swatching at my desk. [59.365]

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Swatching at work. #latergram

Today was a little crazy. I decided (kind of last-minute) to submit some of the design ideas I’ve had banging around my brain for Brooklyn Tweed’s Wool People 8. I figure if they accept them, awesome, if not, they’re ones I’m planning to write up and knit for self-publishing anyway, so no big loss. Except I needed a swatch for one of them (others already had swatches, or, um, completely knit toddler-size samples, ha!), so I was frantically knitting on that in between class prep and meeting with students today.

Friday’s are my day to pick M up from school at 3, and I hadn’t finished the swatch yet at that point. Poor M must be going through some kind of cognitive and/or growth spurt lately, and she is a clingy mess right now. So I finished my swatch while holding a 32.5lb toddler. That took some doing! And then I took photos of all my swatches with her “help”, and spent the rest of my evening wearing her again, while trying to chip away at writing up the actual design proposals (I just now sent them off, 3 hours under the wire!). I love the snuggles, but it’s exhausting – I’m really hurting from how much carrying M I’ve done in the past week.

<div align="center"Tickling mama's face in the wrap.

Today ended so roughly for us – I’d gotten too tired by the end of it to keep holding her (she’s so big and I’m so small!), and she just WOULD NOT accept that, and threw a loud, scary, turning-purple tantrum when A tried to take over for the evening. I ended up having to do all the evening stuff with her anyway, because she was seriously hurting herself. This is just so hard for me. I end up feeling guilty that I can’t be “enough” for her, even though that’s ridiculous – I mean, I have autoimmune connective tissue problems, so the fact that I can even carry her at all is kind of badass on my part, and carrying her nonstop wouldn’t even be realistic for a totally healthy person. And it’s not like being carried around non-stop is a reasonable expectation on her part. It just makes my heart hurt to hear her screaming for me and hurting herself while I try to rest on the couch.

Tomorrow’s a new day. And a new month, at that. How the heck is it March already??

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