One of my most vivid childhood memories is watching my mom knit and crochet. She was forever in the middle of some yarn-based project and would weave and spin (or whatever it is you do) those needles in a way I found fascinating. Her fingers flew and in what seemed like 47 seconds, she would make a scarf or hat or blanket. It was pretty freaking impressive.

I honestly don’t know where most of them went because I don’t remember ever wearing or using any of what she crafted. I do have 2 blankets and my husband, daughter, and I all have a scarf now but as a kid? Nothing. Maybe I remember a sweater but I could be making that up. (Except the itching part. I know I’m not making that up. Whoever made that sweater used the itchiest material known to man.)

She never taught me how to do it because I  never asked. I’m not exactly what you call crafty. In fact, I’m whatever the opposite of crafty is. Always have been. So I would watch in awe, be completely mesmerized/impressed and then I would move on, probably to a book. Then, about 5 years ago, I found out that my sisters and my cousins were learning to knit and crochet. I was pissed because I could not be left out. I needed to join the yarn party.

Except there was a problem. Remember how I said I’m not crafty? I neglected to mention that I am also completely lacking in the hand-eye coordination department. It’s quite sad, actually. And to knit, you need hand-eye coordination. So when I asked my mom to teach me, she looked at me skeptically, knowing my deficiency, but being the great mom she is, said yes.

Hooray for me! I was so excited for all the scarves I was going to make. And blankets (I am a blanket hoarder. We’ll talk about this another day). And I’d be so busy knitting and crocheting while I watched TV, I wouldn’t even think about snacking! I’d lose so much weight! How could I not win in this scenario?

The next time we visited, my mom brought me some yarn, a crochet hook, and some knitting needles. We won’t discuss the crocheting because that was a horrendous experiment that ended with my mother telling me that she didn’t understand how my left-handed sisters (both of my sisters are left-handed) could follow her right-handed directions and I couldn’t (I’m a righty). That conversation ended with me throwing down the crochet hook in disgust and swearing I would never try again. Maybe I almost cried, too.

After I calmed down, she said we would try knitting. I said okay. I picked up the needles. Then this happened:

Mom gives some directions about getting the yarn on the needles

Me: Look! I did it! (yarn promptly unravels) I guess not.

Mom instructs me to try again. Talks to me slower, like I’m a kindergartner.

Me: I did it again! (yarn comes off the needles again) Wait, no I didn’t.

This happens approximately 3 more times. My mom takes yarn and needles from me and does the first few stitches because even my preschool teacher mother has limits on her patience.

Me: Can you show me how you did that? I really want to learn.

Mom obliges, using second set of needles.

Me: I still don’t understand.

My mother is now visibly frustrated. Mutters something along the lines of “what is the matter with you?” and tells me to just practice doing stitches with what she started.

Me: Um…what do I do again? I don’t remember.

Mom gives side eye look to my father and my husband, both of whom are looking on with amusement and just a hint of fear given the proximity of needles to my face. She tries for what proves to be the final time to explain how to do a stitch.

I do what I think is right. I am very proud and it only took 5 minutes to do the one stitch. I say: I think I got it! I did a stitch! And I didn’t poke myself in the eye!

Mom inspects the fruits of my labor. I, in fact, did not do anything resembling a correct knitting stitch. My mother can’t take it anymore, I’m pissed at my lack of ability to do something I’ve seen 6 year olds do, and swear off knitting for the rest of my life.  My mother (and husband and father) agree this is best for everyone.

Up until the beginning of this project, not knowing how to knit sat just fine with me. The danger, frustration, and mockery involved isn’t worth it. But pioneers knew how to do that stuff so I’m going to force myself to learn (because authenticity). My mom did buy me some sort of knitting loom thing and I’m actually getting the hang of that so all is not lost. I’m hoping by next winter I’ll be able to make scarves, hats, and maybe pot holders using the loom (I still agree that maybe needles aren’t for me. Too large and pointy).

I won’t push my luck on the hats and pot holders. Or even multiple scarves. One is success enough.