You may remember forever ago, when I posted a picture of twin potties, sitting there new in the filter summer morning sun. Another picture of two girls sitting on their new potties in the summer morning sun. Well, the summer morning sun has faded into the the thin, clear light of cold air, and the potties are no longer gleaming and new. Three weeks ago today the girlies announced to me that they wanted to wear their big girl panties. I assented on the condition that from that day forward they would not wear diapers again.
The first day was hell. They went every 10 - 15 mintues. There was no "holding it"; they went as soon as their bladdder had anything in it. Forget the timer at an hour, or 30 minutes or even 20....between the two of them, 10 minutes was usually too long. The second day was better. At least we could go 30 minutes between accidents. The third day Miss E started to go. She was good about peeing but forget poop. Halfway through the fourth day Miss G went once! We still don't spend a lot of time out of the house, and nights are spent in Pull Ups, but they now go without prompting. Only occasionally is there an accident and that's usually due to not getting pants pulled all the way down before proceeding.Today they called me upstairs to the bathroom, and proudly pointed to the two potties. Both has "presents" of the solid type in them. They'd been sitting up there, side by side pooping. They were so proud. They are so big. Birthday number three is still nearly two months away and they can now go poop on the potty by themselves. I see them gaining independence every day. I miss the little girls they used to be. I love the toddlers they are. I wonder what happened to the time and why I didn't notice the changes. The tiny changes every day, so small they sneak past consciousness until the change is so defined it can't be missed. I remember with perfect clarity the day we brought them home from the hospital. Both 18" long, one weighing slightly less and the other slightly more than 5 pounds. It's bittersweet. Change is here. Change is coming. I wonder what's next?
Today I took a 1/3 knit wash cloth off my shelf, cut it off the two balls of yarn it was being knit from and then hacked it into small rectangles, about 1" in width. Am I dangerously insane? I think not. I just thought that I could pull out some of the ends and spin it into yarn. I do wonder what people would say if (the fiber uninitiated) were able to peer through my office window to see me happily cutting a hand knitted object into shreds. It was freeing, though. No more UFO staring me down from it's jumbled and unhappy corner of the open yarn shelves.
Yarn Swag: just another pound and a half of Joan of Arc gracing my workspace today. I've been rewinding and banding it this morning. The electric winder isn't finished, and every skein of yarn that I dye is skeined and reskeined by hand. In fact, the entire process from cone to finished hank is compeletely done by hand. Hand crafted has a distinct meaning to me. I like that with every skein I mail to its new home, I am fighting mass production. I like that every knitter who uses Yarn Love yarn sees my impression in the strands that flow through their hands. I am a small part of their creative process.