not play with her. Sure, she got mad if I called her bubble-butt. She chased me down with unrelenting speed if she knew I had hid one of her toys and was playing dumb. She cried when I bit the hands and feet off her Barbi. But to actually not want to play? That, was a whole new level. I didn't do it vindictively, I wasn't looking to even the score. I simply wanted to do my own thing. I have always been happy in a group or by myself. One of the earliest points in my relationship with my now husband when I knew he was keeper, was after a day spent browsing Powell's Book Store in Portland only to return to my minuscule studio to lay around reading in bliss. He didn't think I was mad at him for not talking. We didn't have to be 'doing' something. We were happily otherwise occupied in the same room and it was OK. Now I look at my children and once again the worst tears come from the dreaded "you're not my friend". Wow. To be cast out from the group, left to wallow in your own sorrow. Noses get punched, stomach's get jumped on, those are tears that dry up relatively quickly. To think that your base, your strength, your support is turning from you? That gets them at the core. Why? I guess I've become acutely aware of what a lack of confidence we have in ourselves. Not trusting that we can actually make ourselves happy and that happiness doesn't come from outside but in. As far as the kids go, building up the confidence that family is forever, no matter what they say to each other in that snapshot of time. That's what family does. With friends it's harder. You can only distribute birthday invites at school if everyone is invited. No hurt feelings. Even though when their birthday comes around they are all to quick to understand they can only invite 5 friends over to spend the night, not 30. They eternally want to be one of the 5. Looking for validation from the number of activities they are involved. Everything is taken personally, not logically. I'm sure I had my share of pity parties. I distinctly remember being a 'mean girl' in middle school, only to have it rather ironically turned around on me. Maybe those are the A-Ha moments that we all need. I've spent a lot of my life as 'the new comer' so I guess I accepted that there were groups already formed and I was happy to be included at all, if I wasn't, I chalked it up to something established long before I entered the picture and there would be other times that I fit in better down the road. I want my kids to have that same confidence. They have two very self-sufficient parents, if it's genetic, they have a fighting chance. Don't get me wrong, I'm not proclaiming that it's all about self. I don't think that "I" in the literal sense can make me happy. My confidence comes from truly believing in that bigger picture, it's not about me. When I make it about me, when I watch that ego take flight, bad things happen. By actually looking outside myself, things never seem quite so dramatic. Kids are giant egos trottin' around in blinking sneakers. Middle school is about the time they hang their flashing kicks up, I guess I'll have to tolerate the tears a few more years.

Sportsmanship...Schmortsmanship...

As per Dictionary.com:  sportsmanlike conduct, as fairness, courtesy, being a cheerful loser, etc.

 As per Wikipedia:  conformance to the rules, spirit, and etiquette of sport. More grandly, it may be considered the ethos of sport. It is interesting that the motivation for sport is often an elusive element. Sportsmanship expresses an aspiration or ethos that the activity will be enjoyed for its own sake, with proper consideration for fairness, ethics, respect, and a sense of fellowship with one's competitors. Being a "good sport" involves being a "good winner" as well as being a "good loser".[1]

 Trust me, I don't want to be 'that mom'.  You know the one on the sidelines, screaming bloody murder, threat filled, obscenities at the panting child on the field.  But somewhere along the line, I think the definition of good sportsmanship has been shall we say, modified.  Being obsessive by nature and not prone to wanting to be wrong, I went in search of the elusive definition of sportsmanship.  Something they are teaching our children not only on the field, but in school as well.  My son would like to believe and quite unsuccessfully argue, that being a good sport means playing the game because you like to and it doesn't matter if you win or lose.  Just frolic around the field, laughing and giggling, merrily with your friends until the ref says it's time for snack.  Maybe this is just one more case of the people we are entrusting our children with to pound mediocrity into their heads, but I'm done.  By definition sportsmanship is about being a good winner AND a good loser.  That actually means someone MUST win and someone MUST lose.  Not just flit around until the goldfish are dispensed, but actually try to WIN!!!  Being happy that you do or don't and happy for the other players, that they all tried their best and either had a better or worse day than you did.  I swear we're teaching our kids that it's not OK to win because God forbid you hurt the feelings of the kid that did not.  This of course coming off Ethan telling me it's fine to get 2 wrong on his tests, that it is still 100%.  I'm not sure how much math has changed since I was in school oh so many years ago, but as far as I know getting anything less than all correct is not 100%!!!  Why is it so awful to teach our kids to strive to be the best? Why can't I expect him to get all the answers right?  Our kids are graduating high school and not understanding that they have to fight for that job.  They can't do it half-ass and get the promotion.  We're so concerned with everyone's feelings, 'he won't like me anymore if I take the ball from him', 'if I make too many goals he won't be my friend.'  Are you kidding me?!?!?  THAT is not good sportsmanship!!  Being happy for your friend because he did GOOD and wanting it to be you next time should be OK!!  I just want them to be the best they can be, I want them to help their friends be the best they can be also, not everyone striving to be same.  Stretching themselves, what a sad, lazy group of kids society is fighting to create. 

 

You know I love you...

I think anything that starts off with 'you know I love you' can't really be going in a good direction.  Elaina, I love you, but jeez girl, you're killing me!!!  One day you'll look back on these pages, you'll probably be a bit embarrassed, then you'll get older, possibly have children and then you'll know.  I wasn't the crazy one.  It was you.  Kindergarten started a few weeks ago and admittedly I wanted to post something sweet and sentimental about losing my daughter, my com-padre of the day to another woman but alas having only Elijah at home ROCKS!!!  So far she loves her new class and is apparently only learning about the color red.  I'm seriously giving the teacher the benefit of the doubt on this one that she is actually teaching them more and Elaina just doesn't feel that it's important enough for me to know.  She has made lots of new friends all somehow named 'Schwally',  seems odd, but hey we are technically in a new city and there are a lot of regional differences.  Along with starting the great kindergarten adventure we signed her up on her first soccer team.  Now please note, Elaina has an older brother and a younger brother.  She takes nothing off anyone, especially another cute, pigtailed, Adidas adorned girl.  See ball, get ball, put ball in goal.  It's in your best interest to simply move aside.  Just wish I could have conveyed that to her sweet little team mate, yes team mate, last night.  At the end of practice they do a little mock game, 2 on 3 as it was since 1 was sick.  Elaina being on the 2 side, eyes the prize, takes it and noting opponent in the way of the ultimate target, pushes her little 40lb friend to the ground and shoots in the goal.  33lbs of fury she is.  Mortified, I close up my camera and hang my soccer mom head in disgrace.  She was told to apologize to her unknowing friend and then taken to McDonald's, pushing bad, cheetah's determination at soccer, good.  We can see it now, our little shirt waving, ball obsessed Mia Hamm, let's just hope she has a sports bra on when she takes hers off too.  Somehow I doubt it since she thought it was hilarious that I managed to catch her without underwear when she came home from school yesterday, I guess as long as she left them here it's OK, anywhere else, not so much.