Fried Mommy Brain

Sunroom Before and After

*Please note that the new paint color actually doesn't greatly darken the room. The befores were just taken on a bright sunny day whereas the afters were taken near complete dark.

Sunroomdoor

Sunroomafterpaint

Sunroomafterpaint2

Sunroom7

Sunroomafterpaint4

Still Desperately Clinging (and a little update)

A piece of ice cream cake leftover from my 30th birthday last month is still sitting in my freezer. I can't bring myself to eat it--nor can I bring myself to throw it out. Apparently I still have not accepted my new age yet <sigh> As long as a piece of that cake is still in my possession, I will forever teeter on the edge of being 29. It's delusional but comforting.  I am choosing to not analyze it any further.  End of story <period>

Things have been quiet here. Just plucking along with daily life as always. Matt was out to sea again for 10 days. He was home briefly yesterday before leaving at 3:30am this morning to go in for one of those 24 to 36 hour type shifts.  It really was pretty effortless to float back into the flying solo mode and nothing too eventful really happened. For that I am most grateful. Oh sure, all the girls got sick, but it was just a chest cold, some fevers..no biggie.  Unless you slam us with a stomach virus, I am beyond caring at this point. Once you have multiple children--one or more of whom are in school--you realize you just gotta let go a little and just deal.  So life went on.  We had three parties in one weekend--one of which I, once again, hosted.  A great weekend was had by all and we enjoyed some great time with friends.  The following week was just the same ole, same ole of school and errands and holiday shopping.  Jules did have a breath taking strings concert--yet another Matt had to miss (he has yet to see her perform actually) but otherwise it was pretty quiet.  I really didn't hit any snags until this past weekend.

This past weekend. One that was supposed to be filled with some time with friends again and some good ole smut reading (currently reading the latest in the Masters of Time series.yummy and demanding of my full attention) but alas two kiddos were sick enough to warrant canceling plans.  So I found myself, yeah with some shopping left to do and as always, some laundry and all, but I really had some downtime on my hands. Not good. Not good at all. "Kids, get in the car, Momma's gonna go buy some paint!"

So by Saturday morning my sunroom was ripped apart. The antique piano and bookcase moved (thank you weight lifting--some muscle came in handy for that one), pictures taken down, painters tape put up.  It was time to rock and roll.

Ok, so now you're asking, what color covered the horribly barren cream colored walls of my sunroom?  A pale buttery yellow?  A nice subtle sky blue perhaps. Maybe even a nice neutrally pleasing ivory or tan? Yeah..ok. Ummm no.

My walls from floor to vaulted ceiling are now a bright, bold, rust red. 

I did leave the trim and doors white though.

But this is where I ran into a snag.  I really wanted a rust red color. I did.  But after I spent 1 1/2 hours climbing up and down a ladder to do the first coat on just the first wall, I stepped back and said "Oh...my..God..I don't know if I like this!"  I stepped back into my green living room to view it from another angle and said "Oh God! Oh God! I really don't know if I like this!" and proceeded to have a melt down.  There I am, with hours of work ahead of me, alone trying to do this. What the hell was I thinking?!  My oldest had abandoned me to stay a friend's house for the weekend, so while trying to paint I was also dealing with the two younder kiddos and now I don't know if I like the color of the 2 gallons of paint I had bought? Well shit.  Up the creek without a paddle type of shit. 

Did I mention I was also pmsing? Like horribly?  Like one second I was punching a wall cursing and the next crying?  Yeah don't ever paint on a pms weekend. It's just a really, really bad idea.  A getting a new haircut or dying your hair when you're hormonal type of bad idea. Just don't do it.

But I couldn't very well go out and buy more paint at that exact moment. And it's not in my nature to just stop a project and leave it be. So what did I do? I put in 10 more hours to paint and finish the job. 2 coats on all walls and the kind of detail work that involves a tiny painter's brush and getting up on that last rung of the ladder that says "do not sit or stand here".  Hey, I'm short and I had to get up to the vaulted ceiling somehow to make sure my line was exactly precise. 

I will say this. I love the color on a cloudy day or at night. Bold is not the issue. Bold is what I like and what I wanted. But it's the tone of this rusty red that is bothering me. It just has a touch too much orange and in a room that gets so much natural light, the tone changes numerous times during the day.  So now I'm on the fence.  I may very well buy a sample can of a deeper red after the holidays and paint some swatches on the walls. But we'll see. It could grow on me, too. Is it for everyone? Certainly not. Years from now a potential buyer could walk in and throw up a little in their mouths at the very sight.  But I don't care right now. I need color in my life so sue me if my rooms don't flow seamlessly. Each room, I am determined, will have it's own feel when you enter. I am actually starting to understand why historic homes had so many doors on each room. Oh people say it was to maximize heating and cooling back when all you had were fireplaces and a summer breeze but let's be honest.  Historic homes were known to sport a colonial blue in one room, mustard yellow in another, bold red in another and a tone of gold in yet another.  Doors were not there to maximize heating and cooling. They were there to soften the blow of the assaulting change in color from room to room.

The room is completely back together now. Actually I started "demo" on Saturday morning and by Sunday afternoon everything was back in place.  I will be the first to say painting is not a lifelong commitment. Who cares if you don't like it? Redo it. One weekend of hard work and some blisters and a room can change drastically.  No biggie. But once again I state: Do not do it during PMS week.  It's just a very bad idea.  I do dread redoing it if I should so choose to. I really do loathe painting. I just like the after product.

This week I am just mentally preparing myself for our trek back to the ole homestate for our annual holiday visit with family. I love seeing everyone but I absolutely can not stand the preparation that goes into getting there, the actual trip itself, or the ride home and unpacking. I'm not sure how much longer we will be doing this on an annual basis. Unfortunately, almost our entire family is there so we feel a strong obligation to carry on the tradition regardless of the toll it takes on us. It seems that is the price you pay when you chose to move away from everyone to live out your adult life.  I am sure the three children and the car sick dog greatly influences our feelings on the whole matter though.

That pretty much sums up what has been going on here. As always, I plan to do a huge Review of 2009 post as I normally do but who knows? I might even do another before then if the mood should so strike.

If I do not check in prior to the holidays, I wish all my readers a most healthy, safe and happy holiday season!  And make sure to remember a few things as you celebrate: No hitting the egg nog and driving.  Smile and say "thank you" when someone hands you the dreaded fruit cake gift--the person's feelings are more important than your honesty. And make sure you grab the one you love--or some hot random stranger--and get a good kiss in under the missletoe.  I wish you all the best and hope you have a most fabulous holiday!

And lastly, I know you must be curious so I'll go post a before and after of the sunroom.  (Opinions are welcome as long as they are ones saying the room looks great.) 

 

 

That Nasty Business of a Milestone Birthday

Ok. Here it is. I'm just going to say it. I've ignored it long enough. I'm just going to put on my big girl panties and declare it once and for all. No more putting it off.

I turned 30 last Monday. 

I am 30 years old.

Oh man.....that just made me a little sick to my stomach.

Before any of you say it. Yeah, I know. There are worse ages to be. 30 is the new 20. Age is just a number. Embrace this decade of self assurance and confidence. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Yeah, well to that I say: poo. Poo on it all.  30. Dear freakin lord..How the hell did that happen?!  I suppose we all say that as we age though.  We say how it feels like just yesterday that our biggest problem was how to get that all important note to our best friend in class or wondering if we'd have the car on Friday night.  But I swear to you. It really was just yesterday.

Wasn't it?

So here I am...30 years old. 3 kiddos, an amazing husband, a mortgage, three pets, a mini van (dear God a mini van), living the sometimes montaneous and yet wonderfully glorious surburban soccer mom life. I know I blessed. Please don't think I am ungrateful. I know there are others my age not even near wanting what I have let alone actually beginning to build what we have in our lives.  I would never encourage any young person out there to go ahead and do what we did when we did. Don't get me wrong, we wouldn't change a thing, but it was not an easy beginning to our adult lives.  However, I do feel so very blessed we have already accomplished all we have and there is no denying it kicks ass to have a really mature, really helpful pre teen in the house--it makes my job easier ten fold.  I try to focus on all we have accomplished in our 20's when this age thing begins to give me a panic attack.  But I realized this is the first time in my life I will actually miss a decade of my life. My 20's was a pretty rocking time.  Unconventional at times, yes, but really, really awesome at the same time.

The weekend preceeding my birthday was spent in another town at Jules soccer tournament. 12 hours, actually, spent watching her games over a two day period.  I was bummed it fell the way it did and totally cut into anything I might have wanted to do but honestly, the games were just nail biting. They were some of the best I have seen.  Our girl's team made it to the final championship game on Sunday and only lost by 1 point to a team whose average player was actually 2 years older than our average player.  We had a rough start to her season--she was placed on a team with a....well...difficult coach. By that I don't mean just a dedicated, demanding coach but rather, a downright degrading one--one of those coaches who makes you cringe and you realize your child's self esteem went out the window at the first practice.  But after a nasty ordeal with some of the higher ups of the league, we were able to switch her team and I am grateful each day that we did. Her new coach is just an amazing man who truly knows the importance of coaching children of this age.  What a fantastic end to her season!

But the main notable event of my birthday weekend was the arrival of our next door neighbor's baby girl. Their first.  I visited her briefly in the hospital inbetween games and loved how I now had someone with whom I could live vicariously.  You know...snuggle and coo over the baby then hand them back over so I can go sleep my solid 6 hours.  I think I am finally understanding why grandparents I know say they love that stage in their lives...all the mushy love and cuddling with none of the responsiblity for the day to day wear and tear of child rearing.  Lil Ava was born perfect and beautiful and I look forward to seeing her grow.  And each year we'll get to celebrate our birthday weekends together. I'm sure we'll have some bitching celebrations when she's older..

Ok, so how did I spend my actual birthday?  Well, my one wish was to wake up and not feel old.  Just please don't let me awaken and feel like I have one foot in the grave.  It's so cliche to say but so true--be careful what you wish for. I awoke on the morning of my 30th birthday to a freakin zit in the middle of my forehead.  Ok, I didn't need to feel like I was 14 again!  So not funny.

My birthday morning arrived and I sent the older two kiddos off to school. Matt was at work.  I got bombarded with Facebook messages and I was feeling the love when I happened to catch something out of the corner of my eye through my office window.  I got up hesitantly and went to push back the curtains. What. The. Hell?!  It looked like some cross between a birthday celebration and mischief night in my front yard!  Signs telling the world I was now an old lady were all over my yard, streamers were all over my trees, bushes and grass.  I went outside and oh dear God, my van was written on and only the rain the night before made it so the van only whispered my age instead of screaming it. It was Jules who told me, "Mom, look inside..."  Oh yeah...confetti...30's confetti..all over the inside of my van complete with a "30 sucks" lollipop.  As soon as I saw the confetti I knew who had done it because that friend had also sent me not one, not two, but three cards in the mail filled with the stuff. Stuff I am still finding in my house a week later.  Upon finding a confession card on my front fence, it was confirmed--my good friend from our old town and a mutual friend of ours who actually just helped me a throw a surprise party for the first friend had been hard at work at midnight while I slept peacefully and ignorantly unaware inside.  Was Matt in on it? Oh of course...someone had to leave the van unlocked.  All I can say to that is Jersey girls live for paybacks. They are oh so sweet.

Later on that day, I treated Madi and myself to lunch at our favorite local dairy and even included a stop at a local house that was featured on a season of Ghost Hunters.  I arrived home and just kinda hung out until Matt arrived home.  Jules didn't get home until later that day due to her after school drama club.  She came in beaming ear to ear because out of roughly 100 students who tried out for a speaking part in this year's play, she was one of the 15 or so who actually received a role.  Not bad for a first year drama student.  We loaded up the van and headed out to dinner. We had a really nice time overall..no tantrums or sibling fights.  We arrived home and I was then showered with gifts. My family went completely overboard this year and I can honestly say I loved every last thing....even the royal blue cult style Snuggie Madi insisted on buying for me.  Three year olds--once they have an idea in their heads, just try and sway them.  But you parents know how it is--sometimes you have to smile and pretend you like a gift to save your child's pride and feelings. This year though I can honestly say I adored every last thing from my weight lifting gloves to my book lights to my Ab Fab DVD's to my new MP3 with armband holder.  The phonecalls continued past the girls' bedtime and I sat back to realize I had anticipated a feeling of depression on my birthday-that it would be like any other day.  I sat back and realized I was really happy. Just really, really happy. 

As with every other year, Thanksgiving quickly followed my birthday and with that came the arrival of my parents.  We had a nice Thanksgiving dinner with them, and Matt and I were able to sneak out not just for our annual 4:30am Black Friday date but also a dinner and movie date (we saw New Moon..duh, what else?).

So I've been 30 for over week. How does it feel?  As I sit here jamming out to some hardcore rock music--the kind I keep having to turn down in the van because of it's explicit lyrics--I have to say, I don't feel any different.  I didn't automatically gain any old age wisdom, I didn't gain any new aches or pains, and although I swear my crow's feet became more defined, I am guessing that is just a head trip. 

How do I feel about where I am at this point in my life?  I had always thought 30 would be great. Being that I became a mother at a very young, I was always striving to gain respect and to be taken seriously. You would be amazed at the preconceptions and judgements a young mother endures.  I looked forward to the day I could declare I was an age that was a little more universally accepted as one meaning you had learned a thing or two in life.  An age when one took what you had to say a little more seriously because it held a little more weight.  Now here I am--30 years old--and I'd rather not be.  25 sounds good. It sounds real good. I don't like that in 5 years I'd be considered advanced maternal age if I were to conceive. I don't like knowing I am past my biological prime.  I don't like knowing that from here on out, working out will show less results and that more money has to be budgeted towards anti wrinkle cream or botox injections.  I honestly thought by 30 I would have four kiddos running crazy in the house, be enrolling back into college to get another piece of paper for my wall, and would have some better idea what I truly wanted to do outside of my life as a wife and mother.  Instead I sit here and realize our parental lives will probably only include three children and the idea of going back to school right now leaves a sour feeling in my throat much like a bout of horrible acid reflux. And I can't even tell you what I'd give to be able to sit in my pj pants all day sipping on coffee and getting paid to write.  That sounds real nice right about now but it also has the ring of a person who says they are going to Hollywood to become an actor. What are the odds?  Its time to think of something more practical to do outside of the home.

For the next year I plan to declare and cling to the ideal that 30 really isn't that far out from the 20's decade. 30 is as close to 29 as 28, damn it.  I will cling to that for dear life because I know come next year, when 31 comes and goes, that I'll be comfortably IN the 30's decade and there will just be no going back at that point.

I'm signing off to for now.  I, once again, make an empty promise to try and be better about posting here.  However, it's now time to go sprinkle the Metamucil in my morning coffee and rub some Ben Gay on my knees because it's cold outside and I am predicting rain.  Good God maybe I should just take up knitting and spend my days bitching about my medical ailments.

<sigh> 30.  Dear Lord.........