The name of the post says it all I guess...I haven't been in the mood to post lately. It has been really busy lately at work mostly because I have been catching up on all of the work that piled up when I was off the week of Christmas. Also, I have been using my "wind down" time crocheting a blanket that I started. It occurs to me that this blanket has been therapeutic for me, for several reasons I guess.
My Grandma was the first to teach me to crochet, a skill that I had long forgotten but decided to try to remember a few months before Emerson was born. I remember calling her one night after having started my beginning chain to see if she would walk me through how to turn around and go back the other way with my stitching...I couldn't for the life of me remember. She gave a great effort in trying to talk me through it over the phone but we decided that she would just have to show me the next time we saw each other...we never did get to it and the afghan idea got left by the wayside.
Shortly after quitting smoking I re-learned how to knit and during the winter months of that year, I knitted 20+ scarves. It was a great way to keep my hands busy and I found that I spent a lot of time in thought and even prayer while I was doing it...some of the scarves that are being worn today have quit a bit of both in them.
I haven't a clue what motivated me to switch to crocheting again, (I think I got sick of knitting and needed something new) but I decided I wanted to give it another shot...I made one very long starter chain from memory and realized again that I didn't know how to turn around, so I called my mom.
She tried her best to explain it to me over the phone, but we ended up deciding that she would just have to show me when we got together for Christmas eve. The days leading up to Christmas were kind of sucky and stressful, so I was really looking forward to starting a project...it's just always such an enjoyable thing for me to wind down with at night. After all the presents were opened and the dishes were clean, I got out my nearly untouched ball of yarn and my one strand of stitches and my mom showed me again. Because the first chain can be tricky if it is too tight, I struggled a bit to get into each stitch to build the second row. A few times my mom had to come from over my shoulders behind me and help direct me or even complete the stitch.
It was a moment that was for the most part insignificant, except that I think it turned out to be a moment of realization for me to some degree...my mom wants to help me if she can, I just have to let her.
That's what mom's do, not just with a crocheting project, but with support, and kind words, and silliness, and unconditional love.
Of course I know that she loves me and I am not trying to be a ginormous sap or anything, but I think I spend more time pushing her away than I realized. I have many labels in life, mom, wife, sister, friend, but I am also someones daughter, and I just wanted to let my mom know that I am glad I'm hers.
Love you mom, and thanks.
12 1/2 inches worth! 
No Dad, you can't keep it!
