I'm Not Pregnant, Thank You
Perhaps even more annoying than the fact that all of my friends decided to get pregnant at once, ensuring that I'll spend the entire year knitting baby gifts, is the fact that my knitting of baby gifts leads everyone to ask if I'm pregnant.
I'm not pregnant, okay? Don't ask. I'm not. I may look tired and pale, but that just means I'm stressed out. Not pregnant. But if you must ask, at least do so tactfully. Ask me who I'm knitting for -- because if it's for me, you'll know. I'm a horrible liar. But please refrain from asking about the status of my uterus. It's getting old.
We now return you to your regularly-scheduled blog entry.
It's been quite the week! Yesterday, Paul and I had to take the afternoon off to hang out at the INS office, where we were interviewed once again about the status of our marriage. I really should have dressed down a bit more -- because if I looked ragged, they'd know for sure that I didn't get paid to marry Paul in return for a Green Card (which, incidentally, is actually tan).
So, needless to say, I didn't have a lot of time for an entry yesterday. So let's recap Monday:
Monday afternoon was knitting with the kids again. Miss S was a joy, as always. She's started a new project -- a Barbie rug -- and the big needles are making her crazy.
Miss A returned from Spring Break, and she was back in full force. When she arrived, she pulled out her project, which had about 15 stitches pulled off her needles and dropped in a frightening fashion. I, of course, had the pleasure of fixing it, while I gave a little speech about taking care of your projects. I also warned her that if it happens again, she gets to fix it. Stitches dropped off needles...yarn dragged around the store...I've had to clean up a lot of messes for that kid, and I think if she had to struggle with it herself, maybe she'd learn to be more careful. Then again, probably not. Even after having to rip out several rows of her bag, she still hasn't learned to be careful about which side you knit on...
This week, Miss A's topics of conversation included:
- How my laugh "creeps [her] out" (or something to that effect)
- How she hates the nerds in her class (which brought back wonderful memories of my own nerdiness, thank you very much, and also made me feel bad for poor Miss S, who, I happen to know, is pretty much an A student, too)
- How at least five boys in her class like her (which was her direct response to Miss S saying that all the boys in her class are mean to her)
- And how she has reading glasses, but she never wears them (doesn't even know where they are anymore), though her teacher told her she needs to (please tell me what kind of parents just let their kid blow off wearing reading glasses just because she doesn't like them?)
I must say that the glass of wine that was waiting for me upon my return home was very welcome.
I did, however, manage to knit up a baby bootie while I was there (see rant above).
Last night, Paul had to get to bed early because of yet another early meeting, so I took the time to pull out my Adamas. I did four whole rows last night, and it didn't even take me two hours this time. In fact, it didn't even take me an hour. That made me feel much better -- and much less angry.
While it doesn't look nearly as good as Jeanne's, at least it's getting somewhere. But I'd better get my rear in gear if I'm going to finish before the wedding.
After my four rows were done, I watched a little TV before bed and worked on my sweater:
Just for the record, it's bright, but it's not as obnoxiously bright as it appears to be in the picture. I will, however, admit that you'll be able to pick me out in a crowd in this baby. It's definitely not subdued.