A gift for that tiny baby . . .

Finally finished, and given to my brother for his sweet new baby . . . 
 I used this pattern: Down Under Diaper Cover Pattern. It is so simple and was 
my favorite cover for my youngest son . . . more about that in this post.
As well as two hats . . . of extremely different sorts . . .
And one thick blanket to lay on the floor because babies need to be able to roll around a bit . . . 
Packaged up an passed on . . . 
Actually one of the things I miss most about having babies . . . Aside from snuggling them all day, and holding them all night, and carrying them month in and month out, and smelling their fuzzy heads, and looking at their tiny toes, and trying to remember them so I won’t forget once they get so big . . .  is making things for them. 

                         ~ Marica

Passing Items On . . .

I have this tricky piece of me that has a hard time letting go of special things. This can range between a perfectly shaped jar, to a handmade gift for one of our kids. Every now and then I get the urge to cleanse my weary home, and make space for the undeniable sense of sanity it brings. It is a fine balance for me, I have gotten rid of things and regretted it, and I have kept things for years, only to finally throw them into the waste bin, because they really had no need for me, or me for them. I do think handmade is the hardest. Either I, or somebody else, poured hours into a perfect something, with only that very loved child in mind. Knitting truly means hours and hours of needle clicking and careful counting and delicate stitching . . . But I have thought about it, as adults my children won’t want to be bombarded with box after box of handmade items. Oh they will get plenty, but it probably is more considerate on my part, if I reduce that number by a bit. 
 So the other day, when I was invited to a clothing swap, I took advantage of this occasion to pass on a couple of the hard to part with items.  Above is a sweater I had knit several years ago as a christmas gift. The buttons had been given to me by my mother-in-law, she had found them at a  button-store in Portland  Oregon. The sweater was charming on, but a bit on the scratch side. Still it was fairly well worn considering it was thick threaded wool and we live in a warm climate. Below is a christmas dress I made a couple of years ago. It was truly fancy, which was my goal, and looked amazing on, with puffed sleeves and all . . . 
It helps when you know the person you are passing things on to. It is a bridge between saving and getting rid of stuff. I love to make thing, so I had better learn to let go of them . . . 
                                                                          ~ Marica

A July Girl Turns Eight . . .

When I think back to my fondest memories of being a kid, I think eight was up amongst the most epic of times . . . eight, is old enough to be your own person. I ran the mountains with my best friend and little brother, without having to have someone bigger to chaperon or tell me what to do. 
I was big enough to know to look out for rattlers and not to go to the river by myself, yet I was young enough to be a kid. My imagination had not been weighted down by reality and my responsibility had not required me to make amends.
Somehow, my sweet little seven-year-old who turned eight today, brought all this back like a rush of fresh wind, with the smell of past summers. The giddiness of being eight is part mine and I feel I won a special trip back to my past treasures, for a moment’s time. As I said, a fresh breath of wind, it only comes in gusts, but I still feel the oxygen it brings. 
As is a yearly ritual, for this special eight-year-old’s birthday, I prepared (late last night) a birthday dress for her to wear. I love that it matters to her to have a birthday dress, and that it makes her even gladder if I make it. 
 
I relate to her excitements and enjoyments of what it feels like to be an eight year old girl . . .
And each gift I prepared I felt that personal thrill of knowing how it would feel to receive it . . .
I also made her a soft fuzzy purse. At first when I bought the fabric I had planned on making a teddy bear, but last night a teddy bear seemed like too much work, and a purse had been rolling around in my thoughts for a while . . . 

This is a special time for her, and I am excited to be a part of this child’s eight-years-old. 

                                                                                                                         ~ Marica