Well. I’m a little less sweary than Thursday, you’ll be relieved to know. I am currently channelling my dear departed Granny, as I am firmly ensconced on her cane lounge, and I’m knitting. It’s sort of like a chaise lounge, very comfy, on the perfect angle, moved in from her granny flat this arvo by my big bro and wiley sister, who figured it would work in my current condition.
Granny, who lived at home to a very sane 99 and 3 months, who thought turning 100 would be ‘ridiculous’, who never swore or drank ( geez there’s a couple of big differences right there), would take to her cane lounge of an afternoon, and read, or crochet. For many years she could provide a running commentary on the streets’ comings and goings, spied from this very lounge.
She could appear sweet little old lady, but she had a wicked ‘tude, was a true individual, could have an acid tongue, and at 99 still cared about her hair and outfits. She couldn’t wear pants…she didn’t know how to. Once we bought her some to stay warm , and there she was, laying on the bed, giggling, wrestling, two of her legs stuck in one leg of the pants. We didn’t bring them out again.
For many years, grandad would serve her breakfast in bed on a little pink table. She would lay there and have her toast, and read the paper, usually starting with the deaths. We always thought this ritual was about her ‘weak heart’. Yeah, not so much. Just good organisation and a unique take on a wife’s rights. By 10 or 11am she would join Grandad in the garden. He died at 84. She kicked on for another 20 years.
I have a cushion she crocheted, in blue, away in the wardrobe, just for gumby . We dug it out today. It just needs stitching together and stuffing.
This weekend my sister decided, after Thursday’s total dummy spit of a day, that a change of scene was in order or I’d lose my marbles. I’d had a good day Friday, feeling better after sorting out a few possibilities with work, which was hanging over my head like the sword of damocles as I last blogged.
Friday, some of my prayers were weirdly answered when hub in boots was sms’d by work at 1am saying the system was down, don’t come in. So all day, we could just hang, and try and process. He ended up going in Friday night (and sat, and sun),but by then I was back to calm. Ish .
I had a short stint in the garden yesterday, in the sun, watching a yacht race. (no we’re not rich, we’re renting, cheap, a tiny flat in a street of mansions ). The cormorants were out fishing, people out kayaking, and the yachties pulled some great jibes right in front of us. The sun under the frangipani trees was awesome.
Then came a visitor, a mate from work and her two little girls, and food parcels, baking, lush bath bombs, and, gasp, baby gear. Yes, you heard me. She asked permission, I said yes, and in a quiet way the baby gear moratorium was lifted. Right on 14 weeks.
The “fuck it” (very non granny) has been thrown out to the universe, and we have blown raspberries in the face of the fear of jinxing ourselves, by getting baby gear for a baby we may lose. My work friend brought a car seat, and portable high chairs, and a gorgeous little shirt and onesy, and some maternity clothes. Raspberries indeed. As the ob slightly less than eloquently put it to hub in boots, there is no point in this pregnancy that is safe, where we can relax. And as my sister said, losing a baby would hurt like hell, and whether we have a room full of gear or not makes very little difference to that potential experience.
So from now on, I’m going to work on two assumptions : 1. We’re having this baby and 2. I am not getting back to work before HE is born.
With that in mind, (and the time still stretching out scarily before me if I lift my eyes to the horizon), yesterday we upped stumps and my sister and i came to mums. A trip out of the house without bad news attached. That’s new.
We stayed the night, and after a walk to the yard , visitors , a car trip, catch up with my big bro and yummy dinner, I was knackered. I slept pretty solidly. Hub in boots was out coaching AFL, in his own little man cave, with about 7 hours straight of footy in the big pre season NAB cup. Happy as a pig in mud.
Today, I got some garden time in the sun (the herb gardens i did as Xmas presents are going great guns waiting here for collection with mum’s tlc), caught up with some of the old neighbours, and finally got to see my mum in law .
We gave her her birthday in advance for wednesday, and later, with the patience of job, she started to teach me how to knit. I thought I’d be ok as she’s left handed too, but no. She knits right handed, and crochets left handed! But we got there. I’m also getting good at dropped stitches, but hey, it’s keeping my hands (and brain) busy.
And some of the outfits in the knitting magazine are hilarious. Stay tuned for when I next get near a scanner! Woot! Some of these knitting women seriously need to get out more (and I’m a fine one to talk). Can’t wait til I can manage booties….
I promised my counsellor I would think of some project I’ve wanted to do for ages, that I could do laying in bed. So I have. (Novel writing did come up, yes, but slightly beyond my present brain space). Now all I have to do , with the help of the net, is continue to knit and spend some other time brushing up on & improving my French. Perhaps not at the same time as I knit….
The cane lounge and I are hanging out together tomorrow here at mum’s, and even though mum has tai chi I’ll still get company. I’m aiming for a nasty, slightly holey, short scarf by the 15 week mark next Saturday. Progress photos to follow. My knitting and I will head home tomorrow night.
In the meantime, I’m taking a few leaves out of granny’s book.
1. Lots of rest & other people looking after you won’t kill you
2. Having an interest in all the people around you can keep you going (she had her own version of Facebook …)
3. Crocheting (knitting ) is good for you
4. You can dip strawberries into the sugar basin and still not get diabetes til you’re 80 something ( I don’t think I’ll actually do this, it’s more the blatant disregard for rules I’m in favour of)
5. Even if your granddaughter’s boyfriend backs over you with a car at eighty something, you can still bounce back (ie don’t mourn lost time and opportunities, and don’t chuck in the towel. And yes, it was my boyfriend. And yes it was an accident)
6. If you don’t like a piece of furniture, a saw is helpful, but make sure you have a spirit level (I may save this one for postnatal handy hints, and you can’t trust hub-in-boots with a saw…)
7. Even if you don’t leave the house , your hair and outfit matter. Maybe I could have Sundays and wednesdays off this one.