As a mother I try to avoid profanity as much as possible so in moments of utter frustration I tend to huff really loud similar to an animal giving birth.
something like: uggggghhhhhhhhhHHHHHH in various tones and pitches.
However, O just informed me “when something goes wrong, I need to yell DAMMIT really loud“.
Sounds legit.
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
W taking a picture of O (making a heart with her hands)
Sometimes they play so good and look so freaking cute I could imagine having 100 of them running around.
HAHAHHAHA. Then reality hit’s and I’m all like, THAT was the WINE talking.
W is so cool. Not gonna lie, she’s a little bit too much edgy right now (sweet Miss USA quote btw!). She’s got teeth busting through every which way and a diaper rash that just won’t quit. Between a lactose intolerance and creeping up on the terrible two’s she’s basically a ticking time bomb. I’m like scared of her. Not scared of her, so much as scared to leave the house with her.
She is the wild one; no patience, table dancing, talking back, all the normal terrible two aspects. Here is her and the dog sitting on the kitchen table watching TV. Because that’s normal.
This is where it all goes down. The great room. I don’t know specifically why some rooms are great and some are called family or living rooms but I like the way you can say GREAT so many different ways.
At least in my head I say it different ways and it’s funny – in my head.
The little people are in all the pictures. They see a camera come out and it’s “CHEESE” and “CHEESEBEEEERGER” the entire time. All the furniture in here is mix matched. Originally we had glass tables that all matched and looked lovely but they were evicted once the kids started running around. I try to avoid unnecessary accidents as much as possible.
The black side table is actually my kitchen table with the glass top removed. Hopefully we can use that again one day once the kids are taller.
The TV looks a little sideways…
My – uh, I mean the girls Anywhere Pottery Barn chairs. I love them.
This surprisingly and extremely comfortable rocking chair came as a set with our camper! I know, so lame to use recreational furniture in your home but it just happened okay. None of us saw it coming. It has more than earned it’s keep rocking babies over the past four years. And I made those pillow cases myself thank you. It took lots of fabric because I messed up the measurements somehow but it all worked out in the end. The fabric was called Waverly – how ironic, right?
No, it’s not me and it’s not a stripper. It’s a painting of a scene from Dancing with the Stars. A painter at our gym did it. He’s super amazing.
I was cleaning and decided to snap some pictures for bloggy world. This is for you Rose, it will be a virtual tour of my house. But minus the virtual tour part. Okay so it will be more like strategic pictures taken at optimal angles to hide all the crap and junk and make me look like an amazing house keeper, cleaner, decorator, what-have you.
It’s basically an optical illusion. As is my entire life.
HI! Come On In!
Chris randomly called me from Home Depot and said there was a really great door on clearance. Apparently the people who bought it measured wrong so it was an odd size. Being the craftsman as he is Chris made it fit our house by adding extravagant molding details around the frame. It’s so fancy. The old owners last name was “Fly” I think. I think of them often. Like way often. Whenever I open the front door I see FLY written on masking tape on the inside trim. I will pull it off one day.
That crazy thing on the door knob is a child lock to keep in grandparents, visitors and babies.
and this is what happens when you get my genes…
and I taped sideways again – WHAT THE HELLLLLL
December 3, 2014. The real Lois and Cass adventure began.
Rose invited me to go to NY for an acting workshop with her. I have never been to NY but have always wanted to go. There was never any reason for me to go before so with a real legitimate purpose I was ecstatic. We took the train up and it was only like a little over two hours, so surreal.
We got on the train and sat down and started yapping away to realize we were on the quiet car, as the lady next to us so kindly told us.
We walked so much that my calves were actually sore the next day. I wish I had wore my Fitbit. It probably would have blown up. It’s a wonder all New Yorkers aren’t skinny – or maybe they are.
It didn’t even feel like NY, it felt like Baltimore to me. Until we saw the view from a rooftop bar. WOW. We ran around took a cab a few places, ate some sushi, then ran around some more places, had a mini photo shoot – see me as a coach model. Then we ate some hamburgers and went to our workshop.
So awesome.
Totally bombed the workshop, I was off book and was so excited to be there – obviously because the teacher said I had a “perma-smile”, which is some trendy way of telling me I was way too excited to be there reading in that room. Totally true. But whateves.
Yay for Tuesday. So close to Friday, yet so far. This is a nice big holiday weekend coming up and we are going camping. I love camping, the girls love camping, and even C loves camping. We have a big group going too so there is sure to be endless entertainment of the cheap and disturbing kind. I feel so close to nature sleeping out in the woods and sitting next to a campfire for umpteen hours drinking beer. While our version of camping is probably slightly different than most because it involves a travel trailer complete with a flat screen tv, full shower, toilet, microwave, heating and A/C we do park it at a campground so it is technically called “camping”. We originally invested in a small Wolf Pack toy hauler which is a travel trailer you tow behind a truck. A toy hauler is where the backdoor comes down like a ramp and men can drive their “toys” up in it. We’ve carried small boats and golf carts but often people carry motorcycles and ATVs. Our Wolf Pack was such a delight we upgraded to a Fifth Wheel toy hauler. One of those big suckers that have to hook into the bed of the truck. That was the worst mistake ever. It was an amazing condo like trailer that could sleep like 27 people and got us about 9 miles to the gallon. That hurt driving up and down the coast to the beach. This year we did an even swap with that fifth wheel and got something midgrade in size. It is awesome. I can’t wait to enjoy copious amounts of adult beverages and too many s’mores. My agenda includes parking my butt in a lawn chair and watching my kids play with sticks and rocks for three days straight.
Nothing serious. Just that nagging feeling that starts building up one iota at a time… sat in traffic for two hours, binged on multiple bags of chips, haven’t worked out, haven’t lost any weight (duh, chips much…) haven’t gotten any call-backs, am dead zombie tired, all is lost, where is my life going, what is the meaning of existence… you know that kind of gloom. It’s even a gloomy day. And once you start feeling sorry for yourself every red light you catch, every stubbed toe, every damn overcooked meal feels like 100 additional pounds weighing down on your shoulders. Until you crack. Bring forth the waterworks. Heavy stuff, shoulder shaking, air gasping – reaching to the sky and screaming out kind. Think like the movies. But it’s so true, and once you start sobbing like a little baby it almost feels good. So you start thinking of all the awful horrible things that have happened to you and make yourself cry even harder. My personal favorite is to cry in the car, I like to turn on a miserable song – something by Sarah McLachlan and just reminisce about every bad thing that ever happened in my life. My BFF says she like to do it in the shower, just lean up against the wall and let the hot water beat you down in defeat and sob your little heart out. Ahhhh. I need that soon. I actually feel better already just talking about it.
I have a problem; acknowledgement is the first step so I’ve heard. I’ve been conditioned by a big box retailer and I know I’m not the only one. I mean, I’ve seen E-Cards on Pinterest that tout the same phenomenon so it must be an epidemic if it’s made it to an E-Card. We’re talking Target here if you haven’t guessed yet. It’s a quintessential black hole. There is something magical (and by that I mean illegal) pumping out of their ventilation system. I’m convinced of this because no matter how much I tell myself I’m not there to “shop” but to merely restock the toilet paper I inevitably end up redecorating a room in my house by the time I leave, which by the way is usually an easy 5 hours later. How do they do it? They just suck you in, that innocent red and white circle thing beckoning to you from the side of the highway… It reminds me of that all-seeing eye from Lord of the Rings. How can I be so focused on picking up cat litter one minute and the next be totally obsessed, and convinced I need curtains? I can’t even let myself shop there, no self control, it’s depressing! For example, last winter I bought a bikini, I was 8 months pregnant. Who does that?
Things included in my last excursion include; an oversized bean bag (seemed like a good idea at the time) new collar for my dog (WTF??) sunglasses (ehhh) an iPhone wallet (which I haven’t even used!!!) diapers (okay this is totally legit) a topiary (who doesn’t need fake potted grass?)
The only way I am able to curb my spending these days is to totally avoid Target.
Dearest Target, (after today) – wait, let me explain – Easter is this weekend and I NEED some stuff for the girls baskets, but that’s it though, after today our relationship is over. I’m kicking you to the curb, and theres no hard feelings for potentially exposing my credit card information to hackers. But I am done wasting money on you. Don’t call me. Seriously though – don’t call. GoodBye.