Monday, July 30, 2012

Color Me Blue

So, you can't tell much from these pictures, but we took some of y'alls advice and painted it the old navy a blue, gray.  However, it's a very bright gray blue.  It's a happy color.  We also listened to Anna McP and changed some of the trim back to white.

Old Navy
New Blue

Bennett and Atticus hated to be left out.

So, I had to take one of him too.  Atticus wouldn't say cheese, so he was cropped out during editing.
Bennett says thanks for stopping by!

Sunday, July 29, 2012

What We Learned: 21 Months

Last month it was all about imitation.  This month has been all about imagination.  It's so interesting to watch his little mind work.  In the past few weeks, Bennett has been very into make-believe.  He first started with make-believe flipping flap jacks, but now he has taken to imagining himself as disappearing, as imagining carrying a purse, and imagining he's a flying object.

Bennett learned to finish the lines in books.

We learned that everything sounds sweeter in toddler-talk.

Bennett learned to fly like an airplane.
We learned that it's time to invest in a safety railing.

Bennett learned to give booboos and bug bites a kiss.

We learned that Bennett's already bored with the Toddler I classroom.
Bennett learned that the big boys have a lot to teach about baseball and bootball.

We learned that big kids can teach about baseball, bootball and boogers.

We learned that Bennett can fake sleep.

Bennett learned the importance of turn!

We learned that we can't imagine that slip in the kitchen didn't happen, but we did learn you can postpone haircuts long enough to make the booboo heal.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Meet Gwynnie, my friend's mom

 If you haven't seen the funniest art project by photographer Danny Evans, circulating on the internet, you need to.  Evans edited celebrities photos to look like normal people you would know from church, high school, the grocery store.  There was more than one that I didn't even recognize.  The concept is laugh-out-loud-able, no?  See more here.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012


You know you married a good egg when he starts a conversation, "You know what would make for a good blog post..."  We were on our way home from a mid-Saturday afternoon lunch and a quick trip to an antique shop (a really good egg!).  He started to put into words the same thought I had been having since purchasing our house.  Only buy what you love, only decorate what you must.

In our last house and our previous apartments, we hurried to fill empty walls, furnish empty rooms and make the beds.  We were left with a whole lot of furniture, decor and even towels that while we wanted it at the time, we didn't like it a year or two later.  The things that we do still admire include a tablecloth, a lamp and a pair of candlesticks.

I suppose that's why the one thing we've purchased together for the house was this:

Yes my friends, that is a cast iron wall-hanging of a cow.  It's about five inches tall and will hopefully serve the very important function of holding keys.

I found it a few weeks ago when I was on the hunt for a console table.  I took a picture because I thought Rocky, the boy who grew up on a cattle farm, would appreciate it.  He couldn't stop thinking about the most perfect key ring for our house ever and we were thrilled to learn that not everyone is searching for the most perfect cast iron cow key ring holder. 

Hopefully, I can keep y'all entertained with more thrilling home updates in the not so distant future. The possibilities are endless when you start the series with a moo!

Friday, July 20, 2012

Friends in No Places

I've waxed and waned pathetic about friendships here before.  But, I know many people of my age and generation have similar feelings about the subject.  Making friends later in life is hard.  Maintaining friendships later in life is hard. 
Last weekend a fabulous NY Times Article was published that made me feel a little less lonely.  Apparently, it's a common sentiment. 

At least I don't have to resort to this man's tactics:      
"After a move to New York in his 30s, Dave Cervini, a radio station executive, was so lonely that he would walk his cat in Central Park, hoping to stoke conversations."

For those of you that haven't read it, I recommend it.  For my old friends that have stuck by me even as they read about my lack of said friends, I love you, I miss you, we should do lunch.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Because I'm having writer's block

Posting has been light lately, no?  I just can't think about anything lately beyond house projects and the summer vacations I am not taking.  So, to keep you up to date, a random list of bullet points, stream of consciousness style.

1. I really want to go to the beach.

2. My parents are going to Savannah next month and I am very jealous.

3. I miss going out to eat without the stress of a wiggly toddler.

4. I thought we were going to go see a movie together for the first time in two years.  It didn't happen.

5.  A few weeks ago we got ten hours of sleep on a Saturday.  That was the first time in two years.  It might have been better than a movie anyway.

6. I am contemplating buying cowboy boots.

7. Bennett is moving onto size 2T clothing.  Big kids wear size 2T clothing.

8. His favorite game involves spatulas, griddles and make believe pancakes.

9. I miss baking.

10. My wish list for the house grows daily.  It includes things like a new back splash and pedestal sinks and sod. 

11.  I mentioned to Rocky that our house needed a name.  We both suggested the same one without knowing what the other one was thinking.

11. I like that you read my dorky blog.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Held Hostage

A photo dump of all of the pictures that have been held hostage on our camera for months. Thanks to vacations, sickness, buying, selling, moving painting and stitching, I haven't had the time or the patience to download pictures in quite some time.
Super Sleepsack Man!
I think I left my block somewhere around here...

This was so long ago, I don't remember what was so interesting, perhaps a cute pupy, a sizzling steak, or more likely a stagnant puddle.
I cropped this photo so you couldn't see just how wussy I dress my kid.
He's a baller.
Hipster shoes

World watch out, he can reach door knobs. And he knows how to use them.

A smile like that can only mean one thing, a mouth full of cinnamon roll.

He's having too much fun to stop and take a cute Father's Day picture in matching polos.
Haven't featured a cute bathtub pictue in quite some time.

And to prove my child isn't always photogenic!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

50 Shades of Beige

When we set out to buy our Nashville home, I was stuck wanting a quaint cape cod or a southern bungalow, but torn because our little family would already be bursting at the post and beam seams.  I wanted an old home with character, and didn't mind putting a little elbow grease into fixing up later.  I kept comparing the houses we were shown to our Dutch Colonial in Arlington and images of Southern Living renovations.   It didn't have to be perfect, but it had to have soul.  I'm sure my realtor rolled his eyes a bit when I complained that a 1950s ramber "wasn't old enough."  I was a pain in the dupa.

The next day we saw what would become, our house.  I took one step into the front door and just knew, holy crap, I think this is it.  Funny part is, the owners did everything they could to strip the house of anything old, any uniqueness, any soul.  Nothing except the front door and the creaky stairs are original to the home.  Everything else in the home is new, lights, moulding, floors, layout.  What I thought I loved about an old home doesn't exist here, except of course for those slanting floors.  So, I take that back, everything is new except the front door, the stairs and the 1930s foundation. 

Our home was gutted to the studs about five years ago, just about the time the real estate market crashed.  Since then, the home has been rented out.  The house needs a litte love and attention.  And in true renter fashion, every room is painted the same shade of beige.

I should warn you that we need paint, window coverings, rugs, stools, wall decor.  And no, my house is not always this clean.  It only looks this good when Bennett is sleeping, which is why there are not any picturs of his room.  Picture a room with not enough furniture, in need of window coverings, rugs, and wall decor, with a giant toddler mess on the floor.  So, without further adeiu:

You enter into what was originally coined the Christmas tree room, now that we're all uppity homeowners and all, we welcome callers to the parla.  Holla!

Good thing we aren't sticklers about feng sui, because the stairs flow about three inches to the right of straight out the front door.

Grandma Snyder's Chair

To the left of the front door is the family/tv room

Bennett's Horse

A good orientating shot courtesy of a photog with no skills.  Keeping it real with the moving box in the background.

Our mamoth island, rinky dink refrigerator (fingers crossed momma get's an appliance for her birthday!), and a window seat in the kitchen...

Cabinet in the dining room.  I chose to include this here so you can help me decide what to do about the contractor that installed the thermostat directly in the middle of a dining room wall.  Genius!

Dining room brings you back full circle, literally.

Off of the kitchen is a back hallway addition with a laundry room(!), bathroom and guest room/playroom.

Why yes, I did just show a picture of my "please give me a break we just moved in" 4th bedroom."  It features a lovely set of mis-matched curtains, mis-matched sheets, and a box that is still there because it is the perfect size for Bennett art projects.  I'm a classy mom, what can I say?  Keeping up with the classy theme, I hung art directly on existing nails, just like I hung my curtains. 

Upstairs is the master bedroom with an adjoining bedroom.  Hopefully, one day it will be a nursery, if not the most tricked out ballet shoe pink closet.  Currently, it stores all of our remaining, homeless junk that we've moved four times.  Also not pictured, his and hers (walk-in) closets.
Matching his and hers sinks.

I had to hurry and post house pictures before I lost all my audience.  Hi mom!  Also, the painters come this week to change my house to fifty shades of gray.  I rock at home ownership!

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Hellicopter Parenting

Those of you who know me well know that I can be wound a little tight.  I sweat the small stuff.  I worry, I fear the things I cannot change.  I knew that parenting would only make matters worse.  Parents have an entire little person to care for, make sure they are fed, clothed, roll over on time, grow at the right rate, don't hit, don't swear and brush their teeth. 

When Bennett was born, I vowed to focus on the big things and not worry if my little boy tripped and scuffed his knee or bumped his head a time or two.  I didn't want to be the mom who walked four inches behind, ready to scoop him up at every stumble and fall.  Bumps and scratches are inevitable and every little boy (and little girl) needs to learn to pick their foot up over a crack in the sidewalk and dodge that wall that came out of nowhere.  It's a method that has worked well for most of us.  His dad might catch his breath a little more often than I do, and he may have a few boo boos on his knee or an egg on his forehead at any given time, but Bennett and I are both stronger because of it.

Our track record took a hit on Saturday afternoon.  So did Bennett's head.  We were playing in the kitchen with mom and dad's pots and pans.  Bennett was very busy cooking, stirring, shifting the pans around, covering and uncovering.  He stopped to take a drink of water and spilled some on the floor.  He took a step and whoosh, down he fell, straight onto the edge of a frying pan.  I was right there, not hovering, playing sous chef. 

I scooped him up and there was blood everywhere. We ran upstairs to the bathroom and by the time I set him on the sink he was already done crying.  I called Rocky to come home because I wasn't sure if this was an ER situation.  It was 5:01, sixty seconds after the dr's office closed on Saturdays.  While I was explaining to Rocky what happened, my parents walked in the door, just dropping by on their way home from church.  Thank God I had more capable back-up, capable grandparents who know how to hover.  Rocky got home just in time for the nurse's line to tell me to head straight to the emergency room. 

We raced to the car and were sitting in the waiting room not 30 minutes after it happened.  The bleeding had stopped.  Bennett was smiling at the big kids, asking to look at  the train in the lobby.  Asking for snacks, his water, the phone.  If it wasn't for the drops of blood on his shirt, no one could have imagined anything was wrong, his hair hiding the wound.

We talked to nurses and EMT's, consulted with family and friends who all work at the children's hospital.  Each one had to hear me make excuses for my failed parenting, secretly hoping they would all agree that every kid plays with commercial-grade stainless-steel skillets.  "And I was right there, supervising, I swear."  I couldn't believe I let this happen right before my eyes.

My penance was to rub my little baby's sholders as the nurse's aid kept him pinned to the table as they sewed four stitches in the first cut and three in the other.  He wailed as he was obviously very frightened that he couldn't see beneath the surgical paper.  But when they were finished, he sat on my lap and I rubbed his back.  He sniffled a few more times and then waved good bye to the nurses on our way out the door.

After a milkshake supper and a good night's sleep, he was up and at 'em and bumping his head again on Sunday.  This time, we're never more than a foot behind him.  What is hard is knowing that wouldn't have changed the outcome the last time.  We have to navigate new boundaries, new safety measures and perhaps buy a helmet.