My DD was home from college over the weekend.
Do some of you remember being pregnant the first time how, whenever you went shopping, the baby department automatically lured you towards it like you had some kind of homing device implanted instead of a child? Well, that’s how knitting has affected me. So of course while shopping together with my daughter, I had to stop and check out the yarn department at Walmart. Now, I know by heart what they have and in what colors, but there’s always the off-chance that something NEW might come in; right?
Not this time. But my DD started perusing those little tear-off projects that hang temptingly by the yarns. She found a pattern for an afghan she just LOVED. Would I make her one in pinks and grays? Pleeease?
Since she no longer lives with us, we just love each other to death, so of course I said yes. But the deal was I wasn’t going to spend all my time and admittedly meager skills to knit this if she was going to tell me later it was too small. (She loves wrapping herself like a cocoon in her blankets.) She said she’d love it, and even if it were too small, it could be the first thing I knit for her daughter.
Yeah. That’s generally how our conversations go. And no, she’s not pregnant. She’s not even married. She’s just planning ahead.
So I’ve started the afghan. Twice, so far. But like she keeps saying, as I emote about frogging it after the wrong stitch count, “It’s fine mom. I’ll still love it!”
Yeah. So I’ve got that goin’ for me.
Whatever happened to me trying to enjoy the process?!?!?
So…yeah…I’m starting over.