The story of three irish girls… a fairy tale. Chapter 12.
Sunday, July 5, 2009 at 3:46PM Read the previous chapter here.
When a son was born that spring amidst a colossal thunderstorm, everyone -- including the girl -- was surprised to see just how hefty he was. Ten pounds, with rolls of chub and fuzzy blonde hair.
The days blurred past, as they do for all new mothers, and the healthy boy grew bigger still. Light blue eyes took the place of newborn grey. Nighttime feedings were tended to. Laughs were induced, chairs were rocked.
Knitting became a daily ritual -- she found she could sneak in a few stitches while her son waved his little arms and legs in the baby seat next to her. She made many mistakes. The importance of not binding off a neckline too tightly cannot be overstated. She also discovered the importance of gauge, as a sweater knit for her niece grew to enormous proportions. (No, bulky yarn cannot be swapped straight out for a DK weight.) She knit for her own son, her relatives, her friend's children.
As her knitting skill grew, so too did the demand for her work. Friends began requesting items: a red sweater for a baby whose gender was still unknown. A lightweight go-with-everything cardigan for a preschooler. A wrap dress for a family photo. She found knitting to be the perfect complement to nearly everything -- portable, satisfying, and with the right pillows and a little practice, something she could do during the many hours a day spent nursing.
One of the recipients of her knitting benefaction was a friend, a talented graphic designer. The designer wrote to the girl many times, imploring her to start a business knitting for children. "The market is there," she said. "I can help you build a website." A seed was planted, and though the girl did her best to ignore the tiny, unfurling shoots, the seed took root and grew.
A simple site was commissioned and assembled, resulting in a circular aqua logo, lavender navigation buttons outlined in tiny white stitches, and a pale yellow-green background color. The girl busied herself knitting items for sale in her new store. Her market research told her that the greatest demand for handknit childrenswear was in wool pants and soakers, which were again enjoying a resurgence as more parents chose eco-friendly cloth diapers.
She devised and tested her own patterns, often employing detailed cable motifs in her designs. She sourced a variety of untreated wools, trying to find those most suitable for babies with delicate skin.
Then, the unrelenting fatigue of a second pregnancy.
The website languished, as the girl had no energy, no desire to do anything other than sleep, play with her baby, and eat. The heat of the Southern summer was oppressive, despite central air conditioning. The swollen ankles, the active two year old, the fatigue, the exhaustion, the sleepiness. The only relief was a friend's swimming pool, where the girl felt weightless and cool for a few brief moments.
A break in the July humidity and smog brought with it a new baby girl. This one smaller than her predecessor -- a peanut at only eight and half pounds. She was delicious and lusty and angelic. Her big brother, now a walking, talking being, tried hard to make her laugh, only to be disappointed to find that new babies neither run about, nor laugh, nor do they enjoy tickling.
Knitting time abounded as the now-practiced mother deftly maneuvered both the baby and the needles for the many feedings newborns require each day. The little seed, once sprouted, began to grow again. She knit booties and hats and sweaters and jackets for her two darling children, and squeezed in some items for the store she intended to open.
Finally, in November of 2004, she believed herself to be ready. She lacked photographic know-how, but tried her best to accurately depict the garments she carefully made. She sent out announcements to her friends, hoping they would tell some of their friends. She thought to herself, If I can sell one item in the first week, I'll be happy. When the site finally pushed live, she was stunned to see that most of her items sold out in one afternoon, and that her inbox was stuffed with emails from people looking for custom orders. Within the week, she had not only sold all of her items, but had accrued a custom order waiting list at least eighteen months long.
Custom orders were a joy and a trial. She loved consultations, loved helping parents pick out the components of a family heirloom. Would it be a dress? A sweater? What color will it be? What will it look like? Then, the hard part: knitting the garment hoping against hope that the client loved it.
A sampling of the girl's early work in knitting. (Her lack of photographic skill will now be evident.)
Felted bunny slippers (Yes, those are hand-embroidered features):
A yellow soaker with seed stitch heart cables:
A felted soaker with embroidered hearts and a snap down rise to accommodate growth:
More cabled hearts:
A wrap sweater in pale gray-blue with salmon pink accents:
And modeled by the new owner:
Some simple booties:
Some cabled pants:
The girl loved these green booties:
A cream cotton sweater with handknit flowers:
A sailboat vest:
A soaker with a Celtic knot encircling the hips:
A closeup of a sea-life themed garment with a hand-crocheted and felted sea turtle:
Ruffle capris with a detachable flower pin:
Polka dot pants:
Cloche with detachable flower pin:
Pink Maryjane booties:
Red and orange wrap sweater with leaf and vine pattern:
And a matching hat with felted blossom:
Red sweater:
A cabled dress:
One custom knitting client wanted an autumnal-themed sweater for her daughter. She had a very clear picture of what she wanted in her mind, and the girl spent hours exhausting every yarn shop on the web looking for the perfect hand dyed yarn in the right shades.
She finally presented her client with a final option. "I'm really sorry we haven't been able to find the yarn you're looking for," she wrote. "We can continue looking until the perfect thing pops up, I can return your deposit, we could try to find someone to custom dye the yarn, or I could try to dye the yarn you want. (Although I can't guarantee my results.)"
Stunningly, the client chose the last option. "I have confidence in your artistic eye and ingenuity," she wrote back to the girl.
"I really REALLY can't make any promises," the girl replied, "But I will do my best."
Reader Comments (10)
Ouuu! So that's how it came about! Love it!
Isn't it amazing how life unfolds!!
yay, yay, yay. A new chapter! I love reading about your life. And I can only hope to be able to knit so many wonderful things... maybe for some grandchildren soon.
:-)
So that's how it all began! I'm really enjoying the story of your life. Great knitting projects, despite your "lack of photographic ability".
And a Yarnista is born.....
Oooh, how exciting!!!
(and I want those ruffled carpi's with the flower on the hip! lol)
As usual I am loving this story and look forward to the continuance.
As a new mom and knitter, I would love to know exactly how you worked out nursing and knitting. I haven't had a chance to touch my knitting since the baby got here.
More!!! I really am enjoying reading your story. I read it all at once this weekend and now I'm anxious to find out more!
More please. I also lived through 9-11 in a scary area too close for comfort. Keep going. I am ready for another mountain-top moment!