Sweater Weather

I picked up knitting several years ago because I was dirt poor and wanted to give people Christmas presents. I was wandering the craft store, looking for something I could make, despite the fact that being crafty is not really my deal. A kindly older women (if you have ever been to a craft store, you know the type) came to my rescue. She directed me to a cheap little book with instructions and a couple patterns, giant knitting needles, and bulky yarn. I knit the ugliest scarf that has ever been knit, and I gave it to my mom, because that’s what you do with your fugly crafts. Moms love first pancakes. They take that trapezoidal scarf and treasure it like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls.

I had no intention of becoming a knitter. I wanted a cheap handmade gift that I could quickly make while watching TV (read: garter stitch scarf). I only learned one stitch, and I only made scarves. After a year or so (totally not kidding), I picked up that cheap little book and taught myself to purl. Now I could do stockinette and ribbed scarves. This was way more than I ever wanted to do. Seriously. The fact I even knew these words bothered me a little. Then I got pregnant with Ben. I decided to knit him a blanket, thinking it would help me to want a baby. Disaster. I was a novice knitter with authority issues, so I took one of the four stitch patterns I knew and just started knitting—who needs a pattern? I figured a baby blanket was probably just a big, wide scarf. But I didn’t know about circular needles, so I tried knitting it in pieces…even trying to describe my process is making me laugh and feel queasy. Needless to say I abandoned the blanket and went back to scarves.

Then last year I had a whole slew of friends having babies at the same time. I decided I would make them hats. Now I was really striding FAR past where I was planning to go as a knitter. Hats are not rectangles. My first hat was laughable. My mom did not get that first pancake—I kept it to remind myself about why I don’t craft. But I kept at it because my friends’ babies needed hats, and my friend with breast cancer lost her hair and I wanted to make her a hat. My subsequent pancakes were good. So I figured I’d reached the pinnacle of my knitting career. After all, I just wanted something to keep my hands busy while I watched TV. I did not want something complicated that I would have to pay attention to. I did not want to have to count. I did not want to have to size things correctly. I eventually made Ben a couple of blankets. The first was, in the grand Me tradition, a trapezoid. But the second turned out pretty darn nice. Flush with my awesomeness, I made blankets for a few friends’ babies, and of course for Miss Emma.

So why did I get it into my ridiculous head to attempt a sweater last week? Only God knows. But I got the hankering, and I tried it. And I have to say, this first pancake didn’t go off too badly. Now I’m all kinds of inspired. I have a half dozen sweaters I can’t wait to make for my poor, unwitting model. Which I think makes me an actual knitter at this point.

If only that lady at Michael’s could see me now. She’d be so proud. Seven years later, I’ve made my first sweater.