Month: July 2018

Each crochet blanket I make has it’s own story. Each blanket is made with so much love. I get a lot of enjoyment from creating a masterpiece that hopefully will bring joy to someone else.

The waffle blanket came about as I was just getting back into crocheting. It had been a while since I last crocheted (reminds me of confession) and I had decided to have a look on You Tube to see if there was anything new on there that I could try out. The waffle stitch looked so much like a real waffle that I really needed to try it out. My love of food obviously influencing my creative flow.

Lisa and I both tried the waffle stitch. It was pretty tricky to get the hang of. I started many times, pulled apart many times, tried all over again until I finally felt I had mastered the waffle stitch and then decided to make a blanket. For some reason I didn’t make squares. Instead I ended up with rectangles. But they didn’t look too bad so I went with it. I didn’t work too fast on this blanket because at the very beginning I wasn’t sure who I was making this blanket for. I just enjoyed the feel of the waffle stitch so I kept making the rectangles.

Lisa (my sister) was making her own waffle rectangles for her own blanket, Natalya (her daughter, my niece) was also helping. Lisa would look over mine and ooh and aah and it became obvious that the waffle blanket should be hers. Only I didn’t want to tell her, I wanted it to be a surprise. I love surprising people.

The waffle blanket really became a labour of love. I would take my crochet basket everywhere with me. I could crochet anywhere. I didn’t care if people stared. I didn’t care if the kids were embarrassed. If I was going somewhere, my crocheting was coming too! Soon people came to expect I would just turn up with my crochet basket in hand.

Whilst making this blanket I overcame some hard times, some real struggles.

I first started making waffle rectangles in May 2016. Shahni left for Brazil in August that same year. Zeb had just been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue. I had left my job at Idea Services (full time, permanent) to start a fixed term, part time position at Cobham School. Zeb needed me at home. I spent many hours sitting at the doctors with Zeb or at A&E, depending what was happening. There were visits to the paediatrician, CAMHS, the dietician, radiology … seemingly endless amount of visits. And all through this to keep me focussed, keep me calm, keep me from crying, keep everyone from seeing how scared I was … I crocheted … I “waffled” on. It truly was my sanity.

I crocheted at everyone’s house. Lisa, Glenda, Mum, Donna & Mathieu, Lizzie, Caro, Sandy & Dennis … they all knew to expect me to arrive basket in hand. I took my crochet to coffee, dinner, lunch … I drew the line at Speedway though. There was no way I was getting all that dust in my crocheting. I even gave lessons … Mia, Donna, India, Louise, Eilish … the more the merrier.  The waffle blanket was very popular. What I loved the most was that everyone knew the waffle blanket was for Lisa, except Lisa.

The waffle blanket took over at home too. The bedroom, the lounge, the couches especially … no where was crochet-free. Okay maybe the garage but like the speedway, there was no way I was letting my wool be around dirty, dusty, oily stuff … no way!

Every night I would spend some time crocheting. It helped me to relax, wind down, remove myself from reality a little. A saviour when we had so much upheaval and uncertainty around us.

And then something else happened. Carla was killed. I can’t write about how that day unfolded. Not in this blog. I will eventually though. I came unraveled. Just how I would unravel a crochet square because I had made a mistake or it wasn’t quite right, my mind unraveled just like that. Nothing made sense anymore. I was so sad. My mind just wouldn’t “unsee”. I needed to heal and what got me through was my crocheting.  In every aspect it was therapeutic, it got me through.  I had to see people, talk to people and each time I took my crocheting.  Sometimes I think I used the crocheting as a barrier between me and the real world but at the end of the day it started conversation, kept my mind busy, let me think, was a creative outlet and mostly it let me produce something that had so much love poured into it for someone else.

This waffle blanket was made with so much love.  It was only right that I give it to the one person in my life that deserves all that love.  I can only hope it brings her as much joy as it brought me.  I love you Lis!

Shahni was 2 years old when her dad and I separated.  So her childhood memories are of going between houses, different rules at each house, the introduction of a step-mother or step-father, step-siblings … it was confusing, upsetting, scary and traumatic. And yet, I always tell people that my children had a good, sound, stable up-bringing. Who am I kidding?

Shahni is one of nine children … in the bigger scheme of things.  She has an older half-brother, whom I’ve always tried to encourage her to have contact with.  Now she is almost 20 I don’t have to do that. She does it on her own. Their bond is strong and I love that. That was what I always wanted for her.  She also has two older step-siblings as her dad married after our separation.  Then there are her younger siblings – two half-brothers and a half-sister – that I gifted her.  It really is a tangled little of web of family.  (Just in here, I say half-siblings, but I NEVER and Shahni has NEVER referred to them as half.   They are all brothers and sisters – whanau, whanau).  And then … but wait there is more …  there are two older step-sisters that have been added to our family tree (forest) from my current partner.

Yes, a sound, stable up-bringing I tell you!

Then there is Noah, India and Zeb. They all have the same dad, but different to Shahni.  Their dad has remarried, introducing two step-brothers.  Again, memories of a childhood packing bags, going in between houses, getting used to different sets of rules, a custody battle – not quite the memories you want your children to hang onto.

And of course, there is my partner with his 2 daughters.  Oh the tangled web we weave.

It is timely to now say that my Mum had 3 children. Neil, Lisa and myself.  We all have different fathers.  My brother was the only child from our Mum and his dad.  My sister was also the only child from our Mum and her dad, but has 3 step-siblings.  (In a little twist there are half-siblings but that is a whole new story, new can of worms, yet another tangled, woven web).  And then there is me, 5 half-siblings, all older than me on my Dad’s side. One half-sister, just a month older than me.  So, all the cliches come to me here … “history repeats” … “apple never falls far from the tree” … and so on and so forth.

I only ever wanted to give my children a “sound, stable up-bringing”.  In my mind, I was going to marry, have children, buy a house, get a dog and have the family wagon … white picket fence and all the trimmings.  That was my ideal.  That was what I thought a “sound, stable, up-bringing” should be.  My ideal was shattered with domestic violence, alcohol and drug abuse, extra-marital affairs, pornography and sex addictions, depression, suicide, divorce.  Things I never thought of when creating my ideal in my head.  It turns out my ideal was not at all reality.  It was all “pie in the sky” stuff.  It’s what goes on behind that white picket fence that all too often those on the outside don’t get to see.  The stuff that gets swept under the carpet and never spoken about.

So, like my own Mum, wahine toa, I went out on my own and did my damndest to give my beautiful children the upbringing they deserved.  To feel safe, secure, loved, surrounded by people that love, respect and cherish them.  Because let’s face it, they may not have grown up with both of their parents in the same household but they grew up knowing they were loved by many … it takes a village to raise a child.  This tangled web I wove was not always the best choice, it wasn’t my ideal and sometimes I find myself thinking it was my mistake … all in all  … their childhood was what it was.  We have 1000’s of great memories.  These children are fabulous, somewhat quirky and clued up.  I can only hope they go out into the big wide world and do great things.