Friday, October 5, 2012


Alright, so I' haven't done this before, but it is ten o'clock on a Friday night, I've just gotten home from the grocery store, and I'm tired, so I would ask that you would give me a pass....just this once, because I'm going to recycle....a post that is. Now wait! Before you roll your eyes and move on to something else, this recycle has a twist, I'm going to reuse a post I did at Abby's Heirlooms.

Some of you my know that besides Abby, another passion of mine is knitting (although you wouldn't know it by the neglect that my needles have gotten lately). After Abby was born I decided to create "Abby's Heirlooms", which basically is a small (very teeny tiny in fact) business where people commission knit items for me to make for them. If you want to learn more about it you can go to (Here ends the shameless plug.)

Now, along with the sweaters, hats, etc. that I make, I will usually write about the commissions as well. So, tonight's post is a "recycle" of one of the posts I did there - about a favorite sweater I made for Abby. Here goes:

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Saturday, August 28, 2010

About two weeks ago I had a bit of an epiphany. I’d always figured that the mess that seemed to be everywhere I looked had to do with some innate disorganization on my part, like somehow I didn’t get that gene. I’d convinced myself that being organized wasn’t a learned skill, instead it was like having blue eyes - some people have them, and some don’t. It hit me while watching an Oprah episode where her guest was Peter Walsh, organizer extraordinaire, that maybe my thinking had been wrong all along. He said something that made me sit up and take notice. He said that the basic problem is that we all have too much stuff. I looked around and instantly agreed, then I downloaded his book (It’s All Too Much!) and was up until midnight reading. This was why I never wanted to put the laundry away - the closets were too full. This was why I could never find anything - things were shoved into the closest empty (or near empty) spot, because things didn’t have their own place. This was why things would seemly jump out of drawers and cabinets each time I opened them - they were crammed with stuff - way too much stuff! It just so happened that Nana and Papa were watching Abby that weekend, so the next morning I got to it, I began getting rid of stuff. 

I started in Abby’s room - probably the cleanest and most organized room in the house. Two hours later I’d gathered two bags of garbage and a mound of things to give away. Needless to say, Jason was shocked, “Where had all of that been?” he said. It’s amazing what one can shove in a closet, isn’t it? Looking at the pile of “give-aways” Jason offhandedly said, “Why don’t we have a garage sale?” I don’t really think either of us understood where those seven little words would take us. 

The “Mucking-out Monster” possessed me for the next three weeks and with each load that was brought to the curb or the garage I actually felt lighter and brighter. Something that seemed so completely overwhelming became achievable - I was becoming organized! All of this lead to this weekend - The Garage Sale. Thursday was the big work day, and with the help of Jason and my lovely sister-in-law, Keri, we got things laid out and ready for the big sale - no small task let me tell you!

Now, I knew that Abby had a lot of clothes. How can you not go a little crazy while walking through Gymboree, or any other store that sells baby girl clothes for that matter? I never realized though that she had enough clothing to fill four, eight foot tables - and that only covered her first two years! It was while laying out clothing that I trekked down to the basement, just to double check, and came up with two more bins full of clothing. It was in one of those bins that I came across the above sweater. I knew that sweater was not going anywhere.

When I was pregnant with Abby I’d found out that my brother-in-law’s sister (who also happened to be a high school friend of mine) was having twin girls, and she was due a few weeks after I was. I’d only been knitting for a few months when I found a darling (and free) pattern for a newborn sweater. I thought it would be fun to make two of them for Julie’s girls - one pink and one white (and frankly I was thrilled to make something that wasn’t yellow.) Without going into huge (and boring) knitting minutia, we’ll just say I did my increases wrong and ended up with more stitches, and hence a bigger sweater. I finished the sweater anyway, and then set about making another one - the right way. After comparing the two I thought the “right” sweater looked a bit small, so I made the white sweater the wrong way, and I had my set. I was absolutely convinced that we were having a boy, so I folded up the spare sweater, figuring that someone I knew would, at some point, have a baby girl I could give it to. Little did I know it would be me, and that it would be sooner rather than later!

It wasn’t until about three weeks after Abby was born that I remembered that little pink sweater. It was then that I knew just when she would wear it - for her homecoming. The more I thought about it, the more important it became that Abby traveled home wrapped in something that I’d made.  She needed to be surrounded by something of me when she left that hospital and was introduced to the world for the first time. So, despite the fact that it was still too big on her, I buttoned her up, rolled up the sleeves and strapped her into her car seat for the first time.

I remember how nervous I was - this was the first time in the month that I’d known her that I would have a “wireless” baby. How would I know she was okay without the numerous nodes that were attached to the monitors that constantly gave me her heart rate and O2 saturation? Would they notice if we smuggled out some of their equipment? Probably. We made it home and were greeted by a sign welcoming Abby home, complements of Auntie Kem and Uncle George - evidence that there were so many others who’d been anticipating this day.

Abby did eventually grow into, and out of, that sweater, and as I pulled it out of that purple tub and held it up all of those memories came rushing back. These were certainly not the only memories that came to mind as we packaged up all those clothes, and I was good with most of them moving on to make memories for other little girls' mothers - but not that pink sweater. There are some things that are only destined for one story, so I gently laid that pink sweater aside knowing that with all the stuff we’d pulled out of the house I could certainly make sure this little treasure had it’s own special spot.

I was looking through pictures tonight - trying to get some inspiration, and I came across a picture of that sweater, and it reminded me of what I wrote a couple of years ago. Thank you for the indulgence and I promise to get back to "original" posts right away.

She left the hospital a month to the day when she was born.
Getting ready took so much out of her that she slept the whole
ride home.

Home at last!

The Sweater