I am 38 weeks pregnant today, which technically means I could have a baby any minute. My uterus is much more quiet this time around than in my previous pregnancies, which is fine by me. With Pete I had so many interludes of regular contractions with a bit of an edge to them that I finally said to my uterus, "I am NOT listening to you, girlfriend. Talk to me when you've got something worth my time." This attitude resulted in my ignoring the first...um...seven? hours of my actual labor (hard to remember precisely because I was la-la-la-ignoring it so diligently), and in my midwife's arriving when I was almost 9cm dilated because I was only just beginning to think there might be an end to that pregnancy. Oops.
I suspect I've got a mind-body thing going, because I really really really do not want to have the baby before my prelim is over, on Monday at 3. No, I'm going to be picky: I do not want to go into anything resembling labor before my prelim is over and I am safely back in my own town. I was joking with my advisor about naming the baby after whichever town was closest when I delivered precipitously on the shoulder of the interstate, but really I'd rather avoid that whole scene.
Yesterday I shipped off the Christmas gifts. (You are only allowed to hate me if you are more pregnant and have more kids than me.) I'm a little worried that I mixed up the two Florida-bound packages, sending the one for my 2yo niece to my 10yo goddaughter and vice versa, but here's hoping I escaped that particular manifestation of placenta brain. I am going to put some knitting pictures down below the cut since knitting isn't everybody's cup of tea, but there are also a couple of full-term belly shots for anyone who's into those. I won't ask whether that's because they inspire pleasant broody feelings (we don't say "broody" in the US, do we? to talk about women feeling that they might like another baby? it's a useful word but I think it's a UK thing) or can't-look-away alarm. Please ignore the toothpaste splatters on the bathroom mirror.
At Joe's request I made him a Sheldon, in a series of secret late-night knitting sessions. He keeps asking me forlornly when I'm going to start his turtle. Fun project, not hard at all. I kept waiting to make a glaring error but got through it just fine.
I made Pete a miniature version of the dragon scarf I made for Marty last year, in a chunky blend of merino and soysilk that was in the bargain bin at my neighborhood yarn shop.
For the big boys I made hats. Alex requested a We Call Them Pirates hat, which made my mother exclaim, "That is GROSS! Beautiful work, but that's gross!" This was my first shot at stranded colorwork, and I think it turned out fine. I did it in acrylic, remembering a wool hat I bought myself when I was fresh out of college. It couldn't have been a nicer-looking hat, but I would have to rip it off after about ten minutes to scratch savagely at my head, as if I'd been overtaken by a colony of pitiless pruritis-inducing parasites from another planet. I think wool would have been more forgiving of variations in stranding tension, but anything to spare my firstborn from pestilential parasites.
To go with his dragon scarf, I made Marty a dragon hat. I wung it, using a hat recipe from Knitting Rules along with a dragon .gif that I found via Google image search and converted to an intarsia pattern using an online tool that now eludes me. When I got to the top I thought I was going to have to rip it way back and decrease more slowly, but my husband persuaded me not to be an over-the-top perfectionist. Between them, he and my sister-in-law decided that the dragon should go at the back. From the front it looks like a perfectly plain black watch cap, but from behind you see a bright red fire-breathing dragon, especially visible on the head of a 9yo boy who is shorter than most of the people around him. I think he'll dig it. Petely was the only one around to model it yesterday, and his head doesn't spread it out properly so you'll have to use your imagination. In a serendipitous knitting moment, it turned out that the slanting decrease line marked out the dragon's jaw, a tiny detail which pleases me.
Using the Kidsilk Haze left over from that Seascape I made, I knitted myself a Lace Ribbon Scarf to wear for my prelim. I don't adore it but it's nice enough, and I wanted a little bit of color since the only dressy clothes I fit in these days are solid black.
I am going to post pix of two other projects in my Ravelry notebook, because the recipients' parents read here but not there. And I'm whipping through an Ice Queen, my last piece of Christmas knitting. Verb. sap.: I had never twisted any joins in all the knitting in the round I've done, but the picot cast-on recommended on Ravelry did me in. (And it took me FIVE rounds to figure out that I was knitting a Moebius strip. Grrrr.) It probably would have been quicker to do the provisional cast-on/picot bind-off that the pattern specifies.
All right, duty calls. Duty bellows, actually. Someday I'll have duties that summon me mellifluously, but these days duty usually bellows.
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