The growing of our family can be measured in lots of collateral ways: loads of laundry, dirty dishes, toys, time it takes to leave the house, etc. The numbers seem to increase exponentially, which can be confusing or perfectly reasonable. For example: Quilts. I live with one child who has some sort of Princess and the Pea complex whereby he sleeps covered in no less than seven quilts all piled on top of him. If he feels like there is improper coverage he demands more, citing mysterious drafts. (He is not alone. The other one preferes a mass of "fuzzy blankets" to tangle himself up in, and has sequestered all the handmade crocheted blankets in the house.)
So to think that Truly might need one quilt or a single, small afghan in her life, would be betting against the odds. And of course, she won't need to worry. Her mother may have neglected the handmade, but thankfully her mother's people did not.
I use Grammie Karol's quilt to wrap up in while I'm nursing. And because she gave it to us at the beginning of December, the boys feel it is communal property. (Do you need your quilt top quilted? You know where to go.)
I'm guessing you've seen Truly's Liberty Quilt. LIBERTY. Gah.
I don't know if April is going to blog about this quilt on the Bolt blog (she should), so I'm going to. It is a beautiful variation on the Ohio star. And she pieced the back using some rainbow fabric I had given her ages ago (and loved but needed to part with), which made it even more awesome.
I coveted Blair's granny squares, and then they showed up on my doorstep. If I keep throwing those sorts of thoughts out into the universe, I may never have to learn how to knit or crochet. Also, I may need to start thinking bigger (though not better, because there are few things better).
These gifts that have been given her by our friends, family and Paul's coworkers have moved me to misty eyes and in several cases, real, live tears. We have all felt very looked after.
We were expecting her sometime this week. Paul was all, "can you imagine if you were still pregnant??". I could. And I shuddered to think. There have been moments this week and last where I've nearly forgotten that I was very recently pregnant, and then received some sort of rude reminder from my body.
"Sit down. Have a glass of water. For the love of everything, don't carry that 40 pound three year-old down the stairs."
I'm working on it. Seeing as there are piles of quilts around for me to sink into, it shouldn't be that hard.