Checking Off: Socks

 Now that I have a to-do list of crafty things on this blog (see that page next to my designs page), I thought it might be fun to do the occasional post on one of the techniques or materials. This may turn into tutorials for some things, but not for others. For today, I'm picking something that I've already done, but in the future, I will use this as an excuse to check some items off the list. Today, let's talk socks.

I love socks. I loved brightly coloured, interesting socks well before I became a knitter, so I knit a couple pairs of socks in my first year of being a knitter. Then I knit many more pairs. Obsessively. I'm on a quest to replace all my store-bought socks with hand-knit ones. My Ravelry library has over 300 sock patterns in it, and I currently own 4 books dedicated to sock knitting.

Socks can be as simple or as complex as the knitter prefers. They can be worked toe-up, cuff-down, or started somewhere in the middle (haven't tried that kind yet, but I will at some point). There are numerous ways to do the heels and toes. It's hard to get bored with something that is so simple and ordinary, yet has so many permutations that it's impossible to try them all.

I have a fondness for intricate sock patterns. One of my current sock projects is Hunter Hammersen's "Khotan" pattern from her book, Silk Road Socks. It's interesting and lacy and I love it. I'm using a nice yarn for these socks that's a mostly solid colour, because otherwise the stitch pattern will get lost. I love good solid and semi-solid colourways when I'm knitting the more complex socks.

But simple socks are also a favourite. They're much faster to knit, and they require less thought when being carried around in my purse because I don't have to bring a pattern to consult (although very, very simple pattern repeats don't usually require a pattern copy once I've knit through them a couple times). I'm knitting a simple pair of baby socks right now for my cousin's daughter. The only weird thing about these ones is that they're so small that it feels a little awkward to work them. These are perfect for self-striping sock yarns. There's the obligatory pink in the colourway, and it's pastel-ish, so it looks appropriately girly (my cousin doesn't seem to be too insistent on pink everything, so these look girly without being over the top).

Socks aren't for every knitter. For some, the thought of tiny needles and fine yarn puts them off. For others, they just aren't interested. For some of us, though, they become a favourite project, and we end up with many balls of sock yarn in our stashes (I've even heard it said, I believe by the Yarn Harlot, that sock yarn "doesn't count" as stash). We can justify this by pointing out all the shawl and mitt patterns that can be made with sock yarn--our sock yarn stashes don't have to be exclusively for socks.

But this is about socks. I think I'd better go cast on the second baby sock.

strangers try to determine the baby's gender by the shape of my stomach

I wandered into a local thrift store yesterday that always seems to be having a major sale (50% off!) and ending up spending 50 cents total on two sewing patterns. I also had a conversation with two of the volunteers about the baby, wherein I got to hear what I'm pretty sure the medical community classifies as "rubbish" about how to determine gender.

First I got the, "How far along are you?" question, followed by the, "Wow, you're small" comment. Yes, I know. I'm small, the baby's small, I'm not gaining weight like the chart says I'm supposed to, but I'm eating something like half a dozen times a day, not unlike a hobbit (elevenses, anyone?).

Then they asked if I knew what it was, I said a girl, and one of them proceeded to tell me about how her daughter was supposed to have a girl, she'd had several ultrasounds, all telling them it was a girl, and it turned out a boy. Then they told me that I'm carrying like it's a boy because my stomach looks like I've swallowed a football (American) rather than a basketball, like some women do. Then they asked what the heartrate was. I certainly don't remember; I just know that the doctor's happy with it. Apparently a faster heartrate equals a boy, and a slower heartrate equals a girl.

These methods sound a bit better than the old dangling the wedding ring on a string above the stomach trick, but I'm fairly sure they don't mean much. My guess is that the way I'm carrying has more to do with my body type and build than with the baby's gender, for example. I'm still fairly certain that the ultrasound, and the subsequent one, were correct. As we didn't need an amniocentesis or anything like that, we can't be 100% certain until she's out of me, but that's okay.

But those sewing patterns look like they'll be useful. Neither has been used--the pattern pieces aren't cut out and the instructions don't appear to have been unfolded. Both are from Simplicity. The dress is Simplicity 2889 and the shirt is Simplicity 4076. I'm thinking of making the dress next week, actually, for a wedding we're attending next Saturday. The gathers beneath the bodice should make the dress fit over my stomach. It's not the best-written pattern in the world, but it's a fairly simple construction.

The shirt pattern is part of my quest to learn to sew with knit fabrics without fear. I like most of the style options. The pattern is, again, a little more poorly-written than I would prefer, but the patterns aren't too complex, so I should be able to muddle through. We'll see how it goes.

that look

I'm pretty sure I got "the look" yesterday. The one where you can tell that someone is judging you. The one I try really hard not to give other people. I've gotten variations of it since I became more visibly pregnant, usually the, "Is she pregnant or just fat?" one. That one I don't mind so much. This one, though, I did.

I was walking through the grocery store parking lot, and an older gentleman gave me an askance look. The one that said, "You're much too young to be pregnant and that's bad." I didn't see a glance at my hand, but since I'm not wearing my wedding ring right now (my fingers tend to swell a bit in the hot weather), that wouldn't have told him much. He might have assumed that I'm unmarried and judged me even more.

I'm aware that because I am short and young-looking, people sometimes think I'm much younger than I actually am. Back in September (or maybe it was October), a guy in line behind me at the liquor store accused me of being seventeen. I sighed and pointed out that I was twenty-five. I had one person blurt out, "Were you a child bride?" when I mentioned that J.'s and my fifth anniversary was coming up this year. Yes, we got married young, but not that young. Honestly, I think most of the time it's the height. I'm so short that people think I'm still a teenager, even though I don't act like one.

A few weeks ago, I ended up chatting with another woman at the maternity clinic. We have a shared dislike of one of the doctors at the practice and do our best to avoid her--me because she gave me crap about my mental health and stress levels and then proceeded to stress me out at each subsequent appointment I had with her, and this other woman because the doctor gave her crap at her first appointment because she'd had a baby at fifteen (although given that she was in for her second pregnancy five years later, is really none of the doctor's business). I was surprised because she didn't look that young to me. I suppose parenthood helps with maturity levels to an extent, but from this, I reinforced my belief that age doesn't necessarily equal maturity or lack thereof. I've met teenagers with more maturity than forty-year-olds, for instance.

It's true that my demographic--North American, white, college-educated, female--tends to put off having children until late twenties or into their thirties. Or at least that seems to be the trend for a lot of people these days. I've already screwed with those statistics by getting married young, and having a kid in my mid-twenties, though not too far out of the ordinary, is still messing with the stats a bit. I'm okay with that. I didn't want to be having kids in my thirties if I could help it, and even though we'd been thinking a year or two in the future for having children rather than right now, we're at a transition time, with me finishing school, that makes it easier to jump into parenthood because we knew things would be changing anyway. Neither of us is terribly interested in many of the typical 20-something activities. J. has an entertaining friend who is really in to the party scene, and while his stories are funny, they aren't something we want for ourselves. The last time we went to a loud party that had lots of alcohol and pot, neither of us drank or smoked. We left early because it was loud and boring and we were tired.

I haven't run into much judgement for being young-ish and heading towards being a parent, so it confuses me a bit when I do. There are times when I feel much too young to be having a baby, but that's about where my head is that day, not about whether or not I'm actually capable of this. I'm glad that this person didn't bother to talk to me. I could have corrected his assumptions, but it's too hot and I'm too exhausted to be getting into arguments with complete strangers.

ravens and other thoughts

Our upstairs neighbours have something that taps rhythmically on the floor. Or possibly a wall. I don't know what it is, I just know that it drives me crazy and makes me think of ravens. I just had to say that. I'm pretty sure it would annoy me whether or not I was pregnant, so I'm not attributing the irritation to pregnancy. That has enough irritations of its own. The tapping's been happening so frequently that there have been mornings when I'm about ready to storm up there and demand what to know what is rapping at their chamber's floor.

 

It's been one of those weeks where I don't get much done and then feel worse about myself because I didn't get much done. The hot weather and constant sunshine just makes it all worse. No wonder my thoughts have been dwelling on Poe.

I'd managed to get my childbirth-related anxiety mostly under control, and then we went to a labour and delivery class last night. The bit on massage was nice. The bits about epidurals, C-sections, babies accidentally inhaling meconium, and the potential for being group B streptococcus positive were not. I nearly ran out of the room to throw up during the bit about meconium, and thought seriously about crying when I contemplated epidurals. Also, I spilled my water bottle on the floor.

Overall, the class was helpful, but I really hate being poked with needles and so want to avoid an IV unless it's necessary (I've had an IV in before and it was not pleasant--I'm not about to add to the level of discomfort in labour unless I have to), and the thought of letting someone stick a needle in my spine makes me want to have an anxiety attack. That's another "only if necessary" thing, like if I absolutely needed a C-section. Which is another thing I don't want. 

And I hate this. I hate being scared, even though I know that a good deal of this is reasonable fear. Childbirth is a painful, messy, and potentially dangerous process, and that shouldn't be ignored. I want a relatively easy, simple birth, but I know I might not get what I want. It's not like pregnancy has been how I wanted it to go.

I'm tired of this. We have about 5-8 more weeks to go, providing she doesn't decide arrive early (God forbid), and between the weather and my general exhaustion and numerous other things, I just want the pregnancy to stop and the birth to magically happen so we can move on to the next bit. Of course, that's not what I get. I get 5-8 more weeks of backaches, heartburn, blood sugar testing, exhaustion, and Braxton Hicks, followed by a labour that may or may not be what I'm hoping for. Should be interesting. Maybe if I focus on the interesting side, I'll forget about the anxiety.

In other news, I'm tinkering with a book cover for my novel. The one I was going with requires someone else to modify it for me, and the person who offered to help doesn't have time to finish it yet. So I'm trying for a different look. Once I have that and I make a few more revisions, I can stick it up online and start advertising it. I really should have gotten this done last fall, but procrastination and I are on very close terms.

and there's still a butterfly in my stomach

And we emerged triumphant! I have passed my thesis defense. The next step is to finish my revisions based on the latest sets of comments from my readers, and fill out the requisite paperwork. I took a break from the thesis yesterday and did some random cleaning and tidying, some knitting, and started washing the alpaca fleece I got last weekend. Today was mostly more cleaning, since my parents are visiting this weekend, and I was raised in a household, where, if we did a lot of cleaning, one of us would ask, "Who's coming over?" (I'm trying to get better at keeping the whole place in a semi-tidy state and it's starting to happen at least with the kitchen, but J. and I both lean towards the slightly messy side of the spectrum).

While the baby was blessedly quiet during the defense (probably listening to me talk though it's certainly all incomprehensible to her at the moment), she's been quite active over the last couple days. A while back, I ran across a description of the baby moving that I rather liked. "Like you've swallowed a butterfly." Much more interesting than describing it as bubbles. I also like the goldfish analogy. Of course, both butterflies and goldfish (not to mention bubbles) are more delicate than this child's kicks. Earlier, I lay down for a bit before I had to start dinner, was almost asleep, and then Munchkin kicked. Hard. Our little butterfly seems to be growing into something more substantial. Like an octopus who occasionally thinks that flailing is fun.

nerves

sculpture by David Kracov; picture from bitrebels.com

My thesis defense is officially less than 24 hours away. It's tomorrow afternoon and the butterflies in the stomach have hit. Or maybe that's just the baby. Either way, I'm currently terrified and my brain feels like mush. I just had a look through some of the comments and potential questions from one of my readers and while I know his questions are reasonable, I feel like I can't think straight. I know that I'll be doing some revisions afterward--some of them possibly extensive. I've already started that process. I am glad the need for revisions doesn't mean they're post-poning the defense but I wish my mind would start up again.

To be fair, I've felt off all day. I'm exhausted. Nauseous. Achy. Dratted third trimester. Tomorrow marks 30 weeks. We start counting down from 10 now, even though the baby could show up earlier than 40 weeks. It's happening soon and we don't even have a crib yet.

Right now I'm in that state where it feels like everything I've written is crap. I've been alternating between that and then feeling that it's okay. The panic is subsiding for the moment, but it'll probably show up again later. I still feel like I've spent two years on something that may be shite, but I'm pretty sure my advisor would have said something sooner if it was.

book musings: Japanese Women Don't Get Old or Fat by Naomi Moriyama

Following from the theme of my last post, this one is also about food. Or at least, it's about a book on food. I ran across this book at the library a while ago, and hadn't felt like picking it up, though the title amused me. The other day, though, I went to the library and browsed through the cookbook section, looking for recipes with fewer carbs, since that's something I now have to limit more. I was disappointed with most of the books on the topic, to be honest, since they were mostly about losing weight, rather than a diet for a pregnant woman with gestational diabetes. I'm not supposed to be losing weight while the baby's in the middle of her third trimester growth spurt. I'm sure there's at least one book on the topic, but it was not on the shelf in front of me. I picked up one book and returned it a few days later, not impressed

From http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e7/Edamame_by_Zesmerelda_in_Chicago.jpg

Then I spotted this book I'd noticed on a previous trip. It's about Japanese home cooking, and is titled Japanese Women Don't Get Old or Fat: Secrets of My Mother's Tokyo Kitchen. The author, Naomi Moriyama, lives in New York but was raised in Japan and frequently visits her family in Tokyo. The book is co-written with her husband. The title made me smile, because it reminded me, of course, of Mireille Guiliano's book, French Women Don't Get Fat, which annoyed me because the writing style felt more than a little patronizing. Moriyama's book, on the other hand, didn't provoke that response in me. Her genuine enthusiasm for the topic, for her culture, and for food is very apparent. She's as quick to point out the problems in the typical Japanese diet as she is to highlight the health benefits. The major problems she mentions are too much sodium and too much white rice, both easily solved problems with the replacement of low-sodium options and brown rice. There is also typically less dairy in the Japanese diet than in the Canadian diet (though since I don't remember what other things have significant amounts of calcium, this lack may be compensated for in other ways).

However, the emphasis on fresh lightly cooked vegetables, fruit, fish, smaller portions, and not eating to the point of complete satiety are very good things. There's also a heavy emphasis on green tea, although she is careful to stress that tea's beneficial properties have only been researched to a small extent, and all that we can really say is that it has lots of antioxidants in it, and it's a nice calorie-free option (since my dietician has told me that she'd prefer me to eat, rather than drink, my calories, I've been more inclined to eat fruit rather than drink fruit juice and have been drinking lots of water and decaf tea).

One of the other foods highlighted in this book is soy. Moriyama cites the studies on this food, but clarifies that the "soy is good for you" studies and the "soy is bad for you" studies aren't yet extensive enough to provide very concrete information, but soy beans in their less processed forms are probably better for you than a soy protein shake (not surprising). We like tofu since I figured out what to do with it a few years ago (my first attempt at cooking tofu was not a success), and edamame is easy to find in the frozen vegetables section. Actually, it's one of the few frozen vegetables I've bought, since I've never been keen on the combo packs of frozen veggies and I don't like corn. Usually we get frozen peas or green beans, which then get used in stir fries or curries.

So I've been giving edamame a try as a snack in the afternoon. It's a good choice so far. I realized a couple days ago, based on some of the things I have to test, that I wasn't eating quite enough, so I've been trying to bump up my caloric intake without going too far on the carb front. It's harder than I thought, because what I want to eat are more carbs, and if I don't want my blood sugar to spike, that's not an option.

Anyway, the book's a fun read, and there are some great recipes. I can't try all of them right now, and I must admit the book made me long for sushi, which I can't have until after the baby's born, but the principles in it are rather useful for thinking about a long-term healthy diet.