Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Birth Story
Good Morning! And man, is it E.V.E.R. a good morning. I'm home, semi-warm (Brian's promised to call the furnace guy to get it working better soon), and baby Owen is sleeping peacefully while more coffee percolates, Brian's at work (half day), and the kids are all at my mom's. I have a minute! ((grins!)) So I thought I'd put it to good use and write up The Birth Story.
Sunday night, we were playing Yahtzee with the kids. ((Well, Ethan and Aaron had extra dice to plunk around, but the two older ones played the game with us - GREAT for math, by the way.)) And all of a sudden, I had a really strong contraction. It wasn't the piddly Braxton silliness I've been snuffing at all week, it was something tangible. And then a few minutes later, another. And then another. But my water hadn't broken (that's the tell-tale signal I usually work from), and they were a good seven minutes apart, so I wasn't too worried. It just meant a long night, that's all. We tucked the kids into bed, and I started packing a 'go' bag, just in case. Because up until then, I hadn't seen the point. The kids, on the other hand, have been waiting impatiently, and had their bags packed (and re-packed, and RE-packed!) a week ago.
So we went to bed, curled up, and I planned on a very interrupted night's sleep at the most -OR- everything to piddle off as I relaxed at the very least. The piddling seemed to take place, and I fell asleep right away. For an hour. Then, BAM! Whoa, that was strong! And BAM! BAM! BAM! I was timing them two minutes apart - they were hitting strong and steady, and... well, that was relaxed as I could get, hello! So I got up - sometimes if you go from resting to active (or vice versa) it changes things. But it didn't. BAM! BAM! BAM! Ooookay. Time to wake up Brian. And it's almost 1am, so this is going to suck. ((My other births all started in the morning, after we got at least four hours sleep in preparation. This was going to be a LONG night.))
He called the doctor while I got kids up (which, amazingly, was a snap - they popped up like daisies, grabbing clothes, pillows, backpacks and jabbering a mile a minute!). The doctor said since it was my fifth birth and two minutes is pretty durn close, she wanted us to come down. So we called my mom. And called my mom. And packed the car and called my mom. And got on the road and called my mom. And called my mom. And for half an hour drive, I called my mom (BOTH of their cellphones, which she swore she was keeping right next to her at all times, because they were SO READY for us... *snort!*) And we pulled into her driveway and I called my mom. And called my mom. Then we sent the kids up to start ringing the doorbell. And a few minutes later, a light comes on, and she says, "Oh, perfect timing, we were just headed to bed!" Nevermind the flannel nighty, bedhead, and total disorientation. LoL!! Anyhow, we got the kids ushered in and hugged soundly, and took off.
By the time I hit triage, the contractions backed off to every 4 minutes, and so they kept us an hour, then kept us another hour, and I assured Brian that we were NOT going home - if they said they weren't keeping us, we'd go walk the parking lot. But it was snowing and frigid and 4:30am, and I really wasn't feeling up to it (like that'd stop me), so I was hoping they'd keep us. So by 5:30am I'm exhausted, Brian's exhausted, we're still in a holding pattern, and if they'd JUST let me up to walk, I could be making progress, but no. walking. for. VBACs. Nevermind I walked the last three VBACs I did. Whatever. And of course nothing changes when you're lying still on your back. Four minutes. Four minutes. Four minutes. We'd stopped timing them, at this point. But it's impossible to sleep when you're contracting every four minutes for six hours straight. I was losing momentum.
So the on-call Dr. decided to put me into 'Morphine Sleep'. Which means putting me in an actual room, stabbing me in the hiney with THE most obnoxiously painful drug (HATED it), and assuring me it'd "knock me out" for six hours straight, I'd wake up in full labor, and we'd have a baby! I agreed (even though I was leery of morphine)... mostly because if I slept, Brian would sleep, and he needed it, too. But the problem is, I'm highly resistant to drugs. So the morphine hurt like a sonuvabeeotch, made me dizzy as heck and nauseous, but I didn't sleep. At all. Go figure. So at shift change (7:30am) the new doctor came in, heard what was going on, and decided to break my bag and end the drama. So he ruptured the sac, they inserted internal monitoring (new regulations), and waited. Four minutes. Four minutes. Four minutes.
I was fed UP with this BS. So I asked if I could at LEAST stand up. When they said yes, I paced a distance of two feet. Brian laughed his hiney off - 'what are you DOING?!'. I'm walking two feet over here. Now I'm walking back two feet. Now I'm walking... oops, that damn cord... two feet this way. And back. And amazingly, the contractions were getting stronger... lasting longer. And (being exhausted), I headed for bed. But moving helped. So I tipped the bed up all the way, had a contraction (they were now 2 minutes long... REALLY long... each!). Then when about two minutes passed between, I'd put the bed all the way down, and have a contraction. Up. Down. Up. Down. Then I got up and paced the two-foot I could go. Then laid down. Up. Down. ((Yes, I'm weird.)) But this WORKED - I went from 3cm to 4cm to 5cm, every 40 minutes, now. After nothing laying still for all those stOOpid hours. And things were getting stronger yet... so I asked for the epidural. NO chances of not getting one, this time, people!!
They hemmed and hawed a bit (we want your contractions closer), but I got the epi by noon, promising them that it always sped things up with me. Of course nobody believed me - epidurals slow people down, honey, not speed things up. ((I'm a labor/delivery anomaly, apparently.)) But once the epi went in, I jumped to 6cm, then half an hour later 7cm... and twenty minutes after that, I felt something REALLY heavy shift down below (of course no pain or contraction sensation, though - LOVE the epi)... so I called the nurse, and she said I was fully dialated, head in position, cervix complete... call the doctor! ((And, wow, you ARE an anomaly, honey!))
The doctor came in, rather indecisive about what to do. He was just on his way to a scheduled C-section, and didn't want to be late. My nurse (who - don't laugh - was THE head nurse... that note in my file that I joke says I'm a problem person? Well, maybe it's true - they gave me the big gun!) said, "You'll deliver this gal, first." The doctor said, "Well, we'll let her push, and see what happens." And I said, "You let me push, and you'll be holding a baby. I won't keep you long." And true to my word (I'm one helluva pusher), I delivered the head on push one, and half a minute later on push two delivered the rest of the baby.  Could've done it on one, but they made me stop because I was tearing pretty badly and they wanted to give the area time to stretch before there was a different sort of problem. I did end up with second-degree tears, but I always tear, so it's no biggie. Just not fun in the two weeks afterward.
Owen scored 7/9 on his APGARS (I was concerned, because he was SOOO blue when he came out), but he had a lusty cry and a TON of hair, and while the crud bucket overturned all over the floor (pissing EVERYONE off), I was too busy with little man and Brian to much care. Not to mention that overwhelming feeling of relief and lightness that comes directly after birth. LOVE that feeling!
We were given another room, and that's when I went into pain-in-the-ass mode. Owen - being over nine pounds - was 'high risk' for diabetes, so they wanted to heel prick him and draw blood every so many hours. I said NO... the poor little guy just had a traumatic experience, and I'm NOT going to let you stab the shit out of him. I agreed to one draw so they could be sure he was okay, and when the result was fine, I didn't allow any more. I also said NO to the Hep B... we can do it later at the pediatrician's, but  I don't know enough yet about it, and I didn't want to do it until I'd read more. I also said NO, he won't be taken to the nursery without one of us. I just... don't like them coming and taking him away.
As soon as things were 'settled' (< hahaha!) I started pushing to go home, to get the IV out (the idiot triage nurse inserted it into my arm an inch below the elbow, needle pointing towards the joint, so every time I bent my arm, it stabbed my elbow and HURT)... also, the angle it was on messed up the tubing in L&D, so I couldn't raise my arm more than an inch off the bed without setting off alarms the WHOLE birth. *Snort!* I made a deal with the night nurse - I'd leave it in until 11pm if she promised to take it out then.
It was a horrific night. Every five minutes someone was there to draw blood, to check my vitals, to check his vitals, to administer pain pills, to check my stomach, to check the bleeding, to get me up to the bathroom, to weigh him... and ON, and ON, and ON it went. By now, it's 3am, I've been awake for somewhere near 38 hours straight, I'm exhausted, and they just. won't. go. away. And they gave me the room right across from the nursing station, and NOBODY can shut a door, and so every conversation, every cackle, every phone call... I got up and shut the door. And up and shut the door. And up and shut the door. And it was just pointless - the way they kept coming in. Owen got no sleep. I got no sleep. And that ligament was SCREAMING from getting up and down and up and down...
The morning on-call doctor came in and said I could go home at 4pm if the pediatrician said Owen was okay. So one hurdle crossed. And perfect timing - Brian had a 2:30 appt across the street with the Snip Doctor, so after that we'd just start the discharge paperwork, eh? Almost not so - the pediatrician came in, said Owen was looking beautiful - no signs of jaundice at all, everything checked out marvelously... who is my pediatrician? "I don't have one." Then NO, you can't go home. "Um... why not? If he's fine, I'm fine...?" Well, he could develop jaundice over the next 2-3 days, or a heart murmur or something. "!!!!!" And you HAVE to take him to a pediatrician BY THURSDAY at the latest, and you don't have a pediatrician. So I bargained with her, too. ((Idiot - like staying one more day would change the fact that I STILL don't have a pediatrician?! Or that he could develop a heart murmur, prostrate cancer, jaundice, or bubonic plague BY THURSDAY?)) I made an appointment with HER to ease HER anxiety over protocol for Thursday, and she pissily agreed to let me go home at 4pm.
 Brian came in around 11am and I told him we're GOING HOME today. He tried to talk me into staying another day - "You'll get more rest here!" ((Crazy white man say WHAT?!)) I want to go HOME to REST... I'm so tired I can't hardly talk straight... and heeeeere they come again! The nursing barrage was driving me crazy. And I'm cranky, tired, sore, bleeding, peevish (over the pediatrician crap)... and now I get the lovely news from Brian that my mom isn't going to bring the kids up to see the baby.
(((!!!!!!!!!!)))
I can see it now... the page in my scrapbook that says "This page would've been pictures of the kids coming to visit new baby brother, only my mother is so damn paranoid and wiggy about hospitals that she refused to bring them up and ruined the Kodak moment, bonding and introduction time and HAS JUST LOST HER DAMN TOWN DAY FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE BECAUSE I'M SOOOOO PISSSSSED OFFFFF, and if she can't haul it up here ONE HOUR for me, I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to schlep my freakin' ass to her house every other Friday of my life, hello! ((<<< Ooookay, so she wasn't lying - she's hormonal, tired, and it looks as though WWXVIII is going to bust out the moment she hits her mother's house.)) So Brian wisely calls my mom's, tells them to bring the kids up before 4pm, because that's when we'll be going home.
And we sit. And wait. And wait. And wait. And for people who couldn't let me rest five freakin' minutes all night, I saw ONE nurse in the next five hours of sitting. But of course by now baby is over his limit and VERY needy, and I'm not going to sleep now, either, because a) I'm packing, b) I'm nursing, c) I don't want to bore Brian (<<crazy or not, I get that way), and d) my kids could come anytime.
But they don't. It's now 2:15, Brian's on his way out the door to see the Snip Doctor, and no sign of my family. They're not coming. She's not going to bring them up. I just know it. And I'm angry. ((And tired.)) So I lay down and cuddle with little Owen... oblivious to Brian down in the parking lot, calling my mom and finding out they're just hanging out at the house... and stating in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that they'd better get up to the hospital NOW if they want to have the kids another night. ((which, yes, he softened from 'for the rest of your life'.))
So around 3:30, the nurse comes in and says, "Are you expecting visitors?" ((<<Because I'm a no-info patient - if you called and asked where I was, they'd say they have no record of an AnnaMatrix in their system. I did this because of the Muslim comments from this past week on my site - Michigan has THE highest concentration fo Muslims in the US, and I didn't want trouble IRL. Which is also why I didn't post an "I'm going In!!" blog... it's too easy to find me - even WITHOUT my last name - when I'm in a public facility accessible to the general populace.))
 Anyhow, Brian had given my family the room number, they forgot it, and were aimlessly roaming the maternity ward, apparently. That'd be my mom, pop, brother and his wife, and four small children. Lost party of eight, wandering the ninth floor. Please send back-up immediately. Oi M'vey. So several nurses later ("What do we do with these people?!?!?!") they finally accept my "please just send them in here" plea and show everyone to my room.
And I'm functioning on an hour's sleep in going on two and a half days, so I (of course) lay on the guilt... "I'm so glad you came up, because think how little Owen would feel if he had NO VISITORS on his scrapbook pages like his brothers and sister do, and NOBODY CARED enough for him to bother to come and meet him on his FIRST big day." ((<< Yes, why, yes, I can REALLY suck, can't I?)) I also added, "We made a deal - I agreed to let the kids spend another night sleeping over if Brian got you to come up and visit." Because I knew she really wanted the kids another night.
 So they left, we packed, we headed home, and Owen is catching up on his sleep. And I'm coming into my milk. ((Yikes!)) And Brian's going to be working half-days the rest of the week, since he didn't take vacation for this (he said you can't take vacation if you don't know WHEN you need the time, and births aren't predictable). And tonight my parents are bringing the kids home and the banshee trio over to meet Owen (since they were at the Snake's house yesterday afternoon). So I have to clean house, get things around... prepare for transitioning to FIVE children. Yipes. But we got a good night's sleep last night (Owen was only up 2am and 5am), and I feel WAY better, now that we're home.
 So... yeah! Great birth experience, little traumatic - the whole hospital stay thing - but we were home 24 hours after delivery and are finally getting caught up on sleep and stuff now. Owen is a squeaker, but very snuggly and sweet... even if he kind of looks like "a NY city cab driver" (< Brian's words) with all that dark hair and squinty eyes... and squishy cheeks. LoL!! I've been calling him 'Julio' and singing "Me n' Julio down by the Schoolyard" ever since we got home. Weird. But he's already won over ALL of his brothers and sister, so I'm not worried about the transition too much. Should be fine!
And that's the Big Birth Story! ((PS: Sorry it took so long to put up - I did the writing this morning and held off until after 'awake' time and feedings n' stuff to post the picture portion, so it's afternoon, not morning now!))
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Introducing...
Owen James
He was born December 7th, 2009 at 3:42pm,
weighing 9lbs, 7oz. and at 22inches.
Baby Owen and I both had a very good birth.
I'll be sure to update you with the story tomorrow,
but I just got back, and I'm going to cuddle the little man, k?
((Just glad to be home!))
Monday, December 07, 2009
Two Comings of Messiah
((from FFoZ that came to my Inbox, yesterday))
That Perez pushed ahead was part of the Divine plan. Zerah desired to emerge first but God declared: "Messiah is destined to descend from Perez; is it right, then, that Zerah should emerge first? Let Zerah return to his mother's womb, and Perez shall be born first!" (Aggadat Bereshit) But it came about as he drew back his hand, that behold, his brother came out. Then she said, "What a breach you have made for yourself!" So he was named Perez. Afterward his brother came out who had the scarlet thread on his hand; and he was named Zerah. (Genesis 38:29-30) According to the Midrash Rabbah, when Tamar's pregnancy advanced to the point where the child was showing, she "would tap upon her stomach and exclaim, 'I am big with kings and redeemers.'" (Genesis Rabbah 85:10) At the very least, she was big with twins. The Torah tells us a harrowing birth story. While she was in labor, the first of her two sons extended his hand. The midwife tied a scarlet string around his wrist to identify the firstborn, but he then retracted his hand and apparently retreated back down the birth canal--generally a physiological impossibility. His brother was born ahead of him, apparently a breach child. Tamar named him Perez (Peretz, פרץ), which means "breach." In Rabbinic literature, Perez, the son of Judah and Tamar, is often closely associated with King Messiah, who is in turn titled the Son of Perez. The birth of Perez and Zerah can be understood metaphorically to represent the first and second coming of Messiah. Perez, whose name also means "breaker," represents Messiah in His first coming. He breaks open the way into the kingdom of heaven. In the Midrash Rabbah, Tamar names him Perez to indicate that King Messiah, "the Breaker," would one day come forth from him: Tamar meant, "This one is greater than all those who make breaches, for from you will arise [the King Messiah of whom it is written in Micah 2:13], 'The breaker (poretz, פורץ) goes up before them; [They break out, pass through the gate and go out by it. So their king goes on before them, and the LORD at their head.]'" (Genesis Rabbah 85:14) Zerah (Zerach, זרח), whose name means "dawning," represents Messiah in His second coming. The great redemption of the messianic age is spoken of in the prophets as the dawning: Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen (zarach) upon you. For behold, darkness will cover the earth and deep darkness the peoples; but the LORD will rise upon you and His glory will appear upon you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising (zarach). (Isaiah 60:1-3) But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall. (Malachi 4:2) Just as Tamar and the midwife expected Zerah to be born first, the people of the Master's generation anticipated the messianic redemption. Like a thread of scarlet, they did receive a token of the coming redemption, but before the final redemption could dawn, the Messiah needed to accomplish His purposes on the cross and in the grave. When Perez defied Tamar's expectation by bursting forth ahead of Zerah, she exclaimed, "What a breach you have made for yourself!" (Genesis 38:29) In the same way, Messiah's first coming defied popular expectation. As He burst forth from the tomb, Israel might be imagined to exclaim, "What a breach you have made for yourself!"
aNNa'S NoTe: I LOVE these things... I get more out of them (and TorahClass) than I ever have out of any sermon. Which is why I purposely don't post them on Sun-days... I like to let people stagnate in pews, and keep the pastor-induced mind-numb separate from Truth. SEVENTH DAY OF DECEMBER.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Life & Links
Because I'm still here but hurting...
... oh, didn't tell you about that? Chuck E. Cheese's pizzeria, Friday Nite - Anna does the way too much walking/bending/lifting thing for way too long with no sit-downs in between and pulls that doggone blasted never-healing pelvic ligament again, and by the time we got home, I was in total, FReeeeaKiN' agony. I've never hurt so bad that just laying in bed made me want to cry. ((Okay, maybe I have... it's similar to the time I had internal ruptured hemorriodal fissures that felt like I was being knifed on the inside, but that was 10 years ago, and this is external, not internal.)) Anyhoooo, I hurt. And it's not contractions, it's that ligament - a non-stop driving pain shooting thru nerves that should NOT be a part of my life.
Needless to say, I was still hurting yesterday morning, we considered NOT going to any of the Santa Claus parades. ((Why do people have Santa Claus parades the FIRST Saturday of the month, anyhow? Isn't that a little early? Of course winter coat clearance is on, too, and we're only day three into snow, so I may be wrong...)) Anyhow, I couldn't not take the kids. I figured if I found a place to sit, it'd be okay... we'd have a good time. Things would work out. And they did - the parade we chose was small, short, ((freezing but)) fun, and at 2 in the afternoon, so I had the whole morning to try to walk off some of the stiffness that set in over the night.
We also got Ethan a new winter coat. Something with a detatchable, warm-as-Hell (literally!) lining in it. Fifty percent off, did I mention that? Brian wanted to go on from there to get more heated buckets at the farm store (we have 4 more goats than last year, two in a separate pen, and the ducks destroyed their heated dish)... but I needed Aaron to get a decent nap (he hasn't had one in two days), and wasn't up to walking another store (hey, I thought I did good, considering!)... so he dropped me and Aaron and Isaac (aka the naughty one who misses out on a lot because he just can't keep out of trouble) at home, and took Lydia and Ethan to get supplies.
Here's BAG NUMBER TWO!! I finished it yesterday while Brian was at the feed store. A few changes - instead of stitching up the sides and tacking on straps, I made the strap twice as long and sewed it as a side panel to the bag. Both Brian and I like that better... and Lydia was THRILLED with it. (("If you were to make me one... when I get a bag someday... if you do one for me, mom..." as hers is tucked under the side of the sofa between us, heheheheh!))
I also started BAG NUMBER THREE. The kids wanted to watch a movie, and after a nice Shabbat supper (I know, technically it's after sundown, but that's USGOVs fault, and I can't help that) I thought it would be nice for them to wind down, so we watched "Ice Princess" and I got started on the next bag. And btw, sitting down and letting muscles relax has REALLY helped - I'm not gasping as I rise/sit/roll over/walk anymore. So that's good.
Today? I plan to finish BAG NUMBER THREE, I might Craigslist a crib (our infant crib's mattress bit the big one, and it's actually cheaper to get a new crib off Craigslist than to try to find a mattress for our odd-sized crib, here!)... I'm hoping Brian'll do... something, too. Something more active than my sitting on the sofa, crocheting. Hey, SOMEBODY'S got to take up my slack while I'm decrepit. LoL!! Maybe work on Lydia's closet, or work on wiring up the basement so I can turn off the light down there? And since I'm going to be a handiwork machine, churning out the stitches at breakneck speed (and hence not hanging out on-line), I thought I'd leave you with four fantastic links:
FerFel today posted about survival kits. He has an 'Altoid Kit' - little stuff to carry in your purse. And an EDC kit (Every Day Carry), and a BOB Kit (Bug-Out Bag)... which I don't carry, because I have a car kit of my own... that needs serious re-vamping attention, but it's the wrong time of year/life/pregnancy/ligament for that at the moment. Of coure FerFel's stuff is WAY more involved than what I do, but remember, he's in year 10 of the Argentinian collapse... with rioting, corruption, death around every corner. We're in month 28 of the American Collapse, so everything is still precautionary at this point. Still, good stuff, if you're interested! I at LEAST recommend the Altoid Kit. It's just common sense... and fits in any purse easily.
FerFel also co-hosts a site on preparing for collapse in America called "Grab the Apple", as someone who's been there, done that. I visited for the first time this week, and saw this chart... it's an animated graphic that shows unemployment in the US (by county!) from 2007 thru the present. VERY kewl to take a look at. Fast upload, too (<< and coming from someone with dial-up, that's saying something!)
TSLR posted a link to a really funny (kinda vulgar, though) flow chart of health care in the United States today... as we know it. It was hilarious... well worth checking out. Unless Sunday is your pagan religious ritual day and anything not sprinkled with holy water that you come in contact with today will set off your delicate sensibilities. In which case, you might want to wait until tomorrow. ((wink!))
My friend V linked me to 'Movies in 15 Minutes' - a site where they give THE funniest summaries of films. She directed me to the one for 'Twilight: New Moon', knowing that Lydia and I have kind of a mild thing for the series/films. It was so funny, I had to make a dash for the potty, I was laughing so hard. ((No, it didn't set off contractions, go figure!)) But homigosh, this is a riot. Even if you haven't seen the movie... read this review. You'll bust up, I promise!
So... yeah. I'm healing and crocheting... want to get the bags DONE so I can start on the NEXT project... the X-mess presents for adults. Brian's doing his part of them now, so they'll be prepped for me to detail. And yeah, I'll share pictures and show you what we're doing this year for our family and friends. No worries! ((Oh, and I'll keep you updated on the preggercy thing, although at this point, I'm not sure I'm going to E.V.E.R. give birth... OTOH, tomorrow is *MY* guess on the chart, so... y'never know!))
SIXTH DAY OF DECEMBER.
((Oh, Baby, Where art Thou?))
Saturday, December 05, 2009
How NOT to Crochet a Bag
The first thing you don't do is read my previous post ("So NOT bagging It") and/or get excited about yarn, projects, handmade gifts, or crocheting. That's the first thing, because if you allow brain-type things to head in that direction, you're screwed. First it's an experimental pair of fingerless gloves. Then it's FOUR more pair, and a newborn baby jackas- er, jacket. ((Freudian slip. He needs to come out about now.))
 The next thing you don't do is decide that you don't really need a pattern to make this bag, since nothing you've seen looks like the brain-type thing in your head, anyhow. You don't realize this is because you're hyped up on eggnog and pre-natals, not to mention the dreaded and highly controversial vitamin D-3. But seriously, why do you need a pattern?!  You've looked at a picture, figured that it was just a really long crocheted rectangle folded and stitched up the sides, leaving enough of a 'tab' at the top to be a fold-over flap. Simple, simple, simple. Who needs a pattern? Definitely not you. Never have, never will. R'something.
Then you definitely should not wonder halfway thru the monotony of crocheting thousands and thousands of camouflage stitches if you could change colors. You've never done THAT before... but it can't be hard, can it?  You tie off your work, loop up a new color, insert it into the next stitch, and voila! New color. Like... it's a stripey thing! Too kewl!!! Except I didn't really think about where it'd end up on the bag... and that's a really sucky place. Hrm. But if it were on the end of the flap... yes!
So the logical thing to do is continue your (not anywhere near long enough) rectangle bag down at the bottom... but don't do it. Because the bottom isn't crotcheted (did I just type 'crotch'? Tee-heeeeee....!!!), it's chained. Remember, you always start by chaining? Well, who cares... you can crochet into a chain - you're Anna. Invincible! So I crochet into the chain and... um... it leaves a kind of kewl but very NOT matching stitch pattern.
SO!? This is my 'trial' purse. That'll just... be the bottom. Yeah. It's different because that's where the purse will fold. See? It looks just fine folded that'a way. So you keep stitching and stitching and stitching...
Then you fold over the sides, stitch them up, and start considering what to do about a shoulder strap. Braid? No, that won't work. Macrame? Hrm, not thinking so, since the only weave I know is spiral. Crochet it is.
So then you start crocheting a long, long, LONG strip for the shoulder strap. And decide that the bag needs more color as you're stitching five, chain a turn around, stitching five, chain a turn around... and decide that the kewl holey patterns down either side of the strap could have colored yarn weaved thru them. And you do it But in your excitement, you stop making strap too early and have a shorter strap than you wanted. ((SIGH!!)) Okay... but the color's at least pretty...
 Then you DON'T look at the picture again, and say, hey, I can make a flower like that for the front! All they did was chain a line and stitch the thing down, then add a button for decoration. Because you have NO idea how long to chain, can't get yarn thru the button, and did I mention this is AFTER the bag's sides were sewn up, so it was harder to bring the needle in and out of the bag? ((Note to self: Put the flower on before you sew up the sides, next time!!))
 Anyhow, here's the finished project. I also made a headband/ear warmer to match (to stick in the bag) - it looks a lot like the strap - with the decorative stitching on either side? - only wider and sewed in a round shape. And Lydia's fingerless gloves are the rainbow colored thread, as well as her scarf (although I have to finish it by adding fringe... hopefully in alternating camo green and rainbow. But I'm really REALLLLLY close to being out of both, now...)
Yeah. So! Now I'm on to make three more. For the banshee trio. I didn't know what to do for X-mess for them, so I thought I'd make bags and matching headband/ear warmer things, and we could get a pack of crayons, a princess chapstick, a fold-up hairbrush, a pack of tic-tacs... little things to put in their bags so they have a lot to unwrap but it doesn't break the bank or anything. Shhh, don't tell!!
Also, Lydia has her gloves, and knows about the scarf, but hasn't seen this bag or her headband... and I'm going to give her the same kinds of things to put in it for her 'travel pack'. I'm pretty happy with how it came out, considering all the mistakes and hackage I committed on the poor thing. LoL!!
What do you think? Not too bad for an amateur that only knows one stitch and never uses patterns? ((My next little brain-type thing is to try skipping stitches to make a pattern in the rows...))
FIFTH DAY OF DECEMBER.
((Shabbat Shalom, oi vey, and all that jazz.))
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