Circumstances, you don't own me.

If you know me, you probably know that -- due to circumstances outside of our control -- we do not have a second car.  Some woman, driving 100mph through our neighborhood with a blindfold on, destroyed the back half of my husband's car.  His car needed a new battery and the air conditioning felt like a hair dryer, but it worked.  Now it doesn't.  Not at all.  The woman never responded to the insurance company's calls, so we're out a car.  That's how life works.

Some people ask, why don't you get it fixed?  Others ask, why don't you just get a cheap car to temporarily replace it -- ya know, like $1,000?  If I'm going to be polite I say, "We can't afford that right now."  If I'm going to be honest, I wring their necks and say, "WHY DO YOU THINK THE AVERAGE AMERICAN HAS $1,000 JUST SITTING IN THEIR BANK ACCOUNT??  WHO DO YOU THINK WE ARE??"  I haven't had the nerve to be honest yet.

Let's cut to the chase.  I have always been a home body.  Recently, this has changed.  I have found myself stressed upon waking up in the morning, just because I know I couldn't leave our little house if I wanted to.  I've found myself blaming problems like, "Man, I wish I could eat all the Ben and Jerry's ice cream I want," on not having a car.  Blast you, lack of car, you've kept me from an endless supply of ice cream.  This is obviously a very reasonable reaction, however, I've decided that it's time for a change in attitude.  It is time for me to wake up in the morning and say, "You're trapped, kid.  Enjoy it.  Find something awesome to do." It is time for me to not be ashamed to Instagram yet another event that is happening inside our home.  And by "event," I mean eating lunch or staring at Alice play.  (For the record, I don't just stare at her while she plays.  I'm usually gritting my teeth, trying to bear her cuteness, while also singing children's songs or babbling like an 11-month-old)

Now let's really cut to the chase.  I am going to blog about being at home.  It's for real, people.  My life is a life that lives inside of a 900sq.ft. home, and we're just going to embrace it.  I will tell you when I'm going crazy (I'm going crazy) and I will also tell you when I'm working on any kind of project... even if it's folding clothes.  Prepare to be blown away by the mundane.

A salt grinder and my Martha Stewart calendar/organizer/amazing thing.  The salt grinder belongs in the kitchen, and has been bugging me that it has gotten away with staying on the table all morning and afternoon. The Martha Stewart calendar often seems pointless because, what exactly am I planning out?  But when I do have something to plan... watch out, world.

Just spray paint it.

Remember how I said I was spray painting everything in my house?  Well, I want to show you some of what I've transformed.

To start, I spray painted a table (that I'm using as a desk)... the sad news is, I was so nuts with excitement that I forgot to take a before picture.  However, once it was spray painted and I started to set up my desk, I decided I wanted to use a bulletin board that my aunt/cousin-in-law gave me when they were spring cleaning.  The bulletin board had an ivory, distressed frame that just looked weird against the stark white.  And since I already went bonkers with delight after painting my desk/table, the solution was obvious: spray paint!

The cork board couldn't be separated from the frame, so I had to cover the cork.  Here's the before:

And then I got down to business.

Always use a dirty face mask when spray painting.

And after:

 

I love befores-and-afters... let's compare again!

 

 

It just looks so fresh and happy to be alive!  Which is how my desk makes me feel.  Here is the "while I'm setting up" before:

The mirror was already there and it CLEARLY had to go.  I had a blasty blast at Staples, getting my new supplies!  The desk area still needs a lot of work, but here's the temporary after shot:

Woohooo!!  (See the bulletin board??)

Let's compare:

 

Let's just say it: OMG.  I am so happy -- I had no idea how much I missed a little creative spot until I got my cute lil desk.  Just so you know, the base of the table was all black (it's heavy, icky metal), and the tabletop was a fake brown wood (think cafeteria table).  It's just a breath of fresh air, folks.

Oh, and I got spray-paint-happy:

 

Everything needs to be white now, ya know.

More desk shots:

Needs some organizational work, but whatever, it's still cute.

I have been throwing glue and scissors all over the place, and my Etsy shop is just days from opening.  So keep an eye out because you will soooo want to see how awesome I am.  

Psh, Etsy is so cool right now.  Like owls.

Spring spring spring

Happy front porch

Is it gorgeous where you are? It is BEAUTIFUL here.  Hello, spring!  I am sitting on my couch with the front door open.  The birds hopping around on our front lawn sound like little people sneaking up on me.  But they mean no harm.

It's been a strange morning.  I had planned to take Alice to my mom's, so I could help out with her cookie business today.  Alas, Caleb spent the night with a terrible stomach virus, and he needs a wife at home to take care of him.  Conversational proof:

Me:  Caleb, I cannot leave you today.  You can't take care of yourself.
Caleb:  Yes, I can.  I can just drink some water.


Water has been known to nourish and cure all kinds of illnesses.
Needless to say, I stayed home.

What does the day hold now?  I feel like I have a bonus day, since my plans have been canceled (leaving my mom to find some way to get through the orders alone... :(  ).

Alice has been a chatter box, screaming-like-a-girl, crazy head today.  She doesn't know what illness is yet.

Best face

Sneaky face

Licking-the-teether face?

And, since she looks so cute with a pacie, we'll end here:

Arm is waving, trying to grab the camera... eyes are dazed with exhaustion. 

Happy spring!

Sweets and Muffin Tops (<-- the human kind)

It's real.

So is this.

I can't eat that stuff.  I've given up sweets.  Not for Lent, because I started my "no sweets" rule after Lent, so I feel like it would be cheating to say that I'm giving up sweets for Lent. Another reason I feel like it would be cheating is because, in all honesty, I'm giving up sweets in hopes of losing weight.  For anyone who hasn't had a kid: that baby belly doesn't just magically disappear once the baby is born.  What once was a cute, firm bulge that strangers wanted to touch, is now a gelatinous excess that prevents normal jeans from buttoning.  Though I've lost weight simply by nursing Alice, it's time to take action.  Summer is upon us.  This means lighter clothes are coming.  I don't think the world needs to partake in my muffin top any longer than it already has.

For all of you self-esteem people out there: I'm not beating myself up.  I'm not pressured by society's standard of what a woman should look like.  I've got leftover baby belly and that's all there is to it.

For all of you "ooooh, I could never have a baby -- the stretch marks!" [married] people:  Have one.  You really don't care what you look like, once you get a glimpse of a face as cute as this:

Then again, I can guarantee that your child won't even match such cuteness... so maybe you should reconsider, after all.

Instagram Life

Caleb and I often talk about the phenomenon we've named "Instagram Life."  Instagram life is simply the illusion that is your friends' lives through pictures.  Though you or your friend's life could be a total wreck, once one selects tiny, groovy snapshots of one's life, the rest of us are left to piece together what your life looks like between those pictures.  And, of course, it must be pretty awesome.  Why can't we all just live life like Instagram says we do?!

In recognition of this phenomenon, I have penned a song (cleverly titled, "Instagram Life"), set to Vampire Weekend's "Holiday."  Feel free to sing as you read -- in fact, it'll enhance your experience.  Aaaaand go.

Instagram Life

Instagram life, Instagram --
it's a wonder to behold.
Your life is simple, cool, and fun,
or that is what we are told.

Instagram life shows me that --
without any doubt --
that living in Lo-fi and Toaster
is what it's all about.

You must drink wine almost everyday
and we all can clearly see
that you look cute and so does your room
you live in Anthropologie.

So Instagram life shows me that --
without any doubt --
that living in Lo-fi and Toaster
is what it's all about.

I'll have you know that I think I am cool, too,
but I cannot measure up.
Your pictures of fresh baked goods just look
so sweet in that Earlybird light.

Your shot of that window pane
tells me I am simply inane
Your life is so vintage, it puts
the rest of us to shame.

I got light, I got Instagram
And a farmer's market too,
I'll snap some shots, tap on Hudson
and now I'm better than you.

Instagram life shows me that --
without any doubt --
that living in Lo-fi and Toaster
is what it's all about.

Why Colds Can Be Cool

You know how certain smells bring back memories?  I think the lack of smell can do the same.

I'm here to tell you that having a cold makes me feel more organized and puts me in a good mood.  Maybe during the peak of a cold this isn't true, but as it starts to taper off, I find that life is quite lovely.

As a child, my allergies were so bad that I basically had a constant cold or sinus infection.  I had to learn to function while sick and it just became a part of life.  I vividly remember a spring night when I walked outside to get something from our barn -- I breathed in the night air, and in that moment, my nose was clear enough that I could actually smell the air.  I hopped and jumped, it was so delightful to smell.  Most of the time, though, I had to take a "blowing my nose" break and just blow and blow until I could take in a few whiffs (pitiful and gross... sorry).  But this made smells that much more delightful, and the lack of smells that much more memorable.  Congestion slows you down -- it can make you think a little slower.  And somehow I function better when my brain isn't moving 100 miles an hour.  

I'm not the sick kid I once was, and colds have, thankfully, become a rarity.  But when one comes around and I have housework to do, dinner to make, and a baby to take care of, I somehow know exactly how to order my day.  Very little is stressful, and I move at my own pace.  And, to make it even better, a host of childhood memories floods my mind as I go about my daily tasks... my older sister suddenly becoming possessed, and running into our room to throw hangers at me for no reason; filling our tin bucket with water and lugging it to our play cabin; the feel of Skulpy clay as we form cinnamon rolls for our American girl dolls; baby Ethan staying the week with us, and having the time of my life; filling up my Baby Loves to Talk's empty battery box with rocks from our gravel road (so she could feel heavy and real, you know); the feel of my sister's and my matching flannel nightgowns; my pencil against loose leaf, lined paper and staring at a terrible math book; playing the Beauty and the Beast tape on repeat so my sister's and I could perfect our performance for my parents.  Jenny was Belle.  Sally was Gaston.  I was everyone else.  

So, here's to having a cold!  I might hold off on the vitamin C a few days.