Baby needs a new pair of…pants?




Another rainy morning after my oldest has gone to school. And just to let you know how it started off, we decide to walk to the bus stop since the rain’s not so bad, and put up our hoods because we can’t find our umbrellas. And, as it usually goes with boys and puddles (not a sexist comment, but the girls were yelling “guys, stop you’re gonna slip and fall!”), my sweet child fell. Into the dirt. Which had a LAKE of water on it. So now he is crying while I assess the damage. No way is sitting by the heater next to the bus driver gonna iron this one out. This is underwear and sock wet. I let him wipe his hands on my two for five dollar craft store t-shirt – the new one with no stains or droopy hem (that one I’ll save for tomorrow) – and of course now is a good time for the bus to pull up, which I try to wave on, while my youngest, who insists on bringing a backpack every day even though he won’t start school for another 3 years, is nowhere in sight among the crowd filing obediently up the steps. Other bus stop mothers (and dads!), I praise thee! Thank god for extra sets of eyes, because as we walk to the sidewalk, oldest reconsiders going home to change clothes and has a meltdown while trying to chase the bus. I am physically restraining him amid the sobs, and I spy youngest casually leading the way back to the house.

Now, I know what your thinking – it can’t get any worse from here, right?
.
.
.
(What, are you waiting for my head to explode?)
Thankfully, no. Get home, change, drive to the school, no harm, no foul. So why do I sit on the couch with my hands twitching?

Must…crochet…Need…therapy.



And I love the way it matches his eyes.

Youngest wants to play baby doll (see non-sexist disclaimer above) and I blurt out “Oh, baby’s cold, he needs a new shirt! Mommy can make one!” Happy agreeance ensues and we’re off. After a few minutes of pondering (once I thought I could make a shirt for myself this way *giggle*) I finally figure out how to construct it in one piece – you would think I’d be better at it, given the fact that following patterns is not my strong suit. We find a giant blue wad of Red Heart, which I made from a pounder skein when I was trying to make center-pull balls.


I make an easy rectangle, then crochet past the edge on both sides to start the sleeves. Two or three more rows and I chain 9 or 10 and skip that many sc’s for the neckline. Baby’s got a huge head (it hurt just seeing that thing squeeze through such a narrow hole – ladies, you know what I mean) so I have to frog the neck once or twice. I repeat the process in reverse, folding to check that everything matches up. Then it’s an easy slip stitch up the sides to seam it. So what if the shoulders look a little funky, in less time than it took to finish writing this, everyone is warm, clothed and sheltered, and mommy doesn’t need that shot of bourbon after all. Ommmm.

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