I’ma claw my eyes out!

Argh!!!!

Seriously, folks. I’ve been working on a crocheted jumper for Granota for a year and a half now. I can’t even count how many times I’ve made it, only to have to tear out rows upon rows of work. It began as a Tunisian crochet project. I was just learning, but it didn’t look terribly difficult. After several months’ worth of false starts, I finally came to the realization that 1) Tunisian crochet is slow and 2) my child would outgrow the jumper before I had even finished it. I think I’ll save Tunisian work for items where growth spurts are not an issue. Like pillows.

A very nice swatch of Tunisian crochet that no longer exists.

I couldn’t completely abandon the project, though, because Granota knew I was making it. Silly me, I had made a big deal about the yarn when I bought it because it was called “Cuddle Muffin,” which was her nickname as a baby. I tried to convince her that maybe a sweater would be nice to have instead of a jumper (pinafore, UK readers). No dice. She asks me everyday, “Are you done with my Cuddle Muffin dress yet?” And if she sees me crocheting anything else (which is merely for my own sanity’s sake), she demands to know, “Why aren’t you making my Cuddle Muffin dress?!” Tiny tyrant!

For some reason, once I switched over to regular crochet, I combined a couple of patterns and then made up a fair amount of stuff as I went along. It was ok, though, because I wrote myself little notes on a slip of paper so that I would be able to replicate it when I did the front of the jumper. I failed to take into account that I have three small children who are intensely fascinated by my crochet stuff. That combined with their compulsion to liberally distribute my books and other belongings all over the living room resulted in a lost slip of paper with helpful notes on it.

Of course, I couldn’t remember what stitches or hook sizes I used on the skirt. Multiple test runs followed before I finally figured it out. For the love. Then came the waist decrease where helpful notes would have been really, y’know, helpful. Stitch three rows. Rip them out. Stitch three rows with a variation. Tear those out, too. I lost count of how many times I attempted that. In the end, it doesn’t exactly match the back piece, but it’s pretty close. At that point, I was willing to accept “pretty close.” Since then, I’ve been agonizing over the bodice. I think we’re going on three weeks now of that same ol’ song of Crochet half of it, then tear it out again. Swing your partner round and round.

Name that stitch.

I just want to be done. I thought I was almost done Sunday night. Then Monday morning, I laid out the front piece against the back piece and saw that I was, in fact, about to start completely over. {whimper} My grandpa teases my grandma, saying that she doesn’t use up yarn, she just wears it out. I told her that I must have inherited that gene. I hate this project now. Really loathe it. But I can’t stop because I’m bound by a promise to a sweet little girl.