Suburban Stereotype

A Room Fit For Princesses

2012-02-13T14:16:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm on a little bit of a decor kick lately.

One room I would love to revamp, but I'm afraid to touch because it's already so cute is the girls' room.

E & H share a very small room. If this baby turns out to be a girl, we're kind of in trouble. There's only so much stacking that can be done in their tiny space without dormers and windows getting in the way, you know?

But...if I were dreaming, I would come up with a few things that I think are must-haves in a little girl's room.

Joe and I toured a house once (when we were wishfully looking to move into a bigger house) that had the most beautiful and whimsical "crystal" chandelier hanging in a little girl's room. It was glass flower chandeliers something like what was found HERE.

I think I would have to get one that was a little friendlier to my budget.

And speaking of lighting...I found one that I think would be pretty in my living room. :) It can be found near the alabaster glass replacement found HERE. It's second from the bottom. Most importantly, the price is within my meager budget. ;)

And then...there's still the matter of our bedroom that isn't quite finished.

We bought some bedding at IKEA, but I saw Gold King bedding and then stumbled onto THIS BEDDING and I am reconsidering...especially since I saw the price is slashed.

But...I think I'm going to have to cook it for a bit. Dave Ramsey would most definitely NOT approve and Joe is going to have a heart attack if I keep suggesting new things.

Until then, I'll keep dreaming...

Why Do I Dream About Remodels??

2012-02-12T09:28:00.002-05:00

When I was looking for photo inspirations for the Board and Batten Dining Room project we did, I found Houzz.com.

I chose "Traditional" for my style and fell in love with the very first page of pictures that popped up.

There is not one single thing I didn't like about the kitchens they showed. And the mudroom? Gah. I dream of a mudroom. Which I shared with you here.

Instead, we have one of those "Welcome to our home here's or living room" type entries...which is no entry at all. I guess in 1945 when this house was built it was all about business and getting right to visiting over taking off one's shoes.

So, after the dust literally settled from the dining room project, seeing the pictures at Houzz.com has reawakened my updating mojo. I want to launch into the boys' room next. I'm feeling some more Board and Batten coming my way...

I found these photos. Really digging the slide action in this one...although I envision many broken bones if we add something like this.

contemporary kids design by los angeles interior designer Cynthia Prizant - Prizant Design, LLC

What about this one? We could fit all the boys and even this baby if it happens to be a boy...talk about a space saver.

tropical bedroom design by tampa interior designer Studio M

So...I'm dreaming. I don't know that full fledged remodels are in the cards, but I can definitely use these pics as inspiration to work with what I got.

Along with my revamped interest in updating, I hope my wallet gets quickly updated too. :)

Batten Down The...Dining Room

2012-02-10T22:40:00.003-05:00

Hi, All!

It has been a crazy couple of days here at our house. I have had my husband working like a DOG.

And I am sooooooo pleased with the outcome.

Okay...so YES we are on a budget. Yes, we are participating in a Dave Ramsey program, BUT we managed to eek out a small budget (and I do mean small) to work some magic in the dining room.

Here is a before pic. (Excuse the people in the shot, it wasn't taken as a "Before". I get carried away and start a project before remembering that critical step. Please just look beyond us. :)

So, you get a pretty good idea what it looked like.

I mean, we liked it. It was really pretty. But we've lived with it for 6 years. We were ready for a change.

I have always wanted the look of board and batten. I scoured Pinterest and the Internet looking for ideas.

Finally, after reading 75 million Decor blogs (including Thrifty Decor Chick, Decor Chick and Houzz.com) reading every tutorial I could find, and talking about it to Joe for about 3 months or more.....

I got that proverbial hair up my arse and we went to town gathering supplies.

We saved SOO much money buying primed MDF instead of using wood. It also saved us some elbow grease later when we painted.

And we were SO serious about doing a good job, we even bought a level. That's right, folks, we measured and marked stuff off and stuff. Just to make sure it was done right. ;)

Here are some "during" pics. You know, this is the time when you think it's never gonna get finished...And you wonder if you've bitten off more than you can chew...

Yeah, these are kind of crappy and all the furniture is smashed in the center of the room. NONE of these pictures are taken at the same angle as my crappy "Before" pics, but...

So, after 2 days of working, with breaks to wipe noses, wipe butts, run the kids here and there, make and serve meals, and the occasional bathroom break...here's what we finished with.

It's not "done"...we have plans for a few additional things, but for now we're pleased.

And a little celebratory glass of vino afterward. Don't worry...Joe drank both of them. ;)

Joe & I keep finding ourselves going back into the room just to stare at it. Amazing. I mean, it's farrrrrr from perfect, but we LOVE it!

Because we're so darn proud of this room, I'm linking up on My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia.

Update On Debt

2012-01-27T13:24:00.000-05:00

I should be jumping in the shower right now so I can make it to my son's school on time for his Dance of the Dragon, but I am going to eek out this post really quickly. (Real quick? Really quick? Real Quickly?)

I posted a while ago about mine and Joe's journey into Financial Peace University, a Dave Ramsey program.

We have been to 2 classes (tonight is actually our 3rd class) and we are really pumped at our progress already.

Before the program even started, we had been making strides to pay off debt. For like YEARS we have been paying off or settling credit cards that we had run up HIGH balances on when we had life's catastrophes smack us in the face. We. like SO MANY others, believed that the best way to handle these emergencies was to charge them.

And now we are paying the price...literally and figuratively.

At 29% or more interest, that purchase we made 4 YEARS AGO is still kicking us in the arse.

Anyway...in my last post I told you we had $400-something saved up toward our $1000 Emergency Fund. Guess what happened?

AN EMERGENCY. I kid you not.

Our washer died.

And with our gargantuan family, a washer is not a frivolous item. It's a necessity. We do about 2-3 loads of laundry A DAY and that's conservative. It broke down during the week the whole family had the flu. And the kind of flu where you should NOT take any chances if you're feeling a little pressure...catch my drift?

So, we had PILES of newly "striped" Batman and Iron Man underwear that needed to be washed. Time was of the essence.

So, while it sucked that we had to fork over our hard earned cash, it was awesome that we paid CASH....we didn't charge it. And that is a huge first step on the road to financial recovery!

In about a week's time, if all goes according to plan, we will have our $1000 Emergency Fund in place AND we will be paying off about $8,000 (or roughly 10%) of our debt. That will free up about $125 a month for us. It's a wonderful feeling.

I know this is just the beginning, but we are learning and hearing from others who have become debt free that as you persevere and press forward with this proven program, you gain momentum and pick up speed.

Um...here's where I feel I must confess something though...

Dave says that until you 1) Save $1000, 2) pay off ALL your debt (including mortgage), and 3) save 3-6 months of living expenses, your foot should not leave the gas pedal. That means, no frivolous spending that is not budgeted, no big splurges, and you keep your eye on the prize...

Well, *ahem* we kind of veered off the path a bit.

I know, I know!! I'm hiding behind my hands right now...

It was SORTA an accident (but not really...)
A friend GAVE us a queen size mattress, box springs, bed frame and headboard. GAVE US. As in FREE.

We had a King size bed which was wonderful because of its size, it was also horrible because of its size. Our bedroom pretty much only had a bed in it and very little space for walking around.

So, we thought a queen size would be wonderful for giving us some more space.

And as we were discussing it, I thought, "Hey...this would be a great time to tear up the carpeting that the dog ruined in there!" So Joe agreed.

As he was tearing up the carpet, I thought, "Eureka! This would ALSO be a GREAT time to paint this hideous green and sparkly yellow bedroom. The one that we have lived with for 6 years..."

So, that's what we did...we tore up carpeting and painted. We put the bed together and we are now finishing up with making it look "pretty."

We spent $$ that was definitely NOT budgeted. And I do have the guilts. But I'm also very excited for the bedroom to finally feel nice.

Not that I'm justifying...

So...that's where we are. A work in progress. :) As always.

**I was not compensated in any way for this post. Dave Ramsey has absolutely NO idea who I am and if he did, he would be kicking my butt for going off the track with this bedroom makeover...

But He's My Dad

2012-01-24T21:12:00.000-05:00

My life felt like a Country Song today. I got an awful call from my parents that my dad has been diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer.

That sucks.

Nothing sucks the breath out of your lungs quite like that.

You always know, intuitively, that as you get older and have a family, inevitably your parents age as well. And..no, no one can live forever...but this kind of news is never, ever expected.

I was stunned. I had a million questions all at once, but some I was afraid to ask. How do you ask your dad what his prognosis for recovery is or how long the doctors "give" him?

I know next to nothing about Esophageal Cancer except that cancer is a vicious, unrelenting, hateful, undiscriminating beast. Its ugliness has filled my life enough. It seems every day I am hearing tragedies about families diagnosed with or losing battles with cancer.

My parents were both so strong and upbeat on the phone. They were trying hard not to scare me and I knew it. And all I can think of now, in remembering how calm and wonderful they were, is how often I have belittled them and begrudged them the privilege of being considered good parents.

Or even good enough.

I have long been an ungrateful and thankless child and it totally sucks that it takes something like this to wake me up.

I can't even recount all the times my dad was there for me.

As a kid, I have such fond memories of him playing outside with me, helping me with school projects, training me for my elementary school's "olympics," watching TV together--just the two of us--singing in the kitchen (some made-up rendition of "On Top Of Spaghetti"), hearing his [loud] laugh, his monkey strength, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could beat up anybody in the world and would protect me at any cost.

I saw my dad as most little girls see their dads...he was my hero. He was the smartest person I knew and he could do anything.

Looking back as an adult, I know now how much my parents sacrificed for us. I know the heartache they felt with every ungrateful word I said and every time I acted embarrassed of them. I now understand how they loved my sisters and I and tried to provide us with a better life.

And I still see my dad as that same guy I used to have to crane my neck back to see...that 5'5 giant. :)

The guy who used to take us sled riding and make dinner, and wrestle with us.

He's my hero; He's the smartest person I know and he can do anything.

Including beat this diagnosis.

I love you, Dad!
xoxo

Hangin' By a Chronos

2012-01-19T21:37:00.000-05:00

Boy have I been chomping at the bit to talk with you all.

I read a blog yesterday by Glennon Melton called Don't Carpe Diem. Maybe you read it? If not, I'm amazed since it seems every single Facebook friend I have posted and shared it. It was shared over 76, 000 times on Facebook alone! 76 THOUSAND times.

If you are part of the 1% who has NOT read this...I urge you...go NOW and read it. And pretend I wrote it because I sort of did. I mean...I think she somehow mind-melded with me and took every single thought I've ever had about parenting and arranged it into this amazing and articulate masterpiece.

I was mentally kicking myself thinking, "Why didn't I write that??!"

My sister offered one possibility: Other than the obvious: I'm not Glennon Melton. I'm too hung up on the need to tie things up with a bow so that I don't come across as too negative. I've been feeling my posts on here of late were pretty negative anyway. And you KNOW there will ALWAYS be that bonehead who has to be antagonistic and tear you to shreds about bemoaning any part of parenting.

Every time I want to be negative...or REAL, as I feel it is...I'm so afraid someone will think I am not grateful for my beautiful kids or I'll offend those who would give anything to have babies. What about those who are opposed to big families (for whatever inane reason)...I hate to give them the satisfaction of a smug, "I told you so" attitude.

So, yes, the voices in my head are many. And I'm tired of listening to all of them.

In fact, I'm in a bit of a funk lately.

Seems that's typical for me in pregnancy. I get exceptionally moody and extra hormonal. I get the baby blues early and want to shut myself in a cave...I'm a breath of fresh air to live with.

And I tend to dwell on Chronos moments more than I should. You don't know what Chronos is? Then you obviously haven't read "Don't Carpe Diem" yet! Go ahead...I'll be here when you get back...

See? Wasn't that a good read? Don't tell me...you laughed. You cried...Right? Go ahead, share it on your FB page. I'll wait for that too...

Anyway...I was telling my sister how my Kairos moments tend to kick in at night, after I've rushed the kids to bed. I've held onto every vestige of patience I have waiting while they fight, put on pajamas, dig for 10 minutes for the perfect toy to have in bed, wrestle, brush teeth, play in the water, tattle on whoever wronged them, pick out a library of books to "read" in bed, tell me 22 last minute stories about the boy who sits next to them in school, and generally drive me mad. I threaten, I breathe heavy, I regain composure, I tuck in, I kiss them goodnight, I pray with them, and then...just when I am tip-toeing out of their rooms...looking at the light in the hallway like I'll one day look at the light surrounding St Peter, all hell breaks loose.

M cries that he wants a different book, L needs a drink, E's head hurts, R wants to tell me one more story about his day, and I look over to find the baby standing up in her crib, jumping up and down with not a care in the world...nor any sign that she will be going to sleep any time soon.

It's THOSE moments when my pleasant demeanor breaks and my "Goodnight-Mommy-Loves-You-Angels facade falls apart and I lose it.

I yell, "I said Good NIGHT! It's LATE! Mommy needs a BREAK!" And then I start barking orders and the peace and magic of the sweet bedtime is broken.

I usually end up apologizing, but by that time the damage is done. THAT'S how they will remember bedtime being. Not a soft kiss on their forehead and a sweet, whispered 'goodnight' but a guttural, animalistic, Linda Blair "GOOD NIGHT!"

And then I finally slink downstairs to the solace I've been pining for...okay so what if the dinner dishes are still on the table and the sink is overflowing with lunch dishes, and there is macaroni and cheese all over the floor, and toys strewn from here to there and everywhere, and our front door looks like a Payless store with everyone's shoes thrown haphazardly all around...it's my solace. I choose to ignore all that, the laundry in the basement, the baby banging her bottle off the back of her crib upstairs, M's weird bedtime chanting ritual, and I sit down. I take a breath and I enjoy the moment that no one is yelling at me or ordering me around or needing something from me.

And then...the guilt sets in. Those nagging voices that tell me how mean I was to the kids and how I will one day miss these days when they are all so little and at home with me. I feel the tears burning my eyes and my throat feels tight. I'm sure I've caused irrevocable damage--yet again--by being so short tempered with those little babies. I feel awful that I blew off R when he wanted to share something from his day with me. After all, it will be in no time at all when he won't want to tell me anything.

And poor E. How callus of me to disregard her headache. After all, I've had my share of migraines that no one cared about and I know how miserable they can be. Poor L. He didn't have a lot of juice at dinner. I'd sure hate to go to bed thirsty and not be allowed to have a drink.

So the guilt and the voices drive me up, out of my seat. I tip-toe back upstairs and into the boys' bedroom. I get L a drink of water and I tap R on his skinny little arm and say in a whisper, "Hey, Buddy! What was it you wanted to tell Mommy?" I smile serenely and rub my finger over his soft little cheek. And he starts to tell me his story. But it's not in the library-worthy soft whisper and tone that I used. It's in his full-on "Have I got a story for you" voice. I wince at how loud it is and sharply shush him. The shush gets M's attention, who rolls over abruptly in his crib and starts yelling that he wants a toy. Then L asks if he can get more water, and in doing so, gets E's attention across the hall. She, in turn, starts yelling to me that her head still hurts. I sigh very heavily and hold my head like it may explode at any moment. Because it very well may.

And then...I do it again. I yell to everyone to get quiet and get in bed, in a voice Johnny Cash would have envied. And then I repeat all the same motions as the first go-round of bedtime...complete with the guilty walking of the gauntlet where I collapse on the couch downstairs feeling worse than I had the first time.

Moral of that story: Do your apologies the next morning.

No seriously...the moral is...I don't know the moral. That's just where I happen to be right now. I'm beaten. I'm tired. I'm done.

And yet I know it will all start again in just a few short hours. Plus, this house needs to be picked up before the husband gets home and utters the unforgivable. "What did you do all day? This house is a mess!" And I have to add murder to my list of sins for the evening.

And I'm reaching into that reserve of mothering-ness that we're all supposed to have somewhere. I think it got lost along with my waist, my desire to cook and sew and do my hair and makeup every day.

And I think, "This sucks."

Why can't I carpe diem better? I feel the diem keeps carpe-ing my ass instead.

And then I get hateful and think things like this about perfect strangers, "I hate you all. Get off my planet."

And I reel it back in...slowly I refocus and try to spin my head back around.

And I remember those other wise words I've heard parents with grown kids say...."Your kids won't remember those times you snapped at them. They will remember more how much you love them."

And I hope to God they're right!

Happy New Year! And All That Jazz.

2012-01-05T13:26:00.002-05:00

Isn't this the post where I'm supposed to launch into how wonderful our holidays were and what my New Year's Resolutions are?

I just don't have the energy.

Our holidays were wonderful. I'll give you that.

They were also exhausting.

For 4 weekends straight we got together with family. Often on both days of the weekend.

I love my family. It was just very tiring going here and there.

Add to it the manic Christmas morning with 5 million toys and 12 lbs of wrapping paper...mixed with, 180-piece gifts the kids received and you'll have a better understanding of why I want to hibernate.

It's 106: in the afternoon and here I sit in my PJs, hair unwashed, face a bland, empty canvas, and I have zero desire to change any of it.

Joe had the flu. Joe gave me the flu. I volleyed between laying in bed and on the couch for 24 hours straight, stopping only long enough to slap together some PB&Js and then crawl back to bed. The kids were pretty much unsupervised that entire time. I'd yell from the couch to make sure our almost 1 year old was okay. But there was nothing, I mean nothing that could have gotten me off that couch.

Not free Coach bags
Not chocolate
Not Jake Gyllenhaal-shirtless or otherwise
...I don't think even a frggin bomb could have moved me.

I was that sick.

It happens about once a year.

And now it's working its way through the kids. I have every confidence that it will work it's way back to moi...just as everyone else is happily on the mend. And then you'll see the fine print of our couch embroidered on my face once again.

New Year's here was uneventful. We celebrated at home with the kids. We made pizzas, had ice cream sundaes and then had a sparkling wine toast at 10 PM. (Maybe even a skosh before 10, but the kids have no idea.) Then Joe and I sat up watching riveting TV waiting for midnight.

It was somewhere during the 20th episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter when I turned to find this:

You're going to have to use your imagination and lean your head to the side...this dadgum picture won't rotate like I want it to and I'm ready to put my fist through the computer screen after trying for 10 minutes.

So anyway...there I am, enthralled by another episode of Beth Chapman's cleavage and 20 foot fingernails, when I look over to say something to Joe...and I found that. What a vision.

We did manage to see the ball drop. And then we went to bed.

Where are the days when we just getting started at midnight?

I'm getting so old. It's very depressing.

Even more depressing...I'm watching the clock to make sure I can post this and STILL get in my nap before the kids come home from school. What's become of me?

The Worst 4-Letter Word of All-DEBT

2011-12-13T11:03:00.000-05:00

I'm switching gears today.

I'm still very very sad about Julie and her family, but I'm going to focus on something positive today.

Joe and I just started Financial Peace University through Dave Ramsey.

Finances are one of those things that no one wants to talk about. It's almost more taboo than sex anymore.

Here's where we stand on it: we don't want to play the game anymore. The game that consumer America has told us we all have to play and we so willingly bought into.

We have a large and a small mortgage.
We have 2 car payments.
We have credit card debt (and how!).
we have school loans.
We have medical bills from procedures/visits years ago when we had no insurance.
There's more.
We owe and owe and owe.

We decided we're sick and tired of being sick and tired.

If you're a Dave Ramsey fan you've likely heard that phrase before.

Dave's plan is simple.

Stop borrowing. Pay off your debt. Save for college. Invest.

Easy right?

So what if you have more month than money and it's impossible to save anything?

This is where Financial Peace comes in.

Joe and I are learning about making up a budget (just putting on paper where our money goes), saving up a $1000 emergency fund for those emergencies that ALWAYS catch us by surprise, paying off our debt, and then learning how to save more and invest.

Easy peazy, right?

Not really. First, you have to get angry enough to actually commit to doing it. It's hard to get to that point because Dave's is a "Go Big or Go Home" mentality. You're either in 110% or you're out 110%.

His motto is Live like No One Else So Later You Can Live Like No One Else.

We are making significant changes. We are lowering our cell plan and downgrading from iPhones to regular, non-fancy schmancy phones. Dumb phones you might say. That change alone will save us $80 per month.

We're also cutting things like gym membership (cuz, let's be realistic...I wasn't using mine anyway...), eating out (most of the time), and frivolous purchases.

When we actually took a close look at our checkbook ledger, we were amazed at how many entries said "Target-$123" or "Giant Eagle-$54." Ridiculous.

Our "we're just going to grab a few things" inevitably turned into mini shopping sprees of things that we didn't really "need."

I was able to justify (to myself) that it was necessary to charge Christmas decorations. (!)

We are ready.

In a week's time, we've actually save up $445 toward our $1000 Emergency Savings Fund that is necessary before you can start re-paying debt. That's freakin' amazing for us.

How nice it would be to be completely out of debt. No more friendly calls from the credit card company, no more car payments, no more mortgage! I can see it in the not-too-distant future. I can taste it.

I think it would be awesome to write a check every semester for my kids' tuition and not have to take out a second mortgage, loans or for my kids to have to work to pay tuition. That way they can start their adult life without be saddled with debt right off the bat.

It'll be tough. And emotional. It's amazing how many emotions are tied to the balance of our bank account. But as tough as it will be, it can't be worse than sleepless nights wondering how in the world we're going to rob Peter to pay Paul.

I'll update how we're doing periodically.

A Little More About Julie

2011-12-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

Joe & I went to the funeral home last night for Julie's viewing. (Click HERE to read who Julie is.)

It was awful. We felt a little awkward being there when we'd never met Julie in person, but I felt like I knew her reading hers and Jaden's story in a blog. Her dad held my hand while he talked about how wonderful his daughter was, his eyes filling as his chest swelled with pride. Her mom and I cried together as we agreed that she touched so many...including people like us who she'd never even met. And we hugged.

Joe was able to talk to Julie's husband and tell him to call if he ever needs to talk. Joe shared that he lost his first wife when she was 31 to cancer. It was a hard moment for Joe and I think it kind of snuck up on him--feeling that emotional about something that happened 13 years ago.

But maybe this is that thing everyone talks about when a tragedy strikes--maybe this is an opportunity for Joe to reach out to someone with his own experience. Maybe that pain and unfairness he suffered through can actually add comfort and some level of peace to someone else. I'm so proud of him for doing that. I know it wasn't easy and was way out of his comfort zone.

This world sucks. It truly does. I say "Come quickly, Lord Jesus!"

I am so tired of hearing about babies who are abused, babies who die, parents who kill their children, loving, good people whose lives are cut way too short.

I'm sick of worrying about my kids every second of the day because evil exists and lurks around every corner, waiting for an opportunity.

I feel almost bad that Julie's situation has affected me so deeply. I feel like I am intruding on grief that only her friends and family should feel.

But I am cursed with an empathy that "allows" me to feel others' pain. Too much sometimes.

I don't want to just go about my life, relieved that I am still on this earth with my family.

I don't want to forget this family, who now have to find out how to go on without their wife, mom and daughter. Jaden may still have more battle with his own sickness. I worry, what will happen to his older brother and father if something happens to him?

Please pray for this family.

I told Joe last night as we were leaving the funeral home that no matter who is in those boys' lives...it will never be the same as having their mother. We as moms know that we have a special bond with our kids. Even different and separate from dad. We carried them, nurtured them, and birthed them. It's a connection that can't be replaced.

Surely they will be surrounded with love and support and people who will shower them with love and affection. But I worry.

I'm looking at my kids a lot differently these days.

The little things they do like yell that they want to watch something on TV or want a drink...the unthinkable idea that they want to finger paint or play with play-doh is suddenly not looking so bad anymore. They're here with me. They're healthy and who cares, in the grand scheme of things, if they get paint on the table or play-doh on the carpet? They're kids and I want to allow them to be kids and enjoy the little things in life. And I want to enjoy them with them.

I plan to move on as far as posting about this family for now. But it's really hit me how precious life is. And how quickly it passes us by.

James 4:14 says "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

So, for now, I'm doing all I can to make this mist as full and happy as possible.

Excuse me now...I'm off to go snuggle my kids. :)

Hold On To Every Moment

2011-12-09T17:03:00.000-05:00

Christmas always makes me nostalgic and misty, but this year I am especially thoughtful.

A couple of years ago I cam across a blogger who called herself SupahMommy. I thought she was hilarious. And real.

Fast forward a couple of months to where I find out she and I live in the same city! Weird.

As I read her blog I got to know a friend of hers. Her name: Julie. Julie's son Jaden was battling Neuroblastoma. A deadly disease. He was only 2 years old at the time.

I could only read so much at a time because I would cry so much.

Then...come to find out, Julie was from the same town that I now live in and lived only one community away. Wild. What a small world.

I messaged Julie on Facebook to tell her that if her family ever needed anything, to let me know.

She responded back even though she had no idea who I was.

That was in July of 2010.

It was only about a year ago (I think?) that I found out Julie had Neuroblastoma too.

Not only was she watching her little baby struggle with this awful, painful disease, but she was doing so while suffering with it as well.

It seemed like whenever Jaden would rally, Julie would struggle and vice versa.

This month, it was decided to move Julie to hospice. She pased away this week.

She was 36.

She left behind parents, siblings, cousins, TONS of friends...and the saddest of all, a loving, supportive husband and 2 little boys. Jaden is now 4 and his brother is a little older.

And because I am who I am, I torment myself by thinking about things like; did Jaden and Joey ask Santa for their mommy to get better? Were they with her when she passed? Will they remember her when she was healthy and smiled?

And then I think about how awful this must have been for Julie. I cannot even imagine (and I can't because it would easily send me over the edge) what it would be like as a mom to KNOW that I will not see my kids grow up. Not be there for them when they wake up scared at night. Not be there when they get hurt and want nothing but mommy. Not see the milestones; kindergarten, junior high, first date, prom, graduation, college, weddings. Miss the simple things like that amazing smile that only your baby can give you. Hear "I love you, Mommy" or kiss their snotty little lips.

I'm bawling just typing this.

I really, really do try to live every moment to the fullest and hold on to each memory because I know this time will fly. That's exhausting. To always focus on the Here and Now is tough. I was just laying in bed the other day looking at a collage of pictures on my wall. They were taken just yesterday, I swear, but somehow in that time, R & L had aged 4 years. E was just an infant only a week old in these pictures.

Where did it go?

The gist of this post isn't to depress you...although I'm sure I've done a pretty good job of that. Instead, I just want to remind myself and all of you to hold on to every precious second. Even the bad ones where you're SURE you won't make it through another minute of fighting, whining, complaining, and tantrums. Because I know no matter how stressed I am...Julie would have given ANYTHING to have even 5 minutes more with her babies.

Julie & Jaden

Welcome To My World

2011-11-28T19:37:00.000-05:00

Allow me to walk you through my wonderfully craptastic day...

Actually, it started before today. The past few days have been pretty awful.

R (our 6 year old) got his fingers slammed in the hatch of our minivan Saturday evening. He's okay but it was traumatic for all of us.

My father-in-law had a heart attack Saturday night. Talk about someone's life flashing before your eyes. I pictured hm holding our kids and how sweet he is. The absolute fear and uncertainty is overwhelming.

Sunday Joe was (rightfully) at the hospital most of the day. I am draaaaagging because of first trimester exhaustion. I am D-O-N-E. I have nothing. I'm out of gas. And here I am with these 5 maniacs barking out order after order. And it's just me. Alone. Hold me.

Today, Joe was up early and at the hospital again (again, rightfully so) and then left right from there to work until 9 pm tonight. That leaves me flying solo. Again.

This morning E (our almost 4 year old daughter) told me she wished there wasn't a mommy in our family.

Yes. I cried.

Then my 5 year old son (L) told me he loves me even when I'm yelling all the time. Which, apprently, I have been doing.

Today I had someone unsubscribe from the newsletter I write for my community. She didn't even try to be tactful or constructive with her harsh words. She wrote: Reason for Leaving "Ugh. Messy format, amateurish writing. And...hello? Spell-check! Sorry, you asked."

I especially like the "sorry" part at the end. Cuz that makes it all go down so much easier.

It seems I'm encountering so many people lately who are just...obnoxious.

I was all proud of reminding myself to wash the boys' guis for karate tonight. I shouldn't have patted myself on the back too soon since I forgot to turn the dryer on. There they were sopping wet when I went to grab them 10 minutes before we had to walk out the door.

I fought with R to wear sweat pants instead. He finally gave in and got dressed. I raced around, woke our 2 year olf up from his nap (which we ALL know is a sin), got the baby dressed, threw on coats, got on shoes, and grabbed the baby ready to head out the door.

I reached in the drawer to grab the keys when.....wait a minute.....where are the keys??

Not in the drawer.

My husband had them last. I texted him at work.

He didn't know.

I pursued it further with him...Where are the keys?

He had no clue.

So...here it is now 5 after 4 (class starts at 4:25...40 minutes away) when I have to officially announce that we are not going to karate.

There's crying and tantrums and loads of bad attitudes. A little the kids, a lot me.

I angrily texted Joe. I'm trapped in this house with 5 demanding kids and one mama who is ready to explode.

I've had it.

I need a break.

And I can't even have a glass of wine to unwind after the kids are in bed. Son of a...

What do you do when you just need a break? When there's no one to take the kids and give you those few precious hours to yourself?

Chewin' the fat

2011-11-22T19:17:00.000-05:00

Crappy.

That is the eloquent way to describe how the last few days have been for me.

I've had the stomach bug. That's bad enough with no responsibilities, but add to it 5 little ones who want and need everything under the sun and it's downright torture.

Let's throw in some social drama, dreary, rainy, cold weather, and morning sickness, and you have what equals a crappy week.

That's right. I said morning sickness.

If you don't follow me on Facebook you probably haven't heard the crazy news that we're expecting again.

Go ahead...give me what you got. Duggars. Kate + 8. I can take it.

So what if we qualify to have Starkist smeared across the front of our house because we're packed in here like sardines.

We're thrilled. And scared.

I alternate between ecstatic and terrified. With a heavy concentration on terrified.

We actually have to get a new vehicle. We literally cannot fit another human being (legally) in our van.

Not to mention with pregnancy, inevitably comes labor and delivery.

Passing a 7 lb baby through my nether regions isn't even what scares me most.

It's the darn epidural.

I don't even want to hear that I can go natural and avoid that whole epidural conundrum.

I like that I actually get to enjoy the process and be camera ready right after. :)

I just hate the actual procedure.

You go natural? My hat is off to you! I know my limitations.

Anyway...Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I am very thankful for so much:

My God
My family
The beautiful gift of life and the wonderful blessing of a new baby
My true friends
All the creature comforts we are blessed with
My husband having a job
The ability to see my husband during this holiday season when for so many years he worked in the hospitality industry and we didn't see him until long after the holiday was over
The freedom to say what I want and blog about the mundane and ridiculous
YOU! For reading. I haven't quite figured out why you do yet...but I don't care. THANK YOU for being here. ;)

What are you thankful for? REALLY thankful for?

Skeletons In My Closet

2011-10-29T11:37:00.001-04:00

In my house, 'organization' is like saying the "F" word.

Or maybe I mean when I try to organize I say the "F" word.

Regardless, I have grand visions of a place for everything and everything in its place...but the reality of it is...in a 1945 house with 3 bedrooms, 5 kids, 2 adults, closets the size of phone booths, massive amounts of clothing and 42 million pairs of shoes...'organized' is relative.

This is my actual Living Room coat closet:

There she is. All tucked away in the corner.


Cue horror movie music. We're approaching the monster.


This shoe rack seemed like such a great idea at the time. 3 years and 2 kids ago. It was a $5 LTD Commodities buy. These are not even all of our shoes. No....the clostes upstairs are also full of shoes. It's not like we have THAT many either. We just have a lot of feet. :)

The shelf up above has baskets that hold hats and gloves. In theory, that is. That one on the right ACTUALLY holds life jackets and swim suits. That plastic bag is full of pillow stuffing. I had big plans to make pillows. You see how far I've gotten with that...

Another beauty shot.

See this convenient set up? Love the radiator in front of the door for maximum door opening capacity.

Because the closet is so crammed, things spill out on the banister. Isn't that pretty for the living room? The first room everyone sees when they come in the door?

Side Note: Isn't that wall going up the stairs just SCREAMING for a photo collage?

And here's what I WISH my closet looked like:

*Sigh* Isn't it gorgeous?

This photo comes from Pinterest and is originally from BHG.com. I've tried to find the original blog, but no luck!

This was a closet very much like mine until they took off the closet doors and added a built in bench, some cubbies, and a few baskets. Voila!

I know, I know...it's scary taking the DOOR off your CLOSET....but see how pretty that is? It's a mini mudroom. 'And oh how I want a mudroom.

I cry and drool as I look through Pottery Barn catalogs at all the beautiful mudroom crap they have.

Unfortunately, this house was not equipped with any kind of mudroom or foyer. You just immediately fall into the Living Room when you come through the door.

Surprise! Here's our mess!

Make yourself at home, just throw your coat over the chair and pile your shoes in the corner.

So, I have big plans to convert our closet to look like the one in the BHG pic.

Really, it will be inexpensive. The trim is already there (that's one plus for the craftsmanship in this 1945 home), I can find a cute bench second hand or on my fave Criagslist and paint it if need be. I already have baskets galore....so this SHOULD be pretty easy.

Famous last words, right?

What A Sprain In The Neck

2011-10-27T21:52:00.000-04:00

I've spent the past 4 days convinced that I had Meningitis.

Googling your symptoms will do that to you.

I've had a sore neck with burning pain that ibuprofen did not even come close to touching.

I've slathered ridiculous amounts of creams and balms on my skin, and gone to bed smelling like a nuclear waste vat.

All for nothing.

I can turn it only slightly to the left without pain.

Sleeping at night is awful....and I mean it's more awful that usual with 1-2 children and a dog in bed with us.

So I took myself to MedExpress today and waited for the inevitable diagnosis and the advice to get my affairs in order.

Instead, the doc pushed on the sore area and I held in a scream. He kept pushing and saying, "That hurt? Yep. You got a pretty good spasm there."

I'm no MD, but I could have told him THAT,

Final diagnosis: Sprain.

I've heard of a sprained ankle, a sprained foot...even a sprained arm, but a sprained NECK?

And I have no clue how it got that way. The doc said I could have slept on it wrong.

I think it's more likely one of the roundhouse kicks my 3 year old likes to give in the middle of the night. Too many times I've been rudely awakened by her tiny foot landing square on my nose. And with authority.

Or the dog who sleeps ON TOP of my legs so I can't roll over.

Maybe it's from yelling at the kids until all the veins in my neck bulge out.

Hmmm. Wait. Maybe a sprain isn't so far fetched.

I love this doctor though. He wrote me a prescription for "1 little bell and 1 case of bons bons."

That's awesome. It was for Joe's benefit of course. And what a farce. Every mom out there reading knows that, next to death, nothing keeps a mom from her duties. I could have a broken neck and I'd still have to clean poop and scrub the toilet. :)

The REAL prescription he wrote: a steroid, a pain killer and a muscle relaxer. So, after I take that muscle relaxer, I know I'll wake up 18 hours later, face down on the kitchen floor.

But the beauty of that is...I will have slept the entire 18 hours without dog gymnastics or karate chops to the face.

Glass half full.

From Ugly to Awesome. ;)

2011-10-24T11:34:00.001-04:00

A little change of pace.

I scored this adorable kid sized armoire/dresser/bureau thingy from Craigslist.

$20.

I was jumping up and down. Joe not so much since he is my dedicated (as in I make him go, not as in he is committed to doing it) pick up dude.

Here's how it started out when I first made its acquaintance.


Isn't she a beauty?

I forgot myself and had already removed the drawers and started sanding before I took the "Before" pic.

Side note to all Craigslist sellers: CHECK YOUR ITEM FOR OLD BELONGINGS BEFORE PICKUP!: I found 2 pairs of undies and a bra under the bottom drawer. Ew.

Here's an up-close shot of the door and the sweet faux finish someone put on it a while ago.

Look at that. I'm not sure what I like better...the amazing finish or the scotch tape marks.

And get a load of this...

We obviously had a serious Grease Fan on our hands.

I did a little sanding, and then some painting...and voila:

I couldn't put the door back on because it needs one more coat of paint, but Joe and I looked at it and said, "Let's just leave it off!" Granted, a door would be nice to close away the mess that inevitably will become of the costumes. But I could put a little trim around the doorway to finish it off and call it a day.

I like the fresh, white look, but I couldn't resist adding these details:

Each of the kids' first initials.

You can clearly see this faaaaaaar from perfect, but I absolutely don't care! I love it. And it's going to take quite a beating from the kids anyway.

Most importantly, they love it!

Channeling Angelina Jolie

2011-10-14T18:23:00.000-04:00

I feel I have to preface this post with the following:

I LOVE my life. I love my kids and I love the big family we have. I wouldn't trade it for ANYTHING.

Not ANYTHING!

Now...having said all that...

Every day I spend a good 13-14 hours being begged, yelled at, touched, hugged, pulled on, cried to, argued with, demanded of, sassed, harassed, pooped on, and spit up on.

I do the dishes, prepare meals, do the laundry, clean the house, pick up toys, pick up toys, pick up toys, pay the bills, change diapers, wipe faces, mediate disagreements, and kiss boo boos.

I deal with phone calls where I can't hear, emails I can't answer timely, homework that gets turned in late, and at the same time I try to run a business out of my home.

I schlep 2 kids to elementary and 1 to preschool, and pick them all up a few hours later--with 2 babies tagging along.

Getting a shower is a feat unto itself. Putting on makeup and fixing my hair is an olympic achievement in my world.

Contorting myself into a pretzel is easier than organizing a babysitter for an evening out. Doctor's appointments are acts of bravery with the 3 youngest all present in that small, phone booth-sized room.

Nap time is my solace, but getting all 3 down at the same time so I can accomplish something is almost impossible. By the time all of them are asleep(IF they all go to sleep), it's time to wake them up to go get the boys from school.

Repairs and appointments are my responsibility--both for scheduling and for follow-through.

So, tell me ladies...how in the world do I flip the switch and turn into Angelina Jolie at the end of the day? Exactly how far down do I have to dig to pull out my Megan Fox persona when the lights are dimmed and the kids are in bed?

What's the secret (other than having Angelina's 6+ nannies, personal chef, limitless funds, and time and ability to jet around the world)?

If you're able to balance all of your hats, how do you do it?

My "Mom" and "CEO" hats are pretty stuck. It's nearly impossible to shift from "Mom" and "Caretaker" to "Wife" at the end of the day. Especially when all I want to do is veg on the couch catching up on DVR'd shows, have a snack that I don't have to share, and fall asleep.

How do YOU do it?

Is It Just Me?

2011-10-11T09:37:00.000-04:00

Or are people increasingly rude anymore?

Take today for example...I walked up to take the boys to school. The school is at the end of our road. Convenient? Sort of. It would be IDEAL if it weren't for the ridiculous roller coaster hill I have to go first, DOWN and then, much worse, UP to get there. But I consider it good glut exercise, and--let's be honest--I can always use glut exercises.

So I was juuuuust cresting the top of that mammoth hill when this obnoxious woman glances my way, sees me coming, and....stands right there. In the middle of the sidewalk.

It wouldn't be so bad if the school had a parking lot and the cars didn't park on the sidewalk to leave the roadway clear. So, there I am, huffing and puffing, sure I'm going to die, envisioning the finish line like a marathoner probably does, ready to spray my head with my water bottle, when I see that my sliver of sidewalk is invaded. And by a mom no less.

And I have to stop. Dead in my tracks at the TOP of the hill. We haven't quite plateaued yet, so one false move and I will be skating backward down that long hill. I counted to 3 before she finally slid a fraction of an inch out of my way. That's how long it took her to move.

Let's harken back to yesterday. Same place. This time, I'm leaving the school. And another woman, equally as aware of my presence, stands in the middle of the sidewalk again. In fact, she throws her arm around her son, looks at me, and then turns her back and sashays...I kid you not...in front of me at a snail's pace. I actually--once again--had to STOP.

I could take this only so long, and then I burned rubber up into the grass to get around her. And I heard her snort laugh as I passed. She thought it was funny that I was annoyed, I guess.

This woman....who happens to bring a large tumbler of some kind of drink with her to the school (Thought that was an interesting and somewhat puzzling piece of trivia)...thought it was funny to sashay her bedazzled jeans in my face. That last part is genuine--no exaggeration there. About the sashaying OR the bedazzled jeans. I wouldn't joke about the bedazzler.

And these are Moms. Fellow workers in the trenches. They--of all people--should know the frustration and stress that comes with carpooling kids around in a vehicle that constantly gets jammed up and wheels all turned around...especially on a freaking ginormous hill where I am begrudgingly given about 6 inches of space to land my wheels.

ARRRRGH! It's enough to make me absolutely lose my mind.

Rude. Rude. Rude.

I go out of my way to accommodate people. Honestly. Not only would I have MOVED my fat a--, er..not only would I have MOVED out of the way, but I would probably have asked how I could HELP. But I guess that's just me (and my friends...I know they would have done the same.)

And I really don't feel like trying to sort out all the reasons why maybe these women were oblivious to the fact that I was clearly on the sidewalk--whether it was a bad day, just got bad news, stressed out, not feeling well, etc etc-- I just don't care. I've had all those same experiences and STILL managed to be aware of my surroundings AND kind to others. So there.

But...if these same people didn't move out of my way last year when I was pushing the same double stroller AND 22 months pregnant, WHY would I be surprised that they aren't moving NOW?

So, the next time you see a mom struggling to push a stroller and make sure the small child walking alongside isn't dragged along or following 20 paces behind, please be kind to her. No need for "special" treatment for stroller moms, just some common courtesy. Meaning get the hell out of the way or you may lose a toe.

Just sayin.'

Where's The Remedial Course on How To Parent?

2011-09-28T11:58:00.000-04:00

Today started out like any other. Joe got the boys off to school, the smallest three were fed and happily playing and I was just about to settle in with a cup of coffee and my laptop to do some work when Joe came back from dropping off the boys.

He said, "I have someone with me."

Which I knew meant our 6 year old didn't stay at school.

I knew that he was upset and claiming to "not feel well" since the night before, but I also know a shyster when I see one.

He'd confided in me that he'd gotten "yelled at" the day before by the kindergarten teacher for being in the hall when he wasn't supposed to be.

Just so you know...I did not get all up in arms about it like I did the Lunch Lady Situation.

In fact, I was on board 100% with his getting reprimanded since he was admittedly fooling around in the hallway and distracting other students. I explained to him that he needs to be in HIS room where he belongs in order to be learning and stay safe-- and so he isn't distracting the other students.

My Mama Bear Meter was humming nicely at '5' on a scale of 0-100.

So, pan forward to this morning when he starts throwing a holy fit and giving Joe the business. Joe was at the end of his rope. He doesn't know how to handle R when he gets that way. I think I do (or may?) but I'm not always patient enough to follow through with it.

Joe even spoke with R's wonderful, sweet, kind teacher about it and she assured R he would be fine with her. Apprently R thought the teacher who had reprimanded him didn't like him anymore.

When Joe brough him home, I could read the frustration all over his face. R was embarrassed and wouldn't even come in the house because he was so worried about what I would say.

I calmly talked with him about what happened and tried to pry the details out of him. That kid is tighter than Fort Knox.

Since that got me exactly no where, I explained that just because he got in trouble did not mean he could stay home. He yelled how much he hated school and how 'stupid' it was.

I reinforced to him that the teacher was doing her job and he should have been following directions, not fooling around.

So, in the van we went, with R literally grabbing every door frame in sight.

I can only imagine what the neighbors must have thought as I carried/half dragged him by his hand to the van.

Things went from bad to worse when we got to the school. He refused to unbuckle and when I got in to unbuckle him myself he employed the Ninja/Vulcan death grip on the headrest. I had to do the ole trapezius pinch again just to get him out of the van.

When his feet finally hit the pavement, I was actually sweating.

Long story short....the principal was nice enough to talk with R and remind him how we all make mistakes and as long as we learn from our mistakes, that's the important thing. Then the principal allowed me to walk R up to his classroom as opposed to merely sending him on his way. (This was especially necessary since R was attached to my leg with a white knuckle grip.)

I was able to talk with his teacher and, on a lark, also with the kindergarten teacher who had reprimanded him the day before. She explained to him why she told him to get in his room and reassured him she still liked him.

Then, I kissed him and ushered him in his room.

What a spectacle. The whole class was disrupted and ended up staring at him. Which, you may know makes him melt. He hates to have people look at him. He gets very anxious.

So...here I sit with 943 things I could and SHOULD be doing, but all I can think about is this scene.

Did I handle it right?

It seems like such a fine line between coddling and supporting him. I don't want to set a precedent for this behavior by entertaining it, but at the same time, I want him to understand that I am here for him, Always. I see the actual living fear in his eyes when he gets like this.

It kills me to know that he feels like I'm leading him to the Lion's Den when I force him to face situations that frighten him, even though I know that I know that I know that I'm doing the right thing.

And then, of course, I revisit all my own anxieties about wanting to homeschool him. I struggle with:

Would homeschooling or cyber schooling only worsen the issue by keeping him from facing the issue of social anxiety or would it benefit him by giving him the nurturing and support he needs in a safe environment, preparing him for eventual integration in the public education scene? He's clearly a different kid.

I have zero worries about our 5 year old. I don't even imagine needing or wanting to pull him out to homeschool or cyber school him. He's never presented such deeply rooted social anxieties like R has and does.

So...any advice out there is welcome. Nice advice. It doesn't have to be in agreement with me, but it does have to be presented well. You're dealing with a mother's broken heart here.

Anyone dealt with this before? Have anything that's "worked" for you? I'm all ears.

I'm The Mom Who Does It All

2011-09-19T13:36:00.001-04:00

That's right.

I do it ALL.

I have a big family: 5 kids ages 6, 5, 3 1/2, 2 & 8 months

I stay-at-home

I work out of my home and run a successful business

I am active in my church

I try to spend time with each child individually every day

I help my kids with their homework

I try to teach them manners and ethics and respect for self and others

I support my husband and love him with my whole heart.

I try to do the above as much as possible in front of my kids and verbally to others so that I can uplift him in that way.

I have a huge heart and try to help others often

I try to listen and be there for others

I do my best to provide a warm, inviting, welcoming home for my family and friends.

I wash pile after pile of laundry: sort, wash, dry, fold and put away. Almost daily.

I attend school full time working toward a Masters in Elementary Education

Yep. That's right. I'm pretty spectacular, right?

Let me share with you the WHOLE story. Because when I say I do it ALL....I really mean I do IT ALL!

I also stress. Every single day. About anything and everything.

I daily cross the line from healthy concern to obsessive compulsive whether it's about my home or other people.

I analyze and over analyze everything said to me.

I worry every night about a tragedy in my family and how I would possibly go on.

I fret that I will never graduate and I will drown in my school responsibilities.

I snap at my kids on a daily basis.

I'm not always kind to my husband and often take him for granted.

I'm the suckiest daughter on the planet because I can go months (and have) without so much as a phone call to my parents.

I have certain expectations of people because I think people will think and react like me.

I get disappointed when people don't think, act and react like I do/would.

I am the very definition of snap judgment and hair trigger temper.

I throw things when I get mad.

I have a trucker mouth when I drive.

I lose it sometimes with my kids. I mean--lose it.

I don't always shower every day.

I pick pick pick on my husband about his quirky little idiosyncrasies that annoy the buh-jeezis out of me.

I think the most awful things about people sometimes for absolutely no reason. They could be a complete stranger or my best friend.

This post grew out of one of my hair trigger annoyances.

I grow so tired of reading blog posts and status updates and tweets about the mom who "does it all." The 520 dozen cookies baked, crafts completed, places visited, charities helped, friends lunched with, pounds lost, items sewn, diy projects completed flawlessly, careers mastered, infants potty trained, 1 year olds reading, etc etc etc... You can almost see the words being wrapped up with a ribbon by singing blue birds.

And I feel all hateful just reading it...especially if I know the person and understand that this is just a picture they are painting for others.

But I guess we're all guilty of that at times, right?

I know I even fall into one or more of those categories with blog posts and status updates I myself have posted.

But I'm over it.

I ain't perfect.

Faaaaaaaaaaar from it.

And I'm just gonna stand up here and let you know that.

So, if I slip up and post something along those lines and or gag inducing, and you want to give me a sound punch to the face, please forgive me the indiscretion and remember this post.

I'm flawed. Enormously so.

If I were fabric, I wouldn't be the brand new, crisp bolt that just arrived in the store. I am the remnant up front marked down for half off. My edges are cut all crooked and may be slightly fraying.

But instead of calling it ruined, I'll call it character. ;)

Whut the Whut?!

2011-09-16T21:33:00.001-04:00

I'm going to wax philosophical here for a bit.

Many of you know I wrote a short-lived "side" blog telling my personal story.

It was very hard to write and was 34 years in the making.

Most were supportive.

Some were not.

And while it shouldn't surprise me, it still does when I come across a hater or someone who is angry at me for sharing the truth.

Why am I surprised that one of the key "characters" in my other blog is obviously not too happy about what I wrote? I guess I thought that we'd worked past that and were able to at least be civil.

But I've since discovered that two of his relatives have "unfriended" me on Facebook. We all know that's the 2011 equivalent of the middle finger.

That hits me on a couple of levels.

My first pang comes with realizing that they must A) not believe me and think I made it all up, B) believe him and he must be a better liar than I ever gave him credit for and C) want absolutely nothing to do with me all for telling the truth.

It's hurtful, annoying, enraging, ridiculous, and upsurd all rolled together.

I know, I know..."Shake it off!" "Forget them!" "Why does it bother you so much? "Why do you care?!"

This is me, people! I don't just forget. I'm not made of steel. I am a ball of emotion and that's sometimes to my detriment. Exhibit A.

I'll never understand how some people think. I'll never wrap my mind around how some people can fall into a pile and come out smelling like a rose. I'll never "get" how some people will stare truth in the face and spit in its eye.

Just don't get it.

And...actually... I hope I never do. I don't ever want to understand why lying is favored over truth.

Or why people would stop being my friend.

I mean, I'm pretty terrific, damn it!

And if you disagree, what in the world are you doing reading?

Anyway...I'm over it.

Okay I'm not really, but I'm getting there.

Joe is bringing home a bottle of wine and we're going to start the weekend enjoying each other's company.

Not worried about petty, small individuals who know the truth and choose to ignore it.

And it looks like I've moved to the anger stage...

The Credenza That Almost Killed Me

2011-09-16T17:25:00.002-04:00

With all the crazy Lunch Lady drama (which you can read HERE and HERE), I completely got off track with the credenza project.

I know you've been waiting.

First off, I never did lose my vision, thankfully. After the freak primer incident, I wasn't sure.

Here's where I started with the enormous credenza that could easily double as an efficiency apartment in New York City:

And then, if you remember, I got this far before almost blowing my head off with an ancient can of primer:

I took about 2 weeks off and completely forgot about it.

Then, one day I just said, "What the heck?" And jumped back in.

I had these things in hand:

Clear glaze

Brown paint

Paint brush

Cloth

I remembered Lisa's directions (from Recaptured Charm) to use a ratio of 4:1 for glaze and paint mixing, respectively.

And as I poured the paint into the glaze, I realized I have absolutely no concept of ratios.

The brown paint just got away from me. And just by eyeballing it, I'd say the ratio was more like 3 7/8:2 1/3. You know, if I had to guess.

I dipped my brush in the mixture, took 3 deep lamaze breaths and slathered it all over the cabinet door.

Then I took my old cloth and wiped part of it off.

And then I panicked because:

1) I quickly deduced that one lonely old shirt wasn't going to be nearly enough for wiping the glaze off this whole credenza and

2) There is a reason Lisa said to use the ratio of 4:1. This stuff wasn't coming off.

Instead of a nice, subtle brown-ish film on my pristine white door, it looked like I dipped the door in mud. Or something else the same shade. I'll let you use your imagination.

I quickly grabbed a roll of paper towels and started scrubbing at the door, trying to rub off as much of the brown as I could.

I could tell this was going to be heavy on the "shabby" and not so much on the "chic."

Joe was great. He told me he liked it. So I pressed on.

When I ran out of the glaze mixture, I whipped up another batch. This time, I used just a DASH of the brown paint. It was sooooooo much better!

The only problem with that was, now the glaze was wiping right off and leaving only a faint residue--the way I originally wanted it to look. But I couldn't leave it that way because it wouldn't match the rest of it.

%$@*&!

So I added some more paint and finished the rest.

Here's how it looks in my living room.

Disregard that there are some essential pieces missing: the hardware. That's yet to come. I donated the original hardware to some gothic castles in Scotland.

There are the 2 middle doors. I started with the one on the left, hence the more beat-up look.

I swear I saved them to my computer the right way and when I uploaded them to the blog, they went back sideways. Sorry. You'll just have to tilt your head to the side.

What I've learned after all this is that I hate it. I want to re-do it.

You can agree. It won't hurt my feelings.

I'll have to be quick because it's getting colder outside.

This time, I might actually follow directions.

Maybe.

I'll keep you posted. Barring anymore school shenanigans.

I'm linking this post to

P.S. Lunch Lady

2011-09-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

Thank you for meeting with me today, Lunch Lady (Can I call you LL? I feel we've reached that place in our relationship.)

I appreciate you taking 10 minutes out of your morning to meet with the mom with steam rolling out of her ears, but tactfully holding it all together for the sake of professionalism.

I'm happy to say that I ignored my every impulse to greet you with a punch to the face, but instead silently recited the mantra "Listen. Listen. Listen" so that I could hear your side of the story.

And what I heard was only slightly different from what R told me yesterday.

Your addition to the drama was that R is very social (I hid my surprise) and he apparently likes to work the room at lunch time. I'm reserving final judgment on the validity of that claim since I know he CAN be social, but not sure HOW social he is in a room full of kids he only slightly knows.

I metaphorically pumped my fist because he must be coming out of his shell and adjusting in school. That's a reason to celebrate in our house. Too many mornings, LL, have been spent with me sweating while I physically have to dress him, carry him to the door and force him outside to go to school. All while he digs in his heels and begs me not to send him.

You told me that he walks the aisles of lunch 3 out of the 4 days you have lunch duty and he won't listen when you tell him to sit in his seat.

Why am I just now hearing about this? It's week 3 of school and I am just now hearing that he's being insubordinate?

I assured you that we are "Rule Followers" at our house. We do not seek to undermine anyone's authority. However, I want to make the distinction clear that YOU are an extension of US. I want to be clued in if you consider my son a disciplinary problem.

I also made it clear that we are not comfortable with him sitting at a table by himself as punishment. The table that I consequently found out is the Peanut Allergy Table. (The kids with Peanut Allergies have to sit at a table by themselves for their own safety during lunch.)

I think we can be on the same page here. We both want R to behave. We both agree he can't be a hazard or a distraction (or inspiration) to others in the lunch room. I'm with you on that.

I'll do my part to support you and your rules at home. But I can't do that if I'm unaware that there is a problem.

I left the school today feeling reassured that he won't be singled out, yet he is expected to adhere to the rules. There are other ways of addressing the issue should he choose to disobey.

I also stopped in and chatted with the school secretary about it and she understands where I am coming from.

Let's start over fresh. I'm ready to put this behind us and I think you are too.

I appreciate that you asked if you should pull R out of class to chat with him. I also appreciate that you apologized to me for making him so scared that he cried and begged to stay home.

*Cue violin*

It's water under the bridge.

Onward and upward.

Bring on the remaining 150+ days of school. I can only imagine what they will hold...

Open Letter to the Lunch Lady

2011-09-13T22:03:00.000-04:00

Dear Lunch Lady,

I can appreciate that you may not enjoy spending so many hours of your day policing elementary students during lunch when they're hyped up on sugar and letting loose a little of their pent up energy.

I can appreciate that you get sick of giving the same directive 5 million times.

I can also appreciate that if Little Jimmy doesn't listen one more time, your head may very well explode.

Oh how I can appreciate those things. It is, after all, my life on a daily basis. I may only have 5 while you corall a cafeteria full, but I understand the frustration none-the-less.

What I DON'T appreciate is that you chose to make my son so fearful of coming to school tomorrow that he sobbed as he begged me not to make him go.

No. Don't understand that at all.

I also don't appreciate that it took me 45 minutes to get it out of him, the reason why he didn't want to go to school tomorrow.

Finally, after practically pulling teeth, holding him, and corecing the details out of him, I found out that he was told he'll have to sit alone at a table tomorrow at lunch time.

Because why?

What was his heinous crime? What is the reason you are choosing to ostracize him and publicly humiliate him?

Was he bullying another student?

Did he use foul langauge?

Did he destroy school property?

Did he talk back to an authority figure?

Was he causing a scene and disrupting other students?

Did he cause someone bodily harm?

Oh yes-- that's right...he went up to the garbage can to throw away his trash not once, as the rules apparently allow, but TWICE.

Yes! Of course! THAT'S why you would take a 6 year old little boy, who already has issues with anxiety and fearing school because he thinks everyone is "looking at him" and place them AT A TABLE ALONE SO THAT ALL HIS PEERS CAN SEE THAT HE IS IN TROUBLE. FOR THROWING GARBAGE AWAY.

Brilliant.

Where did you go to school? Sign me up.

My Mama Bear Meter just went from 0 to 100 in about .3 seconds.

Do I think my son is perfect?

Hardly.

Do I think he's above being naughty or misbehaving in school?

Laughable.

Do I know that he deserves his time outs like the rest of them?

Absolutely.

But you will never, NEVER convince me that singling out a student and using humiliation as a method of reinforcement is the appropriate action.

Nor will you convince me that a 6 year old, in the 3rd week of school, should be reprimanded so strongly and threatened with segregation from the student body so that he actually cries and begs me not to make him go to school.

This is a little guy who is so shy it's painful. He can't be 1 minute late because he doesn't want to walk into a room full of people who will look at him when he enters.

He locks up and shuts down on us sometimes because he can't always express his emotions.

He is someone who I have long thought has some kind of sensory issues and has to be approached gently or it's too overwhelming.

And regardless of all this...even if R were a typical student who even defiantly marched up to the trash can for the offensive second time.....I still don't think the punishment fits the "crime."

Last year R had to sit in the principal's office because he was playing in the boys bathroom when he shouldn't have been. It was embarrassing to him and he felt awful about it.

And I was absolutely, 100% okay with it.

You do the crime, you do the time.

But this? This...I am not okay with.

I'm allowing myself to reserve full judgment until I actually speak with you, "lunch lady." I may be my child's biggest proponent, but I am NOT so naive as to think he's above reproach. I realize that certain-- shall we say-- necessary details could have been conveniently "forgotten."

I will listen to you tell me what happened, Lunch Lady.

But let me tell you if what you say matches what R said...and you still believe sitting him at a table by himself for the lunch period is appropriate...I'm not responsible for the words that may fly out of my mouth...or the teeth that may fly out of yours.

So maybe that last part was only for effect...but you get the idea.

I will not go quietly into that good night.

After our initial conversation was over...hours later...R said to me, "I've seen people sitting at that table before."

I was a little confused and asked "What table?"

He said, "The brown table where I have to sit tomorrow." And he couldn't look me in the eye.

Suddenly I could see it. The brown table.

That lonely, brown, laminate lunch table that sits off to the side by itself. The "trouble" table.

The table where the "bad kids" sit.

I can't bear it. It makes me sick to think about it.

What if he hadn't told me?

I'd never know because there was no note or phone call home. He would have been forced to sit alone while all his friends watched him eat his lunch by himself.

You want to break a mom's heart-just picture your baby in that scenario.

Absolutely not.

I won't be "that mom" who thinks Jr. can do no wrong and her child will never face punishment.

No way. It certainly isn't how we live at home!

But, I won't ever allow my children to be publicly humiliated in the name of discipline.

Especially my sensitive little six-year-old guy who's afraid of his own shadow. The guy who holds his little brother back if he thinks he's too close to the edge of the steps. The guy who tells me I'm beautiful every day. The guy who is so afraid of dogs (we're talking tea-cup poodles here) that I had to wrestle him and peel each finger off the headrest the other day when we went to a friend's house who has a dog.

Uh uh.

I will die on this hill.

So, Lunch Lady, I'll do my very best to be open minded. I certainly hope this is all a misunderstanding and we can all "ha ha ha" laugh it off.

Because if it isn't...and if this goes the way I think it might..well, it may get pretty ugly.

So rest up, Lunch Lady. Tomorrow morning is only a few hours away and I'll be marching into school with R in tow. Ready to discuss.

Sincerely,

Me

Why Oh Why Did I Click On The Link??

2011-09-01T22:29:00.000-04:00

As usual, I'm supposed to be doing a million things tonight.

Instead, I keep creeping on Facebook.

One of my "friends" posted a link to children needing to be adopted.

A voice in my head said, "Don't do it. Mandy. You know you can't handle this. You can't even watch the Feed the Children commercials without crying."

Naturally, I didn't listen and I clicked the link.

Why don't I ever listen?

I just spent 15 minutes bawling and snotting my way through a couple of pages of kids.

Young, older, teens, little ones. It's horrifying to see how many kids need families and homes.

To see how many kids are caught in the system.

In some cases, entire families of siblings (7 or more!) are all awaiting adoption.

There's this one little guy...at THIS LINK HERE. His name is Andrew. And he had me at that beautiful little smile.

I don't know that we're in the position to adopt right now. 5 kids already in a 3 bedroom home. Add another (or more!) to that?

But I am inextricably drawn to these kids. I want to give them love and security..and most importantly, a place to belong.

I have always had a heart for kids.

But I find myself asking God what my part is in all this? Am I merely a messenger of the link to others who may be able to offer them families?

Or is my part greater than that?

I can just see the look on Joe's face if I even suggested adoption.

Please look at this site: CLICK HERE

PLEASE LOOK.

Even if this isn't your calling...please share the link. Post it on Facebook and Twitter. Maybe you have ties to the person(s) who IS/ARE in the place to adopt and give someone a good home.

Now, how am I supposed to go back to business as usual after seeing these little faces listed with their "stats" like merchandise in a catalogue?

So sad.

WARNING: DIY Projects or Stupidity MAY Cause Blindness

2011-08-31T17:57:00.001-04:00

Hello, my friends.

No, I haven't fallen off the planet.

I've just been so freakin' busy doing all kinds of nothing it seems!

School started this week. Boy WHAT a change this year from last year. Do you remember? I was a mess. An absolute mess trying to decide whether or not to send our oldest or homeschool.

I still have those moments of pause, but I discovered that if you endear yourself to the teacher, offer to help in the classroom and really make it a point to keep communication open, you don't have to worry as much.

I mean.......I still TOTALLY DO worry about him. All day. All the time.

And now I have TWO to worry about since our 5 year old started kindergarten.

But it's in God's hands, right?

Anywho...on to today's post.

This mammoth credenza I scored for FREE on Craigslist.

These pictures really don't do justice to how large this thing really is.

So, I took a pic with my hand on one of the handles so you can get an idea of scale.

Is this a credenza or is Sir Lancelot behind that door?

This handle could easily double as a weapon in a pinch. Or a dumbell.

Here are a few other shots of the whole thing:

Nice upclose shot of the wood grain on top...and my tootsies. Sorry bout that.

It really wasn't in that bad of shape. It was just ugly. To me.

Plus I saw this amazing buffet redo on Recaptured Charm and I was dying to give it a try. Why not try on this? It was FREE after all...

I read and re-read Lisa's post at Recaptured Charm. I gathered my supplies and was ready to dig in.

The down side was that I forgot to get primer at Lowe's, so I decided I would just paint the white base over and over until it covered. What would that be...maybe 3-4 coats?

Um, try about 10 coats. No exaggeration. I actually lost count, there were so many.

It was about the 8th coat that I remembered we had all that leftover paint in the garage (from previous owners and previous projects). I thought I'd hit the jackpot when I spied a small can of primer in the back.

I disregarded the rusted, mildewy looking lid (which was domed, I might add) and the fact that it sounded like there was water inside.

Instead, I shook that b---h like there was no tomorrow since it sounded like it had separated. I didn't have a stir-er handy so I figured I was saving myself a step.

I grabbed the paint opener and BARELY had it under the lip of the lid when there was a LOUD POP and that friggin lid BLASTED off and nearly took my head off. Old, nasty, separated primer flew up into my eye.

I was stunned and just stood there for a minute. Then I raced upstairs, waiting for the burning, pain and blindness to set in, and ripped my contact out of my eye, shaking like a madwoman.

Then I decided it was time for a break.

Here's how far I got before chickening out for a day or two:

And the rest is yet to come...