I cannot believe it has been nearly a month. That word, “nearly,” is an important distinction, like I am making it in before some unwritten deadline. A month.
I am typing one handed while the baby coos and ogles some red and yellow fish on one of her blankets. Zander is playing with a keychain that makes fart noises. Rinse and repeat over the past month.
Good news: Zander successfully survived to age four. Elinor is learning how to roll over. And while we’re thinking positively, the Zauberball socks are three-quarters done and the Urban Aran Cardi only has the top half of the fronts to go. (Cup half-full, remember–not, omigod whole weeks of no knitting have gone by and I’m ready to do something else with my needles because it’s almost summer!)
My garden, my other passionate (obsessive) hobby, is doing well. Most things are in — although it’s June and the tomatoes and basil have yet to be planted. Oy. I will NOT have the earliest tomato in the county this year, no siree.
See, I added a new vegetable bed this year for asparagus and the tomatoes are supposed to be planted in front of the asparagus because they are good companions and do not need to be rotated like the other veggies. Well. Getting the trench dug for asparagus took a writ of Congress, ie, “oh shit it’s Mother’s Day and I haven’t bought you a gift.” Now the asparagus is coming up despite near drowning by torrential rains, which did kill my raspberry canes and most of my black-eyed susans, but the rest of the bed hasn’t been prepared for tomatoes.
I have one bed still unplanted in my vegetable garden. I am thinking of either skipping cucumbers this year or putting them, for one year only, in the asparagus bed. The tomatoes are more important. And I didn’t plant cucumbers until very late last year, early July I think, and they did awesome! I missed whatever evil thing killed my other curcubits and the vines did not wear out until October, just before first frost. I may not have had the earliest cucumber but I probably had the last.
That decides it then.
I haven’t even thought about summer knitting, sadly. Once upon a time in winter, when I was pregnant, I might have dreamed about knitting a Norah Gaughan short sleeved top to wear over my un-pregnant body but I dare not knit a stitch for myself until Matt’s birthday sweater is done. Only six months late and out of season… so far.
Most important, I promised myself I would skate through this first year of the baby’s life without guilt or unreasonable deadlines and projects. I love to make grandiose plans but I have no time or energy for the occassional downswing of happiness that goes with said plans. I might be panicking a bit about the tomatoes but for the most part I am doing quite well at enjoying things that are working out and letting go of what doesn’t. There might be something to the whole “living in the moment” idea.