Tuesday, July 30, 2013

DIY Ombré Dresser

So, this weekend I was surfing Pinterest and had some sudden inspiration, the kind that starts by driving my husband crazy and ends with my house covered in pieces of craft supplies. I've been trying to put Tillie's room together for a while, going back and forth, to paint or not to paint, super girly or kinda subtle. I've had a dresser for her sitting in my garage for a while and this weekend I made my final decision. 




I went with blue ombre, because bright blue is my new favorite color for basically everything. I don't really have a good plan for gradually tinting the paint for the ombre, I just eyeballed it. I will warn you though, if you try it yourself keep a little of each shade handy after afterwards, I didn't so it really sucked when Beau knocked one of the drawers over and it got scratched... but oh well. 


I spray painted the original hardware with brushed nickel metallic spray paint (they used to be a gross brass color). The white on the outside actually has a mercury glaze over it, so it looks sparkly and kind of metallic in the sun.


I love it! I just want to lay in Tillie's room and stare at it all day like a kook. Definitely my most favorite furniture piece at the moment.





The Beach

There is no summer activity I dread more than going to the beach. Before having kids I loved it, it was relaxing... refreshing even... but children have killed the joy of the ocean for me. Anyway, we have been to the beach a few times this summer and I guess it wasn't so bad.



Last year at the beach my boys had one agenda... take years off my life and give me grey hair by recklessly throwing themselves into the ocean to be pummeled by waves again and again. This year they were a little less crazy and spent most their time digging... I actually got to sit at the beach this year.



This was Tillie's first time at the beach and she loved it, she's not quite as wild as the boys and I love it... my blood pressure appreciates the break.



The boys wear their life jackets EVERY WHERE now, really takes a load off my mind. They also make nice handles and it's a lot easier to wrangle kids when you can just pick them up like suitcases.


Last year the sand made me crazy... it gets everywhere and never leaves. After going to the beach you have sand in your crotch, in your hair, on hands and in your food. I'm hyperventilating a little right now just thinking about it... also kids are just kind of permanently sticky and full of wrinkles where sand can hide and never leave EVER leave. I'm working on it, obviously sand is part of the whole beach package, this year I'm trying to relax and forget about the sand.


Look at them... they don't even care about the extra crunch on those chips...sand hands gross.


This is the best part of the trip, the peace and quiet of sleeping children. I bet next year the beach will be better, and the year after that even better... eventually the kids will be old enough to load like pack mules with beach toys, towels, and icey cold beverages. The day is coming... I know it... I can't wait. 



Thursday, July 11, 2013

another awkward discussion with Conner

I definitely think worst part of kids growing up is their development of long term memory.  One day you can speak freely without fear of being listened to and the next they're spouting family gossip to anyone who will listen and unleashing cuss words like they've used them all their lives. At two Conner's ability to remember the word shit, and only use it at surprisingly appropriate times and in perfect context was kind of cute. Now at four his memory is out of control and ruining my claims to perfect parenthood.

With that I give you a story about the most recent thing Conner has remembered... and I'm sure he will never, ever, EVER forget and will only choose to bring up at the MOST awkward and embarrassing times... because isn't that just how motherhood works?

Yesterday, while I was heading out the front door to chat up the neighbor I noticed something wrong with my rosebushes. We moved into this house a few months ago and the mature, well cared for plants are my pride and joy, the rose bushes especially. I check them daily for weird changes in behavior and they have responded well to being totally ignored (because I have no idea how to take care of a freakin' rosebush!). Well on this day I noticed something majorly different, like my bushes were somehow a foot shorter and crawling with mating beetles!!!

After screaming and running in circles for a minute Nic came out with the perimeter guard, bug killer stuff that he keeps around (because he's a manly man with a garage full of storage for things like bug spray) and let those plant eating assholes have it. The neighbors came over to check out the damage and because I think I'm oh so witty I said this to the neighbor;

"Damn beetles, acting like they own the place... eating my rosebushes and having sex on my front porch, don't they know there are children around?!!"

Yes, there were children around, but unlike the beetles I have no excuse... I need to start spelling my conversations out or speaking pig latin or something. The next morning while we were watching cartoons Conner turned to me and asked "Are there still beetles outside having sex?"

My eyes popped out of my head, my heart stopped, and I barely gasped out "Uhhhh, the beetles are gone and that was just a joke mommy made, I probably shouldn't have... uhhhhhh maybe that's not something we should repeat...."

With joy in his happy little eyes Conner replied, "I know you were joking, it was the funniest joke I ever heard!"

Avoiding eye contact and acting nonchalant I casually asked, "Um, if you thought it was so funny... what do you think sex is....?"

Without even stopping for a minute he answered, "Well, it's when you give each other piggy backs and eat a whole rose bush!"

"You are exactly right! That's a perfect explanation of sex... now let's stop talking about it."

And that's how we closed the subject... until the next time it comes up. I'm sure it won't even enter his mind until that one time we visit a convent, or a nursing home, or a quiet craft fair full of grandmas.