A piece of ice cream cake leftover
from my 30th birthday last month is still sitting in my freezer. I
can't bring myself to eat it--nor can I bring myself to throw it out.
Apparently I still have not accepted my new age yet <sigh> As
long as a piece of that cake is still in my possession, I will forever
teeter on the edge of being 29. It's delusional but comforting. I am choosing to not analyze it any further. End of story <period>
Things have been quiet here. Just plucking along with daily life as always. Matt was out to sea again for 10 days. He was home briefly yesterday before leaving at 3:30am this morning to go in for one of those 24 to 36 hour type shifts. It really was pretty effortless to float back into the flying solo mode and nothing too eventful really happened. For that I am most grateful. Oh sure, all the girls got sick, but it was just a chest cold, some fevers..no biggie. Unless you slam us with a stomach virus, I am beyond caring at this point. Once you have multiple children--one or more of whom are in school--you realize you just gotta let go a little and just deal. So life went on. We had three parties in one weekend--one of which I, once again, hosted. A great weekend was had by all and we enjoyed some great time with friends. The following week was just the same ole, same ole of school and errands and holiday shopping. Jules did have a breath taking strings concert--yet another Matt had to miss (he has yet to see her perform actually) but otherwise it was pretty quiet. I really didn't hit any snags until this past weekend.
This past weekend. One that was supposed to be filled with some time with friends again and some good ole smut reading (currently reading the latest in the Masters of Time series.yummy and demanding of my full attention) but alas two kiddos were sick enough to warrant canceling plans. So I found myself, yeah with some shopping left to do and as always, some laundry and all, but I really had some downtime on my hands. Not good. Not good at all. "Kids, get in the car, Momma's gonna go buy some paint!"
So by Saturday morning my sunroom was ripped apart. The antique piano and bookcase moved (thank you weight lifting--some muscle came in handy for that one), pictures taken down, painters tape put up. It was time to rock and roll.
Ok, so now you're asking, what color covered the horribly barren cream colored walls of my sunroom? A pale buttery yellow? A nice subtle sky blue perhaps. Maybe even a nice neutrally pleasing ivory or tan? Yeah..ok. Ummm no.
My walls from floor to vaulted ceiling are now a bright, bold, rust red.
I did leave the trim and doors white though.
But this is where I ran into a snag. I really wanted a rust red color. I did. But after I spent 1 1/2 hours climbing up and down a ladder to do the first coat on just the first wall, I stepped back and said "Oh...my..God..I don't know if I like this!" I stepped back into my green living room to view it from another angle and said "Oh God! Oh God! I really don't know if I like this!" and proceeded to have a melt down. There I am, with hours of work ahead of me, alone trying to do this. What the hell was I thinking?! My oldest had abandoned me to stay a friend's house for the weekend, so while trying to paint I was also dealing with the two younder kiddos and now I don't know if I like the color of the 2 gallons of paint I had bought? Well shit. Up the creek without a paddle type of shit.
Did I mention I was also pmsing? Like horribly? Like one second I was punching a wall cursing and the next crying? Yeah don't ever paint on a pms weekend. It's just a really, really bad idea. A getting a new haircut or dying your hair when you're hormonal type of bad idea. Just don't do it.
But I couldn't very well go out and buy more paint at that exact moment. And it's not in my nature to just stop a project and leave it be. So what did I do? I put in 10 more hours to paint and finish the job. 2 coats on all walls and the kind of detail work that involves a tiny painter's brush and getting up on that last rung of the ladder that says "do not sit or stand here". Hey, I'm short and I had to get up to the vaulted ceiling somehow to make sure my line was exactly precise.
I will say this. I love the color on a cloudy day or at night. Bold is not the issue. Bold is what I like and what I wanted. But it's the tone of this rusty red that is bothering me. It just has a touch too much orange and in a room that gets so much natural light, the tone changes numerous times during the day. So now I'm on the fence. I may very well buy a sample can of a deeper red after the holidays and paint some swatches on the walls. But we'll see. It could grow on me, too. Is it for everyone? Certainly not. Years from now a potential buyer could walk in and throw up a little in their mouths at the very sight. But I don't care right now. I need color in my life so sue me if my rooms don't flow seamlessly. Each room, I am determined, will have it's own feel when you enter. I am actually starting to understand why historic homes had so many doors on each room. Oh people say it was to maximize heating and cooling back when all you had were fireplaces and a summer breeze but let's be honest. Historic homes were known to sport a colonial blue in one room, mustard yellow in another, bold red in another and a tone of gold in yet another. Doors were not there to maximize heating and cooling. They were there to soften the blow of the assaulting change in color from room to room.
The room is completely back together now. Actually I started "demo" on Saturday morning and by Sunday afternoon everything was back in place. I will be the first to say painting is not a lifelong commitment. Who cares if you don't like it? Redo it. One weekend of hard work and some blisters and a room can change drastically. No biggie. But once again I state: Do not do it during PMS week. It's just a very bad idea. I do dread redoing it if I should so choose to. I really do loathe painting. I just like the after product.
This week I am just mentally preparing myself for our trek back to the ole homestate for our annual holiday visit with family. I love seeing everyone but I absolutely can not stand the preparation that goes into getting there, the actual trip itself, or the ride home and unpacking. I'm not sure how much longer we will be doing this on an annual basis. Unfortunately, almost our entire family is there so we feel a strong obligation to carry on the tradition regardless of the toll it takes on us. It seems that is the price you pay when you chose to move away from everyone to live out your adult life. I am sure the three children and the car sick dog greatly influences our feelings on the whole matter though.
That pretty much sums up what has been going on here. As always, I plan to do a huge Review of 2009 post as I normally do but who knows? I might even do another before then if the mood should so strike.
If I do not check in prior to the holidays, I wish all my readers a most healthy, safe and happy holiday season! And make sure to remember a few things as you celebrate: No hitting the egg nog and driving. Smile and say "thank you" when someone hands you the dreaded fruit cake gift--the person's feelings are more important than your honesty. And make sure you grab the one you love--or some hot random stranger--and get a good kiss in under the missletoe. I wish you all the best and hope you have a most fabulous holiday!
And lastly, I know you must be curious so I'll go post a before and after of the sunroom. (Opinions are welcome as long as they are ones saying the room looks great.)
Sandra Boynton, oh how I love you! This is my ultra favorite Bed Time Book. It generates the much needed giggles to make us very tired. The look on the mother piggy's face is priceless. It is super entertaining to read with voices. Miss M now does the voice of the Little Pookie, as she is very familiar with the book now. I love how the mother piggy asks Pookie if he would like to wear the pajamas with stars or pajamas with cars and like my children, he picks the top to one and the bottom to another and responds, "Stars and Cars".... Love it!!! This is a must have.
I'm really torn in my decisions for gifts for Miss M. Although she is 2 years old, her developing mind is moving towards needing toys geared for a 3 and 4 year old. We have been enjoying Memory and Candy Land. The other day I had to ask Mary if a shape was a hexagon or an octagon. Miss M explained to me the difference between 8 sides and 6 sides. Last Sunday she and I went shopping at the book store for her little friend, Audrey. Audrey is turning two and Miss M wants to get her little friend some books for her birthday. As we are browsing the shelfs, Miss M finds a Dora the Explorer board book she would like to get for her friend. I ask her how much it is and she turns the book over and says, it's four, ninety-nine. To my surprise and other passsers by observing the tiny Miss M, and her wide vocabulary, she was indeed correct on the price of the book. Miss M is a surprising little character with her language skills at such a young age. I was driving home about a month ago and must have had a worried look on my face. She asked me from the back seat, "Mommy what's wrong?" I responded, "Oh, I'm just thinking..." "She said are you worried about the tires on the car?" I explained yes, because the car had been making a knocking noise. She pays very good attention to conversations between the Daddy, myself, her older brother, and older sister. She listens and often comments on something that she knows has to do with what we are talking about. My older kiddos have a half sibling that is 2 years older than Miss M. They were telling me that she has an imaginary pet dog that she calls puppy. Miss M is listening to the conversation and comments that we have a real dog named Chloe.
This past Sunday I was getting bombarded with telemarketing calls and began just letting the answering machine get it. One call rang and Miss M perked her ears up before the answering machine picked up, she commented, "You should answer this one because it is Mom-Mom (grandma, my mother)... " and she was exactly right. She is so in tune with things, it can cause one's eyebrows to rise with awe.
If we can get the potty training thing down, I would like to enroll her in Pre-school next year in September. Mentally she is ready. She understands the concept of potty training, she is not ultimately motivated to do so on a consistent basis.
Tonight she wanted to help me wrap presents. I don't know who she has observed or how she knew but she decided she wanted to put the bows on. She knew exactly how to tear the scotch tape off and she knew that when she picked out the bow that it would be sticky on the back if she removed the card board piece. I asked her how she knew how to do this and she said Daddy showed her, but I just checked with my husband and he hasn't shown her at all. So I'm stumped at how she knows how to do this. She is really something. I'm not trying to sound braggy, I just want to document the moment, so I can look back at dates and milestones. Everyone who ever encounters Miss M's presence is really taken by her and her advanced vocabulary. People consistently are amazed that she is just two, and will not be three until June. I recently asked a neighbor to babysit Miss M, as my full time baby sitter was ill. When I picked Miss M up, the sitter just kept asking me if I was aware of how bright and smart Miss M is. I explained yes, that she amazes me every day. The sitter had commented that she had brought out some magnetic letters and was stunned that Miss M could put letters together to spell her name and other small words. When I'm shopping at the store and the lady behind the register asks for my phone number, Miss M spouts out the info.
Earlier this evening she took out some Tinker Toys and made pretend lollipops. When I pretended to eat them, she pulled it away from me and explained that I shouldn't really eat them, that they were just pretend. I told her I knew but thanked her just the same.
On December 1st we were greeted by our Annual visitors, "The Christmas Elves" Toby, Tabby, Tina, Tim, Nanny Bell and our newest Elf Twinkle. As some of you know Nanny Bell is in the retirement stage due to much love and a hip replacement. She watches over the family from the shelf. Twinkle is a sturdy little elf who offers the necessary cuddling to Little Miss M. We've heard tales from our friends that Elves have a tendency to be mischievious, I'm happy to say our Elves are very well behaved.
My Son is taking an 8th Grade Art Class in which he loves. The first pictured mug is his impression of Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas, which is his favorite. The second picture is from G. Her assignment was to take two animals and combine them into a mythical creature. This is her impression of a Borse Hat. In other words her combined creature is that of a horse and a bat. The third image is a holiday mug by G.
This is Baby M's beloved Hippo. Aunt Susan bought Hippo and brought it to the hospital when Baby M was first born. Hippo has a device in it's leg that giggles. Hippo sleeps with Baby M each night. Sometime around 3am when the babe that slumbers rolls over, multiple giggles can be heard over the baby monitor. Before bedtime I discovered the dinner prep that Baby M had cooked up for the "Hungry Hippo". She described the menu like this: A milk shake made with a scoop of pretend ice cream. a slice of bacon. Some Alphabet soup with corn, A can of Hormel Chilli, a French Fry, and a pot holder for a bib. You will be shocked and amazed that the play high chair was mine when I was little and belonged to my Raggedy Ann Doll. My mom painted over the peeling Raggedy Ann decal.
My husband has a Pre-Vet bachelor's degree, a master's degree in Veterinary Parasitology, and a PhD in Medical Microbiology.
My mother has a bachelor's degree, my father a master's in Education.
My sisters Beth and Esther have degrees in Spanish and Midwifery, respectively.
My little brother is in his last year of medical school, before he begins a cardiology residency.
My three sisters-in-law (Todd's sisters) have between them three bachelor's degree; two of them have already started work towards their master's, one is in the process of applying for a master's program.
My father-in-law has a law degree.
Of my six brothers-in-law, one has a law degree, one a master's in accounting, one a psychology degree, one a bachelor's in social work, one is in medical school (like my brother), one is working on his PhD.
Is it any wonder that I feel like the least educated person in my family? It's because I am!
The idea of why we do this to ourselves is on my mind during finals week as I wrap up this 21-credit hour semester. While I should be revising for my Shakespeare 442 final tomorrow, I am instead reflecting on the alternatives* -- what I would be doing if I wasn't battering my mind against religious dissent in the Middle Ages (and other topics of that ilk). I remind myself that while I may be the least educated person in my immediate circle -- surrounded as I am by those with multiple graduate degrees -- I am also accomplishing something that three quarters of the population will have neither the opportunity, nor perhaps the ability or desire to accomplish. All of this work will be worth it when I model for my kids the value of education, and when they see the legacy they have been left by their parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles.
*And stuffing my face with chocolate. That goes hand-in-hand with finals.