Crochet
I first tried to learn how to crochet in high school. My mom was teaching me, and it did not end well. Tears and hysteria, mainly, is what I recall. I was not good at it immediately, and that made me angry, and so of course like any good teenager, I quit. Years later, I had a friend who tried to teach me how again. This time I was diligent. I was pregnant with Hanna and so sick and uncomfortable (hernia, anyone?) and Hallie was just a year old and so the only thing connecting me to my sanity was practicing crochet. I remember sitting on that couch, stitching and stitching and stitching but it was never to my satisfaction, in fact the only thing I could make were lumpy triangles and so I would pull all the yarn out and start again. And again. And again. Then Hanna was born and I put it all aside once more, almost deciding that crochet was not for me. I had tried it, I had given it a fair shot, and I had failed. I moved on with life. ...