Yarny Notes

I have always wanted to pen my thoughts down , from general everyday thoughts to specific yarn/crochet notes.

I have started and dropped off a few times in the past when writing became a chore rather than an enjoyable pastime. I am hoping that this time I would stick to it, fingers crossed!.

I had originally intended to start writing on Jan 1st 2022 but as you can see that didn’t happen:) Then it was waiting for the right moment , right date, right topic!!!

I am happy that I sat down with this today , the eve of Mother’s day here in the US, totally impromptu, to restart my blog.

When I had announced to my kids that I wanted to write, they were excited for me! My son’s reaction was ” Yes ma , go for it, just start writing” and my daughter was ” I bet it will be a best seller”.

I have to admit that after that initial euphoria I was dumbstruck with what to write about! Should I jump straight into my yarny tales or something more general. Shouldn’t it be an intro to myself ? After several days , it was my daughter who came to my help. She told me to write ” I am the Best Mom”!

I immediately recoiled!! What? what are you saying? I can’t write that! Then she explains ” Write that statement and say my kids think so”!!!!!

That comment touched me! I also realized that she didn’t say “you are the perfect mom” because there is no such thing as Perfect Mom! There is only the best version of yourself that you can give to your kids on any day.

So there you have it ” I am the Best Mom” and so are you , each and every one of you, who have ever nurtured , cared for another living being!

Happy Mother’s day to all!

If you have read all the way till here, I thank you !

I would love to end today’s post with a poem that my son wrote about me!

Ma

Part I

Half past five, the alarm blares boorish and loud,
With a groan she rises, joints screech in protest.
The house is silent, not a sound to be heard,
The children are asleep, her husband still snores.
She climbs down the stairs, half asleep,
Shuffles to the kitchen for her morning coffee.
Black elixir gives her strength to face the day,
As she thinks of food for her yammering brood.
She sips in silence, enjoying the peace,
A moment of calm before the incoming storm.

Part II

Quarter to seven, the kids are still asleep,
Breakfast is done, lunch is cooking.
She climbs up the stairs, sighing softly,
She yells from the door; they grunt in response.
She returns to her bedroom to wake up the man,
Prodding him until she receives a tart reply.
Picks out of his outfit, irons it expertly,
She climbs down the stairs, tuneless humming.

Part III

Half past seven and the kids are not ready,
Their bus arrives in ten, their breakfast lies uneaten.
She climbs up the stairs, with the face of Death,
One look at her and the gremlins scatter.
Five minutes later, bathed and fresh,
They clammer for food, they can’t find their clothes.
She climbs down the stairs, with kids in tow,
Scavenging homework and pencils from various nooks.
A last-minute project nearly gives her a stroke,
Biting her tongue, she shunts them out the door.
As the bus rolls up, she watches them clamber on,
She waits till they turn and shrink out of sight.
A small smile on her face as she closes the door,
But no time to reflect, the battle rages on.
One fire dealt with, another about to ignite,
Muffled yelling from her husband above.
For the next thirty minutes she worries and frets,
Searching for ties and documents and folders and belts.
Finally, it is done, her loving husband clothed and fed.
He rushes out the door, yelling a list of tasks.
Incredulous she questions, confused and irate,
But he’s already in the car and he’s running late.
She watches helpless as he waves goodbye,
Talking uselessly to herself as he speeds away.

Part IV

The house is silent, not a sound to be heard,
She lies dazed on the sofa; the struggle is over- for now.
She eats and naps, the children come home,
Bursting with energy, they rush to play.
Late in the evening, the man returns with their spawn,
A jolly family dinner before heading to bed.
She cleans up the kitchen, scrubs the dishes clean,
Relaxes with some fascinating reality TV.
She climbs up the stairs, half asleep,
Crawls into bed and begins to dream –
Of homework and ties and lunch and buses,
As she wakes up in a few hours, to do it all again.

Tales from my yarn basket