I don’t think that’s ALL you need….

For the past year and a half, we have been remodeling our house an area at a time.  When I say we, I mean my we have been hiring my father in law, because we, my husband and I, know our limits.  I can paint, decorate and hang things really well.  I am really good at putting together furniture with directions, but I’m not about to tear apart a room and rebuilt it from the ground up…even with directions.  My husband, well, he is an excellent photographer, editor, and producer….meaning, his skills and talents do not lie in hammers and nails.

Our latest project was the downstairs, basement bathroom.  Our basement bathroom was so disgusting, we wouldn’t let guests near it.  “Yes, of course we have a bathroom you can use; it’s right upstairs.  Oh that, yes it is a bathroom, but you don’t want to go in there…trust me!”

Now here would be the place that I would insert a before picture of said bathroom to really get my point across, but I don’t have one because I didn’t take one.  I know….FAIL!  Think of that gross basement bathroom in your best buds from high school’s house; permanent gunk in the shower stall, yuck and muck in the corners, crusty hard water stains galore…. it was like that, only yuckier!

Here it all is in my backyard…already an improvement!

This is the part of the blog where I tell you what a construction genius my father in law is.  The man has tackled every remodeling project we’ve thrown at him, and, boy, did he earn his money with this one!  When he tore out the old tub and shower, he found a hodgepodge, concrete mess.  The previous handy-man (and I’m using that term loosely) just dumped piles of concrete and set the tub on it, leaving holes and an uneven mess, adding more work and time to the project to remove and fix.



With the wrongs righted, we were once again moving forward and my father in law set about installing the new shower.

Here’s what I found on the outside of the shower box.

Ummmmm, I might not be the one actually doing the work, but I think you need more than just those things.

Hhhmmm, nope, still not a complete list.

They need a list that says:  Hey you, thinking you can do this, you probably shouldn’t even think about it unless you are a highly talented, patient, and wise soul that can shoot from the hip and problem solve on the fly, because these projects are never what they seem to be!

Luckily for me, I have my father in law who can do all these things and can create this, a bathroom we can finally show and show off to people.





Super Radar

My children have some type of super-duper radar.  Now, one might think this was an awesome thing to have, but not so much.  In their case, the radar only works when I enter my bedroom or bathroom to take care of some type of private business.  Every time I go in my room to say change my clothes or powder my nose, they instantly need something from me right now.  RIGHT NOW!

On any given day, my kids will be outside, playing in their rooms, downstairs watching a movie, whatever.  I’ll quietly walk to my bathroom to use the facilities.  Within seconds, I’ll hear the pounding of feet, the bathroom door with fly open and I’ll be bombarded with questions.  In fact, it has become quite comical the things they believe are of dire importance when I decide to go “do my business.”

“When is the dog going to go to the groomers?”

“Can we paint my bedroom?”

“When we go school shopping, can I get a new backpack?”

Yesterday, I went into my room to change into my swim suit for the pool.  My son, who had requested we got to the pool, flings open my door with, what he believes, is the most important question on the planet….

“Mom, do you think we need to change the water in my fish tank?”

As I jump into my closet in an attempt to cover my exposed birthday suit.  “Really!?!?!? Right now is when we need to discuss this?”

It is amazing!  No matter what bathroom I enter, I can guarantee the minute I close the door and drop my drawers, that I will undoubtedly hear a ‘MOM!!!’ from somewhere in the house.

Maybe the CIA could tap into this ability and use it in their quest for ultimate world domination!  I could get them on some sort of secret spy retainer….as long as all the really important conversations are held in the bathrooms of the world!

Boy, Oh Boy

My kids participate in our neighborhood pool’s summer swimming league.  Neither one of them have aspirations of being in the olympics or breaking any world records.   They see it as extra pool time and a chance to be silly with their buddies.

Before every meet, the kids write all over themselves with sharpies.  I think it’s supposed to be motivational, but it just turns out being funny and a pain to scrub off later.  This is my daughter, Paige.

I still don’t know what “Eat My Bubbles” is supposed to mean.  If you eat the bubbles, don’t you really swallow water and drown?

Now, my son also had the weirdly drawn fish and the eating bubbles line, but he took is a step further…

Yes, that is drawn on armpit hair…..

Let them eat cake?

My daughter turned 12 on April 18th.  We, of course, had cake and parties and festivities.  It was all lovely.  As with most birthdays, there was cake left over.  There was a small wedge piece left over from one of her birthday cakes.  (Yes, I said one of her cakes.  She ended up with two this year.  One on her actually birthday, because it’s not really your birthday if you don’t have cake.  And one on the day of her party the following weekend.  I love baking and who doesn’t love cake!)  Anyhoo…. I shoved the leftover wedge piece of cake and the box into the garage fridge.  We had the party, life got crazy busy, and the cake was forgotten.

Three days ago, I was cleaning up in the garage and opened that fridge to see what could be pitched.  Hello old cake!  Goodbye old cake!  In it went, box and all, into the trash can for curbside pick up later this week.

Cut to last night.  After doing a little weeding and watering the flowers and garden, I pulled out the trash cans to haul to the curb in the morning.  I went around to the back of house to grab something, and, as I come around the corner, I found my darling son with lips and fingers smeared with frosting.

“Trystan!  That cake is a month old AND I pulled it out of the fridge three days ago!” 

“I was just trying it.”

Sure, just trying it.  Just trying month old, rotten cake to see what food poisoning is like.  My guess… it will be like a belated birthday present you don’t want and can’t return!

Happy Mother’s Day

As I write, I’m sitting in the glow of my post mother’s day breakfast in bed, surrounded my the few sections of the paper I was given and my empty coffee cup, I had an epiphany……

We are all the best mother’s in world.  Every year, heck, everyday, you hear someone thank their mother for being the best, and they are right.

To each of us, our mother was the best mother in the world.  She was there for us when we needed her.  She laughed and cried with us.  She cheered us on to success and picked us up when we fell.  She was there with a hug, a kiss, or a tissue, whatever the situation called for.  She loved and liked us at our worse.  She was there  with advice when we needed it and bit her tongue when she knew we needed to learn the lesson the hard way to really understand.

Being a mom myself, I worry constantly if i’m doing X or Y correctly, if this or that decision will screw up my kids for life.  Daily I make mistakes, forget things, yell too loud, nag too much, get angry too quickly.  But I also know, I come running when they are hurt, I know their likes and dislikes, I listen to their stories and tales, I talk to them – not at them, I give hugs and affection everyday (even at school or in front of their friends – I’m your mom.  It’s my right.  Deal with it!), and I always, ALWAYS, tell them that I love them at least three times a day.

Despite all my screw up and what I’ve seen as disappointments, my kids still think I’m the best.  They still love me unconditionally.

We spend too much time beating ourselves up, having mommy wars, arguing one way of parenting is better than another.  The truth is the only vote that matters comes from the ones that we brought into this world.  And, if you ask them, they will tell you that you are hands-down, out-of-this-world, the best, A+, #1, WORLD’S BEST MOM!

Happy Mother’s Day to all my fellow #1’s!

Really??? Again???

The toilet, the throne, the commode (I don’t get that one, but whatever.)  We all use it.  One needs only a two supplies to use the toilet; 1.  a toilet 2. toilet paper.  I know when I enter a bathroom, the toilet is always there.  If it wasn’t I certainly wouldn’t be dropping my drawers and squatting.  The toilet paper, unfortunately, is not always there. 

Now I don’t know about you, but I ALWAYS check for 2 before beginning numbers 1 or 2.  I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.  We’ve all have had it happen.   Rush in a public bathroom, squat before looking, and then frantically searched through a purse and pockets for something to use to finish the task at hand.  My children have not yet experienced this life changing lesson.

This is the scene at my house about five times a week.

Child (could be either one, they both are guilty) – MOOOOOMMMMM!!!!  Can you get me some toilet paper?????

Me – Really???  Again???  Didn’t you see the empty role when you walked in???

Child – No.

Me – Here.  And remember to flush!

Every time I close the door, shaking my head and thinking….. ‘How the hell was that role empty again?’