Making Monday - and I make a blog post

It's been a while, and more than a while - seven months, in fact, and I can't make promises of amendment, say I'll be a regular blogger from now on, because all the various things that eat up my time are still there. Works is still there. The seventeen month old child is now a two year old, no less insane and even more energetic. And I've been busy making something else for the past 21 weeks:


Due somewhere in the general region of Easter, and one of the main reasons for my silence - it isn't the easiest of pregnancies. Nothing dangerous for either of us, just even more than the usual number of discomforts and inconveniences. I'm supposed to be in the blooming middle months now, but what with the never-ending sickness meeting the breathlessness of the last months, the only blooming I feel is blooming tired, and I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that women of five foot nothing probably shouldn't get pregnant.

There has been knitting too, of course. Various small things, various slightly larger things for a child who seems able to grow an inch in a week (she's 2'10" already, which is well over half my height). Mostly, however, I want to show off my Big Jumper. Way back in the spring, round about when I last managed to write a post for this neglected blog, I got hooked by The Killing on BBC4. Like half of Ravelry, I wanted a jumper like Sarah Lund's.

Only not quite the same, because although I frequently forget just how short I am, I didn't think three broad horizontal stripes would do much for me. So I trawled through hundreds of patterns, and finally came up with a free one from Drops that was cosy and Nordic and everything I wanted.

And promptly cast on the wrong size, because as well as thinking I'm taller than I am, I also think I'm bigger. I kept on knitting and hoping, and in the end it's worked out very well, because how else would I have fitted into it at five months pregnant?
Please excuse the expression, I'm trying to look serious and thoughtful and not at all as if I've forgotten both my NHS-issue support belt and my packet of paracetamol and the effort of standing up is beginning to catch up with me. It's a lovely big cosy jumper, I feel warm all over for the first time in a couple of months, and I may take up residence in it all winter.