Knitting needles

When I was five years old, my mother taught me how to knit. I think that is my favourite story ever, and although it's a one liner, it's true.  In the years that have passed since then, however, my knitting skills are not much improved. I  know women who are incredible, fantastic, amazing knitters. They take on these projects and days later shine out with these remarkable results. They pay attentinon to detail and follow instructions. Their stitches are tight and the whole thing just looks incredible. Amazing.
But. Well. I am guilty of the severe multi-task. I knit and do about ten other things. I don't follow the directions as close as I can. And when I make a mistake, only recently have I begun to tear the whole thing out and try again. Somehow, I am simply not as good a knitter as I would like to be after 25 years knitting. It's kind of like sewing. I've done it all my life, but like so many things I have done that long, I do it, but not exactly well.

So there.
And I finally picked up my needles again the other day to knit, but realized I couldn't get so much as a row done before a little somebody required both my hands and all my attention. That is how it is lately.  She has been wanting not only to be held by me, but every single ounce of attention that I have. Unless we are in a public space and there are million things to hold a five month old's eye, she wants mine. Which, mind you, I am not complaining of, simply observing. I will lie her down on a sheepskin on the porch while I hang laundry, or other such mundane task, but she wants my eyes on her the whole time, my smile on her, every move has to be in the direction of her. She observes me with her soft smiling eyes and with such a serious look on her face. Like she is learning the ways of the world...and she in fact is.
This is amazing to me.
And then I remember Nathalie as a baby. She didn't care if she was in my arms, as long as I was somewhere near by. She would watch the world go by and just check to make sure I was paying attention every so often. These girls are as different as night and day. When Nathalie was a baby I knit, I wrote, I read books. It seemed like the free time with empty hands was never ending. I cooked elaborate things, I baked like crazy. (One day, in fact, I figured out how to turn our apartment oven into the kind of environment to bake naan. It was so so much fun...)(and kind of complicated...) In any case, that is not this baby.
Her most recent turn of events, much to my dismay, is that she will not allow me to read while I nurse her anymore. She turns and grabs the library book from my hands and folds the pages (if not flinging the whole thing to the floor!). Sigh. It's true!
So, I suppose staring into space is my only option.
That and dreaming up my new kitchen.
(Which, yes, T, I do that.)

So if any of you wonderful ladies out there know how to knit one handed, I'm all ears.

(those girls making eyes at each other...)