In my mind's eye, though, I harboured a secret vision of a fire blazing and my four daughters sitting around me knitting, sewing or writing, whilst I, a wise and gentle soul, dispensed advice when asked and otherwise quietly observed. This was obviously a fantasy. I am not gentle or wise. I dispense unrequested advice. I talk more than I listen. I wondered, too, whether I would have harboured such a vision if I'd had four boys instead of four girls?
In the intervening years of parenting, which included quite a bit of sewing and (attempts at) knitting with my kids, reality had also dawned. Trying to work on my own project whilst they worked on theirs would lead mostly to frustration. The constant rethreading, picking up dropped stitches, unpicking and tying off meant it was better not to kid myself that I was getting anything done myself. So the fantasy remained just that.
Grace started off making little bracelets but soon starting stitching a gift for our beloved Kim.
Ruby stitched her name. After a reasonable start she flirted with the false economy of giant stitches before realising the error of her ways. By the time she reached the 'y' she had really hit her stride and was regretting her dalliance with haste on the 'u'. Lily stitched 'things' and a great many of them. She was absolutely thrilled with herself.
|Cushion for Kim|
ps. And I remembered that last easter, when four of my nephews were staying with us, three of them spontaneously came and stitched with me, so I'd at least be in with a show of realising the same fantasy, regardless of the sex of my children.