a very, very, very fine house

To date the official start to summer for us has involved my wallet, cell phone and make-up bag being stolen and Whitt having an odd stomach bug that has lasted six days so far. I don't have a lot of meaningful things to say, but the other day I cleaned our den and remembered that I haven't taken any after pictures of the house.

So, I was thinking that I'd show some pictures of where we are. What I'm showing today is by no means finished, but it's where we've gotten without spending much money which has been Tom's mantra over the past two months.

This is our den before. Not a bad start!

I didn't do the best job at taking before pictures because Whitt was running around and at that point he didn't really do stairs.

This is the before view from our den into the back of the house: dining room, breakfast room and kitchen. The door to the right leads to my room, an office/sewing room. I'll show that another day.

Here it is today. I have to say first that I really love to decorate and arrange. I am sure, however, that a professional would find a million things wrong with what I've done. I used to really struggle with that fact. I used to feel like our house was just a rectory filled with mostly hand-me-downs.

Over the past two years I have learned to stop comparing and to embrace my things and my house and my style. It is quirky, but I think that it is true to our family. I love our little house and no matter where I've been on any given day, I always feel good when I walk in the door of our home. What we've been given? It's something to be thankful for and I have the built-in reminder of being surrounded by people who have been uprooted to remind me that we have so much more than we need.

The walls are a buff color throughout the downstairs, excluding the kitchen and breakfast room. It was hard to pick a neutral color after six years of white walls, but there were no do-overs, so I needed to know that we wouldn't get any paint surprises.

This is the view from the foyer. The doors to the right and left lead to the sunroom/playroom.

View from the other side looking into the foyer. I closed the doors on the entertainment center which we never do. Do y'all do that? Close the doors when you're not watching tv? I guess I'm lazy.

Everything is pretty much the same in this house as in the other except we brought Tom's grandparents' wardrobe into the den. I could tell he didn't want to lug it upstairs and we don't need it up there anyway. It holds coats and boots. The picture and silver serving pieces on top were my grandma and grandpa's.


This little wicker chair was in the nursery when Drew was a baby. I sprayed it black last year. The picture on the wall was my grandma's.

The other change in this room is that my parents gave us a rug they weren't using. I'm trying to work more blue in so it belongs a little more. The two Charleston cathedrals were cross-stitched by my mama in the 70s.

I've shown this thrift store lamp before. It's the only thing I bought for this house in the den.

Just look at all of our remotes. We are cheap. We don't have cable, so we have a converter box. It's sort of a sore spot right now because we don't get NBC. I am trying to be patient, but when The Office and Friday Night Lights start their new seasons, well, I don't know, but I think I will not be a pleasant person if I have to watch them on our little laptop every week.

This is the view from our couch to the back of the house. My daddy came and hung the two chandeliers for me. He also fixed the downstairs shower. That's how we roll. I always have a project for him. He always does it lovingly. The chandelier in the dining room was my grandmother's. The one on the floor is the children's home's and I don't really know what to do with it.

I think y'all need a break, so I'll revisit more of the house in the coming weeks. If y'all are interested. You might be saying, "P'shaw!" I don't know. I do know that I love looking at other peoples' houses and I'm trusting that you do, too!

weirdly different

Why is it that the you that sets out to have summer be all relaxing does not communicate with the you who schedules summer camps and vacations and playdates and lessons? I have overbooked us in every way possible and I am fighting the urge to scratch it all off the calendar and stay at the beach for the bulk of the summer. If it weren't for Tom. Because I spent money on these experiences and that causes his heart to go all a-twitter and he gets very clammy. And I would have to be without him for a good little while and since he sort of keeps me in the realm of reality, I would be very adrift without him.

We just finished swimming lessons and next week we begin VBS; then it's zoo camp for Drew and then gymnastics camp for Mary Des. And then we have a couple of trips to the beach and then one to Atlanta. All of that crammed into eleven weeks.

I am sort of a one-trick pony in that I only do one or two things well. Any more and I start to come unstitched. I leave the ice cream on the counter. Or better yet, I put it in the cabinet. I buy jam instead of jelly. Apparently this is very worrisome because there is a huge difference between jam and jelly. I leave the van door open. For hours at a time and even though I now have a faincy van that has automatic doors. I wonder why the laundry porch (it isn't even really a room) is so warm for two days until I am informed that the back door is unlocked and cracked. Open. In June. When it's 90 degrees in this city of cement. FOR! TWO! DAYS! Y'all want to know what that did to my husband's heart?

My pastor said this morning that we are are all created weirdly different. I think the Lord wanted to emphasize both of those characteristics when He thought me up. The point is that until I can get through the crazy I have created, I will be posting a bit more lightly. At some point in time I thought all of these things were a good idea and now I want to focus on actually enjoying them.

i'm just holding on

Sometimes I call Whitt bad to the bone. It frustrates Tom, but he sort of is. I mean that in the best, only your mother can say it, endearing way possible. His smile is wily. When you tell him no, he cuts his eyes at you and it is obvious that he is wondering if you really mean no and if it is really worth it.

Sometimes I catch him with Mary Des' pink princess bike helmet on. He sticks things up his nose. Last week he somehow reached the chip bag and I found him walking around with one hand stuck down in the bag. He was all, "What?" I guess he had the munchies.

He talks some, but mostly when you ask him to say something he says, "Na." He wants to do everything himself. Eat. Drink. Walk up stairs. Cross the street. He doesn't share either and if I am even close to his sister or brother he is quick to run over and claim me as his.

If you say, "Ready. Set. Go," he will run. He. Does. Not. Stop. He is constant motion and, honestly, he exhausts me. I just know that this is my daredevil child.

The thing is that even though all of these things are tiring to even write, I love him so very much. I love him so very much BECAUSE of these things and a whole host of others. He's a tater tot and I wouldn't want anything else.

everyday: afternoon

I'm sure it's the same at every house with small children, but those forever-feeling short hours between the end of nap time and Daddy and dinner are quite the challenge here. Last week we decided to walk over to the baseball field on the campus of the children's home where my husband works and we live.

We stopped short, though. Because we found a ramp. There is a toddler in our ranks and he loves ramps, loves to run up and down them and keep my heart trilling because I just know he is going to eat pavement.

We have been to that ramp every afternoon since. While Whitt and I run up and down, the older two play Buzz Lightyear and race and try to get Whitt to catch them. Which does wonders for my heart. Sometimes we get hot and tired.

We move on to what I like to call the canopy. It is five or six huge trees that form an umbrella of protection on hot days. Their position invites the breeze. We still play Buzz Lightyear. Drew contemplates how to climb such tall trees and Mary Des yells at the top of her lungs so that a sweet, childlike voice bounces back at us off the walls of the chapel and ramp we just left.

Then we wander into the tallish grass of the home's ballfield and pick flower-weeds and let the blades tickle our ankles and set a spell. The best afternoons are when we see Daddy walking home and we holler out for him. He hollers back and we all giggle and run to catch up with him.

That is my afternoon these days and I am liking it.

lyrical life

My life sometimes feels like the refrain of an old-timey country song. Tired of spinning my wheels. Workin' my fingers to the bone. Always behind. It's the first part of the sappy chorus about living life full and the good stuff and making choices. Maybe a Johnny Cash song. Or June Carter. Or Hank Williams (Sr). Or Lyle Lovett. Or even Patty Loveless. But not Kenny Chesney. Or Tim McGraw. Because I don't enjoy their music and I know that I have now totally alienated myself.

On most days I make a million little choices that either advance me or hold me back from getting toward tomorrow. And when I'm feeling sorry for myself, the choices to rest or do something creative or read ALWAYS mean that the next day suffers in the form of lack of preparation or the messy signs of life all around my house.

Today I am feeling it especially so. I have been believing that the change in venue for our lives will bring peace and slow and simple. It will. When I fine-tune the little daily things like should the keys live here? Or here? Which space is closest to the door so that someone won't drop them right here on my pretty entry table within the reach of chubby toddler fingers? Fingers that recently tried to stick a whole pecan up his nose, by the way.

My most beloved sanctuary is a book. It follows that I breathe deep in a library; I try to find the respite I need on its shelves. But. Life gets in the way and sometimes three weeks is not enough. Sometimes I finish a book in a day but can't get back for a week.

This summer I want books. And a cushion for my patio chairs. So I can sit out there early in the morning and stare at the leaves and the wooden fence and listen to the fire truck ladder blast air as it is pumped up and down in the station that backs up to our house. And read. If I want to.

I think it is time I read these. We are working through these as a read-aloud. They were Tom's when he was little, which I love. I also think this book is timely. And I think this book would speak to my heart. And. I will succumb to this crazy phenomenon by finishing the series with this and this once my mom buys them and finishes them because I am too cheap to buy the hardcover and the waiting list at the library is in the hundreds.

girl meets lamp

One girl who needs a new lamp + one husband who is tight with his budget = a trip to the thrift store.

This house is a little bigger. And surrounded by trees. It doesn't get great light. I love lamps. So, on Saturday my 6 1/2 year old son and I headed over to my favorite His House location. His House is our local version of Goodwill.

I fell in love. I fell in love with a lamp that looked like it walked right out of my grandparents' house with the mustardy shag carpeting and matching swivel, rocking armchairs that were upholstered in pea green tweed WITH! the plastic covers at the top for protection. My sweet little friend at the store said he'd give me the lamp and the awesome drum shade for $10. I walked straight up to the cash register.

I did not want to paint it:

But, I decided that without paint it really was looking like something straight out of The Brady Bunch or Charlie's Angels or Three's Company.

I went to Wal Mart and bought a $3.00 can of spray paint and a lamp harp for $5.00. Which, I'm sorry, seems awful steep, but I am not one of those girls who finds things like that at thrift stores and garage sales. I miss those little treasures. Anyhow, I hit it with the spray paint and this is what I get to enjoy everyday:

I would really love to post a close-up, but this lamp is huge. It might be a little too big. I don't care. I love it. Ok, just one more picture. For scale purposes.

Hmm. I think I should have closed the playroom door.

*The Nester is having a little lamp party today. Head over there to see even more lamp transformations.

nesting

Down time right now consists of a little bit of housework and a little bit of nesting. I might get one thing done a day, but it is still fun! This is what my kitchen looked like this morning:


I'm pretty sure I mentioned the aqua-ish tile earlier. This post is not about the tile, but it is so prominent that I didn't know if I could not at least acknowledge it.

I like to have lamps in the kitchen because I don't love overhead lighting. I was trying to hide the cord for the lamp but it was just looking cluttered. And like I just threw a bunch of random things up on the counter.

Then I saw this picture on a little decorating blog I read:
This is a rental home that she is helping decorate. I liked how the trays/basket were decorative without being cluttery. And, if there is one thing I have it is baskets. Many, many baskets. Here's my attempt:

I am liking this alot better! This second picture shows the soft green on the walls a little better. I am wondering about that little aqua vase. Does it look out of place?