Crochet...Or Why I do What I do...

This post is dedicated to my great-grandmother. Even though its been a decade since I've seen her face, heard her voice, or held her hand, not a day goes by that I don't think of her, miss her and love her.
Gladys M. Boatright--1911-2003

I catch a lot of flack about the fact that I am only 24 and I crochet. Honestly, people think its absolutely hilarious that I have the patience to sit down and do something so tedious and not complain about the fact that I look like an elderly woman in the process. Crochet isn't something that is generally associated with people my age. And when it is, its usually being laughed at because it has been a holiday gift from a grandmother. Which brings me to why I do it.

I lived with my grandmother and my great-grandmother, for a large part of my childhood. I can remember everyday, my great-grandmother, well into her 80's, laying in bed, just crocheting away. There would be skeins of yard spread everywhere, a pattern that had been moved and read to the point of being wrinkled and the 'squeak' of yarn being pulled over the hook. That was one of the only things I knew was constant in my life. I knew that whenever I wanted to see her, I could go into her room and she'd clear off a spot on the bed for me to sit and watch.

My Great-Grandmother--circa 1920-30

I tried to learn a few times, but, being young, I never quite got the hang of it. My mother did, to a degree, but I've only seen her make one item before putting it away.

Sadly, Grandma passed on in 2003. With her death, I had no one left in my family to teach me to create the beautiful items that she used to make. No one had the knowledge of the different stitches, how to keep the yarn tension just right, how to call out my mistakes and show me how to fix them. I gave up on ever learning. I didn't know anyone else that had the skill, patience, or joy to show me how.

After I got married in 2006, my step-mother-in-law lost her job at the restaurant she was working at. While she was in the process of looking for another line of work, she picked up a few different craft items to try her hand at. After she went back to work, she passed the crochet items she had bought on to me. There was one skein of bubblegum pink yarn and a starter kit of hooks, with an instructional book. I gave it a try, but reading something in a book and making your hands do what is pictured is two different things altogether, so I put it in storage and didn't think about it again.

Last year, my husband and I were cleaning out our shed, and I came across my crochet hooks and yarn, but never found the book. This time I was determined to learn, determined to make sure that my great-grandmother's skill wasn't buried away with her forever. I was like a madwoman, furiously searching for anything online to teach me. I finally came across this series of videos. Finally, something just 'clicked' in my brain. I understood it, but more so, I felt a connection to my grandmother that I missed out on while she was alive. I was inspired and I was happy. After spending insane amounts of money on different crafts, just to toss them to the wayside when they bored me, I had found my forte. I still couldn't read a pattern though. All the abbreviations boggled my mind. Finally, I found a pattern with as many different basic stitch abbreviations that I could. I spent an entire afternoon writing out the pattern, without abbreviations, by hand. After that, I had the abbreviations memorized, and I still maintain that is the best way to figure out how to read crochet patterns.

At first I started with simple things, a cloth here, a few rows of practice stitches there. Then I discovered amigurumi (if you want to know more about it click here). I was, pardon the pun, hooked. For the next year, I created lots and lots of stuffed animals, and still do. I have friends constantly trading/buying them from me, and my confidence in my work continues to grow, especially now that I have learned how to create my own patterns. But, still, something didn't feel quite right. Grandma never made stuffies, she made beautiful blankets and pillows. I had yet to commit to such a large project.

When I found out I was pregnant with Baby Monkey, I knew I had to make something special for my little girl. Something that connected the generations of my family. I had made a quilt for Little Monkey out of his baby clothes, but this was a different feeling. Like I HAD to make it. Weird, I know.

After searching online for weeks, I finally found the perfect pattern for a blanket. And it was big enough for her to keep her blanket for as long as she wants without outgrowing it. So, now, here I sit, crocheting my heart out and my fingers to the bone to finish her blanket before she arrives, which could be anytime in the next 3 weeks. I KNOW I'll get it finished, but I will admit its challenging. I wouldn't have it any other way though.

One of 30 squares I'm making. Its a lot, but so, so worth it! 

Today, I had a friend over, who had been interested in learning to crochet. I was self-taught, so I doubted my ability to teach her. I did my best though, and I am proud to say that she picked it up very quickly. We worked through a few different stitches and chaining, turning, all the basics. She made the cutest little apron for her daughter's dolls. I am so happy to know that I've been able to give a part of my knowledge to someone else, to see them smile and learn a new skill, and especially for being able to teach someone my age something that is so out of the norm for our generation.

Adorable, and she did awesome for never having picked up a hook before.

I sincerely hope that I've made Grandma smile. I hope that even though she may not be here any longer, that where ever she is, I've made her proud, knowing that at least one person in my family was determined to pass on her wisdom and skill, that she learned from her mother as well. Yes, to most it might just be a silly craft project, but to me, its a part of who I am and a part of the women in my family. A common bond that we all share. And it is my sincerest hope that one day, I'll be able to teach my daughter the same; that one day, I'll be that elderly woman, in bed, skeins of yarn all around, scooting them out of the way to make room for my grandaughter to sit with me as well.