When I was a teenage girl, the late night news show in St. Louis, Missouri would open with the phrase, "Its 10 o'clock. Do you know where your kids are?" What did my mother do on the nights I pressed curfew to the very last second? She waited up for me and played with yarn. She sat quietly and made afghans. I used to think she was upset at my coming in late, but now I'm starting to see things a bit differently. Perhaps she was more upset my presence reminded her it was time to put down the project and go to bed.
Mother and I are both notorious Night Owls. We are both highly creative, and sedentary and pear shaped. On a recent visit home we working on our yarn projects after dinner. I insisted it was high time to turn in until I just about passed out from fatigue at 2am. Would she have gone on talking until the sun came up? I'll never know, but my suspicions say, "Most probably". How in the world does she do it? No, really, I'm asking because I want to learn how to craft on little to no sleep. I ripped out half of what I knit that night, but doubt my mother had to do any ripping. What gives? Did I give her the endurance way back when I was in high school?
Admittedly, I find my brain needs to be calmed by yarn slipping through my fingers at times. Well, most of the time. Even if the day has not been especially taxing, knitting helps my brain process through and file away the day's happenings. Mom most likely had quite a few things to think about while she crocheted too. Would she have time to hang the laundry out before going to work in the morning? Did she remember to put milk on the shopping list? What was she going to say when I got home? What did her mother do when she kept her up waiting when she was young? What if she painted all the rooms in the house green? (She eventually did.) I could really crush some brownies right now. No, wait, that's my own thought. I seriously doubt my mother ever "crushed" anything.
Right now it is after midnight and I haven't even picked up my knitting needles today, erhm, yesterday I mean. Instead, I'm going to go to bed and hope the day doesn't creep over into my dreams. It would be awful to spend those hours cleaning houses and grocery shopping in my dreams, especially because my brain likes to mess with me. Undoubtedly I'll end up in some mortifying situation that feels real and yet not at the same time. Perhaps it would be safer to knit a bit, organize my thoughts and pretend to be my mother. The cat can amble in late and I will be forced to put my project down and go to bed. The little stinker better get here soon because I don't think I have the same endurance my mother does. It's really going to be a bummer ripping out all those stitches later.