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The Kitchen – Lighten Up: Painting a tumbled stone backsplash – EEK!

So – I’ve got to start this by saying – I HATE dark traditional cabinetry – I hate it – I hate it – did I mention, I hate it.  When we bought this house in April of 2014, the only thing in the kitchen worse than the cabinetry was the black island and the orange backsplash – it was like…..a den of darkness.  A full remodel is coming in the Spring of 2016 – but for the time being, I just needed to relieve the eye sore.  There was no point in scrapping the island or redoing the backsplash, knowing that the kitchen will be gutted in less than a year’s time – so I needed to give what was there a face lift without spending a fortune that would go to waste.

Here’s how it started:

Kitchen, April 2014

This is a photo from the listing when we bought it.  You can also see the the stained wood beam ceiling in the keeping room – that also HAD to go.  If it’s reclaimed wood, parquet, burled wood, antique, etc…  great – beautiful.  Stained just does absolutely nothing for me – unless it’s the floors – then, the darker the better.  These will get a new coat of a darker, probably jacobean, stain when the kitchen is redone.

Now….

{How we went from this—>to this}

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Working with what was here – we started with painting the island(well, having painted – I was 38.5 weeks pregnant, with a fractured back, when we moved in – so, I wasn’t doing much of anything).  There is a set of built in bookcases in the next room that are a cream color with a medium brown glaze. The painters matched this to keep the painted cabinetry cohesive through the two rooms.  Painting the island brought us to this (you’ll have to excuse the mess and my small helper – a.k.a. my shadow, we were prepping to start the backsplash:

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The lighting seriously does not give due justice to the atrocity of this orange and ochre backsplash.  They had to have literally gone to the discount bin at the tile store and said – give me whatever you have – like anything – we don’t care – we’ll just stick little metal medallions in and pretend they make it look great!

No question about it – it had to go.  So, the first opportunity at hand – with hubby out of town for several days (because….my projects kind of make his skin crawl – maybe because most of them are unfinished….or get redone….or trashed- we (me and my shadow), got to work.

We painted that sucker!  That’s right – paint.  Paint on tumbled stone.  Who would have thought?  GASP!!  Yep.  I did it….and I love it.  Well – I’m not going to lie – I would have rather ripped the shit out.   I still cringe at the thought of it being on my wall, but for now  – I’m happy with it until someone gives me the go ahead with a crow bar and sledge hammer.

I’ll give you the step by step to how I did it – but first, here it is, the new and improved, $20 Backsplash Makeover (excuse the poor lighting, I only get to blog at 10pm when my shadow is “napping”-she’ll be up by midnight):

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imageTo start, I taped everything off.  ^^^ see above.

I used my favorite primer to block out the color the of stone – 2 coats of it.  It is shellac-base, so you want to make sure the area is well ventilated.  I’ve got to admit – I didn’t – and may have been a little high in the car pool line.  No – but seriously – open some windows.   image

imageYou could use a roller for quicker application.  I opted to use a brush because I had to freehand around all the ‘fabulous’ little metal inserts (I didn’t think they would look quite right painted).  After 2 coats of primer, I let it “rest” for a couple of days —  basically saying Ken is going to seriously kill me when he gets home – like, dead.  This is AWFUL, maybe worse.  It was white…I mean flat white.  No dimension, no texture, just WHITE …and then the dark cabinets.
When I regrouped and came back a few days later, with the motivation to kill the white before Ken rolled his eyes at another failed project, I chose a very light neutral shade that had almost an oatmeal tone.  For projects like this, I’m not too picky about the brand of paint.  Ultimately it was going to get a another finish on top of it, anyway.  I went with Behr Arid Landscape in Flat/Matte <–  That part is important.

Thanks to the primer – it only took two coats of the paint, and the paint stuck to the stone with no problem.

After two coats of primer and two coats of paint, the result I had was this:

This was definitely, for me, a major improvement, but it still wasn’t what we were looking for.

image It lacked dimension.  It was just too flat, too – painted.   So, here is where the trick came in….

I swear – this stuff is like the fix-all for everything in the DIY world – like, if I was this woman – I’d never paint another thing again – just have someone else do it with my paint-but seriously, thank God for it.  It’s amazing.  Here it is……..

 

Ready??

 

……………………………

ANNIE SLOAN WAX

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Regardless of the paint you use – you can use this stuff on pretty much anything – as long as you are working with FLAT paint, or a flat finish as the base.  It ‘may’ work on other finishes – but I haven’t tried it, and can’t speak to it.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve recently started using the paints and do like them – but the color pallet isn’t quite broad enough for my taste, and the paints are too pricey for my experimental mixing – but the soft waxes are INCREDIBLE, and so easy to use.

For this application, I used the large round Annie Sloan wax brush.  I applied the clear wax in circular motions with the brush on small sections at a time, to prevent it from drying to quickly, before I could get the finish I wanted.  Immediately after applying the clear wax to a section, I went back over it with the dark wax with a cheap $2 paint brush (also in a circular motion – but also kind of randomly to make sure it was evenly distributed and in some of the grooves).  I followed the dark wax application with a cloth (paper towels), wiping it down to a smooth texture and the desired hint of color…..  And I sampled the method behind the coffee machine, so if I hated it, it could be immediately covered up – or hidden – until I could do something about it.  Fortunately, Annie came through for me.  This was exactly the result I was looking for out of a quick, cheap kitchen face lift.  The wax application took about 2 hours total for the entire kitchen – super easy.  The whole process, start to finish, took about two weeks, because —- well, I drag things out.   It could easily be accomplished in a weekend.

One more time – here is the finished product up close (sorry for the shadows – again – 10pm lighting isn’t great) – you can see the smooth finish the wax gave to the surface of the tiles, while still adding texture and dimension to the overall appearance :

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Pretty cool, huh?  If you don’t already have the wax (I did), then the project will cost about $70 more.  But total all in cost, since we had the wax – was less than $20.  We already had the primer and tape in the basement.  The quart of paint was about $10, a few cheap ($2 ) brushes for the dark wax application, and a roll of paper towels.

If you should choose to tackle a project like this – feel free to comment or email with any questions.

Best of luck.

-B

 

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Lost in Translation: 20 THINGS THAT JUST DON’T MEAN THE SAME THING ANYMORE

It occurred to me last night ( a glorious night – where we actually succeeded at getting the kids fed and in bed early, ate our dinner alone and watched a movie – what??!?!?),  as I was sipping on a glass of some really good red wine – and then a second – that was of course even better – just how much the meaning of things (words, signals, actions, etc), have changed in our life since having kids.

We’ve gone from a kiss at the door to a casual nod across the room, with my inability to move, as my poor husband walks in the door using his work backpack as a shield, captain America style.  There is no telling what lies ahead as he opens that portal to chaos… flying wood blocks, Thor’s hammer, a camelbak full of juice, a wet dog, a glue stick, a child, slipping on a magnatile, stepping in obliterated gold fish- or worst of all – me.  Something or someone will inevitably attack him.

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This sets the scene for our communication in the evenings.  From the time he walks in until we hit the hay –  it’s an all out warrior dash style, dirty, ugly, fit pitching race.  Race to get the kids fed. Race to get the kids to bed.  Race to get the house back “straight” (let’s face it – it’s NEVER clean).  Race to get in bed – and Race to – wait, what race.  I’m awake – like wide awake – and Ken’s snoring.  He’ll start it all over again at about 5am, and I’ll be up most of the night, then get up with the kids around 7 to start the circus all over again.

So, the shift in our lifestyle and schedules has changed – not the so much the way we communicate – but the meaning of what we say. . . see if you can relate…

20 THINGS THAT JUST DON’T MEAN THE SAME THING ANYMORE

  1. ” Hi.”  6 years ago Hi was a sweet, coy, playful – I’m glad you are home! How are you? How was your day? I love you! – vs.- now, it’s usually said with a low grumble and means – batter up.  Your turn.  Good Luck-I’m checking out. I hate you for leaving me here alone all day to start with.
  2. “Having a glass of wine”  – Meant a bottle, or at least splitting a bottle. – vs.- now, it’s more like I pour a glass, maybe take two sips, sit it down and forget about it – until the nightly clean-up, dump it out, stare longingly at the bottle with two glasses worth left in it, turn it up for a swig or two and dump the rest, knowing it will spoil before I get around to having another glass.
  3. “Dieting” This week – we are eating healthy!  Salads for everyone!! – vs. – now, we’ve really got to stop eating Oreos at bedtime – how about a brownie instead? (did I mention we stress eat?)
  4. “I appreciate you” – thanks for picking up my dry-cleaning or making dinner! – vs. – now, thanks for keeping our children alive and safe and not turning into to a mumbling mess in a a straight jacket in the corner – or – thank you for killing yourself day after a day to provide for our family so we can sit and stress eat brownies together.
  5. “Sleeping In” – 10:00, maybe even eleven if I put the pillow over my head and shut the blinds. – vs.- 7:15.  That 15 extra minutes is pure gold…like better than chocolate or maybe even my Starbucks coffee.
  6. “Clean” as in a clean house or floor – as in the cleaners haven’t been here since Tuesday – trash that it hit the floor, and scrubbing ovens and baseboards – vs.- looks ok, Unknownsmells ok, rinse it off – it’s good – and throw the toys in the baskets and stack everything else on the dining room table – I’ll deal with it…umm… scratch that, just stack it on the table, then we’ll have some clean clothes downstairs for an emergency.
  7. “Chocolate” – godiva, as dark as possible, and sinfully rich. – vs.- stale mini mm’s I found in the center console, melted together, that I used two days ago to bribe the twins to stop fighting.
  8. “Left-Overs” – Chinese take-out, best eaten on the couch or in bed with a movie. – vs.- Ooh!  I found a skittle!!  Check that – wasn’t a skittle – possibly something plastic.  Ouch.  Mental note – when eating found candy – only go for jelly belly jelly beans (the ones that the color hasn’t faded on and that aren’t sticky – that just means they probably sucked on them or licked them – ugh.)  They hold over well and are quite distinguishable from other unknown items.
  9. “Sharing” – trading bites of some delectable dishes at a great restaurant or eating a bowl of ice cream with two spoons – vs. – never actually getting a bite of “my” cookie because the kids wanted a bite and I gave it to them first and they contaminated it beyond the point of safe consumption with dirty finger nails and snot – before forcibly shoving it in Ken’s mouth to “taste it – it’s good dad”.  Mmmm…..
  10. “Cussing” – the F word.  Like anything else was probably fine – except the F word.  That was swearing – but we still said it – like – all the time – vs.  Shoot, Sugar, and a few others have been found as suitable replacements in a pinch but otherwise, Shut-up, Stupid, any word for the male genetalia other that “peepee” or “penis” is pretty much off limits, any word for the female parts except “hootie (don’t ask)”  “hooha” or “vagina” is forbidden, and every 4 letter word that comes to mind when your threenager loses their “f’ing” mind in a kicking, slapping, biting, tantrum of a fit in the middle of the Target floor over a pack of princess puppy puffy stickers.   418715770_640
  11. “Exercise” – P90x, Baby!!  or Running – like, compulsive running – vs. – I’ve carried a 34lb, 3 years old on my right hip for 2 hours straight.  Tomorrow…tomorrow I’ll switch sides.
  12. “Knee problems” – an old sports injury to my left knee that caused pain in the rain or when running, easily fixed with ice – vs. – joints that crack loud enough when I stand from a squatting position that they wake a soundly sleeping baby it took an hour to get to sleep- therefore I crawl on all fours like a stalking dog out of her room to keep from straightening them.
  13. “Cuddling” spooning for hours until we fell asleep despite the arm that was numb and the inability to breathe – vs. – Ken squeezing the life out of a king size pillow he hugs and holds between his knees so he can cuddle something since we have a 17 month old deposited sideways in the middle of our bed and I can’t go to sleep with anything but the covers touching me after being pregnant.
  14. “Silence” that awkward thing when we didn’t know what to say but rarely ever happened because we felt compelled to fill the air with something just for the sake of talking to each other – vs.- that invaluable 5 seconds where no kid is screaming, crying, fighting, laughing, wallowing on the floor, or needing anything, no dog is barking, no phone is ringing, and if you speak, I’ll cut you – like bad, like probably dead.
  15.  “Travel” this thing we did a few times, kind of like a vacation, that was SOOO cool!! and fun!  It was FUN!  I wanted to try it again…and then we did… with kids…NOT Cool.  I need a valium just thinking about it.  Strollers and car seats and 80 suit cases and 500 pieces of clothes I’ll just have to put back up when we get home and snacks and drinks and I’ve gotta peepee and now I’ve gotta pee pee and we just freakin’ peed for Christ sake!  and I’m hungry, and my brother hit me, and she bit me and he touched me, and she has my dogdog, and dogdog has to peepee.  You know what – screw dogdog – he’s a $3 stuffed animal from IKEA, he does not have to peepee….and we need gas, who has to peepee?
  16. “Lingerie” – some lace something from VS that cost more and had less material than the average pre-baby “I’m still sexy” undies – vs. – the leggings I’ve had on going on three days that have some unidentified substance on the butt with an old stretchy maternity tank top because it pulls down long enough to cover said substance – and my bathrobe – annnd … don’t forget my Uggs – gotta take those dogs outside before bed.  HOT, right?
  17. “Fooling around” – Quite obviously we all know what that means in the context of “getting-lucky” before kids  – vs.- the now typical use is in the context of “would you quit fooling around and let’s go” – referring to me spinning in circles in the middle of the kitchen trying to recall what I have forgotten to bring with us while Ken waits for me with the car running with the twins in it screaming—-oh yes, the baby, and her shoes, and bottle and food and diapers and snacks….and my shoes, wait – my shoes, where the heck are my shoes?
  18. “Getting Lucky” – basically my husband was getting laid.  Period.  Or maybe that I scored $10 on a $5 scratch off. – vs.- it generally means we got the kids in bed before 8 and no one had a mortal melt down or puked – meaning we can be in bed before 9 – SWEET!  or better yet, we got a sitter for all three kids and we are eating big kid food instead of nuggets and fries – we never get that lucky.images-1
  19.  “Birth-Control” – well, with three under three, and married 4 years,  quite obviously whatever we did wasn’t effective, and I’m not qualified to give advice other than – don’t use that method – vs. – what I will call the 5 layers of defense – 1 & 2. 3 year old twins 3. a 17 month old that sleeps with you 4. Abstinence (see #3) 5. Just to seal the deal – The Big V (if you don’t know what that is – you clearly don’t have more than 1 child).  There will be NO and I mean NO more babies made in this house.
  20. “I Love You”.  I’m madly and crazy “in” Love and committed to you – basically – I worship you and all of our “compatibility” – vs.- a deepness to the meaning of love that can’t be defined in you for your spouse before having children, a need for them, for their support, for their love, patience, understanding and unconditional love in return – and a need for you that can’t be learned or grown over time without looking at a life (or three) that you created together and knowing that together you are stronger, better, whole – together.  You are an extension, part of one another – not just as parent’s – but as a couple – as a family.

This list could be infinitely longer, because life has inexplicably changed, as has the meaning of so much in it.  But, with someone to lean on – a partner – a best friend – a companion – the playful words, phrases, things we did before kids haven’t gone away – they’ve just taken on a deeper, more meaningful – truer – form.

And the baby is crying…  peace out.

~B

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Good Moms Feel Guilty

I’m sitting on a set of concrete stairs just outside my 3 (almost 4) year olds ballet studio while she is in class. The lobby is crammed with parents waiting.  So, with nowhere to sit and two hours in front of me for her ballet and tap classes–I found a less crowded space.
After her tap class – we head to the beach … Woohoo!! A much needed family vacation.
But for now…. I wait. I wait for my little girl to come out just a little more grown up. The weeks, the days, the time, is ticking away before my eyes. Every time they step out the door of their preschool or ballet or soccer…or even their grandparents’ house – they seem just a little older. As these days keep passing, I keep waiting – trying – hoping – praying – wanting – needing – and more waiting to be a better mother. One that’s more patient, less frustrated. Yells less. Cries less – oh wait – I hardly ever cry – I’m just not a cier. But I know a lot of moms that do – a lot – over this. I’m more of a – lock myself in the bathroom and pretend I’m pooping while I’m actually drinking my Starbucks and eating a bag of skittles for 32 seconds of peace, while I regroup so I don’t blow a gasket type–which I then feel guilty about.

Basically – I feel guilty all the time. Guilty for what I do, guilty for what I don’t do. Guilty for not having time to take them to the park, guilty for taking them to the park but then abruptly ending it and yelling the whole way home because they just won’t listen. Guilty for letting them cry themselves to sleep at nap time when they protested they weren’t tired. Guilty for not making them take a nap when I knew they were tired. Guilty for making them a crap dinner so they would actually eat – guilty for getting angry because I made a decent dinner and they refuse to eat. Guilty for not making it to story time because I didn’t get up early enough to shower because I’d been up all night with them the night before.  Guilty for not taking them to preschool to play with their friends because I couldn’t get them out the door in time to make the car pool line.  Guilty for taking them to preschool because I need that 4 hours to clean the house, do their laundry, buy them groceries (that they aren’t going to eat and I’m just going to throw away).  Guilty for fighting with them to make them get dressed for the sake of being clean (when we really have no where to go) – guilty for letting them stay in their PJ’s all day and look like little sloths (and occasionally letting them wear same said PJ’s to bed again that night).  Guilty for yelling at them for having their dirty food (that they didn’t eat) covered hands all over the new curtains – guilty for not letting them play hide and seek in the curtains.  Guilty for giving them have a sugar filled Icee in Target so they sat still for 10 minutes.  Guilty for not letting them have the Icee they begged for in Target.  Guilty for letting them watch TV so I could get a few things done in the house – guilty for not stopping what I was doing to sit and hold them while they watch TV.   Like basically – I feel guilt over absolutely everything I do as a mom – all the time – as in, I lay awake in bed thinking about it, guilty.

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I just can’t imagine a world where every mom (or at least most moms) out there don’t feel the same way. It’s as if in this world of Blogs, and parenting websites, and Ferberizing, and Moms on Call, and Instagram, and Facebook, and for God’s sake – Pinterest – screw Pinterest……

There is nothing you can do the right way, or good enough.  You are constantly held to someone else’s standards and ideas of what a “good” mom “is” and the “right” way to raise a child – your child.

June Cleaver was June Cleaver (aside from being totally made up) because she didn’t know who in the hell June Cleaver was.  She didn’t have to stare at the sheer brilliance of Handmade Charlotte or Molly Yeh.  She didn’t have Pinterest to search for ideas about how make the best cake and dinner EVER all while crafting with your kid and remodeling your bathroom – and then see all of the success stories on Instagram or Facebook from her “friends” while staring at her epic fail.

Like – right now – while I am sitting here trying to finish this post (about three weeks after I started it) at 8am, I’m watching my son lie in bed (naked from the waist down because he got up and took himself to potty when he woke up and of course had to lose his underwear – because he just wants to be naked – and Batman) waiting on me to come get him (granted his sisters are still asleep), but what am I doing instead of leaping up the stairs – finishing a “Blog” post—which I’ll feel guilty for later.

So, before I run upstairs and scoop up my little guy and tell him good morning – and he looks and sounds just a little older than yesterday….  I’m thinking in my head – today you will do better, you will be better.

My questions is this…  Better at what?  Better at being you – the mom your kids know and love? or better at being someone else that you are seeing in magazines and social media?  or reading about on someone’s blog?

At the end of the day – if your kids love you – call you – need you – want you – and my favorite – tell you you are their best friend – you’re doing something right.  You may do plenty of things wrong (God knows I do), but in their eyes (which is all that matters) you are doing it right.  Be the best – you – can be for your kids.   Innately, you know what that is.  You know if you are giving them -your- all.  Live by your own standards – not some else’s pictures.  Stop feeling guilty for what you have or haven’t done – and consider the good you are doing – Good Moms Feel Guilty too…but they feel guilty because they care.

Don’t wait for time to pass to be better, do better – don’t wait until they walk out the door of that ballet class and you are too old to change.

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Like an Atom Bomb – BOOM

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Do you see that mushroom cloud?  That lingering mass of destruction and chaos…

Yea…  that is what has become of my personal space – { insert blowing up noise here}

It was there once.  I didn’t even know I had it – I didn’t even know it was there really – until it was completely and totally destroyed.  I had my own space on the couch, and locks on the bathroom door, and showers alone or even with my husband if I chose, and my own toothbrush, and my own qtips, and my own pillow in my own bed, and my own skin that was on my own body, and enough elbow room to eat a meal and drinks without crumbs in them (or snot), cuts and scabs that could actually heal without be touched with dirt or jelly covered fingers, and the ability to wear white (or any color other than black or denim, really).  There was a point in time where I could go running alone, put my headphones in and tune out the world.  Now I have three kids, one stroller, two busy bug handles, and a clip on speaker that I feel compelled to turn down every time we walk past another person because no one likes to hear Old McDonald or worse… Let it Go – Let it Go, I’m one with the wind and sky, Let it Go, Let it Go, You’ll never see me cry! And we walk – we don’t run.  Running toddlers = falling toddlers = scraped knees = crying = bandaids = going back to the car = end of “peaceful, much needed ‘run” and more grimy filthy little fingers picking scabs and needing bamb-baids for two weeks before we attempt to go “running” again.  { insert blowing up noise here}

Earlier this week I pulled through starbucks to grab my coffee.  Ahh…..my few moments of bliss – then I take a sip and feel something between the cup and my top lip – like a sticker pulling the skin.  I flip down the mirror to see some unknown substance – literally, I have no idea when they got it on me…it could have been yogurt from breakfast or milk, or pasty sucked on cookie or slimy dried out banana or glue  or worst of all – it could have been baby snot. Whatever it was it was crusted just above my top lip and the last time I had seen a mirror all day was in the morning walking out the door – it was 4:00pm.  For all I know, we had been out all day with some schmutz crusted over my top lip and nose like I didn’t know how to wipe my mouth.  I would have even questioned my own abilities except for the fact that upon further inspection, I found the same unknown substance down my shirt sleeve and arm.  If I had to guess, it was probably a sweet snotty kiss that got wiped down my arm as they climbed down—which at the time I probably mistook for just one of their rubby kisses where they have to burry their faces into you and your skin and slide down you touching every inch of your arm or leg or whatever they can get their hands on – when really – they just needed a place to wipe their snot.  { insert blowing up noise here}

Yesterday we walked through Target (mainly because they also have a Starbucks), gathering our much ‘needed’ items.  Nora sat in the cart, Oliver and Olivia walked.  Olivia held my hand while the entire time rubbing her face and mouth on my left arm.  I pushed the cart with my right arm while Nora chewed on and bit my knuckles with those brand new baby razors.   Oliver – well – Oliver at least attempted to walk under my dress.  Like literally standing wearing the front of my big blousy t-shirt dress over his head while certainly pulling the back of it up over my bare ass and causing regular traffic pile up with me tripping and stepping on him and pulling Olivia down by the hand on top of me, everyone was crying…. In the mean time, another mom walks by shaking her head smiling – saying, “I remember those days”.   { insert blowing up noise here}

This week was ‘that time of the month’ and with my son’s heightened curiosity about everything in the world – I was left in quite the predicament.  There are no locked doors in our house – hell – there are no shut doors.  With a 14 month old on the loose and 3.5 year old twins that terrorize one another to the hilt, you have to have a visual at all times.  Zone defense combat I’ve heard it called.  On the flip side – they have to have a visual of you and become most interested in that 30 seconds you take to sit on the toilet.  Oliver stands in front of me trying to pry my knees open to look in and inspect what’s been done – “Mom, are you peeing or pooping or are you a good girl and did both so you don’t have to go later”.  God forbid you have to use any sort of feminine product – what he refers to as “roll up poop.”  Oliver – go look quick!  Spiderman is at the front door! (not…)  In the mean time – Nora has a tiny gob of tissue paper in her hand she’s trying to cram forcefully between my legs to to try to help wipe me.  { insert blowing up noise here}

Father’s Day, Ken felt the personal space pinch.  He headed in the bathroom for his morning shower only to have Oliver appear at the glass door naked, “Can I shower with you dad?” Followed by Olivia… Thankfully there are two shower heads – but unfortunately for Ken – there are not three.  Once the twins were in – dad was out.  “Get out dad, there is no room for you, you don’t have a spot.” while they pushed him by the legs out of his own shower… He should just feel fortunate he didn’t have two sagging breasts that they try to grab like knobs with a tune in Tokyo approach when you bend over.

Somedays, I would just love to have a Mom bubble.  Do not cross here – do not touch here.  Maybe one of those blow up sumo wrestler costumes would work.

With three of them hanging (like, seriously, hanging like monkeys) from me or trying to crawl into my skin all day – like really….IN to my skin…come the end of the day all I want to do is climb into bed, and let nothing but the cold sheets touch my body.

Then I lay there wide awake in quiet and dark with my hair standing on end and compulsively stare at the monitor scanning each room. Are they warm enough? Are they too warm? Are they comfortable? Is that stuffed animal too close to her face? Are they too close to the edge of their bed?  If they roll over on the book they fell asleep with will it hurt-should I go put it up?  One will certainly wake up any minute – there is no point in going to sleep.  Oh my God – it’s 2am I must go to sleep ….  2:12am – what’s that?  Who was that? Which one is up?  the baby…  my lip busted from a quick forceful head thrust backward over not wanting back in her own bed,  3:30am and I’m back in bed…  6am one has mysteriously appeared in my bed and is trying to crawl inside my skin again while begging to watch a movie. Oh my God!  WTF? I think he just licked my arm.  { insert blowing up noise here}

Alarm goes off, shower, shave, repeat…  and to think every, every single minute they spend away from me – at pre-school, with my parents occasionally, asleep at night- after that deep breath and sigh of initial relief to have back my ‘self’ – I miss them – every second.  One day – the dust will settle, the chaos will calm, the ‘destruction’ will rebuild – and I will have back the once so valued personal space, but that will mean they have gotten too big to need help wiping that snotty nose or need the comfort of being held.  They will be too big to want to hide under my dress – or anywhere else playing.  They will be too big to need me in the middle of the night, and I’m quite sure that when that day comes I will still lie awake in bed at night waiting and wishing and missing that constant need and connection with my kids, because right now – despite the need for a moment’s breath every now and then and the occasional need for my own toddler like tantrum melt down and time out ——- – it is pure joy.

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Hello world!

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Yes, Hello.  Welcome to Boon Ink.  Whatever brought you here, I’m glad you’ve found us.  I hope you enjoy our photos, tutorials, tours, quips, and general love for and stories about life.  Stick around.  Follow us.  There are great things to come.

boon
noun
  1. a thing that is helpful or beneficial.
  2. Bridgette, Olivia, Oliver, Nora and Ken
synonyms: blessinggodsendbonusplusbenefitadvantagehelpaidasset