House Of Sorensens

Have a Beautiful Fall Weekend!

2013-09-27T08:21:00.000-07:00

* A Glamorous Yet Understated Brooklyn Brownstone via {this is glamorous}

Morning Y'all! No word on whether my friend Theresa will be coming to live with me, but I, at least, planted the seed. She would definitely be an investment piece, but I really love her so we'll see. The gorgeous image above is definitely feeding my Fall fancy for chocolate and white (chocolate is really a much more decadent and sophisticated word for brown don't ya think?).

I will be traveling with two little ones on a plane this weekend so wish me luck!

Enjoy these links!

From Monday's Moodboard: These Paisley Pillows & This Fabulous Artist

This month's issue of Rue Magazine is really good

Loving this little outdoor moment

Why moms want to gobble up cute babies

According to this article, I am a drunk astronaut

Pink for Fall

Antelope for Less - Yes!

LOL: What Happens When You Send Your Kid To Preschool for the First Time

A Gorgeous Conservatory Dining Room in Manhattan

Navy Velvet Sofas

A Heavenly Bathroom

This post on a fabulous Dallas Architect made me homesick

6 Words to Say to Your Child

Antiquing

2013-09-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

Y'all, I'm out at my favorite antique shop and every time I'm here I see this girl and want to bring her home with me. I think it's the way she looks like she's judging you, even though she takes care of sheep for a living. She owns it. I really want to bring her home with me. Maybe she can be my homegirl in a house full of boys. Like don't mess with Theresa (I just named her that), she'll cut you.

Have I totally lost my mind? Do you like her? Do I need to get more sleep?

Antidepressants, Side Effects, and Some Lip Waxing

2013-09-25T14:01:00.000-07:00

I don't normally respond to the negative emails. They're pretty few and far between these days. But one I received this week bothered me, mostly because I hope it isn't true. She said that I presented an unrealistic portrait of antidepressants, that I didn't do a good job of sharing their side effects.

I'd like to go on record as saying that I always respond as truthfully and in detail to anyone who emails me with questions about antidepressants (or as my friend K.D. Reep calls them her "anti-hitting people pills"). Yes. There are side effects. Yes. When you begin taking them you won't feel so hot for a while. And yes. If you decide to stop taking them, you have to wean very, very slowly to avoid more side effects.

But here's the thing. In this life we subject our bodies to many uncomfortable things, things that bring reward in the end. Let's take a look at my short list.

1. Tweazing our eyebrows. Or waxing our eyebrows. Or anything eyebrow related. But we do it. We maintain those suckers. Why? Because no matter how cool she was, not one of us wants to look like Frida Khalo's less creative relative. Not even if we get one of those cool flower wreaths for our hair. Not even then.

2. And while we're on the topic of hair, why stop at the eyebrows? Why not just address hair removal as a whole. Legs. Arms. Faces. Other locals I shall not mention. We tweeze, pluck, pull, thread, wax and it all hurts. It hurts like the dickens. And what a waste of time! It's all time we could have been using to watch the latest episode of Breaking Bad, or leaning on the kitchen counter eating ice cream. But we like the reward. We like not looking like a pioneer woman with a 5 o'clock shadow.

3. Shopping for jeans. This doesn't necessarily cause physical discomfort, but it feels like a branding iron on the old ego. Shopping for jeans for those of us who have had children and don't run marathons or skirt the edges of an eating disorder is like trying to find the most flattering brand of cling wrap. But we do it. Why? Not because it's fun, but because we don't want to be arrested for public nudity because we didn't have a pair of jeans. And also because our great aunt will write about it in her Christmas news letter.

4. Working out. The sweat. The muscle craps. The chaffing. The horrendous moment when you're running and you think, "Eh. I should not have eaten that plate full of broccoli for lunch." Let's face it. 99% of us would much rather be taking a nap, eating a bowl full of sugary cereal, or reading a book. But we still work out. Why? Lots of reasons. Blood pressure. Longevity. The above mentioned jean shopping. We don't like it, but we like the reward, so we do it.

5. Childbearing. This is the queen mother. This is the thing we do to ourselves voluntarily that is unthinkable. We vomit. We lay in bed with exhaustion. We gain weight. Our ankles get huge. Our hormones take over to the point that *we* watch National Velvet and end up screaming at the screen, "RUN YOU LAZY B#ST*RD, RUN! And of course by we, I mean me. Then, when we've reached the size of a beached whale, and our hip bones actually expand wider, we give birth. I could resurrect the old "watermelon through a hole the size of a lemon" simile but you've heard it. But we do it. We do it because it brings new life, it brings family, it brings love so big it makes our hearts feel like they might explode.

In summation, yes, perhaps my cart ran away with the horses a bit in this blog post. I blame National Velvet. But I'm trying to make a very important point. Yes, side effects are real. But when compared to the things we voluntarily do to ourselves on a daily basis... it's not that big of a deal. And more importantly, when you compare those side effects with DAILY MENTAL HEALTH AND PEACE... it's not much of an excuse.

Antidepressants saved my life. I'll go way out on a limb here and say that they may have saved my marriage (or at least made it a heck of a lot more happy than it was before). They make me a better mother. They keep my anxiety disorder in check.

Like waxing my lip, or working out, or having Jane... it's worth it.

Brown & White (omg)

2013-09-25T07:59:00.000-07:00

I always make these bold proclamations like: "I'm just not a brown person" or "I hate orange and black (ahem Halloween)." Then I inevitably see something that I love that completely contradicts what I just declared.

Exhibit A.

This pillow from Pottery Barn.

It's brown and white. The Suze and I popped into Pottery Barn yesterday, and for some reason, this pillow caught my eye. I kinda want to go back and get it. It's really pretty in person. I've spent the better part of my four years of marriage eradicating the color brown from our decor, so you can imagine Kip's shock (and subsequent high-five) when I told him I wanted to do brown and white in the new library we are building. I know, "quelle horreur!" But it's my vision.

So ya, the library. We are in the early stages, but we're planning to
make the formal living room into a cozy wood-paneled library so Kip can
realize his manly dream of having walls of wood and a leather chair.
And really, I want him to have it. He deserves it. I also happen to love the look of
lots of white linen with brown brought in by natural elements like wood
and leather.

I'm thinking a pretty white linen slip-covered English roll-arm sofa like this:

And a big cozy, over-sized leather chair, like this:

I know it's starting to look like a Pottery Barn catalog, but, y'all, I really like their stuff right now. It's all very classic, which is sort of what I'm craving at the moment. Classic pieces that I can zhuszh up at my own fancy. It might have something to do with the plethora (love that word, see below) of presents Edward received for his birthday. They bring a lot of, well, color to the house, if you will.

So that's where my head is right now. Fall. Brown. White. Clean. Crisp.

P.S. This conversation happened at Pottery Barn yesterday...

Me: I love all of the white they have for Fall.

The Suze: I know! They've come to the ... er ... dark ... er ... dark side? No, that doesn't work. Oh well, whatever.

Happy Birthday Edward!

2013-09-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

Today my sweet Edward turns 3! I can hardly believe it. He's like a little person now! He can have semi-grownup conversations, albeit peppered with the occasional dragon-spotting or dinosaur roar. It is a fascinating age - hilarious and fun.

I have to give a shout-out to my very talented neighbor Samantha Gleaton of Samantha Gleaton Photography who beautifully captured the look that melts my heart every day. This picture is so amazing to me. Now everyone can see what I hold in my heart.

Have a lovely day!

* If you are in Kansas City and have a child you want photographed, call her stat.

A+ September

2013-09-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

It does not get better than this past weekend. Beautiful weather. Dinners with friends. New haircut, color and manicure. Fun at the park. My continued war on the brown walls upstairs. That last part may not sound like fun to other people, but with each stroke of the paintbrush I felt victorious. I felt like yelling, " BE GONE, PUTRID FLESH COLORED 1991 BROWN PAINT!" In fact, I may have done just that a couple of times before Matt asked if I'd taken my medication.

All joking aside, the entire 2nd floor of our house looks nothing like the ground floor. Shaggy carpet, banged up trim, dingy doors, cloudy windows, mildewed bathrooms. The upstairs is a bit "fixer" in style. But that's alright. I'm just taking my time, tackling things as they come.

I'm also planning Jane's "big girl room" and it's so fun. I'm excited for her to move out of her small nursery and into a big room with lots of space to play and run. White walls, lace curtains, twinkle lights, vintage bed frame... truthfully I'll probably be a little jealous once it's all said and done.

So that's us. We're just painting and park playing and thoroughly enjoying this A+ September.

I can't imagine a happier beginning to the fall season.

Moodboard Monday: Family Room TV Chairs

2013-09-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

Not Your Grandmas TV Trays

Morning y'all! I came across these fabulous lucite TV trays on Mecox Gardens' Instagram and the wheels started turning in my head. I'm thinking they would be perfect when I get two new cozy chairs to replace our current loveseat. I don't know when that will happen, but I'm already dreaming up our family room redo.

It's no secret that I've threatened to sell all of my family room furniture on Craigslist. It worked great in the old house, but it doesn't work as well in our new house. Kip is hesitant because of the whole messy children thing, but I just think it's silly to put off having the home you want because your children might mess it up. I may be a bigger mess than my kids anyway.

So here's part of the family room redo I'm envisioning. Imagine this with these ghost trays in front of the chairs.

Speaking of TV chairs, how excited are y'all about Fall TV?? What are your favorite shows? Any new shows that you're excited about? Do tell.

Sunday Slim Down

2013-09-22T14:44:00.000-07:00

Well y'all I said I would write about it so I'm gonna. The dreaded post-baby weight loss. For some people it's not an issue (side-eye The Duchess of Cambridge), but for me it takes a lot of effort. Like Jessica Simpson effort.

No no no. Like. Britney. Spears. Effort.


Rember this?!! I never wanted to be Britney Spears more than I did at this moment.

It took me two years to lose the weight I gained with Edward. Everyone was all, "oh you'll lose sooo much weight from nursing. You'll probably be like too skinny." Liars. I nursed Edward for 14 months and only after I stopped nursing did I lose those last 20 lbs! Really? Soo I'm determined to get back to normal this time around and I'm enlisting y'all's help in keeping me accountable.

I just want to fit into my clothes and have energy. Oh to have energy!! My 3-year-old is an energy black hole. Like light bends around him and Stephen Hawking needs to come study him. He eats like one peanut butter cracker and is good to run 85 laps around the house. I cannot keep up.

I'll try and share a few little tips and healthy recipes I come across along the way. Don't worry I won't get all GOOP-y and smug.* I am no weight loss expert. If I were, I'd be skinny duh. But hopefully by writing about it, I can keep myself focused, learn a little bit and shed some light (in a light-hearted way) on something that occupies my mind about as much as much as the next blue and white vase I'm coveting.

So here are my current long term goals:

1. Lose the baby weight (20 lbs of the 40 lbs to go)

2. Run some kinda K. 5K? 10K? We'll see.

3. Lose the "I got married and comfortable weight" (10 more lbs)

4. And then 10 more lbs for the "omg you look amazing, WHAT are you doing?!" comment.

Here's what I don't do: I don't do juice fasts or smoothie diets or cleanses, I don't do marathons or triathlons (I'm not great at bike riding and I have horrible feet and knees) and I don't do fad diets.

Here's what I DO do: I try to track my calories, exercise and eat. And I try to eat healthy, but sometimes I don't.

TRACKING MY CALORIES

I use Myfitnesspal to track my calories. If you're on there, add me as a friend. My username is Jhadley32. Here is a great review of the Myfitnesspal app
that pretty much echos how I feel about it. I will probably do a post
about my calorie tracking in a couple weeks after I've been doing it for
awhile.

EXERCISE

Right now I just do Bar Method. I'm obsessed. Ask anybody who's had a conversation with me in the past 10 months. I always find a way to talk to people about it. I did it up until 3 weeks before I delivered Christopher and it helped keep me in decent shape while I was pregnant. It's so much easier to do now without The Bump, but the ab work gets me every time.

This week I'm going to throw in this little 100 Calorie burner thing I found on Pinterest to help keep me under my calorie goal each day. We'll see if it helps. I need quick workouts. Gone are the days of the long leisurely workouts.

EATING

I love to eat. I eat a lot. Sometimes too much and sometimes not enough. Nursing leaves me ravenous and that has been something I'm trying to deal with. Sleep deprivation leaves me craving bagels and Cokes. That has been my biggest challenge. I'm a little bit Godzilla with food when I'm nursing. I'm kind of a monster. I don't feel my normal hunger cues. Nursing adds a whole new element to losing the baby weight that I will go into more in a later post as well.

Ok, I guess.

I could do better.

I lost nine-tenths of a pound last week. I'd like to make it to an entire pound next week. (But the pizza and cake I ate at Edward's bday party yesterday might suggest otherwise)

I'll have to do a little bit better. Y'all have any tips? (No juice fasts. No ma'am. Unless it's like a 5-hour juice fast, then I can do it. But honestly, I don't even like juice, unless it's like grape juice - of the wine variety)

I'll just be doing this on Sundays so if you think it's dumb or self-indulgent feel free to skip it.

And that's my big long intro. Check back next Sunday to see how I did this week! (Spoiler alert: I haven't been great this weekend so I'm going to have to work hard all week)

* I had a dream last night that a momma beluga whale was chasing me because I got in between her and her baby, but then Gwyneth Paltrow saved me. I'm pretty sure that's the all-time greatest metaphor for my struggle with baby weight.

** I made this for a Tailgate Themed Meal for my mom's group and it was sooo good.

Have a Lovely Weekend!!

2013-09-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

* I LOVE this entry! It's probably the flowers that are really doing it for me, but I love the touch of leopard and the gorgeous graphic floor next to the neutral stairs. This whole image pleases me to no end.

Haaaa! Ooops! So much for being back to blogging. Like I always say to Edward, we will try again. Next week.

If you follow me on Instagram, you would see that I can't keep up with email either. The new iPhone iOS 7 update exposed me. Before I had a nice and manageable 25 unread emails, but then I updated my phone and BAM! 2,018 unread emails in ma face! Agghh! Rude! (I know, rude of me too, sorry if you emailed me).

And speaking of updates, I'm not a fan of the new iOS 7 - that update that Apple had me do last night without warning (for those of you who don't have iPhones, you'll have no idea what I'm talking about). Tech-wise I have no idea about anything, but I'm more concerned about the visual. It's waay too bright and flat and very 1992. And I'm way too sleep-deprived to handle this kind of dramatic change. I also have the "Zach Morris phone" of iPhones so it's kind of slow. Anyway, that's my rant/review for the week. Boy do I sound cranky!

I hope y'all have a lovely weekend!! Enjoy some of these linkies (with some pumpkin beer drinkies):

I used these Dinosaur invitations for Edward's 3rd Birthday Party this weekend

Also, Edward's Halloween Costume

If you have a little girl and you want her to be soo cool for Fall, check out this Fall Slideshow from Little Bean - and if you're not following Little Bean on Instagram, not only are you missing out on awesome children's fashion, but also the amazing cuteness of my soon-to-be niece (ya I'm totally claiming her as mine)

A Pretty Blue & White Vignette

A nice little roundup of pretty blue and white things

A lovely white and wood cottage

I have a whole Pinterest Board dedicated to White & Wood - I love that look

This blue and white gown

20 Blue and White Family/Living Rooms

I'm sensing a pillow binge will be happening soon

BEFORE & AFTER: This house is really, really fantastic - so my style

LOL: This video of the Highland Belles halftime performance has me nostalgic for my days on the drill team (yes I was a Belle a long, long, long time ago), but more importantly, the video shows a Dude who sounds an awful lot like Dax Shepherd go from skeptic to full blown fan.

Throw Mama From The Slide

2013-09-19T07:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life just hands you a pearl. For instance, I was skyping with Rebecca (my sister in China) and we were discussing books.

She said, "Yeah, my college professor assigned us East of Eden once, so I bought the book. I kept reading it and thinking, 'But this can't be Steinbeck? It's kind of dirty.' And then I realized the book I bought was Exit to Eden, not East of Eden. So that explained why the sales lady gave me a funny look."

See? It was like the universe said, "I'm sorry it's Wednesday, Liz. This week has been a bummer. Here, here's a pick-me-up. Laugh at your sister."

Apparently, the universe thought Jane needed a pick-me-up this weekend, as she discovered the joys of pushing me down the slide.

Truthfully, she enjoyed pushing me because she didn't want to slide herself. She tried it once, got tangled up and went down butt first. Afterwards she decided her sense of survival was stronger than her need for adventure.

But after a while, I began to feel a bit, what's the word? Abused. She got this wild look in her eyes and it quickly became apparent that this was more about revenge than fun. This was about payback.

"Remember that time you gave me a pink hair bow and I specifically asked for red?"

"Remember when I put necklaces and a hat on Mabel and you told me that Mabel didn't want to play princess with me?"

"Or that time I tried to pee standing up like the little boys in my daycare class and you told me I had to sit?"

"You're going down old woman."

"Just wait. Just wait until I choose your home. I'll make sure you have brown walls and the cafeteria serves lots of noodle salad."

And did I mention that after a certain amount of slide induced static build up I was my own personal battery? Every time I touched the slide a shock traveled through my fingers and out my teeth. Normally this sort of irritating, and recurring, pain would make me curse, but I couldn't do that since Jane was maintaining constant vigil over my speed, saying things like, "Hurry up, Mommy! SLIDE MOMMY!"

After 4,000 trips down Jane's slide of revenge I was done. This, of course, made the Janester furious, and all the way home she kept repeating, "We slide later." An outsider would listen to her chirp "we slide later" and hear an angelic little chirpy voice. I, on the the other hand, know better. I know she was really threatening me with future sessions of static shock and being pushed off tall objects.

This is what comes from throwing mama off the slide.

Sometimes Life Give You Lemons. And Sometimes It Gives You Spiderpocolypse Instead.

2013-09-17T06:48:00.000-07:00

I've tried to think of a clever way to segway into this story, like telling a joke about lemons, or the time I naired my lip when I was 16 the night before school pictures and I ended up looking like Captain Red Beard. But none of that makes any sense, so I'm just going to jump into the middle of this thing.

My friend Jeanetta and I went back to our cabin Saturday afternoon during the Arkansas Women Bloggers Conference. We were participating in the handmade craft bizarre, and Jeanetta was gathering up her lovely aprons, pins and hair bows, among other things.

Don't worry, I didn't hand make anything, I just signed copies of my book. No one lost fingerprints, or got superglued to a homemade acorn frame (true story).

As I went to get my books, I moved the box and my suitcase and tiny spiders rushed out from underneath.

I should remind all you gals that this is Arkansas, the hottest hot spot for all things spidery. This is not a critique on the lovely establishment that hosted our conference. The bottom line is: spiders happen, especially in the woods, especially in hot weather, especially to me.

It took a moment to process what was happening. You know those movie scenes where the lead is in a dangerous situation, and you're yelling at the screen, "RUN STUPID RUN" and they don't run, they just dope around like idiots? Staring? Asking idiotic questions only the soon-to-be-dead ask, like, "What the?"

That's me.

I moved in closer, and lifted up the suit case.

Thousands of spiders exploded out from underneath it.

Fine, maybe not thousands. But hundreds, definitely hundreds.

I bolted into the air like a 150 pound wet cat, screaming a garbled mix of words that sounded like, "Spiders my leg in my clothes I want mommy sweet Jesus save me."

"What? What is it?" Jeanetta crossed the room and in one short second she grasped the situation.

"Get something to spray them with!" she yelled, running into the bathroom.

I grabbed my hairspray, and she got a Clorox spray bottle and we began our battle.

The tiny baby spiders were brown, and the floors were brown, and it was only when they moved that we could see them. They were under my suitcase, and backpack, and up the wall beside my bed.

THEY WERE EVERYWHERE.

At one point I gazed at Jeanetta in awe. I was doing battle as well, but it mostly involved lots of screaming and slapping and swatting. I was battling out of fear. Jeanetta was battling like a (excuse my language dear classy readers who are more ladylike than me) bad ass. I mean seriously. Give this woman a fur coat, a necklace of bear teeth, and a sword and I'd bet dollars to donuts she could survive every season of Game of Thrones.

Eventually we encased all of their tiny bodies in a heavy layer of sulfate-free hairspray and bleach. The entire cabin smelled like a hair salon and a hazmat team had a baby together. We high fived, I counted ten new gray hairs and back to the conference we went.

Ding dong the spiders were dead. Or so we thought.

After a cookout by the lake our cabin turned in early for a night of pajamas and gossiping and cocktail making. I leaned over my bed to get my favorite pink and white polka dot pajama pants and there they were: tiny, almost invisible, feathery baby spiders running straight for my leg.

I screamed and grabbed my handy hairspray bottle. Jeaneatta didn't bat an eye and grabbed her bottle of bleach. The other girls stood and watched in horror. Surely it was just my bed area? We slaughtered dozens of spiders and I commenced with moving to another bunk.

Then we noticed spiders running out from under the rug in the center of the room.

Long story short, I went home to sleep in my own bed that night.

I realize this makes me a gigantic girl. But listen. I grew up in the sticks. I grew up in the woods. I grew up in a place where our neighbors trash got ransacked by black bears, coyotes circled our house and howled during a snow storm, and it took 30 minutes to drive to a store for ice cream. I know wildlife. I know spiders. And I've never seen this many in one place.

Obviously there was a nest (or nests) of thousands of baby spiders just waiting for us behind the doors of Birch Cabin. But here's what I know, or learned.

1. You want Jeanetta on your side. Whether its killing spiders or going on the run from the mafia, she's your girl.

2. I scream in falsetto. Bring it boy choirs.

3. Small fast moving spiders are way scarier than the big ones.

4. UNLESS the big ones move even faster than the tiny ones. Never mind. All spiders are equally scary.

5. Yes. I will still wear my favorite spider necklace. It's made of silver and polished stone. It does not breath, bite, or crawl up the leg of my pajamas.

Also, I now consider it a token of survival, a token of Spiderpocolypse.

Getting Back in the Game

2013-09-16T07:09:00.000-07:00

Morning Lovelies! Is anybody there still? How cozy does that bedroom look? Right now, I love nothing more than snuggling up in my bed with my coffee, my phone (for blog reading), and all my boys. It's like a big cozy nest and the perfect way to start the day.

Well, Britney released a new motivational single (have you heard it? thoughts?) and I'm going to take that a a sign that I need to get my tush back into gear. I had every intention of blogging last week, but Edward brought home some awesome germs (the plague) from preschool and my immune system failed me. However, I'm finally starting to see the light. Christopher is sleeping longer stretches (yeah for 3 hours!), it's starting to feel like Fall (my favorite), and we're starting to focus on some house projects again.

I have so many pretties saved up from the last six weeks that my next few posts may be very random. I'm also not totally capable of adult conversation so bear with me if my posts are a little ADD.

Two kids is not a joke. (I'm typing this on my phone with both kids literally on top of me right now) Actually, newborns are not a joke. I mean, they're rather needy aren't they? ;) But overall, we're doing pretty well and I'm excited to get back to blogging.

Speaking of blogging and getting back and Britney, I was thinking of writing once a week about getting back into my pre-baby jeans. Just to keep me accountable and maybe share any tips I pick up along the way. Would that interest y'all? It took me two years to lose the baby weight after Edward and I'm determined not to let that happen again. So check back here on Sundays for maybe some healthy recipes or exercise reviews or confessions of eating all of Edward's Halloween candy.

Ok have a lovely day!

Weekends and Aprons and Desks, Oh My

2013-09-16T07:07:00.000-07:00

It's obvious that Jane's love affair with her princess dolls is still ongoing. She's very "my precious" about them, and heaven forbid I forget to include them in meal times, or bed times, or riding in the car. So that's that.

On Saturday I had a three hour coffee date with the always lovely Jeanetta. She was my main partner in crime during Spiderpocolypse (I promise to give that topic its own proper post very soon). I have just adored her since the moment we met. Since then we've found out that we know lots of mutual people, and that our dads worked together for many years. I love that. I love it when you can just throw your hands up and say, "Yep. We were meant to be friends."

Jeanetta also makes adorable things, among which are fabulous aprons. She made one for Jane and it has been the hit of the century. Most importantly, it has pockets, and Jane likes to walk around with her hands stuck in them. All. The. Time. Even when she's trying to go to the bathroom. That's been fun.

This weekend I got my new desk settled. It's an old drop leaf table. It's banged up, with scratches and scars and it desperately needs a coat of wax. But I love it so. I've never been a big fan of traditional desks. I never have enough space and the drawers get filled with clutter and junk. But I do so love a table.

I also love that it's at the far end of the living room. I love having a writing space, but somehow, lately, I don't want a room of my own. It feels like too much pressure, too much focus. Somehow putting my writing area right in the thick of things is working, and it takes some of the pressure off. It's no longer the most important thing, with its own room and decor. It's just another part of my life, stuck in the middle with everything else. This may not make sense to anyone else, but it's been a revelation to me.

The rest of the weekend was filled with naps and fall weather and sliding at the park and the sounds of football in the living room. Matt and I put Jane to bed early on Saturday night and ate dinner on the patio, just us two. The leaves were falling from our oak tree, not a lot, just a little, and I could hear the creek behind the house. The house was dirty, I had five loads of laundry backed up, and the bathrooms hadn't been cleaned in two weeks. But I just propped my feet up and enjoyed Matt's company and decided it could all just wait.

In fact, it's Monday and all that stuff is still waiting. Cleaning will keep.

Hot husbands and fall weekends won't.

The Eating of The Words

2013-09-11T14:53:00.000-07:00

We left the house to get Drano and medicine and came home with four Disney princesses.

I do not know this happened.

I only know that I am eating big juicy spoonfuls full of my former declarations.

"She won't wear gobs of pink."

Gulp.

"We won't do all that girly stuff like painting toe nails."

Gulp.

"She's not going to be all into princesses. Yuck."

Belch.

Comments Section Back Open For Business

2013-09-06T06:37:00.000-07:00

I cannot figure out what to do with our half bath.

We got an old scratched, stenciled table for a song at a local antique store. Can't wait to use it as a desk.

The Janester has no problem expressing herself.

I spotted yellow leaves. YELLOW LEAVES!

Also, I'm headed to the Arkansas Women Bloggers Conference Unplugged this weekend! If you're going please give me a shout. I'm excited to meet blogger ladies in real life, as opposed to email. Not that I don't love email. I mean, I can email friends when I haven't showered for days or brushed my teeth and they never know, as opposed to in real life where I actually have to make some kind of deodorant oriented effort. Be assured, I will be socially presentable this weekend, teeth brushed and everything.

On a side note, I've decided to open my comment section back up. I needed a break for a while, and honestly the troll comments really got me down. But, in the past year my skin grew a little thicker and Paxil creates a Star Wars type deflector shield for me. My emotions are still there, but not quite so, shall we say, peaked. Can the anxiety disorder section of the church give me an amen?

But a lot of you have emailed and said that you wish you could comment, and that it creates an "un-social" feel on my blog. That was never, ever my intention. So, comment away. Or don't. Or Troll. I'll be here listening, answering questions or comments, or ignoring them if they're foul. Either way, comments are back. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. I appreciate you ALL.

It's Only Paint. Not.

2013-09-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

*Warning. Griping ahead.

I watch a good deal of HGTV, and I've noticed that realtors really love to say, "It's only cosmetic changes. Just paint. It's an easy fix." Their buyers smile and nod and smile like dummies at the surrounding 3,000 square feet smattered in country blue and mauve trim (in oil paint no less). I want to throw something at the tv and yell, "Stop smiling! It will take years! YEARS I TELL YOU!"

When we bought this house I was just like those people on tv. The entire top floor was (is) covered in fleshy beige and pine green paint with beige oil based trim. I thought to myself, "That will take a while, like maybe six months. But it will look great when it's done!"

Here we are, over six months later, and I laugh at my former, naive self.

I still submit that it will look great, when it's done, in 20 years or so. I blame blogs like Young House Love. Each week they have a brand spanking new paint project completed, or a deck, or a new door. I think to myself, "What is wrong with us? We're so lazy! Why isn't this painting thing going faster?"

I forget that they are full time bloggers. I forget that they're not coming home from work, feeding the kid, playing with the kid, fighting with the kid over bedtime, putting kid to bed, going back in and singing to the kid, laying down on the floor and softly crying "I used to be a fun person" and then staying up until midnight with a paintbrush in hand and then heading to work the next morning.

See? I told you it was a gripe fest.

I love my sweet baby and wouldn't change a thing.

But painting. Whew.

It's a beast.

Ah. Now I feel better.

Sometimes you just gotta belch these frustrations out. Then those around you frown, and are suddenly frustrated, and say, "Yeah! Me too! We've been trying to lay flooring in the guest bath for two years!" But you've moved on by then. You feel purged and light as air. And then you say, "Geeze, what's wrong with you guys? You're so negative all of a sudden. Let's go get some ice cream."

I vowed that I wouldn't decorate anything until we had painted every room. But I caved. We're still living in our forest green bedroom. Egads I loathe this color. It's like a mallard duck's tomb in there. Nevertheless, I grabbed a hammer and nails and hung all our family pictures in one spot. I'm hoping it makes up for the fact that we don't have a headboard. And even though we're still in painting purgatory, I can see a light at the end of the long, beige trimmed tunnel.

Go ahead. Get your decor gripes out today.

Then go buy a pumpkin spice latte.

You'll feel better, I promise.

It's September. Let The Pumpkin Candle Burning Commence Immediately.

2013-09-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

Here in the deep south we don't really consider September fall in as much as we're still wearing bathing suits and swimming. But those of us who love pumpkin candles DO consider it fall in as much as we're going to burn those suckers even if it is 400 degrees outside. Plus, they were selling small pumpkins at the farmer's market on Saturday. That was all the green light I needed.

First, I just want to say thank you to everyone who emailed me about my last post. You are some of the kindest ladies I could ever hope to "meet" out here in the blog land, and I appreciate you immensely. I'll be returning emails soon, but I wanted to give a big public thank you anyway.

So. Potty training. It's our world now. It's a new world for Jane, and a new world for us, especially considering we took her potty to a cookout with friends yesterday, and she took the initiative to go pee without prompting, was super proud of herself, and didn't bother to put her pants back on before streaking into the middle of the party to yell at Matt, "DADDY I PEE PEE." So there's that.

I still need to hem the new curtains in the dining room, but they're a lovely jersey fabric that hangs beautifully and doesn't fray, so I don't have the normal sense of urgency to hem them. This is bad. This means they could go unhemmed for some time. Because without a sense of urgency I just shrug, turn on Sharktopus on the SyFi channel and ignore my to do list.

I really do love September. The weather really does start to shift. And somehow it's all so much more fun with Jane. She notices everything. She notices "yewow leaves" and I can only imagine how stoked she'll be for Halloween. Life has changed folks. There are tutu skirts in the living room and a potty chair in the kitchen. There's a tiny wet bathing suit drying in the laundry room, and she insists on having her little toenails painted weekly when the polish starts to rub off. Saturday night I was reading her books before bed, and she reached out, patted my cheek and said, "I love you, mommy."

I cannot imagine what we ever did without her.

I cannot imagine what I did with all that time (although I can promise you I wasn't making good use of it).

I cannot imagine lighting a pumpkin candle without her following me around, sniffing the air, and saying, "Smell good mommy, smell good."

I cannot imagine a world without Jane in it.

Happy Labor Day!

2013-09-02T06:36:00.000-07:00

Happy Labor Day y'all!

(It takes on a whole new meaning when you've been celebrating every hour and a half since midnight)

The Big Fat F Word: Failure and Writing

2013-08-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

I've mulled this topic over quite a bit in the last couple of weeks. I usually think about it in my down time, like in the afternoon when all my brain cells are gone and I eat roasted peanuts and stare out the window. I also think a lot about the plot line for Breaking Bad, but that's neither here nor there.

There's really no good way to say this, and truly, I suspect it's something you're never supposed to say. Or, at least, I don't hear any other writers saying it. Maybe they're smarter than me, or have more dignity, or maybe, just maybe, they are more comfortable pretending they're always a success. Or maybe they really are.

I, however, have never been good at pretending. I tell it all on myself. And now, thanks to my very verbal daughter, I have a partner who likes to over-truthfully announce, "MOMMY TOOTED" in Target. But yesterday, as I shoveled handful after handful of peanuts down my gullet, and watched a bird fly smack into my office window, I wondered why this particular topic should this be any different. I also felt really sorry for the bird, but again, neither here nor there.

So here it is.

Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, I feel like I failed a little bit at the whole book thing.

Now. I'm not going to tell the world how much money I made, or how many books I sold. And overall, it was a great experience. But I will say this. If everyone who read my blog had purchased a copy of the book, I might not be writing this post.

It's been hard, to compare book sales, and the number of visitors to this blog, and not feel like I missed the boat somewhere. It makes me feel a little deflated. Because what I do here, for free, is obviously worth a lot of people's time. The book and this blog don't match up. I don't know the reason for that. I probably never will.

So why say it? Why air it here? Am I trying to make anyone feel guilty?

No. Never. Ever. But, there are lots of us that love writing. There are lots of us who have widely read blogs, published articles, and if we're lucky and we work hard, a published book. And for most people, that is the end of the rainbow, the ultimate fulfillment of the fairy tale. No one tells you what comes after.

No one tells you that you will have to be your own one man PR team (well that's not totally true, my agent did a great job of telling me that). No one tells you that you'll have to promote, and shmooze, and pat yourself on the back. No one tells you how stressful it will be watching the sales numbers every week. No one tells you that sometimes, you'll feel a little bit like a failure even AFTER you've published a book.

But I want to tell you that even if you feel like a failure, it's more normal than you think.

It doesn't last forever.

And it will be O.K.

So here I am, two years later. It's easier to realize that not everyone who reads my blog is willing to buy my book. It's easier to accept that the fairy tale dream in my head just wasn't my reality. It's easier to accept that even though things didn't measure up to what I thought they would be, it was still one of the best experiences of my life and I'm so grateful.

I have finally realized that the F word, failure, is all in my head. It's the measuring stick that I dreamed up, therefore, it's the measuring stick that I alone can break.

So lately, I've been writing and working on projects for myself. I've been concentrating on what I want to do, rather than what I think will sell or impress. It's all I know to do. It's why I really write in the first place.

And yesterday, as I sat in front of my office window, eating peanuts, feeling sorry for the maimed bird who probably said, "Hey, look! There's my cousin. Hi Bill.........." and then plummeted to the ground after colliding with his own reflection, I felt finally ready to tell this on myself. I felt ready to get rid of the F-word and move on with whatever comes next in my writing life.

Because you know what? Something ALWAYS comes next.

Checking In

2013-08-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Hello loves! I'm not abandoning y'all. Just trying to figure out life with 2 children. NBD. I hope to pick back up to blogging at least a couple of times a week starting next week.

Things here are wonderful and exhausting, as it is for every new mom. This is the main reason I haven't made it to the computer:

He's a hungry little fellow. We're working on pushing it to 3 hours, at least at night, but newborns do their thang. It's worth it and I know when he's 16 he'll sleep 14 hours a day.

Hope all is well in blog land! Be back soon!

House Tour and Miley Cyrus

2013-08-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

Some of you dear readers keep asking for a house tour. Here it is. But not really.

I went back and pulled together past pictures from various posts and just stuck them all in one place. So it's not a real house tour. It's more like those fake Barbie dolls with too-big eyes. Or those knock off jeans at Target with labels that are clearly not expensive, even though they're trying really hard.

I'm just going to do what everyone else in our country is doing right now. I'm blaming it all on Miley Cyrus.

And while we're on the subject of Miley Cyrus, can we all just agree that the Thicke fellow in all his Footlocker garbed splendor should be thrown under the same judgement bus? She's a sad, attention seeking, seriously misguided young woman. He's a 36 year old married man who should KNOW BETTER.

But what could he do? I think he should have walked off the stage before participating in something that looked like father/daughter grossness. I'm sad that we live in a culture where men get a free pass instead of a swift kick in the buttocks.

All that to say, Jane, if you become a pop star and behave like that, I'll hobble up on stage and chase you around with my cane. And then I'll fall. And you'll come over to help me. And I'll totally knock your knees out from under you with said cane and we'll both be sprawled out together, beneath the house lights.

You'll look at me and say, "I hope you're happy mother, you've ruined my career."

And I'll say, "I am. Here, put on this sweater."

Don't say I didn't warn you.

This Is What Happens When Jane Stays With Her Grandparents And Is Allowed To Eat Just Like The Puppy Dogs

2013-08-26T07:33:00.000-07:00

She's home. My heart is whole again. We have some retraining to do.

Freedom. Play Doh.

2013-08-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

There are bright orange, gigantic flowers popping up in the backyard. There are also two crepe myrtle trees that I hadn't realized were there until they bloomed magenta and lavender. I love this place. I love how every time I step out the back door, no matter the season, there's another surprise. This yard of ours took years and years of work to create. I hope we don't mess it up too badly.

You might remember that I got new drapes in the dining room, and I made a matching valence in the kitchen. Nothing frilly. Frilly valences give me hives. But I like the continuity. I also like doing dishes with the window open, candles lit, and patio lights on. Seriously. Household chores should not be so meditative.

I framed some new artwork in the dining room, and I'm slowly rearranging things. Decorating takes forever around here.

Jane got promoted into a new daycare class. It has been somewhat of a disaster. She doesn't like the change. She wants her old teachers. She wants her old class mates (they mix them up every year). So in order to cope (and bear in mind I'm guessing since it's been a while since I was two) she's developed a fairly sizable fixation on Play Doh. It's like her version of medication.

The second she gets home, weepy and tired, she asks, "Do Play Doh?"

The second she wakes up she says, "No school. Do Play Doh?"

I completely understand this. I fixate on things to alleviate my stress (although generally it's ice cream, or Harry Potter, or Pinterest). I know this will shake out after a while, but it hurts to watch her be stressed. So, when my parents and sister came into town and offered to take her back to their house for two fun filled days of complete attention and Play Doh focusing, I couldn't say no.

She's having a fabulous time, her own little toddler vacation. I, however, am a little lost. I passed by her empty bedroom last night and let out an audible sob. It's almost as if someone cut off my leg, put it in a car, and took it two hours away. It's not right. The world isn't spinning correctly.

But, she needed this. It's been a long summer, a hard week, and the kid just needed a change in routine and a little less stress, if only for a few days. I get it. I do. Sometimes you just really need some freedom from the grind. Sometimes you just need to spend time with your Play Doh.

Bows, Vasectomies, and the Weekend I Gave Up and Skipped Church

2013-08-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of problems in this life. Such as:

I have sturdy, German ankles and sometimes people ask, "Are your legs swelling?"

Jane has started calling me Liz.

Mabel bit me on the toe because I came in between her and a goldfish cracker.

For some reason I still feel the need to say "Exsqueeze me?" Like it's 1993.

My camera is going crazy, turning itself off at odd times, refusing to focus. Basically it's giving me the technological equivalent of a middle finger.

I've developed an allergy to fresh peaches, but I eat them anyway, and then I get migraines, and a weird rash, and I sit in a pile of ashes and cry, "WHY ME?"

But you know that quote from Emerson?

"Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds."

Well that's not my one of my problems.

I am not consistent. I can't remember where I put my keys. One day I get inspired to paint our dining room navy, the next week I paint it white. I love a tv show for a month, then decide I hate it. Things change day to day, minute to minute.

But thank you, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson. It's good to know I don't have any hobgoblins hanging out up there in the cobwebs. Clowns? Maybe. A few brown recluses in the part of my brain that should be fully adept at math? Most definitely. But no hobgoblins.

So this weekend. I'm used to my own lack of consistency. But everyone else fell off their wagons too, and the Owen house became a black hole of chaos.

Matt had a vasectomy and Jane decided she couldn't possibly live her life without at least 30 bows in her hair at all times. Our entire world was thrown off its axis by these two things. Even Mabel felt the changes in our universe's rip tide, which is, I suspect, why she bit my toe.

I could tell you several hilarious things about Matt's vasectomy, but I won't. He's too sweet, it was too traumatic (not actually traumatic in the literal sense, but it did affect his man-parts so to HIM it was traumatic), and it's not my story to tell.

But I did spend a good deal of time monitoring medicine, and ice packs, and shuttling food trays up and down the stairs. Which is fine, I was glad to do it. But you throw in a two year old who has discovered the upper levels of her already Alvin-and-the-Chipmunk-like-vocal-chords, AND who has a bow fetish?

Let's just say I needed a drink.

Every fifteen minutes.

I kid.

Anyway. We made it to Sunday morning. I was looking forward to leaving my ice-pack loving husband behind, dropping my child off in class, and spending 50 heavenly minutes sitting in a chair by myself. And that's when this happened.

Jane walked into the bathroom with every part of her scalp swathed in bows, every color, every size.

"I do bows mommy."

I took a deep breath.

"Let's just pick one bow. How about the pink one?"

Jane threw herself prostrate on the ground, which reminded me it's been at least a month since I mopped the floors.

"NOOOOOOO. I do ALL THE BOWS!"

I backtracked, "OK, fine. You can wear all the bows."

But the damage was done.

Her sensitive swollen toddler ego was bruised, and in need of one of Daddy's ice packs.

"I DO ALL THE BOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

For a moment I considered the fact that her tears were doing a fairly decent job of cleaning the floors, and then I picked her up and put her in my lap.

"Watch Einstein?" she asked pitifully, bows jutting out in all directions like multicolored horns.

(Little Einsteins is a cartoon that strives to be educational about classical music and art, and while I appreciate that, it also makes my left eye twitch.)

We never made it to church. I totally gave up. But in a good way. Jane needed all the bows. She needed to sit in her eye-twitching mother's lap and watch Little Einsteins. Matt needed a human shuttle for his ice packs. Mabel needed goldfish crackers.

It's not too often that I can say I was defeated by bows, a schnauzer, and a vasectomy.

But church will always be there next week.

New Curtains. Less Hustle.

2013-08-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

I hung new curtains in the dining room yesterday and thought to myself, "I'm going to slow down on the blog."

I've been waffling back and forth for at least a year on this topic, and it's been stressful. I worry that if I'm not posting often, five days a week, I'll lose readers. But as I was working in the dining room, hanging curtains with the double doors open in the kitchen, rare 70 degree breezes gusting through the house, I should have been relishing the moment.

It's never fall-like in August, and yet, it was. I never find fabric I like, but I'd fallen in love with burnt coral jersey fabric with tiny white ruffles AND I'd bought it with a 40% off coupon. AND I like it better than the expensive Anthropologie curtains I'd been eyeing (but would have had to sell my harvested eggs to buy).

I should have been in thrifty, decorating, weather loving heaven.

Instead I was thinking, "I better hurry up and take some blog pictures while the morning sun is bright."

That's when I realized it's time for things to change.

There's this unconscious hustle in blog world. There's hustle to keep up great posts. There's hustle to keep up great writing content. There's hustle to decorate, bake, garden, dress well, and photograph all of it. There's hustle to track the number of readers per month. There's just a lot of hustle.

I'm choosing to step out of the hustle. I'll still be here. I'll still be blogging, but life comes first. Blogging comes second. I hope you'll stick around. I hope I don't lose readers. But after doing this five days a week, for almost seven years, it's time to make a change. I think this will be positive. I think this will make me a better blogger, and a better writer. I think it will make me a better mother, wife, and friend.

So in the words of Joe Fox, "I'm still here. Talk to me."