Tantrums R Us

That's where Margot thinks we live I think.  She's a tantrummer extraordinaire.  Tonight my brother Isaac and sister-in-law Jess stopped in with their sprout, Daphne.  And Margs wowed them.  I guess I do remember the other kids acting two before they turned two, but apparently since that was all of 1.5 years ago for G, my memory of the actual dirty deeds has evaporated...along with my patience and almost every other fruit of the Spirit when dealing with my children.  The biggest problem for me is realizing how dramatic I am when they're not obeying at bedtime or mealtime or quiet time or anytime.  It's like I throw an adult tantrum that's more pathetic and years more ironic than anything that little miss 22 month old beanpole of a Marg could ever dream of composing.  I don't roll around on the floor (I know that surprises you), but my words are ridiculous and there have been, on occasion, items slammed or tossed in a frustrated mothering moment.  It doesn't happen always...it just feels frequent when they're so crazy and there's chaos and confusion and calamity.  That was me being dramatic.  But seriously, am I the only mom who can throw it down?

Major and minor projects

I've been doing some refreshing around the ole casa- mostly because Andrew has this going on in the living room:

Yes, the LIVING ROOM is behind the plastic.  This furniture is currently lazing about in our dining room...the table is up against the window to the left.  It's just so cozy, I don't know if I ever want my living room ba-- I couldn't even pretend that was true.  I'm so sick of tripping on furniture, food, and small children packed in like sardines that I'm about to throw that couch over that wall.  Kidding about that, too.  But seriously.  Andrew is putting up wainscoting and installing a built-in, glass doored bookcase in that room on the other side of that curtain.  Slow but steady...steadily slow.  I feel a little bad for nagging him daily about this project because he's so busy at work, too.  Then I stub my toe on one of 85 pieces of furniture crammed into a 12x12" space and tell him get to work.  Sometimes I remind myself of a Proverbs wife.  But not the one in chapter 31, more like the dripping faucet one described elsewhere in the book.

On to my little projects...that Andrew is also about 50% of.  Oops.  What can I say, he's a wizard.



I had never liked the stairway/entry/hall wall color after we painted the banisters/risers , so I've had it in mind to repaint.  I was about to go over these verses I had penned above the window in the landing...so I thought I take a picture for posterity.  Love those beautiful words. 

So you're thinking I just painted it white, huh?  I did.  Benjamin Moore Seashell White.  Here you can see the new color over the stairs, old color still in the foreground.  It looks about 1,000,000x better than the old bickering walls and stairs combo.  I didn't hate the original pale chartreuse-y walls, just when they were next to the greenish grayish of the stairs.  Did I completely over-explain myself so that at one point you thought you knew what I was saying, but then by the end were completely confused?   

Hi guys.  Hi Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.  This idea is a double steal from my favorite design blog- Little Green Notebook.  Jenny put this print up in her laundry room and accented with Rustoleum's Safety Red.  Andrew (surprise), printed the picture on a piece of 11x14" paper and cut a piece of MDF to go under it.  I spray painted the frame (that I already had!) and used a spray adhesive to bind the MDF to the photo.  Whammy.

Shelf in Marg's room: my idea.  Manpower/brainpower to hang it: Andrew.

For some reason Margot's bedroom color gets all funky-yellowed in pictures, so I like to tweak it beyond reality.



I added this fun pom pom trim to Margot's lamp shade.  All by myself.

Painting over those Bible verses made me think I want to put more up everywhere...just been thinking of good places and passages and the like.  Having God's word around the house is the charge I need in the day to day grind of motha hood.