My Christmas Mantel

Well I had the *most* fun hosting Thanksgiving this year!  And as soon as it was over I cranked up the Christmas music and went around packing up all the leaves and pumpkins.  Today I finally settled on what to put on my mantel for the Christmas season and here it is for your viewing pleasure, enjoyment, and critical eye:

I thought I'd get around to sewing ultra-chic stockings this year, but that (along with a bazillion other things) hasn't happened yet.  Is it just me, or does mothering get in the way of decorating?  So, I picked up a couple of stockings for the boys this year, with nary a thought of whether they'd match the grown-up stockings.  They don't, and so far I can't seem to muster up enough energy to be bothered about it.  Go Mommy!  For once I have defeated the Type-A crazy woman in my head.

I do love the snow-anchored branches.  The mixed greenery and pinecones.  The occasional snowflake peeking out of the greenery.

And my favorite thing is showing off our Christmas cards from years past--held up by snowflake place card-holders.

Now that I have had this put together for three hours, I am thinking about spraying snow on the branches--yea or nay?  If you've posted about your mantel I would love to see it!



P.S. Lovin' the Linkys:

The Lettered Cottage

Happy Thanksgiving!

 I hope you have a great day...

...filled with delicious food and lots of fun...

...and plenty of time with your loved ones!

That Mommy's Winnings

One thing I love about reading blogs is entering all the great giveaways.  And you know what's even better than entering?  Winning!  About a week ago I learned I had won a gorgeous 8x10 blueprint from my bloggy friend Stephanie over at Binkies and Briefcases.  I already received it and gave it a new home...isn't she lovely?

Love the gray!

And here's a closer view...

If you'd like to replicate this look (and save yourself a bundle), hop on over to Stephanie's blog for the tutorial.  This girl is super creative and has inspired me to (want to) make Christmas gifts for my boys.  She was even featured on her local news for her $0 Christmas!  We'll see if I get anywhere with my own hand-made Christmas...in the meantime, I am enjoying my new print.  Thanks, Stephanie!

Fabric Inspired Decorating

How do you decorate?  I'll admit that my decorating "technique" is occasionally as follows:

1. Pick a paint color based on what I feel like.  Do not consider how it relates to the rest of the house.
2. Cajole the Hubs into painting by promising him it's the last room he'll have to paint.  Ever.  He has yet to mention the fingers I have crossed behind my back.
3. Place assorted thrift-store accessories and "found" objects (literally, found 'em on the side of the road) randomly around the place.
4. Spend too much time flailing around trying to find coordinating fabrics.
5. Give up, watch The Bachelor, and ignore that my room is woeful at best.

As a result, my home does not look like this.
Photo: Houzz.com

Believe it or not, other people have more successful decorating techniques.  I am sure you've seen Sarah on that show Sarah's House.  One of the things she and her sidekick Tommy do is choose a fabric first.  That fabric inspires the color choices, furniture and even the design style of the final room.  I loved how she used this yellow and charcoal fabric in a bathroom:

Photo: HGTV

My friend Jessica is great at using this technique, to the point that a fabric actually inspired her entire wedding.  And it was so beautiful that it was featured in the current issue of Weddings Unveiled --check it out here.

See that striped table runner?  That's the fabric.  Gorgeous, right?

These photos, from Jessica's photographer Millie Holloman, make me drool.

Anyhoo, she and I went fabric shopping for her new house last weekend, and what fun!  We saw some beautiful fabrics, and I can't wait to see what she does with her inspiration fabrics in her new house.

Her bedroom fabric--I adore it.

This graphic print is so pretty--I want to cover my house in it.

Here's the inspiration for her great room--isn't it, um, great?

And here's what it looks like on an ottoman.
Heaven!

And here's a fabric I personally loved for its colors (with my paint chips).
It's since been nixed due to being too paisley-y.

Speaking of paint chips...I have made some progress on my quest for the perfect beige.  Turns out, it's not a beige, its a greige, not too pink or yellow.  Very neutral but warm--and that's it on that chip!  It has no name because its a custom blend but I'll show you what it looks like on my wall soon, promise!  Then we will go through my aforementioned decorating "technique" and see what happens next;)

In the meantime, go find some fun fabrics and see how they inspire you!

Urgent Caring

On the heels of my life getting super-sidetracked last week, I found myself yesterday face-to-face with one of my most dreaded foes: Urgent Care.  Oh, sickness, why?  Why must you always raise your ugly head on Friday afternoon or Saturday night, or (worst of all) Sunday morning?

Short story: runny nose escalating to fever, leads me to seek advice from our after-hours phone nurse.  Her assessment: he needs to be seen.  On a Sunday.  And they can't see him at their office.  So off we go to Hell on Earth Urgent Care.  Hey, I don't want to give the impression that I don't appreciate the people there.  They are keeping me out of the ER, and that's great.  But one poor doctor for all us sickies means a cranky waiting room and waaaay too many episodes of iCarly for a 3-year-old.  My child was watching that craziness in a weepy daze and all he kept saying was, "that wasn't very nice," every time somebody got shoved (at least every minute or so).  I have taught you well, young Skywalker.

Two and a half hours later we left with the diagnosis that "its probably something viral."  Again, I'm glad to know he doesn't have an ear infection, but seriously!?!  2.5 miserable hours and a hefty co-pay to tell me that!  I was exhausted beyond belief, frustrated, and feeling helpless.

And then...something happened.  The child came home and took a long nap, and when he woke up he was his old self.  If he had a fever it was tiny.  No headache.  No tears.  No lethargy. Not even a runny nose.  And as he went out for a walk with Daddy I thought back over our morning--the worry, the craziness, the calling of doctors.  The iCarly.  And I remembered the prayer that his Daddy and I prayed over him at the height of his fever:

"Isaiah tells us that 'Your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth, speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.' (Isaiah 58:8).  Lord, be with our Biggest, and fight for him against this sickness. Heal him, Lord."  Am I surprised that our prayer was answered?  I confess--a little.  Because not every prayer is answered right when I want it to be.  But this one was, and what a blessing to be reminded of God's power in this and all things.  

Oh, and one other thing I wanted to say.  I really, really hate it when my boys get sick.  But there is this tiny silver lining: I am reminded at times like this how desperately, how urgently, I care for them. A mother's love is such a fierce love.  Such a powerful, protective love.  I'd do anything for my boys, go to the ends of the Earth for them.  But when I am not enough, I can pray to a God who is.  I was reminded of that yesterday.  And I just wanted to share it with you.

Sidetracked

Remember how on Monday I told you I was heading right out for a paint sample?  I also had plans to write some clever posts and actually function as a human.  Yeah...not so much. Instead I spent the morning at the pediatrician's office due to Littlest Boo's third ear infection in the last six weeks...then to Target to fill his prescription...then back home to try and feed and medicate and get a nap for his little feverish self...

...followed by Monday afternoon which can be summed up like this: "Up!"  That's all I heard for five straight hours.  Usually in a whiny shout.  And for those five hours I walked around holding that giant baby on my hip.  Well, apparently my body wasn't informed that we still need to do such things sometimes, because when I woke up Tuesday morning I was having excruciating back spasms and could barely stand.  There would be no five hours of "up!" yesterday.  However, there was also no crafty stuff and no writing, clever or otherwise, for the past two days.

Incidentally, a similar thing happened to me last week, when I was sidelined by a visual migraine followed by two straight days of a throbbing headache.  Have you ever had a visual migraine?  It felt like I had just looked into the sun while 100 paparazzi inexplicably shot my picture at exactly the same time.  Freaky.  So, again, not exactly getting around to my "to do" list.

But that's motherhood, and I feel like these last two weeks have been a jolly good reminder that I can only expect so much of myself.  I may have a huge list of things I must do (wipe noses and bottoms) and things I should do (cook dinner) and things I want to do (go AGAIN to Benjamin Moore) and things it would be amazing to do (sit quietly for 3 minutes in a row). But the Mommy job description includes the requirement that a Mommy "must be able to gracefully ditch all her plans in case of a child's urgent needs or her own partial physical shut-down."

Got it, plans ditched.  Not so gracefully, but maybe I'll get there someday.  As soon as I can stand up again.

Gray (or Something Like It)

I admit it: everything takes me forever.  I have been in my house for three years and still haven't put up curtains in our family room.  I am still using end tables I "borrowed" from my mother.  And I am still mulling over the paint color.  Oh, the paint color.

Sadly, this is not my house.  Click here to see more of it.

For about a year after we moved in I was totally fine with our gray walls.  Gray is *everywhere* in our house--the entire family room, up the stairs, the entire upstairs hallway.  You simply can't look anywhere without seeing it.  Well, after about a year, I was D-O-N-E.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with gray generally, not even gray walls.  In High School I even designed an all-gray house in my interior design class, which clearly proves that I am a prescient genius when it comes to color trends.  I am absolutely thrilled to my core that people are using more gray.  But like any color, it has a million different personalities depending on the room it's in, the shade of gray, the light, the other elements of the room, and a bazillion other factors.  It can be dark and moody or light and airy, or even earthy.

Or, as in my house, gray can have all the personality of a cinder-block prison cell.  This particular color makes me feel like I live in Arkham Asylum.  I must change it.  I just need to find the perfect beige and start painting.  Easy breezy.  Except I cannot find the perfect beige, and after weeks (okay, months) of looking at patchwork walls I am really getting tired of this process.  I have tried no fewer than 15 colors.  But everything I try is too light...too dark...too pink..too yellow...too gray...sigh.  Am I just super picky?

Have your walls ever looked like this?  For six months?
Oh...well, guess it's just me then.

The good news: I think I finally found the color.  This room has been my inspiration for the last two years:

Photo: Rachel Reider Interiors

Out of sheer desperation I finally emailed the very talented woman who designed this room, Rachel Reider, who was kind enough to write me back and share the color she used: Pismo Dunes by Benjamin Moore.  You likey?  I am running out right now to get a sample.  Cross your fingers for me and hope it looks as good in my room as it does in hers.  Now, all I need is three more years and maybe I will get around to hanging some curtains.

Worst. Mommy. Ever.

Dear Diary,

I'm writing today because I can't bear to speak publicly about winning the award for Worst Mommy Ever.  It has been four days and I can only just now speak about what happened.  You see, I was running errands.  It used to be that running errands was kind of fun and felt productive.  I would plan my route according to what really needed to get done, and, four or five stores later, I would get around to the fun stuff.  Then I would come home after six or so hours, laden with bags and happy.

These days, "running errands" means planning one or two stops around snack time, meal time, and nap time.  It means no more than an absolute max of three stores or else I will break my back from lifting two big boys and a double stroller in and out of the car twice per stop.  It means sweating no matter the weather, because it is hard work.  It means making a judgment call based on everyone's mood, and planning on using every public restroom in sight, even if we just got in the car and I just asked "do you need to pee?" and I was just told "No!"  It means coming home with whole milk and forgetting everything else.

So Thursday morning I had two goals: go to the grocery store to pick up some posterboard, then take a longish drive up to a paint store in my endless quest for the perfect beige paint color.  This should not be that difficult, right?  So we go to the grocery store and emerge with a large package of posterboard, two balloons which are free for kids at our store, a Grande Skinny Chai from the Starbucks conveniently (and devilishly) located inside, and I even remembered both children.  We make it to the car even though I have no free hands, and everyone manages to get in.  The posterboard, the boys, the stroller, the balloons.  Even the Chai.  This is like thirty minutes after we go in for one thing.  Littlest Boo has a death grip on the balloons and screams like a banshee when I try and remove them from his fat little hands, so I go around to strap in Biggest Boy first.  And off we go!

Twenty-five minutes, five miles of Interstate, and mucho traffic later we get to our destination.  I go around to get LB first, and he's not buckled in.  He's not buckled in!  My heart dropped in my chest, my thoughts started racing and I just started praising God that he was safe.  Apparently out loud, because Biggest Boy starts saying, "Thank the LORD, Mommy, Thank the LORD!"  Which made me laugh enough to calm down.  But still.  This was not a short drive, and it wasn't just around the block.  I cannot believe that I forgot to strap my baby in the car, and besides compulsively checking his buckle for the last four days, I have also been mentally punching myself in the face.

So, that's how I was nominated for Worst Mommy Ever.  Want to know how I won?

The next day I asked That Daddy to go to the liquor store for some Schnapps.  Biggest Boy desperately wanted to go, so he went along in spite of my husband's protests that he was just going to the "adult store" (Stop that snickering!  Minds out of the gutter!")  So they walk in and BB yells, "Hey!  This isn't an 'adult store!'  Mommy brings me here all the time!"

True, if "all the time" is the same as "once a year."  But still, officially the worst.  Ever.  So Diary, thanks for listening.  And don't tell anybody!