Can she really make a blanket? (6/6/05)

My daughter is pregnant at long last. To prepare for the upcoming infant I have decided to crochet a baby blanket. There is only one problem. I don’t crochet.

I have made two crocheted afghans in my life. Both of them have wavy edges because I can’t tell exactly where one row ends and the other begins despite having clear directions — complete with pictures — of how to complete the project.

One of the ladies at work makes beautiful baby blankets so I asked her to show me how to make one like she does. Maralene graciously showed me how to do the stitches and how to read the pattern which she scribbled on a piece of note paper.

I watched her fingers fly as she demonstrated the technique. I tried a few awkward stitches and she said I had the hang of it.

She was wrong.

I honestly thought I was following her directions. The only problem was the blanket-to-be started looking more and more like a hat the further I went. I considered giving up on the blanket idea. If I had continued for a few more rows it would have gone from being a hat to turning into a misshapen sack or maybe even a ball. Having the cat try to help didn’t make things any easier.

I finally admitted defeat and asked for assistance. After Maralene finished laughing —which took a very long time —she proceeded to unravel each and every stitch I had so carefully put in. She again demonstrated the proper way to create a blanket out of a ball of yarn. I dutifully watched and scribbled directions. Time will tell if I end up making yet another hat or if this time the thing will turn into abstract art. I have until January to figure it out.

My grandmother used to crochet all the time. I have a huge piece she did of the Lord’s prayer. It is at least three feet across and taller than I am. It is exquisitely done. The edges are perfectly straight. I also have a bedspread she crocheted. It is lacy and weighs a ton.

Whenever I would ask her to teach me how to crochet she would try, then declare that she couldn’t teach me anything because I was backward (meaning left-handed).

I would then ask my mother to show me. I was again pronounced unteachable and backward so I would give up and go play. I would dress my dolls in the hundreds of crocheted dresses that my mother made while knowing that I could never make such creations as easily as she did. We repeated this procedure many times over the course of my childhood. The result is that I have a vague idea of the process but no actual ability to create anything that resembles whatever it is that I am trying to make.

Fast forward several decades. I am determined to make this blanket. I wind the yarn around my fingers. I insert the crochet hook into what I think is the proper opening. I complete the stitch then unravel it because it doesn’t look right. I consult my notes. Gracie, the cat, jumps into my lap. She thinks the yarn is for her. I know this cat. She tends to bite embroidery thread in half and I have no doubt that she will do the same with purple yarn given half a chance.

I stop to pet her and remove the yarn from her mouth. I complete another stitch except that now there is a white cat hair in the middle of the stitch. I unravel it again and tease Gracie with the crochet hook. I hope the new baby-to-be isn’t allergic to cats. I put the whole mess away and study the directions some more.

I will undoubtedly consult Maralene many more times before this is over. But I am determined to make a blanket for this baby. It is what is expected of a grandmother. Someday, if the new addition to our family will let me, I will teach her or him how to make the things that I make and do the things that I do. Even if the first results are less than perfect I will never tell the child that that he or she is backwards and unteachable. After all, few, if any, people achieve perfection on the first try.[[In-content Ad]]