Here's a little stack of 2 ply from the lovely Marta's Yarns. I'm going to knit it up double strand to make my first ever baby item in 4ply.
I loved the colours in the variegated yarn but was a bit concerned it might be on the dark side, so the pale green and grey should lighten it up a bit. I have a couple of patterns in mind, but you'll just have to wait and see where it ends up.
Meanwhile back here at winter germ central Amy has just burst an ear drum. Our dim dark days of the past were pre-blog, so you've all been spared the blow by blow details of our struggles with Amy's ears.
For eighteen months now we've been free of the black shadow of constant ear infections and their complications. Amy was only nine months old when she landed in hospital with life-threatening septicaemia from an ear infection gone bad and in the following year she had three operations and countless courses of antibiotics.
There were more sleepless nights than peaceful ones and more visits to the doctor than is fair for a little girl rapidly learning that anyone in the medical profession was likely to be causing her pain. It's still a trial to get her to the doctor's (last time I had to promise her that if the doctor gave her a needle I'd buy her a horse), she won't let anyone put her anywhere near a bandaid and she instructs the chemist on which flavour of amoxil syrup she finds acceptable.
So the night before last when she told us her ears were sore I was instantly thrown back to that time when a routine childhood illness could turn into a serious medical crisis in 24 hours, and regularly did. When I held her in my arms in a hospital chair for three days while she sweated out a fever of 41 degrees and we hoped like hell the antibiotics that were in that plastic bag attached to her drip needle would finally start to work.
And when she got out of bed this morning and asked why is all my hair stuck to the side of my head? I knew the better part of this morning would be spent sitting at the doctor's waiting to be seen (about 2 hours), to be told (1) she's got a high fever! (2) there's icky pus coming out of her ears! (3) she needs antibiotics! (4) she needs her hearing checked! So with drugs duly administered she's now sleeping and another round of appointments are penciled in.
I hate to see her suffer, to see the gallant way she struggles to be happy and energetic and the frustration she feels when her little body just can't deliver. The hot flushed cheeks she gets as she sits in the doctor's waiting room, the way she alternates between crying that she doesn't want to go to the doctor and telling me that you need to see the doctor when you're sick because that's how you get better. The way she plays with the toys and then comes over and crawls up on my lap and buries her head in my chest and says her ears hurt.
And at the same time my mind is doing endless resentful calculations about how we can bend our lives around this latest bump in the road. How many plans will need to be re-arranged, what needs to be cancelled, how D's and my work will be affected, whether Amy can make it to the pantomime she's booked to see tomorrow. How we'll manage another sleepless night. How easily I can say goodbye to the night out D and I were planning for this evening whilst Amy was staying with D's folks. How easily D can give up his plan to sleep in Amy's bed tonight to escape my terrible cold and pregnancy induced snoring.
So for all those people who think us bloggers portray an unrealistic picture of domestic harmony and creativity take note. The highlights are more than balanced by a litany of complaint, annoyance, frustration, suffering and boredom. And my ongoing unrequited lust for a great big plateful of som tam.