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I’m not sure I ever understood those moms who still had time for the slow arts once they had children: knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, painting.
Too much bustle and hustle. Too many small hands to take apart the work you’ve done. Too many other things to take care of during any downtime.
At almost 4 and 20 months, Libbie and David are starting to go off and play on their own. As long as there aren’t screams I’m generally not too worried. But it doesn’t make for quiet or peace. As long as one of them is awake, it’s almost always loud here. Little voices, singing and shouting and make believing. TV blaring. Lots of asking and demanding and crying.
So when there is any down time, I crave quiet.
I think it’s why I’ve shied away from blogging recently. When I have 10 minutes, I don’t desire to make social connections, Tweet or Facebook as much as I have in the past. Most of the time, I just want to close my eyes and give into the fatigue generated by the grape-sized being in my uterus. And if not, I just want to sit. Recenter my introverted self.
So lately I’ve been drawn to some of those same crafts I’ve eschewed in my mothering years. I used to crochet quite a bit. Yesterday I picked up some new yarn and a pattern for the first time in ages. It’s a baby sweater … likely a gift. Time intensive. But seeing the beauty come together from simple yarn and loving finding a sunsoaked corner to sit in and craft quietly makes it completely worth the effort.
I’m training myself that even when they’re awake, I can steal a few moments to single crochet, a pretty mindless endeavor. Again, the recentering. The few minutes of still instead of laundry and dishes and who knows what else. Everything needs to be done. But I need to think.
It’s much easier to see the glory in every day when your mind has some places of quiet, isn’t it?