There is something homey and comforting about brewing beer on a snowy night.
Crystal malt toasting in the oven, a big bubbling pot on the stove, chatting with roomates (and wine) as we wait for the wort to cool for the yeast. Good times indeed.
Last night Awesome Roomie J took the initiative to start a new IPA. Yes, we love our hops in this house. With toasted malt and oak chips steeped in, this one should be a whole different style from the Bouncin’ Baby IPA.
Awesome Roomie J keeps late hours, so this was a brew that went into the early hours of the next day. Awesome-ly enough, the wort didn’t get to a true boil till Midnight. And I mean exactly midnight. In honor of the witching hour, we had no choice but to name the brew…
Witchy Woman IPA
Here’s some of our resident witchies stirring the cauldron of goodness.
(in order… Awesome Roomie J; KnittingSprite; Awesome Roomie M; wort boiling; wort cooling)
WeeSprite is keeping me busy. I’m hoping I can at least get a rough draft in before she wakes up. Learning this whole “mom” thing is a process, to say the least. There’s lots of repetition (feed, change diaper, try to do stuff while she sleeps, repeat). There’s things I do all the time and never get sick of it – like staring at her. A lot. Seriously, your baby very quickly becomes your obsession. I can watch her sleep, or just lie there, or make funny faces while she tries to take a poop, for hours. There’s things I never thought I would get used to but now handle with gace and calm. Like getting peed on. And spit up on. And going to the bathroom while holding a baby. Oh, and typing with one hand.
I think the hardest thing to get used to is how different I am treated now. While I was pregnant, people went out of their way to be nice to me, to help me with things (lifting, opening doors, whatever). They asked about the baby, about my health. They offered kind (usually) and well-meant advice. This from complete strangers as well as friends and aquaintences. Now that the baby is here, people don’t seem to understand that the pregnancy was the easy part. At least for me it was. NOW is when I need help, when it would be nice if someone opened the door for me while I juggle a winter coat, baby, and humongous diaper bag. When, while it is not as visible as a pregnant belly, a cesarean section makes it a lot harder to move and lift things than it was while I was pregnant. When I want to yell, No, I really can’t keep up with the amount of housework that I could a few weeks ago. Other than my friends who already have kids (and my wonderful, amazing partner), people don’t Get It. Strangers or friends, really.
Today was the first time I realized how different the world is for me as a mom as opposed to a pregnant woman.
Today I was scheduled for my two-week checkup with my midwives. I dropped my Loving and Supportive Partner off at work, and had two hours to kill before said appointment. We live far enough out of town that going home would be a pain and a waste of gas, as well as dealing with pulling my peacefully sleeping WeeSprite in and out of the car seat. Considering she was sleeping so well, I decided to spend the time at the library, which is just across the street from LaSP’s place of employment (the acronym works for now, but he REALLY needs a blog name!). WeeSprite was bundled into her Moby wrap, diaper bag hauled over one shoulder, and off we went.
It was not meant to be. The moment I reached the most central, echoing part of the library, my little one started to cry. She is generally a very calm baby. She cries when she needs something and that’s it. Right at that moment, WeeSprite needed to tell me she was hungry. Also right at that moment, everyone in earshot needed to tell me something else. Shut Your Baby Up. What Are You Doing Here With A Crying Baby? You Must Be A Terrible Mother. You Don’t Belong Here. Oh, no one said these things. But you can say a lot with a dirty look. Patrons and librarians alike made it very clear that I was a Nuisance, a Disturbance, and Not Welcome.
I hurried to a quiet and (I thought) private corner. I had no sooner gotten myself settled (and was seconds away from freeing a breast from the crazy Moby contraption to feed WeeSprite) when a scruffy guy browsing the stacks felt it necessary to add his two cents. “The kid’s section is over there” he growled, jerking his thumb the the general direction.
“Back the fuck off! Let me feed my kid! Unless you’ve never been a temporary pain in someone’s ass, leave me alone!”
…is what I thought. What I said was more of a stammering apology. “I’m sorry! She was fine until I got here!” Disgusting. I was angry with myself for being so cowed, but still intimidated by the force of negative energy that seemed to be coming from everyone in the library.
Huddled in my corner, I fed my daughter. When she seemed done, I burped her and got ready to look for a few books – my original plan. WeeSprite had other ideas, and immediately let me know about her dirty diaper. I hurried to the bathroom before she had time to make more than a few noises, wanting to avoid bringing more attention to myself. I changed her, and lingered in the bathroom, afraid to go back into the library. Sure enough, she began to fuss again (still hungry) and I did what I never thought I would do. I had been a staunch supporter of a mother’s right to breastfeed in public. I had ranted rants, read articles, discussed this right with my La Leche League Leader friend. But I did it, I went into a bathroom stall. To feed my baby.
Not because of censure of breastfeeding in public. Not out of modesty or fear someone would say something about me feeding my daughter in the way I thought best. I did it because I was afraid of having a crying newborn in public.
I spent more time cowering from public opinion in the bathroom than I did using the library itself. Really, I didn’t get any time to actually browse for books.
How fucked up is that?
It seems that we live in a place where pregnancy is smiled upon, but the result of that condition is considered a public nuisance. How often have I (or you, dear reader) been in a restaurant, on a bus, boarding a plane, and saw a parent and baby come onto the scene? Did I roll my eyes, and wonder what kind of disruption this would cause? Did I give them a dirty look if the baby cried? I hope I have not been that person, but fear that I have. I know that by the time my youngest brothers were born, I had learned more about what it was like to be a parent (from observing my mom) and was more likely to give parents of fussing kids looks of understanding – but what if they came off as pity?
I hope that at least a few people reading this will be kinder to frazzled moms (and dads) like myself. I hope that I will learn to not give a crap about the opinions of others when I am taking care of my child’s needs. I hope I get some of my F-you attitude back, and the cowed, scared me will fade into the background.
For the people who gave me dirty looks today, I would like to end this with a little bit of wisdom from OutKast.
I know you’d like to thank your shit don’t stank
But lean a little bit closer
See that roses really smell like poo-poo
Yeah, roses really smell like boo-boo
Filed under: Mommy stuff — knittingsprite @ 10:45 am
My darling girl was born3:23 am, Saturday Dec 19 2009 via c-section. She was 8lbs 2oz, and 19.5 inches long.
I am so happy to have her here after what felt like a long, long wait. I felt so prepared – I had done my reading, my breathing and mental exercises, prenatal yoga – I was READY to have this baby.
Before it happened to me, I kind of believed C-Sections only happened to people who didn’t labor well, or had too many unnecessary interventions. I was so caught up in my natural birth reading that I forgot to take it with a grain of salt, that not all hospitals were evil c-section pushing butchers. I also assumed it couldn’t possibly happen to me, I was so ready to have this baby naturally that I mostly skipped the C-Section chapters in my books. It couldn’t happen.
I was SO impatient to have this baby (as FB friends and blog readers may have noticed). I went into false labor once, and broke down crying the next day in my midwife’s office because she still. wasn’t. here. yet. When I started feeling contractions again I was afraid to get my hopes up. I had spent one day with my stepmom hanging out and running errands so I wouldn’t be alone “in case I went into labor.” I started having contractions again, and I was afraid to believe it was happening, even after 7 hours of chart-able contractions. They did peter out that evening, but picked up again the next morning.
After days of early labor, I finally started “the real thing” Friday evening. I was 3cm dilated when I got to the hospital. The entire time I was really able to stay on top of contractions and breathe through them. I walked, I used the tub, rocked on the birthing ball, and chatted with my mom and SO. It was going well for the most part… I *was* hooked up to an external monitor the whole time, but I didn’t think much of it at first. The baby’s heart rate was dropping at the end of each contraction, but neither my nurse or midwife seemed overly worried about that. The nurse kept telling me that I was amazing, and he had rarely seen someone handle labor so well. (He was GREAT to have around during labor… if anyone reading this has a baby at Boulder Community Foothills, look for Danny in L&D. I loved him).
Around 2 am that changed. I was still dilating well, and staying on top of contractions, but the baby’s heart rate was decelerating more and more. Suddenly there was an internal monitor, and oxygen, and an IV. Before long they were telling me I needed a C Section….. yea I cried.
There were scrubs brought in for my mom and my SO. I had to change into a hospital gown (I was in a birthing skirt and a comfy shirt before) full on with open back. A nice man came to tell me about the spinal he was going to give me. In a small crowd of my midwife, nurse, anesthesiologist, and birth support team, I walked to the OR. Every step felt like I was losing control of my birth, and that it wasn’t mine anymore. I wouldn’t be pushing my little girl out. Someone else would be giving her the entrance into this world.
The OR was bright. And Cold. Bob Marley was playing on a small portable stereo in the corner as people – lots of people – set up. I was so grateful when they turned him off – I really like Bob and didn’t want to associate him with what was happening to me. As I had the spinal inserted, I was already thinking this meant that if I had another baby, it would mean no homebirth, no midwives… just an acronym. VBAC. I’m not really planning on another kid just yet, but I always assumed if one happened I would try for a homebirth next time.
I was scared the spinal couldn’t possibly do enough to numb the pain of having my skin, stomach muscles, and uterus cut open, but they really know what they are doing. I wasn’t even sure when the actual incision was happening. I remember holding my partner’s hand tight, and being so so scared. I kept looking at my mom, who had been through this with my youngest brother. I tried to draw on her strength and the knowledge that she was fine now.
When my baby’s head first came out, and I heard her first cry, the entire experience changed for me. That one little noise took all the fear and hurt, and suddenly I was filled with love. When they pulled her body out, several people made surprised noises, and my SO turned to me and said “She’s HUGE!” They let him trim the umbilical cord (he couldn’t do the initial cut) and took him and our baby to the corner to do hospital-y things. I held my mom’s hand and craned my neck to see her little feet in the air. The eventually let her be brought over to me so I could see her.
It’s a little hard to understand why, when I was “laboring so well”, things can still end in major surgery. It’s hard to let go of the fact that I still don’t know what it’s like to “really” give birth. And I may not ever know.
What is easy is loving this little girl that I am so blessed to have. It’s easy to love my family and friends that have been with me through this all. I know that this will just make me a stronger and better person someday.
Welcome to the world, WeeSprite. You are loved by so many, but especially me.
I am DONE with Christmas gift knitting! This is amazing all on it’s own (because I am not posting this on Christmas Eve), but extra amazing because this is the first year more than one person gets a handknit gift from me. One has already been given, because the SO’s mom is in town, and it is HORRIBLY cold out, so clearly she needed the scarf NOW. She even modeled it. ^_^
So I’m done, right? Yes! Except…. now I really want to make my SO (he needs a blog name) a hat. He has LOVED everything I’ve made for everyone else, and while he has not said it, I think he’s feeling a little left out. I took him to the LYS and he picked out this yarn, but does not know what it is going to be.
I think the sweater he was wearing at the time influenced his buy – what do you think?
He is learning to knit, so I thought about getting him a project kit, but really that would be more of a gift for me than him. I am THRILLED that he is learning to knit, but for him it’s still frustrating and time consuming – something he’s willing to keep working at but is still work.
Of course, I am still determined to work on something for myself, so I bought some Cascade 220 Heathers that have started to become these fantastic Ann Budd tube socks (I really, really wanted this yarn in a cool green tweed, but I would have needed 3 skeins and it was a little more than the budget could have done. Whine). Words cannot express how excited I am about these socks. I have not made a project for myself in ages, and I have been making almost exclusively hats and scarves recently. (Excepting the baby sweater, which is in the icky sewing seams phase. Blah).
The pattern only comes in two sizes – 7″ and 9″ foot circumference, and I fall right around 8″. The awesome Knitting Mom has suggested adding a 4 stitches – one per needle, but this may mess up the stitch pattern. For now I am making it in the smaller size and it is looking like my gauge is loose enough that it will all work out. But don’t tell anyone, because I still may be smote by the Swatch Gods.
I don’t know if it’s all the time I’ve spent on the Ravelry forums, or the socks, or being pregnant, but I am having very knit-centric dreams. I don’t remember much of them, but my favorite is still the one where I was knitting patterns that were designed to induce labor. I wish they really exsisted! Baby was “due” on Monday. Sigh.
Hey all. There’s been a lack of posting due to the fact that my brain is completely wrapped up in making. this. baby. come. I didn’t think that would make a very interesting post (and really, if you want to hear my impatient bitching all you have to do is take a look at my facebook).
Because it has been so brain-encompassing, I still need to do a quick overview. Red Raspberry leaf tea (X a million). Induction massage (X2). Evening primrose orally and perineum massage (X every day). Pineapple (today). Been eating spicy food and craving Dark Horse jalapeno poppers like crazy, but have not been able to convince anyone to deliver them here. Of course there’s the one EVERYONE likes to point out (including my SOs parents, joy of joys)… yes I have been having lots of sex. So no one needs to comment here and suggest it.
So. Hopefully it will be soon. Many have pointed out I will not have all this lovely knitting time I have been enjoying once she is here, but I am devising a clever system of knitting while nursing… although I may have to switch to exclusively circular needles so baby Lyra can retain both her eyes.
I have managed to actually DO some other things. The MIL scarf is now as tall as she is, so I think it’s time to bind off. Dad’s scarf is taking a bit longer because I have to untangle three balls of yarn every few rows (thanks to the little stripe I thought would be so nifty – it’s a LOT of work for 6 rows of contrasting color). The baby sweater has been a bit stalled due to frustration. I have the left sleeve and front panel sewn on, the right sleeve is attached to the back, and now the front right panel is too short. I swear it was the right size up until the time to sew seams came along. So far the temptation to cast on a project for me (sooooooccckkkkksssssssss) has been resisted, because I am determined that everyone receive a FINISHED gift this year (this has not always been the case).
In beer news, the housemates and I got the holiday porter started, and it is happily bubbling away in the dining room. Normally the beer lives and grows in the Beer Room, but others have pointed out that we have family coming to town this weekend and most people would refer it as the Guest Room. Weirdos. Anyway, who wouldn’t sleep better with a happy little homebrew bubbling nearby?
Thanksgiving weekend is almost over, which means M and J (my housemates) are catching up on all the schoolwork they were supposed to be doing, I need to get back on my gift knitting (I’ve been distracted by this fun little baby hat), and it’s time to start a new homebrew!
Bouncin Baby IPA probably has another week or two before it is really ready, and it feels a little weird starting a new beer without knowing how the previous one turned out. However… waiting is just no fun, so next up I’m working on something similar to Charlie Papazian’s Sparrow Hawk Porter.
This time M & J are getting in on the fun, which is great. The more hands the better. Anyone who has read (or looked through the pictures in) The Complete Joy of Homebrewing can see that partners in crime are indispensable… you need one hand to stir/pour/siphon, and the other to hold a beer!
This year I have many things to be thankful for. I have a loving, supportive circle of family and friends. I have a beautiful baby girl on the way and wonderful midwife care to keep her and myself healthy. I have the most wonderful, protective, and love-filled partner in this transition into parenthood.
Right now across the country people are getting together with friends or family, eating a lot, and hopefully surrounding themselves with love. There’s someone specific I would like to be especially surrounded by love today.
Tashi King is a friend of mine, and one of the most beautiful people I have encountered. I’m talking a spiritual beauty (although she is very physically beautiful as well). She surrounds herself with a kind of light that is a joy to be around. Right now she could really use some love and support… please click her name if you are interested in her story.
Twilight, Twitards, Twihaters… I probably wouldn’t care (or know so much about the books/movies) if it weren’t for the fact that I CAN’T AVOID IT. Whether it’s pro or anti, Twilight news is eeeeeeverywhere. In the Bust newsletter, on my Youtube homepage, there’s even a thread on the Attachment Parenting website I frequent. And here I am writing about it… crap.
Team Jacob? Team Edward? I’m more of a Team Buffy. Or team Spike. Mmmmmm Spike. Thank goodness for the fact that my baby girl is too new for Twilight to ever be relevant to her life – I would have to teach her that vampires are for staking, not for sparkling. (As it is I will have my hands full preparing her for the zombie attack.. more on that some other day). Of course, by the time she is old enough for the teen-screaming-at-pretty-boys phase, there will be some other disturbing crap out for me to roll my eyes at. Or maybe (hopefully) she’ll take after me – I had my share of stupid teen heroin-chic crushes, but was more the type to draw angst-y journal entries over them than squee about it.
There are plenty of reasons to not like the whole Twilight phenomena. The little of the first book I managed to rad was CRAP. Terrible writing. Bella is frankly pathetic and a Mary Sue at the same time. If I encountered her in real life I would probably do my best to give her shaken-teen-syndrome. I got bored with heroines that passively wait to be rescued around the same time I learned to read. Edward strikes me as an Emo Ken (neutered vampires are just sad… remember when they were monsters?) with little to no emotional depth, designed to be pretty, brooding, and very little else. Which is enough for most teen girls (and many of their moms), it seems.
Some could point out that Spike from Buffy, who I mentioned earlier (once again, yum), could be described the same way. The difference is in the Buffy series, the writers go out of their way to crack the brooding facade and then point out how silly the whole thing is (The Season 7 episode with Andrew taping everyone is a perfect example of this… but only other Jossheads will get that one).
Of all the (manymany) reasons to hate Twilight, there are two thrown around that I find disturbing. The “OMG Stephanie Meyer is a MORMON!!!” thing is just sad. The author’s religion most likely has influenced the ideals in her books, but so far we still have this nifty little “freedom of religion” thing in America. There’s not a clause that says “unless it’s an unpopular religion”. There are plenty of things I could say about the role of women in the Mormon church, but I will never say that Mormon women should not be allowed to write wildly popular teen fiction.
Then there’s the popular “bad role model” argument. While I have already agreed that no self-respecting girl should want to be anything like Bella, it’s going overboard to say that being a fan of Twilight is going to ruin a girl for healthy relationships for the rest of her life. The same has been said about Barbie, about Disney princess movies, child-nurturing dolls… the list goes on. I firmly believe that if I raise my daughter with strong ideals, with the idea that she should always love and respect herself, and fill her life with good role models, that a little crappy pop culture will not ruin her mind. The best thing I can do to teach her a healthy relationship model is to live that model myself. To have an open and loving relationship with her father, and if something happened to end that relationship to continue living my life as a strong, self-respecting woman.
And of course, to teach her the importance of a long-distance head shot on a charging zombie. Gotta avoid that virus-infected splatterback.
*looks at title* Hmm.. pretty off topic today. So in Homebrewing news, I had my housemates crack open the first bottle of Bouncin’ Baby IPA to see how it was coming along (bottled 11-15-09). There’s a trace of carbonation, but it still has a way to go. I’m planning on it being ready right around my due date! Hurrah!
And in knitting… still killing myself on xmas presents. I’ve been making a lot of progress, but have been reduced to applying tiger balm and taking Tylenol on a regular basis. Traitor wrists. Once I am done with gift knitting, I have my eye on making this poncho with this stashed yard. And I really really am going to make myself some socks. This time I mean it. The Great Stash Cleanup yesterday unearthed three different sets of DPNs with the beginning of a ribbed sock cuff. I frogged them all and swore I will actually make some damn socks instead of an almost-wristband.
As those of you with experience with the whole pregnancy thing already know, the last trimester is often associated with “nesting”. Before I hit this stage, I scoffed at the idea of pigeonholing every pregnant woman like this, of assuming becoming a mother would make us more traditionally “domestic”.
And yet here I am. Shutup. Maybe this has something to do with hormones, or with feeling mentally prepared for the upcoming munchkin. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not working for the first intentional period of time since I was 15, and would be climbing walls if I didn’t find SOMETHING to fill my days. So far that something has been;
1) Putting up shelves, organizing the diaper changing area, decorating, winterizing, and general home-improvement.
2) Baking. I don’t bake… and yet this household has been getting fat and happy on brownies, pumpkin muffins, almond-butterscotch cookies, and most recently banana bread muffins.
3) Knitting. I have knit more in the last two weeks than I am normally able to accomplish in a year. I am FINISHING projects. On time. It’s frankly amazing.
4) Cleaning. Dishes are getting done DAILY. Laundry is run, folded, and put away all in the same day – and before I am out of wearable clothing. This is a very new thing in my life.
4) This is the most awe-inspiring (at least in my little world)… today I ORGANIZED MY YARN STASH
No, really… this is organizing. Here, I’ll break it down.
Most of it is pretty self-explanatory… misc yarn that still has identification, leftover yarn from projects, socks, yarn for projects I am planning to make. And then there’s the OH GOD WHY yarns. These are mainly yarns I was forced to buy in an otherwise nice grab-bag from the thrift store, or gifts I was too shy to turn down. Mostly smelly unidentifiable-s or Red Heart – I’m talking the OLD Red Heart, not the almost-socially-acceptable new recycled stuff.
After the photo shoot, the yarns made it into boxes (and bags).
I am going to get rid of the bad yarns. I really am. Soon… I promise. Right on down to the thrift store they will go… *shifty eyes* I won’t ever use them, so I need to pass them on…
*cough* anyway.
I was debating making this my first post… embarrassed that I could call something this size a “stash”. If you saw the stashes of some of my knit night ladies, you would understand this hardly qualifies. But to be fair, a few years ago my entire “stash” fit in this box, and I thought it would be plenty.
This box is approx 12″X12″X7″ it’s almost cute….. ah how we learn.
Welcome to my blog, random netcrawlers,
- Knitting Sprite
PS. I may be the first person in the world to start a blog because my mom urged me to. For better writing and a lot more posts, check out my links. It’s called “Pollyanna Rainbow Sunshine and the Needles of Doom.”
