Influencer Status

When Photowall reached out to me to collaborate with them, I thought they were spam. I've had this blog for a long time, and over the years I've had a few emails come in from people wanting to collaborate. They usually want me to write a post and link to them, and offer nothing in return other than a virtual high five. I did it once, because I liked the prompt they gave me, but when they asked me to make some changes to the post after the fact I stopped responding to them. So when a company reaches out to me, a blogger with an average of 26 weeks between posts in 2019 and a private Instagram account of less than 200 followers, I just assume they aren't legit.

I finally gave in to my curiosity and, after a quick search, found out that Photowall is not only a real company, they have over 48,000 Instagram followers. I figured what the heck, and responded, telling them about my limited sphere of social media influence and that I was interested if they still were, and, to their credit, they said they were.

Check out their website or Instagram and you'll see that their specialty is some really beautiful wallpapers. Initially I thought I would order some for our bedroom. Our bedroom is weird. There are two tall windows that flank the only reasonable spot to put the bed. It if was a single it would fit between them, but our queen does not. We sold our squeaky bed frame when we moved back to B.C. so we don't have a headboard anymore above our bed and it looks kind of bare. A wallpaper seemed like the perfect way to fill the space.

It was so close. I had the tape measure out at 11 p.m. two Fridays ago, ready to figure out how much we'd need to order for the wall. I think I've heard that painted accent walls have kind of gone by the wayside, but wallpapered ones? I had a beautiful grey roses picked out that Karl liked, too. Hello, gorgeous. Except - spoiler - we didn't get wallpaper.

When our house was built, they decided to go with rounded edges for all the windows and walls (not the ones at the corners of the rooms, but ones by the stairs and without doorways). It's great. It makes baseboards really fun to install and adds potential annoyance for wallpapering.

I thought about it, too, and did I really want this very cool influencer opportunity to add stress to my life? The wallpaper is supposed to be very easy to install, but do you know what's easier than installing wallpaper? Hanging a picture.

Photowall also offers a huge variety of art. It was almost overwhelming looking at all their options. Canvasses. Frame pictures. Posters. You can even customize them.

I thought for a hot minute about getting a customized wallpaper to put in our 14 foot entryway. It would be a family portrait, tastefully nude, of course. But then we've got the rounded corners and installation stress again. And nothing adds stress to a marriage like wallpaper on a high ceilinged staircase.

We almost bought a pirate map because it was fun and late at night and doesn't everyone like pirates? I had it in my cart, then thought better of it. It's one thing to order a super cool pirate map, but it's another to put it up somewhere in your house.

We ended up deciding on a black-framed floral print. Our walls are grey and our curtains are neutral and I do so love colour. It also felt more grown up. The intention was to put it about our bed, to make up for our lack of a headboard, but I could also think of at least two other places in the house it would look nice if we didn't love it there.

I ordered late Friday/possibly early Saturday morning (that's how excited I was about it) and could not believe it when it arrived later that week. It shipped from the UK to Vancouver Island in less than five business days. I can't get Christmas cards to ship to Ontario in that much time.

I posted this picture to my Instagram. That's why it's so edited looking. I shared some other thoughts about our bedroom over there, too.

It's the perfect size for our wall and looks really nice. I do kind of wish I'd ordered a white frame instead of the black, but the black still looks nice. I like that the frame is lightweight and was easy to hang. I find the plastic a bit shiny, though, so when I walk into our room at night time the movement reflected in it usually surprises me. It's only been up for a week, though.

I almost wish we'd ordered a canvas instead, but the frame looks much more finished than a canvas would have. I also wish I had looked more into their poster options, because I didn't realize until I did a deeper dive into their Instagram how lovely they look.

I guess what I'm saying is, they have a lot to offer. So much, in fact, that you could probably spend the rest of your life going through their website and trying to find the perfect thing. And, if you do, please don't blame me. Because I warned you.

I don't have a coupon code to offer you, but they're really easy to find if you want one. With the exchange rate, it isn't the most inexpensive option for art, but I think it's reasonably priced for what you get, especially since there's such a big selection. And if you can find a coupon code, so much the better.

Thank you for joining me on this journey of becoming an influencer. Like Eminem says, you only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow.

Merry Christmas (letter)

Dear friends,

What a year it’s been. Welcome to the first (and possibly only) edition of our annual Christmas letter. It’s been such a big year for us, full of so many changes, we thought it would be prudent to try to sum it up for those of you that haven’t been able to keep track.

As you’re likely aware, we sold our sweet little house in Regina and moved back to Victoria at the end of March. We always knew Saskatchewan was a 3-5 year plan for us, but that didn’t make the transition any less difficult. We left behind incredible friends, a greater community than we could have ever dreamed of, and the best coffee shop. We were back in April to see Jeff and Kim get married, and are hoping to make it back for a visit in 2019.

My mom graciously let us stay with her for 8 long months while we got settled and looked for a place of our own. With three adults and one bathroom, it was hard, but we persevered and are the stronger for it.

When we sold our house in Regina the only thing we knew for certain was that my mom would take us in. We had no jobs or childcare lined up, just the faith that Victoria was our next destination and the hope that God would provide so we could hit the ground running. And that we did. We had childcare and jobs lined up before the UHaul was even loaded.

Karl and I each have good jobs. We’re lucky enough to have dear friends watching our kids during the week.

If you’re a little behind, you might not know that we recently bought a home with my dad. We are now the proud owners of half a pink duplex in beautiful Sidney by the sea. Dad is living in the main level suite, while us Mortons mostly occupy the upper level. The house needed some work done to make it livable and hygienic, but the bulk of it is scheduled for completion right before Christmas. As you read this (likely in the new year, let’s be honest) we will be done all the renovations that I naively thought could be completed in two weeks.

The kids are doing great. Parker never stops talking and is so curious about the world around him. He wants to know everything, and has a great imagination. Molly is incredibly sweet, but also becoming very strong willed. They have both done so well with all the changes of the last year and totally exceeded our expectations of them.

We’ve settled back into life in Victoria and have found a new church, new community, and reconnected with old friends. It’s so good being close to family again, and the kids absolutely adore seeing their grandparents regularly.

We accomplished a lot this year. Moving, starting new jobs, putting the kids in daycare, and doing a renovation are all big things. We’re also currently navigating through some serious health issues in the family. While I’m not sure we’ll be sorry to see the other side of 2018, it was a big year for us. We grew, we stretched, and Karl and I got our first ever night away from our kids.

We did not do a great job at keeping in touch this year. We’re sorry. You’re important to us, we just got overextended.

Please consider this your formal invitation to come over for dinner in 2019. If you’re from out of town, bring your pajamas and spend the night. We don’t have a proper guest room anymore, but our laundry room fits an air mattress quite nicely and we promise to make it cozy for you. You’re also welcome to bunk with Parker, who transitioned into a double bed this year and would love to tell you about dump trucks as you fall asleep next to him.

Merry Christmas, friends. We hope 2019 brings you much joy and happiness. Thank you for all you’ve done for us. We’d be nothing without you.

Anna

If you're still here, as always, thanks for sticking around.

My kids are currently eating popcorn and I'm introducing Parker to The Santa Clause. My tree may be coming down tonight as part of our roaring New Year's party, (I also plan on binge watching Travelers and eating Oreos in my sweat pants) but we'll finish the season strong with Tim Allen in a fat suit, just like Jesus always liked to.

An update on our current state of chaos.

Things have happened since I last checked in.

We sold our house. In six days. In a market where the average house is listed for 64 days. We were so surprised when the offer came in and it wasn't a low ball. It was absolutely an answer to prayer. While on the job hunt at the end of January, I prayed that I wouldn't get the job I wanted if the house was going to sell in February. Against all odds it did and, if you'll recall, I bombed that interview in spectacular fashion.

We weren't completely prepared for what selling our house in a week would mean. We are so grateful that we didn't have to keep it on the market for long. Even though it was, in a way, easier to keep the house pristine than just normal level of tidy, it was still exhausting.

Going into this, we knew we didn't want to move in winter. Four years ago, we moved out here in the middle of a very long, cold winter, and it was brutal. I'm not sure what the rest of the continent is like, but we are still in full winter mode here. It might not be -40 anymore, but we did get 35 cm of snow this weekend and people are still digging themselves out. 

Now that we've finished the uncertain phase of selling the house, we get to enter the next one, which is almost more uncertain. Initially I had dreamed of moving straight from this house into a new one in Victoria. Bless my daydreaming soul, but that isn't our reality. 

Karl and I aren't transferring jobs or moving because we've been recruited (like last time), we're going in with nothing. That means that we're not able to qualify for a mortgage until we've at least both got jobs, so we're going to be staying with my mom for an indeterminate amount of time. She has lots of bedrooms, but only one bathroom so you can pray for us if you think about it. And pray that no one gets food poisoning.

On the job front, Karl already has a couple offers and is set to start working a couple days after we arrive. I've got an interview already lined up for next week, and a couple other positions I've applied for that I suspect I'll hear back from. Hopefully the job market in Victoria isn't as brutal as the one here. We also have a few childcare options to interview next week. The thing is, if we don't find childcare before I find a job, because Karl already has a job, I'll be turning down any potential offers until something gets lined up. Kids are such liabilities.

Can we talk about the extreme stress of finding childcare? Never mind leaving your kids with complete strangers that you know next to nothing about, it's going to cost us at least 50% more in Victoria than it would in Regina to have two kids in daycare. It's in such high demand there, too, that I emailed over 70 providers in the last few weeks, and heard back from maybe half a dozen of them that they might have room. Factor in some negative reviews I got on a few of them, and we're interviewing two places this week, maybe three. Pray for no secret sociopaths.

We'll be doing the move in two trips because we're fun like that. The first trip is going to be really short. It'll take longer to get there than we'll actually be there. We'll be towing Karl's Mustang, bringing as much stuff as we can, and interviewing/being interviewed out the wazoo. After that we turn and burn, come back to pack up the house, say our final goodbyes, and leave before the Easter long weekend. Pray for no more blizzards. And that we can get the car out of the garage.

When we're not battling colds, I've been slowly packing up the house. It's a weird thing to pack up in phases. We packed some things before we listed the house that we knew we wouldn't need for several months. Now we're packing things and labelling them to go in storage until we get into our own house, or to go to my mom's house with us. Some will get unpacked, some will hang out in her basement. Is it weird how much I'm going to miss my pots and pans? And coffee mugs? And food processor? And blender? I have attachment issues to my kitchen gear.

While I may be sentimental about my small appliances, I'm surprisingly not about a lot of other things. We've sold our couches, are getting rid of most of our dressers, and are trying to sell our bed frame. And the house. I love this house so much, but I'm finding myself less sentimental about it than I expected. Sure, it's our first house, we brought our babies home from the hospital here, and made a lot of memories here, but it's just a bunch of walls and a really nice roof. We'll see how I feel when we say our last goodbye, but I got more emotional last week after my final appointment with the doctor that delivered our kids and saying goodbye to him (not pregnant) than I do thinking about leaving this house.

So here we go. Our year of chaos 2.0 continues.

Somebody pass the manna (oo-na-na)

I had an interview last week. It was in an area that I've never worked in before and a change I was up for. While the pay wasn't stellar ($0.03 less than the job I turned down the week before), it was a part time gig so I could overlook that. If you're completely confused by my reasoning I can't blame you. When you have kids, they make things complicated. Of course I could have worked that full time job because the experience was great and it was in an area that I get excited about. It just wasn't exciting enough to take me away full time from my kids and everything else going on right now.

I put on a nice dress and dropped the kids off with the sitter. I had almost 15 minutes to get to my interview five minutes away. I was cruising and living my best life. Then I had to cross some train tracks which just so happened to have a train on them. A train that slowed down and stopped right in front of me. I called the woman that was interviewing me, only to get an out of office that she was sick. I tried, I really did, but by the time I found another number to call the train was moving and I was two minutes away.

I think there are a few ways to really blow an interview, and showing up five minutes late is definitely one of them. I was lucky and they were really understanding (do trains fall under "act of God"?) so we moved past it.

Not to toot my own horn, but the interview went really well. I think I might have been made for the position. Everything the company stands for sounded good to me. It was like a match made in employment heaven. I charmed them, they charmed me, we now have a group text going where we send witty GIFs.

Just kidding, I don't know how to group text.

So aside from being tardy, I slayed that interview. I knew they were going to hire me. I put on my coat and we shook hands and said our farewells and did the obligatory casual post-interview chit chat.

"So, what are you up to for the rest of the day?"

I wasn't ready for it. I should have been. Everyone always asks. They need to kill any potential awkward silence as you leave and do a last minute psychopath check. They're trying to catch you off guard and delve deeper into who you are. They're no longer your interviewers, they're just Steve and Diane and Steve and Diane are just being friendly and you tell Steve and Diane what you're doing.

"Just going home to clean the house to get ready to sell." ABORT! ABORT! (That was my filter, kicking in a little late.)

"Oh, are you moving in Regina?" Still calm, still doing the psychopath check.

"Um... Well..." And that was it. I ruined everything. No more group texts. No more funny GIFs. No more future with the company and climbing the corporate ladder all the way to the presidency because you, my friend, have officially bombed your interview.

The thing is, that 2018 is another year of chaos because we're moving back to B.C. Last week was utter insanity because our realtors, the day before I turned down that job, told me that, in this market, it's a good time to list our house. So I spent the whole week scrubbing and packing and organizing and wondering how on earth my children have accumulated so many toys.

When we contacted our realtors we gave them a large window of time that we wanted to list in. We weren't in a rush, we just wanted to get the most value out of our home as possible. So when they said to list and it was right in the middle of my job hunt we said okay and made sure we had plenty of Tylenol on hand for our tension headaches.

I cried the whole way home from my interview. If we hadn't had an established timeline for listing I wouldn't have said anything, but I was glad it was out there. I had been feeling a lot of guilt about keeping it secret. Even working for a few months can make a big difference, and we honestly thought we'd be looking at an April list date. That's lots of time to work, wait for the house to sell, then close. I'd been looking for jobs since November so I'd always assumed I'd be committing to around six months of work.

I've given up. I'm not meant to work in Saskatchewan anymore and I have a lot of peace about it. I did hear back from the job, and they told me that if our plans change and we don't move to give them a call because they'd love to have me. Then we bonded on the phone over migraine cures and now have a meme email chain going so the whole thing wasn't a total loss.

I prayed before going into my interview that I wouldn't get the job if our house was going to sell in February. Time will tell if that prayer was answered, but I'm confident that my job right now is to stay home with the kids, host as many play dates for my mom group as I can, and get this household ready to go to the promised land. If me not working means that we have to subsist on manna in the process, well at least we're getting biblical.

I've decided, though, that I'm not a stay at home mom. I don't think that's a title that really fits me. Under different circumstances you could probably call me a home maker. Except, well, I'm packing everything up. I've taken all our pictures off the walls already and made our house feel so much less like our own in order to get it sale ready. So ladies, lock up your books, knickknacks, and family pictures, because I'm a home wrecker and I'm on a mission.

Recent happenings

- I made a mobile for Molly's room when she was brand new. (I just realized we're almost 10 months in and I still haven't posted about her room. I know you're all dying to see it. I've taken photos, I just forget about them. Someday, friends.) I got the idea from Pinterest, and I got so many compliments on it that I thought it would be fun to make some to sell.

A much craftier friend than me suggested we do a craft show together. I spent most of September preparing for it, and explored my limited creativity to make some other mobiles, too. We decided it would likely be a one and done show, but we made a Facebook page and Angi saved us by making us some business cards so we didn't die out after the show. The show was fun and my friend sold a few things, but I don't think we'll do another.

- Parker is obsessed with Moana. My toddler has an idol. I downloaded a few of the songs for him and they are always stuck in my head. Fortunately, I don't actually mind Moana. It's a good movie, with a good moral, and the music doesn't make me want to rip my ears off. Every time I hear the song at the end of the movie, the "I am Moana" song, I get emotional. Every. single. time. And we listen to that song a lot. Thanks, Disney.

- October was hard month for Molly. She wasn't feeling great and it all kind of came to head this week when she got a cold and added suspected teething to it all. When Parker had days like that we'd just hit the couch and wait it out. I miss those days. Now we just try to survive.

Because she's been feeling not so great for a while, I put off sleep training Molly. A couple weeks ago she was up every hour for three nights in a row. I think that when it's time to sleep train you'll know, and I kind of knew then. It ended up being easier to do than I'd expected and I got five blissful nights without her. Parker, naturally, started waking up every night, something he hasn't done for almost two years, so that was fun. Because of the horrible pain trifecta sleep has gone out the window again. But, whatever, I know it can be done, and little miss has something coming for her this weekend. Assuming that something isn't teeth, of course.

- My Keurig is currently soaking a descaling vinegar bath and all I can think of is how much I want another cup of coffee. The struggle is real. 

- Karl wanted to take Parker trick or treating this year. I could not care less about Halloween now that I can't have Reese's, but I figured Karl wanted to get some free candy and Parker would be really cute. We got him a chicken/pimp costume if he refused to do up the jacket. I also scored Molly a flamingo costume at the thrift store for $6 so we decided to dress both kids up.

Molly had a hard day Tuesday but chippered up for the evening. Parker, on the other hand, cried every time we brought his costume near him. So he took his Darth Vader bucket door to door, dressed as a selfish toddler, and said "you're welcome" to everyone that gave him candy. He really got into the swing of things, but fortunately hasn't asked to do it again.

- I've decided to give up desserts for November. I think we need a break from each other for a while. You know, just some time apart to rekindle the fire in our relationship and get our priorities in check. When you have too much of a good thing it a) shows, and b) makes it less meaningful. My sister in law got excited about it and has convinced half her family to join in. I've got a couple other friends that jumped on board, too. I wasn't planning on making it a big deal, but clearly we need t-shirts (a size smaller than usual) and a hashtag. I'm thinking #nocaketilChristmas. It's a work in progress.

- We woke up to snow the morning of November 1st and just like that, all joy was sucked out of the world. Just kidding, but I still haven't taken Parker outside to play in it and he's going a little stir crazy. The problem is, I can't just throw him in the backyard in this weather and ignore him from inside. I should probably keep an eye on him because of hypothermia or abominable snow men. Friends, I'm from the west coast. We do not snow. I'm hiding in the kitchen while he plays with my blender (take a breath, it's not plugged in) on the other side of the cabinets.

- Now that it's November I need to start thinking about getting a job for January. Even typing those words gave me an intense amount of anxiety. I'm not made of the tough stuff that stay at home moms are, but I have a million feelings about starting a new job in a couple months and leaving my kids with someone else, and most of them involve synonyms for anxiety. This mother of two thing is Hard. 

- A friend recently told me she's expecting her third child and all I could think was, "WHY?" I love my kids, but I'm fairly certain that if I added another to the mix I would lose my mind. Case in point, Parker just put the plug for the toaster in his ear. He also put my hairbrush in the toilet this morning for the second time.

- I went for all you can eat sushi for the first time on Wednesday and I'm not sure why I'd never done it before. Not only was it incredible, but you got to order off an iPad right at the table. Technology! Next time you come visit, we need to go there. Karl "hates" (read: has never tried) sushi.

- I never go out for supper, but it's a wild week so I'm going out with my mom group tonight once the kids are in bed. I don't care how much snow is on the ground, there are fish tacos and a mojito calling my name. Especially because family flu shots are on the agenda beforehand. This group of strangers is helping keep me sane through the most chaotic year of my life and we're finally having our first kid-free outing.

- Have you seen Life in Pieces? It's my new favourite. I laugh out loud every time. I'm bouncing between that and rewatching The Office during naptime.

- Karl has to work every sixth Saturday and tomorrow is one of those days. I give myself a break from parenting on those days and we just watch movies. I might actually get us out in the snow in the morning if it's not too cold, but then it's Shrek all morning. Or Moana if I lose the arm wrestle.

- Finally, I joined a Zumba class. I've tried it a few times before and felt like a major fool, but this time is different. Maybe it's the lack of a mirror to see myself in, the larger class size, or the fact that I'm hiding in the back with a friend, but I love it. My moves leave something to be desired, but I take some satisfaction in knowing that I haven't fallen on my face yet. Close, but not yet.

Too hot to handle.

Karl's parents came to visit last week. They were here for five days. Karl's parents and I don't really have a lot in common. That's a lie, actually. We all really enjoy time to ourselves and watching TV.

Their visit actually went better than expected. Karl's mom and I went out together a couple times to run some errands and do a little shopping. We've never done much together, so it was fun to go to Old Navy and contemplate buying matching shirts. (It's cool, we live two provinces away so our paths don't cross very often. We can get away with. Except that once she realized we were looking at the same shirt in the same colour she was no longer interested. I choose to believe it's because she didn't want to be hampered by the comparison of who wore it better. Just roll with me on this.) We went to Chapters, Michael's, Winners, and we sat outside the closed knitting store and wept bitter, fibrous tears that we couldn't go in. We had a really nice time.

My father-in-law got a minor bout of stomach flu that I refuse to call food poisoning and take responsibility for so he missed out on the morning we went to the farmer's market. It was a very authentic experience and culminated in buying deliciously overpriced apple bread and my MIL getting excited about Saskatoon berry jam and hemp hearts. I even bought myself a homemade marshmallow for $1. It was delicious, but I'm thinking the lemonade I washed it down with may have induced Type 1 Diabetes.

The only downside of the visit, aside from the possibility that I unintentionally poisoned Karl's dad, was that, as you may recall, our air conditioner decided to call it a day. Thankfully, it chose the middle of a heat wave to do so and timed it perfectly for their visit. We got it fixed the day after they left.

The thing about extreme heat is that I hate it. I do not do well in anything but moderate temperatures. I was not my best self. We were all melting. My coconut oil was so liquid I thought it might turn into a gas. I was worried about the physical well-being of the chocolate in our house. Did you know that if your chocolate starts to melt you have a solemn duty to eat all of it? That's not actually true, but I decided that I'd pretend it was anyway. Thankfully things never got that dire, but it was touch and go for a while.

I was really looking forward to showing my in-laws how good a house I kept, cleaning the kitchen every night, baking delicious desserts, and meal planning like a boss. Instead my energy level was akin to a sloth and we just barbecued everything. Even using the microwave felt like it warmed the house up and let's not even talk about the necessary evil of using the coffee maker.

Not only did I fail to impress with my domestic abilities, our fridge decided that it, like the air conditioner, had lived a good life and just couldn't handle it any more. It was a hard week for our milk. I'm also glad that Parker doesn't fully understand how horrible the milk I accidentally gave him yesterday was.

Karl's parents left Tuesday, my mom flew in 13 hours later, and we got our new AC unit installed the next day, a week earlier than anticipated. I'm not saying I screamed "God bless you" into the phone when they called to ask if they could come a week early, but I'm not saying I didn't. But I did make them cookies.

We went to a memorial/family picnic yesterday in honour of my great uncle. It was a big day that involved little in the way of naps for either kid, so they were both in bed and asleep an hour earlier. It was magical. Naturally Karl and I celebrated by leaving Mom with the sleeping babies and my Netflix password and went to Lowes, where we bought the cheapest fridge they had. We date night so hard.

The new fridge is currently sitting in its packaging next to our table waiting for its moment to shine. Apparently it needs to sit upright for 24 hours after being on its side or it might spontaneously combust, so it's just taking up space like a fancy new conversation piece that's very big in Europe.

We were lucky enough that our tax returns this year worked out to be almost exactly what we needed to cover the costs of the new AC and fridge. There was just enough left over to include the $100 in steaks we splurged on ordering from my mom's cousin. God provided for our needs before we were even aware of them and He said, "Let them eat steak."

Lately.

- I have entered that irrational, stressed out phase of pregnancy in which I feel overwhelmed by the number of things I need to do at this very second but also like they are impossible to accomplish in any imaginable time frame. This is reflected in the chaotic nature of what follows.

Of course it's all completely doable, I'm just tired and round and fell the other day and hurt my bum (everything's fine, except my balance). In other words, I just need a bath, some liposuction, and a couple days off from every one else that requires anything from me. And a good audiobook, because of course the one I'm listening to is entirely mediocre. Hit me with your recommendations.

- I'm hosting a Christmas ladies night with the church next week. I have one week to bring the Christmas cheer to our house and am really looking forward to it. So far I've pulled our bins out of storage and stuffed our advent calendar. The plan is to get the other crazy house tasks out of the way so I can decorate the tree Saturday night with a big glass of amaretto mug of tea and a Christmas movie on in the background. This is what is keeping me motivated.

I'm stumped on what to serve at my party, though. I've got a recipe for casserole cookies I'm going to try and I think I'll buy some shortbread. Other than that I'm lost. If you were coming to my party (and if you're in the area, you know you're invited) what would you want to eat/drink/be merry about?

- On an unrelated note, my boss is 81 years old and rather old fashioned. He's a very successful man that has had a very impressive career. He's done well for himself, and has a housekeeper to help him and his wife out. He's still very mentally with it, but he's, you know, old. He calls me his secretary (I think all the secretaries died when we entered the new millennium), asks me to photostat things, and doesn't understand how to turn his phone off of vibrate. He also calls his winter walking shoes his rubbers.

My boss is not great at tidying up after himself and we finally got our winter dump of snow Monday night. All week, he's been lamenting about the mess his rubbers make on the floor when he takes them off and puts them back on. All week I have been dying holding in my laughter. Because I am 12.

- I know everyone is anxiously awaiting news on how the baby's room is coming and the answer is: slowly; very freaking slowly. I needed to paint some furniture before I could move on to the actual setting up of the room. I did that this weekend with the giant bucket of white paint we've had kicking around the house for a couple years. I hate it, it's not glossy at all, and scuffs like no one's business, but we already have it so boom. Free. I was on my third and final coat on the bookshelf when I finally bothered to read the label on the offending bucket. It's a primer-sealer combo, clearly leftover from our basement reno. And now my hatred is completely justifiable.

I'd cry and weep at my own ignorance (I've painted our doors, door frames, and entertainment centre with it) except that it's nice to have an excuse to buy something new. I also used the better part of three gallons of that junk, so we got our money's worth. It won't take much to get a quick coat of semi-gloss on the doors next summer so they stop scuffing, and those suckers are well primed so let's pretend it's all good.

When it came to my dresser and bookshelf I knew in advance I'd need to put a couple coats of poly on it because of the horrible scuffing. Boom. No problem. I threw a couple coats on easy peasy Sunday night. It was dark, though, and I was tired so guess what? My poly streaked, it looks like cat pee, and now Karl needs to get in there and give it a gentle sand to get rid of the ugly. (I could do it, but I'm emotionally done with that paint job.) Fortunately, the dresser turned out really well. It was white to begin with and just needed some touch ups. The bookshelf could use another quick coat of white, but I've already poly'd it and it's just going to be storage furniture in baby's closet. So I quit before we ended up in worse shape than we started in.

In short (too late), a couple pieces of free furniture in okay shape that have been in dire need of painting for years, a bucket of wrong leftover "paint," some poly, and a couple hours of painting just saved us a couple hundred dollars. I'll take it. And I only cried once over the cat pee stains. I'm pregnant, though, so if I'm not crying every other day my tear ducts will probably explode.

- Tonight I'm planning on tackling the book explosion that has become our office/guest room. I sold our bookshelf and bought a new one from IKEA. That's the goal. It's also been a couple days since I cried so I'm going to watch Call the Midwife.

And now you know.

Parker's room

There's something in the air this week that is making me want to get ALL OF THE THINGS done. I had a fantasy about scrubbing my baseboards while I was drinking coffee the other day. Even when I was pregnant I was not that person. But now? Clean all the things! Paint all the things! Finish all the projects! Do it do it do it! I even dragged Karl with me to Home Depot today to have a serious talk about re-grouting our kitchen floor. (Fun fact: It's a task so terrifying that the mere thought makes me want to lay down and weep. Funner fact: My desire to get things done drives me to start looking for time in our calendar to do it. Funnest fact: I know funner isn't a word.)

I think the cleaning mania has to do with the fact that it's warmer outside than it is inside today and all of our windows are open to celebrate. Yesterday I went for a walk and nearly froze to death, but today I spent over an hour on the deck reading in a t-shirt and shorts. And I nearly cried I was so happy. It may also have to do with the fact that I go back to work in less than two months and am experiencing some form of late-term nesting. But I'd rather not talk about that.

So, in the spirit of getting things done, I bit the bullet for the millionth time and took some better pictures to go along with some older pictures that actually turned out. So in case you're wondering, I did not raise and lower the crib between pictures. I mean, I guess I technically did, but not today.

Anyway, behold! A mere 10+ months after originally promised, I give you the baby's room!

And welcome.

This picture is actually quite old. The crib is now lower and I've since lined the blinds with my mad glue gunning/discount fabric buying skills (as you can kind of see in the picture above). 

I didn't want to inundate Parker's room with decor before he was born because a) I'm terrible at that kind of thing and b) I figured it would happen naturally. It's his room, after all. He told me, though, that he really likes polka dots. And teal. Instead of stressing myself out with a themed room, I went with the obvious "baby" theme and stopped there. My dad and I each painted something for him, showcasing our Picasso-esque skills, and more or less left it at that.

I just hung pictures in our own room after a year and a half, so Parker should feel pretty honoured having these up before he even moved in (to the house, not my uterus).

Pro parenting tip: Dollar store baskets and weird shaped vases make great storage for baby randoms and soothers. 

We initially started out with one bookshelf and I love how quickly it's grown into two. I love Sandra Boynton books, hate Goodnight, Moon, and Parker's a star at That's not my Tiger. My baby knows where the scratchy nose is. He's basically a baby Einstein.

I got that print from Hello Hue when she was closing up shop and I love it. Parenting is tough, especially in those early months, but it is definitely well with my soul. 

I got the idea for the mobile off of Pinterest as every good mom should. I ended up combining a yarn ball tutorial and Young House Love mobile. I feel like I really earned my mom/blogger/DIY stripes with this one. In reality, it just involved me making a huge mess on the kitchen table in my sweatpants one afternoon.

If you ever decide to make a mobile like this, I would just like you to know that when they say it doesn't take very much paste to make the balls they're lying to you. I would also like you to know that your husband will totally judge you for buying a $15 branch from Winners when you could "just get any stick" from your yard. I recommend not arguing, just repenting. But seriously, it's the most beautiful stick I've ever spent $15 on in my life.

And there you have it! Well worth the wait, right?

First post of 2016. I talk about poop.

A month or so ago I saw something on Pinterest talking about how to potty train your baby. I scoffed at it because it seemed like an absurd waste of time. Who wants to spend their days holding a grunty baby over a toilet? Do you know how often babies do their business? All. the. freaking. time. I figured diapers weren't that bad in exchange for some independence.

Well. Now that Parker's more interested in solid foods (and trying to jam the spoon as far down his throat as possible) I have changed my story. I've decided that the whole "food before one is just for fun" line is a load of b.s. There is nothing fun about what happens to that food. With out next kid, I'm going to breastfeed exclusively until potty training is done. You can say that's weird, but I would so much rather have a two year old hanging off my chest than deal with that diaper. That mom that potty trained her newborn clearly knew her shiz.

On that note, we had a lovely Christmas. Flying with Parker was a bit harder this time because he seems to know when we have to get up early and adheres to the teenager's logic of "Why even bother going to be bed?" I also, foolishly, thought that taking him on a 6:30 a.m. flight would mean he'd sleep through the whole thing because that's his normal sleeping time. Don't make the same mistake I did. It wasn't too bad, especially since airplanes are full of babies at Christmas, but we did have to have a little chat with our screaming, over-tired baby on the second flight of the day. I like to think the passengers around us appreciated our magnificent parenting style of telling Parker that no one on the plane liked him and that he should probably just be quiet. WestJet will be sending us our parents of the year award shortly.

We painted our living room last weekend and it wasn't as hard on our marriage as I anticipated. The hardest part for me was living in a mess. We didn't live in squalor before Parker was born, but our house was never this consistently tidy before. That's what Saturdays were for! Going back to work in a few months will probably kill me. I hope Parker's figured out how to work a vacuum by then.

There's an extreme cold warning for the city tomorrow. Naturally, I made Oreo ice cream today. It's hard to believe it's -30 out when you're at home in your sweatpants all day. Instead of doing the rational thing and hibernating tomorrow, we've decided to abandon Parker with some friends and go to the movies. You just can't beat going to the movies in the middle of the day.

I finished watching Gilmore Girls last week. It was an emotional time and, even though I'd seen bits and pieces of it over the years, I never actually saw most of the last season because it came on at 10 and I got off work at 10:10 back then. Memories. They ended it so well, though, and I may have cried a little. I'm now very, very excited about what they come out with next. All I can say is, I hope Jess has sorted himself out and that I don't think I'll take much parenting advice from Lorelai.

You wouldn't think Fridays would be so magical, staying home all the time, but they really are. In my great attempts to not eat junk throughout the week five p.m. on a Friday really means something, especially with the teething that's been going on around here. I find that ice cream and Kahlua really help take the sting away.

You change the diapers, I'll use the power tools.

There's ice fog out there this morning. Not that I needed one, but I now have the perfect excuse to not leave the house today. After a year and a half out here, I've learned that ice fog is not to be trifled with. Aside from a full on dumping of snow, it's my least favourite driving condition. Ice on the window, ice on the roads, ice on the everything. No thanks. It's the first sign of winter we've had this year aside from a couple frosty mornings, though, so I'm not complaining. Not to jinx it or anything, but they're predicting a warmer winter this year. Praise the Lord.

We were supposed to get our fireplace installed last Monday. Then maybe Tuesday. Then maybe Thursday or Friday. Then at 9 a.m. today. They got here at almost 10. Good thing I'm easy going and the baby got me out of bed before my alarm did.

Before Parker was born, I thought he'd sleep in our room until he was six weeks old, then we'd put him in his crib at night. It seems like a lot of people think they'll do that then the baby's either in its own room on night three or stays with its parents until it can drive. We are officially 15+ weeks past that six week thing and he's still sleeping in our room. I think tonight might be the night, though, and it's giving me anxiety just thinking about it.

It's a big transition, and I'm already trying to figure out how it's going to work. Do I sleep with the video monitor on next to my head all night? Do I turn the volume up? Do I put it on noise activated? Do I just sleep with our bedroom door open and hope that I hear everything over any potential snoring? Do I put up the mesh crib bumpers because I won't be there to move him away from the rails when he inevitably wiggles his way over to them? Will Parker wake up crying because I'm not there to pop his soother in five times a night? Will I actually sleep better? WILL WE SURVIVE?

Anyway. One of the nice things about having workers around the house is that it's the perfect excuse to laze around. Why would I vacuum or do laundry with them kicking around? No, I should probably watch Gilmore Girls and catch up on my knitting. That blanket isn't going to knit itself! The to-do list can wait.

It seems like the coffee won't drink itself either. Time to step up, Anna!

Since giving up my gym membership last month I've been a little worried about what I'm going to do in the winter aside from sitting on the couch. Then it hit me: snow shovelling. And if I get really bored I'll make a snow mountain to throw the neighbourhood children/myself into. Between that and my 100 lb baby I am going to look so good in a tank top next summer.

The new fireplace install guy just asked me what they were doing down there. Pray for us.

Lately.

We were supposed to get a gas fireplace installed in our basement today. After a disastrous basement renovation last year we take all sorts of home improvement events with a grain of salt.

With our basement reno everything ran a month behind schedule and we ended up with a bill 20% higher than anticipated. We argued and used our stern voices and negotiated a price that still frustrated us, left them at a loss, ended up with a basement with issues we can only laugh about, and were left with some smug satisfaction in finding out the contractor went out of business not six months later. But there is no more wood panelling, fluorescent lighting, or stucco on the inside walls, so it was better done than not.

Today's one-day fireplace extravaganza was only partially completed so they'll be back tomorrow. Maybe. Wednesday at the latest. It's nice to be off work so we don't have to stress about the time off. I was initially worried about the whole... power tools, drilling, hammering, banging and tiny human with a powerful need to nap once in a while. No need to worry, though, because said tiny human took a longer nap than usual over all the noise so I got to spend the afternoon reading like a civilized person.

And, bonus, there's nothing like the prospect of having strangers over to get you up and dressed with make-up on before 8 a.m. for the first time in months. I even wore my "Democracy: Your voice matters" shirt in honour of today. Parker wore his Team Canada shirt to cheer for the country today, too. I would have taken a picture of him, but he peed on himself and had to be changed by the time I had the sense to do it.

American? Confused? It's our federal election day here. We voted on the first day of advance voting so get to stay home and look disdainfully at all the campaigners that try to sway us with their pamphlets and promises today. I have to say, I am A) so glad my job requires me to be non-partisan and B) SO glad that after today people will stop with the mudslinging and door-knocking. I have no idea how Parker will react to the doorbell ringing if he's asleep.

I probably should have gotten out the Halloween candy for all the canvassers that came to the door. 'Tis the season, right?

We finished painting our dining room table this weekend. Of all the millions of things we've painted in the house this is by far my favourite. We were given our table by one of Karl's co-workers several years ago. It was in rough shape so we stained it in an attempt to make it beautiful. I'm pretty sure we made it look worse. I finally had enough this year and decided that it was time to fix the darn thing up.

Poor quality pictures aside, it's my favourite thing we've ever done and was well worth not having a table for two and a half weeks. We'll probably paint the chairs next year and they'll need to be recovered again eventually.

That marks the third thing we've redone since Parker was born. And also the last because winter is coming and it's time to turn our attention inwards to the actual walls of our house. Eventually.

While we were table-less for a couple weeks, we took to eating our dinners in the basement in front of the television. Because we're classy and sometimes need to pretend we don't care enough about each other to actually talk. During that time we really got into Happy Endings on Netflix. If you've never seen it, it's hilarious and I love it. You should go watch it immediately. But don't try watching it on Netflix because they took it down with no warning. We took Thursday off from it and BOOM, it was gone on Friday. We still had 22 episodes left. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth in our home. It's been a tough couple days.

We learned an important lesson, though, and that's to never take something for granted that's been on Netflix for years. If you find it and you like never stop watching it because, like my favourite burger place in Victoria, if you go away for six months when you come back you'll find it for lease and never again get to have that sweet sweet burger made from Cowichan Valley beef with a gourmet side of dairy-free onion rings a mere ten minute walk from your mother's house. And you will be sad. I loved you Cabin 12. And Happy Endings.

Lately. Again.

Cheers to the weekend!

I had a crazy (like practicing my bounty hunter skills crazy) morning at work. Then a co-worker found a spare IKEA dark chocolate bar in her desk and gave it to me. I ate half of the stupid thing without even really realizing it. It was just so creamy and good and sane. And then the caffeine and sugar kicked in and I swear my hair was vibrating from it all. 

Last night we set up the baby’s room. And by “set up the baby’s room” I mean I vacuumed and we put together the crib. Then I reorganized the three pieces of furniture half a dozen times before getting them in some sort of formation that didn’t keep me up at night. Rest assured, I’m not happy with it yet but it was unwrong enough that I could walk away at 9:30 and not be stressed out. And now that we have furniture in there I can focus on the other important stuff like making the room not echo.

I have this weird fascination with faux animal skin rugs right now. We’re getting one of the IKEA sheepskin ones and Jysk has a zebra skin one I can’t stop thinking about. Does this make me a psychopath? I even had the thought that it would be so cool to get a real goat skin rug because I love goats! Then I realized that might make me a total lunatic, wanting the actual dead skin of an animal I love under my feet. But only after it had been milked, cheesed, soaped, and put in a stew.

I might be psychotic.

We’re at that grownup stage in our lives where we’d really like to get a big area rug for our living room. The bigger the better, I just don’t want to spent mortgage payment on it. I found some nice ones for $250 online, but it feels like a big commitment (no pun intended) for something you’ve never actually seen in person. That and we should probably buy baby things first because they’re more of an imminent need. But a big beautiful rug will be important for tummy time, too. I’m just hoping that someone gives us a blank cheque as a shower gift and tells us to go nuts and buy whatever will make us the most sane parents we can be. It’s pretty obvious an area rug would fall under that banner of sanity.

It’s a good thing we don’t have a lot of floor space that I’m okay with rugging. I feel like the baby is bringing on this weird obsession in me.

My mom comes at 12:01 am. We are going to drink so much tea and find so many sales over the next week. I need to hit the thrift stores hard to fill the walls of my boy’s room. I hurt my foot last week going for a walk and it’s finally feeling better. So we’re going to hit the gym, too. You know, walking for the first time in a week to the sweet scenes of HGTV. That and the snow is going away. Again. Forever and ever amen.

I have a dream of sitting on our deck, drinking tea and eating scones. As long as the snow melts off our patio furniture and the sun shines I don’t care how many layers I need to wear. This is my goal. This is my dream.

Now, time to live the before part of the dream and finish the housework.

Welcome to my head.

Now that I’m pregnant people ask how I’m feeling all the time. All. The. Time.

We had a new receptionist start and I’m technically her supervisor but not because I’m going on mat leave and what’s the point, right? So even though I’m kind of her supervisor and she’s never heard me complain about anything on her second day she still asked how I was feeling. Tired, like a whale, and a little hormonal, how about you?  Or how about, like there’s a bag of rice sitting on my bladder at all times so can we keep this conversation short? Oh wait, the bag of rice is kicking my delicate bits and if you don’t move I might pee on you. I’m also gassy, so don’t breathe too deeply. But my hair is super thick and shiny, just don’t mind the GRAY I pulled out of there yesterday morning. It’s still sitting on the bathroom counter awaiting further inspection. And don’t look too closely at my eyebrows because now I no longer have just one light coloured hair in there, but about eight. And I’m too afraid to rip them out to see whether they’re blonde or white or grey because I’ve done the over plucking thing before and never fully recovered, physically or emotionally. Just thinking about it makes me queasy.

And don’t come too close because baby muffin top is a real thing and nothing makes me feel more like trailer trash. As much as I appreciate the one person who said, via Skype, that “it’s all baby!” it’s so totally not. It’s every bad food choice I ever have or ever will make in my lifetime. And there’s a little boy in there somewhere, too, playing patty cake with my insides, but he’s the least of my worries.

The baby usually moves around like crazy at bed time when I’m just laying down to read. The other day he was kind of lazy so Karl thought it would be great to poke him and wake him up. The kid sure showed us and moved preeeetty much all night long. Every time I rolled (which is becoming more and more now that I’m bigger and bigger) he rolled, too. And our bed squeaked its new squeak. And I slowly lost my mind.

When we moved into our house our bed frame picked up a creak. It drove me nuts at first but I eventually got used to it when I realized there was nothing I could do. Well now it has a metal squeak. All I can say is, I haven’t gained THAT much weight that our stupid IKEA bed shouldn’t be able to maintain our girth. If I didn’t have this bowling ball attached to my abdomen I would totally tear that bed apart, throwing the mattress against the wall, beating the frame with a screwdriver and swearing at it until it caved into silent submission.  But I do and tying my shoes is getting harder so my mattress throwing days are probably over for now.

I had an intern at my doctor’s appointment the other day. She was very nice, but very thorough. I probably should have showered beforehand. I’m now worried that there will be a doctor, an intern, and however many nurses and what have yous delivering my baby when the time comes. And maybe their intern friends. Maybe they’ll have their cell phones out, too. And then… Oh, no, the possibilities are just  too traumatic to go into.

I always said that I wouldn’t let myself become a teaching opportunity. Sorry guys, go learn on someone who’s done this a couple times. Now, though, I just know that if Dr. Intern wants to see how it’s done and/or deliver my kid I’ll probably let her. Because I’m too frigging nice. And I liked her well enough. And did you catch it? She’s a her. I didn’t even know women wanted to deliver babies in this day and age.

I have a craving for Fruit Loops. I had a lot of cookies this weekend, but some Fruit Loops with unsweetened almond milk sounds like nectar from the gods rights about now. Some smell in the parking lot made me think of them and now I’m flashing back to summer vacations watching Grey’s Anatomy and eating dry Fruit Loops alone on my mom’s living room floor. Except now I’ll be watching Friday Night Lights with my husband and my unborn child auditioning for Stomp and there will be almond milk in there to cut back on the SUGAR. Which, let’s be honest, I don’t really need any more of. I got weighed on Monday. I’ve gained 23 pounds. And that’s not counting the extra 5-10 lbs of holiday weight I was packing right before my birth control stopped working. Thus the unsweetened almond milk. Also, sweet almond milk is vile, except for maybe in a latte or something.

So, in case you’re wondering, I’m kind of hoping this little boy weighs about 30 lbs when he comes out at this point in time. Probably by c-section if that’s the case. Then with all the extra birth stuff that comes out I can finally get started on my six pack. Hey, a girl can dream.  Or maybe he’ll weigh seven lbs and my placenta will make up the difference. I still want him to be snuggly, after all.  Yeah, I’m going to go with that. Or maybe my leg will just fall off and I can be all, baby weight? What baby weight? I woke up like this!

I had my first fender bender on Tuesday. Well, the first one in traffic where it wasn’t just me versus a parked Mercedes. It was stressful. I’m stressful. What was even more stressful was the fact that I wore a dress to work. Why is that stressful? Because I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon just in case. When you’re growing a baby the doctor always checks the heartbeat at every appointment. That means that pants are a good option. Well, it’s not like the guy isn’t going to deliver my baby or anything, but does he really need to see me in my maternity tights? The answer is no, nobody does.

Thankfully the damage to my car is minor, and the fellow that hit me seemed okay if a little stressed himself. I was a stress case all day, though, and of course I almost got rear ended again this morning by some goon. I would have had a full on melt down and refused to get back in my car until Karl came and picked me up. But I swear I’m not the problem. Regina drivers are the worst. And my doctor telling me that typically car accidents mean you go to the hospital (even if you’re feeling fine?) and that my baby is – and this is a direct quote – “still alive” didn’t help me feel much better about things.

In case you’re still worried, I’m fine and baby’s fine. The guy that hit me was going sideways when it happened so he was clearly attempting to at least stop. My neck was a little stiff yesterday, but that might have had to do with my ridiculously high level of Tuesday-related stress. I got paper cut from a file when I got to work. Then the screen protector started to come off my phone. I so should have stayed in bed yesterday.

It’s been a weird up and down and down then up kind of week. Part of that is 110% the fault of the baby hormones. Monday was good, Tuesday was just terrible, and today started off with me thinking that I seriously should have considered calling in sick because the terrible Tuesday feelings hadn’t really dissipated. Then things started to pick up a little, I got my hands on some dark chocolate peanut butter cups and an iced Americano, finally made it to the post office, and all was well. Plus, my huge stress cloud started to disperse. That thing was no joke. It made me want to crawl under my duvet and cry for four hours. That’s baby hormones for you, making you feel like an irrational teenager all over again.

I have no idea how pregnant teenagers do it. I have a lot more empathy towards them now. I mean, I think I’ve done pretty well with the crazy hormones but when I get stressed, especially where the baby‘s wellbeing is potentially concerned, things can go sideways pretty quickly. Which clearly doesn’t help anything ever but that’s the way it is.

I also think that my stress level has a negative impact on how much the baby moves. It’s like he’s already learning to stay out of my way when I’m in a bad mood, but it kind of has the opposite effect. What I really want when I’m losing my mind is to feel the little sea monster tell me that he’s okay. I mean, I’d rather it come with a jab in my abdomen than my lower regions, but I’m not going to fault the little guy for at least trying.

Anyway.

I want an ice cream maker. And a bigger crock pot. And better food processor. These should be my 2015 goals. My current food processor was a hand-me-down from my mother in law. It works well enough, but it’s got a crack in the bowl and it’s only a matter of time until it doesn’t do its thing anymore. I also feel like I could get something that works better.

My crock pot and I are really working on our relationship. When we moved to Regina I tried using it again for the first time since we were newlyweds. I mastered one recipe. I’m trying to branch out a bit but I lack a lot of motivation. I made beef dip this week for the first time ever, though, and it was life altering. And there were leftovers. Crock pot meals that come with leftovers are like heaven smiling down on me. So easy! Anyway, our crock pot isn’t very big and I want to be able to start freezing some leftovers. Thus the need for a bigger crock pot. I need to be a super mom, after all.

And an ice cream maker. I hear there’s an attachment you can get for your KitchenAid. How amazing would that be? I really like ice cream (because I’m a human with a heartbeat) but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t as sweet as it always it and maybe had more stuff in it. Like muffins, I don’t need my ice cream to bring all the sweet. I’m happy to just eat coconut whipped cream plain or with a little vanilla. Make it a little colder, and add some fudgy or doughy bits in there? Sorry, my rumbling tummy just woke up the baby. With some beef dip beforehand? If I got hit by a meteor after eating that I would die happy and accomplished. Some sort of ice cream making tool would really make my life better. Just saying.

I should mention that when I have a baby shower. Sure, baby stuff is all well and good, but I would definitely be a better mother if I had an ice cream maker, bigger crock pot, and superior food processor. The crock pot could even double as a baby bath. Minimalism at its finest.

In other news, I want to be a hat person. I think I pull of a toque reasonably well, but I really want to be able to pull off those straw fedoras that are like what Bruno Mars wears. At least, I think he might wear hats like that. I want to be that cool. I keep trying, too, but every time I try one on either my mom or husband laughs at me. And then I get offended, look at myself in the mirror, and realize they’re right and that I do look absurd. Then I pout about it because why can’t I wear cool hats like that?

Karl and I are going to look at a glider tomorrow night and I think it might be “the one”. Most gliders are micro suede, which we hate, and cost as much as a small car. They may or may not come with the coveted foot stools. This one isn’t micro suede, doesn’t come with a foot rest, and costs less than a bicycle. Initially we wanted it all, and I was willing to recover/replace cushions if possible. But then I had a reality check and decided that it’s okay to settle sometimes. The thing is, I don’t sew. At all, really. I would attempt a no-sew cushion cover if I had to, but in my perfect world I could just bust out the staple gun and have my way with things. I still could, I guess, but the results would likely vary. This glider we’re looking at is dark wood, so it’s going to get painted an actual colour, but the cushions are oatmeal and they look like they’re in good shape, plus they don’t really clash with the whole ambience of the room. They’re also the kind of thing that could be easily replaced or (maybe) recovered the no-sew way. So probably just replaced. And foot rests aren’t really that hard to figure out or critical.  

This is my life. Trying to figure out baby room furniture, art, what not. We need to pull the room’s closet door out of the garage and paint it white, make sure it has knobs, etc. I also need to find some baskets and itty bitty coat hangers for the closet so I have something new to cry over. Aaaand I need to look at all the clothes we were given and figure out what else we’re going to need. We have some big decisions ahead. Stroller brand? Baby wrap brand? Bottle brand? Do we have any blankets for him? Mesh bumpers for the crib? A mobile? Am I the worst mother in the world that the blinds we’re hanging aren’t anywhere close to blackout  and I refuse to use a sound machine? What about a video baby monitor? I know it’s like spying on your kids, but he’s so young he won’t even know. He’ll grow up in a world where he has a cell phone by the time he’s three (JUST KIDDING) and 20,000 Facebook friends so being on camera 24/7 will totally be normal. Besides, I don’t want to be the mom that goes into her kid’s room twenty times a night to make sure he’s still there. I’ll just check my video monitor even more. We’re also not planning on keeping him in our room for long because we want him to get used to neglect at an early age. Also, our bedroom is small and whatever he sleeps in (crap… something else to figure out) will probably be right in the way. So I feel like getting our kid used to constant scrutiny is the best choice for us. Although have you seen how much those things cost? Might as well just get him an iPhone and be done with it.

FYI, this post took three days to write. I bet you’d never guess that by the paltry 2,500+ word count but I totally tricked you. Is it Friday yet?

Day seven.

I think it's funny when people talk about living a minimalist lifestyle and how they love living in small places with less things and are so much better than me. Okay, they don't actually say that last part, but they might after this. I love living in a place with stuff. I like the cozy look that comes from crowded bookshelves and walls. You heard me. I like it.

Our house is 2000 square feet (total) with four bedrooms and 2 1/2 bathrooms. And I like it. I like having the room for the baby, the bedroom for the office (grown-ups have offices), the guest room, and our own bedroom. I like it!

I hate cleaning three toilets, especially since I stopped being able to find my favourite toilet cleaning tool and I am really not a poop person (but sure, we can talk about it if you want). I do, however, LOVE having multiple bathrooms. Karl and I use our en suite and the main bathroom at the same time all the time. It's what I like to call a marriage tension releaser. Our third bathroom is for guests when they stay and is in the basement so is perfect for when we watch TV. To be totally honest, we don't need that downstairs bathroom 90% of the time, but it's amazing for company. And commercial breaks.

I like that we have an upstairs living room and a basement with a TV in it. That's what civilized people have. Sometimes I feel like we have too much space because it certainly doesn't all get used all the time, but I know that it does get used. The extra basement space is awesome for kids to hang out in and we fully intend to make it the official play area of the house. You know, when our kid is big enough to play and not just hug my bladder.

People with minimalist style kitchens blow my mind. I had a tiny kitchen for years and it made me want to start knocking down walls, ripping out my hair, and throwing things. Sure, we got rid of our espresso machine when we moved and I'm thinking of getting rid of our toaster oven that we never, ever use, but that's about as downsizey as I want to go right now. I may not have used my waffle maker in a few years but I have room for it and I will use it again! Like this weekend, okay? Baby needs waffles. With coconut whipped cream, bananas, and strawberries. Or maybe raspberries. And a dusting of cocoa powder. What about some cinnamon sugar? I think I just drooled on the keyboard.

Sorry. I got lost in a food fantasy. Which would be hard to make reality in a teeny tiny kitchen, okay?

Oh, man. Waffles.

Now, I don't need a lot of space to feel like my life is worth living. We lived in roughly 600 square feet for almost four years, remember? But having lived in an itty bitty basement suite for almost four years really makes me appreciate what I have now. And that's room to lay on the floor unencumbered. And windows. And a deck. And a front and back yard and who even uses front yards if they have a back yard anyway?

I appreciate the notion of not having stuff stuff stuff everywhere and not finding our worth in stuff because, really, it's just stuff. And it's fleeting and meaningless and we can't take it with us. But I also appreciate having enough space for you when you visit, a kitchen with enough room to make waffles in, and enough bathrooms that if Karl and I get sick at the same time we're not going to risk our marriage over it. I also like that I'm at a stage in my life where I might even have too many bookshelves and am contemplating getting rid of some. I may not be a minimalist, but an empty bookshelf is just as sad as a puppy that thought it was going for a picnic. We don't need that much stuff or sadness in our lives.

I hope I'm not giving the wrong impression that we're super rich people and poop five-dollar bills (in our multiple bathrooms) because a lot of our stuff has been given to us, picked up used, or bought after great discussion and forethought. I'm also not a hoarder except for books. Hoarding would really interfere with my ability to lay on the floor.

All that to say, I applaud you minimalist people for doing your thing and living in your tiny houses with your tiny kitchens and only having enough bath towels as warm bodies in your house. You're great in your own way. But you're totally welcome to come over and use my excess of small appliances any time because I know you secretly want to.

The throne room

I have this problem. It's a weird one, and you're probably going to laugh at me. It's actually more of an... addiction. 

I'm addicted to housework and making this place a home.

Weird, eh?

I noticed it last week with our epic painting marathon (11 hours for me, six of which were on Friday night) and then the cleaning and baking that ensued. I'm changing. I'm becoming the kind of person that thrives on being domestic. Unpacking boxes of books, searching for furniture online (we scored a sweet rocking armchair this week on usedregina.com for $120), and, yes, even painting, give me a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. And even, I dunno, joy?

I think I must have gone through a similar phase in the summer of 2012. I was all about the colour coordinating books, painting nightstands, and organizing the heck out of the place we'd lived in for two years. And that's when I learned that I love life so much more when the place I'm in isn't chaotic and things have a place.

So what I'm saying is, last weekend was so crazy full that when Monday came around I was ready for another weekend. Then today happened and I decided that I hadn't enough of painting last week so I gave the above mentioned nightstands a makeover. I feel like their makeover is something to be really proud of. They're drying in the garage right now, but I'll Instagram them tomorrow when they're back in the room. I'm also going to do a house tour before the end of the month. I swear. So if you refuse to look in the sidebar and see my Instagram photo, you'll see the nightstands in that. 

There has been some debate amongst Karl and I as to when the best time to do a house tour would be. He thinks I should wait until the basement's done, but it's mostly done at this point, and it's going to be a few weeks before our current guest bedroom looks like a room instead of a closet. We have company coming in two weeks, though, so I'm going to use that excuse of clean space to bust out the camera. So let it be written.

So anyway, once I was done painting our nightstands and going for coffee with my beardless boyfriend I hung a mirror. Then I was all, "Oh, I'll vacuum the floors because there's still beard hair everywhere, but I'm not going to clean the toilets no way no how but maybe I'll just clean the counters. The toilets can wait until tomorrow."

So naturally I cleaned the toilets. I didn't clean the downstairs bathroom (we have three, and it sucks at times like this) because the contractors are still working down there and every time I look at that toilet I throw up a little in my mouth. I haven't cleaned the darn thing aside from when we first moved in three months ago. It's the contractors' bathroom right now and as far as I'm concerned it doesn't need a cleaning until they're done. Because stranger poop is disgusting and I don't want to deal with it more than once.

You know haow everyone has a weakness and it's either blood, poop, or vomit? We'll I'm a poop person and cleaning toilets makes me so. grossed. out.

I used to use flushable Method brand wipes to clean the toilet and it was awesome. I didn't have to worry about keeping the rag or magic eraser or whatever that was cleaning up the toilet ick because it just want down the drain and was never to be heard of again. Yeah, I know people that clean strangers' toilets without gloves, but I always wash my gloves when I'm done scrubbing the bowl. Because ew.

And before you think I'm a germ freak, I'm totally not. It's just toilet germs. Yuck.

I haven't been able to find the wipes since we've been in Regina. When we went home a couple weeks ago I couldn't find them where I used to get them, either. So I have a question for you, and that's how do you clean your toilet? Yes, I know about the toilet brush and, yes, I use it. But, you know, the rest of it. 

I can pretend I'm okay with the magic eraser on the two upstairs toilets, but I fear the downstairs bathroom more than you could ever know. At least a dozen strangers have used it. For at least two months. I might need to burn my gloves once I'm done down there. 

So, please, give me your tips, tricks, and helpful hints as to how you don't vomit every time you clean your toilet.