I'm noticing a trend...

It's been over a year since I have blogged. And my life has changed dramatically in that time. I am finally back home, in Arizona, near my family. We bought a house, and the beast will start kindergarten in Arizona. While it didn't all happen and come about the way that we thought it would, we are trying to make the best of an extremely difficult situation.

When Andrew was injured on a jump a year and a half ago, the extent of his injuries weren't fully discovered. Since that injury, he has deployed to Afghanistan, jumped out of more planes, and received orders to Alaska. And then our world came to a screeching halt.

Because of lingering pain in his pelvic region, Andrew went to see the doctor. And after many, many appointments, it was discovered that when he injured himself, well over a year ago, he had actually fractured his pelvis. An injury that continued to receive a beating through the deployment and subsequent jumps from airplanes. Over time, the muscles in the injured area started to tear away from the bone. The army told us that none of this would cause him to not go to Alaska.

We decided that since we were planning on getting out of the military once the Alaska assignment was over, the kids and I would go ahead to Arizona, so that B could start and stay in one school, rather than move around, and so that I could return to school and get my nursing degree, effectively making a civilian transition a little easier on the family. We house hunted, we purchased a home, and less than a week after closing on the new house with the $900 mortgage, and about 6 weeks before Andrew was due to leave for Alaska, we got the news. Andrew's orders were cancelled due to his injury.

It was a devastating blow, because we had purchased our house with the income we would receive from being in Alaska in mind. And there was nothing we could do. The house was ours. Alaska wasn't happening. The kids and I had to come here. And Andrew would end up homeless in NC. You see, the Army doesn't care what happens to you when things like this happen. Thankfully, we have some wonderful friends who have taken Andrew into their home and family.
This period in our lives has probably been one of the most trying I have ever encountered. Between the financial hardships and other strains, our marriage is suffering it's biggest trials ever. While I hate to think that this could be the end, I just don't know anymore. Andrew has completely shut down. His PTSD is in full swing, and the mood swings are unbearable. While I have mentioned counseling several times, it is always met with the same response. Several different versions of "Hell no". I don't know what to do anymore. He doesn't call to speak with his children. They have quit asking for him. I am heartbroken.

I did however make it into school. Not the nursing school I want, but I am in Medical Assistant school, with the hopes that when I graduate, my future place of employment will offer tuition reimbursement while I pursue my bachelor's in nursing. I can only hope that things will dramatically take a turn for the better, or that the transition through separating will not cause the kids to suffer. Something has to change. I really can't live like this anymore.

Hoping for Change

Getting my thoughts in line is really difficult for me. I guess that's why I fail to keep up with my blogging. And the craziest part of it is, blogging makes me happy. Getting my thoughts, however ridiculous they may be, out of me and into written form where I can examine them is how I let them go. I find that if I don't write out my feelings, I have a hard time letting go of things out of my control and moving forward with my life. Lately, I haven't done a good job of letting go of things.

Today, I learned that we could be PCS-ing soon. I expected to not be open or welcome to that idea. I mean, Fort Bragg has been our home for the last five years, and I didn't think that I would ever be open to leaving the place that our son has essentially been raised. However, when it was brought up through email with my husband today, I found that I was actually excited about the prospect of leaving. And that caused me to take a step back. I've been thinking on it for a few hours now, and the only thing I can conclude is that I don't feel that I can be my best self here anymore.

I used to pride myself on being a great mother. I spent hours with my son, playing, creating, imagining... everything under the sun. If he needed it, I was there. Lately, my son has been spending his days in his room, playing alone. Something that even as I write this, makes tears come to my eyes. I hate that I am no longer that mom for him. And of course, a lot has changed with Emma coming along and I no longer have as much time for him as I did before caring for an infant, but it's really no excuse. I'm not taking care of him. Sure, he has clothes, and food and a roof, and regular baths, etc, but I no longer invest time in the core being of HIM. I no longer take the time to teach him the things his mother should be teaching him. I no longer push him to be HIS best self, because I'm not being my best self. I want so much more for him than that, and I feel like I can't do that here.

What is it about here that keeps me from taking care of my family in a way that I would normally? Up until a year or so ago, I was trucking along just fine, managing to maintain my identity and still raise Braeden in a way that I'd always dreamed of raising my children. It's like I feel stifled. I feel like the one thing I need, and am lacking, is someone to see that I'm spiraling, and care. I feel like I am so different from everyone else out here. And the funny thing is, I have a lot in common with every friend that I have. It's different from person to person, but ultimately, each of the friends I have out here, I have a ton of things in common with. But I still feel different from them. Most days, I feel like I'm forty years old, trying to live in a world with twenty-five year olds. I'm only twenty-seven! I look around at my friends and their individual little families and I think... Man, they really have their routines and places down pact. Many of my friends could be locked in their houses with their husbands and children and would love every minute of it. And I always think to myself that there must be something wrong with me. Why is it that I can't find that utter contentment with my loved ones? Why isn't their company enough for me?

Because it's not.

Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and children dearly, and I would not trade them for anything in the world. But after 5 days of constantly spending all of my time with them, I can't wait to break free and do something solely for myself. Away from them. And then I feel hateful because I look to my friends and they seem to be at their happiest when they are spending quality time with their families.

I feel like I'm losing my identity. My role in life has become that of Mother, Wife, Friend and then Erin. I used to be so many other things. It's hard to even type this because I'm admitting to myself that I don't know who I am anymore. I try my hardest to be the best person that I can be and to make the best choices that I can make for my family, but I'm losing myself in the process. I'm tired of being presented with the choice of doing the right thing or losing something that is so important to me.

So I'm ready to move. Sure it will be sad. But it will also be very happy. I want to start over. I don't want to be unhappy anymore. I want to start fresh somewhere and be the person I want to be and not question myself anymore. And if that place happened to be closer to my family and loved ones, I would be all the happier. I'm tired of feeling so alone in a place that I used to be surrounded with people in. I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter. I'm tired of being so many things for so many people and having nothing left for myself. I'm tired of being so alone with myself that I loathe myself. I'm just tired. 

Bleh...

My blogging has gotten seriously pushed down on the list lately... I really need to make more of an effort to put it back up towards the top.

So much is happening here lately, that by time it's quiet time around here, all I can do is veg.

But that is all changing.

Today, I ordered a juicer. After watching the documentary Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, I am taking the plunge and making the commitment to go on a juice cleanse using raw veggies and fruits. I'm starting out with mini goals, and am hoping to go through to 90 days. I need more energy, I still have some residual baby weight and since my doctor pissed in my cheerios and I can't work out, this seems to be a healthy way to jump start my new healthier lifestyle that I am aiming for with my kids.

Actually, the beast is kind of the inspiration. He isn't really a big fan of meat, so we tend to only eat it 2-3 times per week. And whenever I tell someone that my 4 year old doesn't like meat, they look at me like I'm crazy. I, personally, don't think it's that weird. I'm not an idiot, and have researched healthy lifestyles for some time now, so I'm aware that animal protein isn't the best for our human bodies. In fact there are so many scary things associated with milk that it put me off of it for good. Apparently, cow's milk can actually help tumors grown at an accelerated rate. Um. No Thanks.

So, the Monday after Easter, the juicing begins. Technically, I'll be juicing for breakfast and lunch once I get the juicer in a kind of preparation for the juice feast, but come April 9th, it's on like Donkey Kong. And next week I'm finally able to incorporate some light working out into my life, so things should be moving along nicely. Hopefully.

I'm not going to lie... I'm scared crapless. Lots of changes coming my way! Including a new dining room table, new sewing table and new desk... Including a whole new redesigned space to go with it all... Here's hoping it all works out well... Pictures to come!!

Anything to keep busy while the hubs is away!

What Happened To Parenting?

Real parenting? Sit-at-the-table-till-you-finish-your-food, parenting? I can remember falling asleep sitting at the table because I didn't want to eat meatloaf.

Don't get me wrong, I'm totally guilty of going to easy on my kid, and letting him do what he wants, within reason. I'm definitely not NEAR as strict as my parents were. And I regret that. I think I need to change some things up. Just because my world has to revolve around the military, doesn't mean I should get to slack off.

I think it's time to outline some new rules around here. The beast used to have specific chores that were his and changed as he got older and was able to handle more stuff. Ever since I got pregnant with Gigantor, that has fallen by the wayside. The rules that were in place have become mere suggestions now that my energy is zapped by the 2 little ones. I think tonight, I'm gonna have to sit down with a pen and paper and set up some goals for myself when it comes to what priorities I have and what can stay a little more relaxed.

And I see a crafting project in my future... A laminated weekly calendar for the Beast with pictures of specific chores for each day of the week that have a Velcro backing so they can be interchangeable... Tomorrow is a new day... And pretty soon, my ornery child who doesn't listen will be a beautiful little stepford-child who is seen and not heard...

A girl can dream, can't she?

Wow! It's been awhile!

So much has happened since I last posted... I had a baby, I finally got around to making the house more a home, and my husband left for the sunny Middle East... And finally, I can relax!

Gigantor showed up on January 14th weighing in at 8lbs even and 19 1/2 in long... After some crazy complications on my end, I was finally released from the hospital four and a half days after I got there. Then came the ever crazy barrage of parents coming in to visit the new baby. And it goes on and on and on...

But finally, I can let my hair down.... It won't go very far because I chopped it all off after having Gigantor, but it's down none the less.

OK, let's get real. I can't let my hair down. I still have 2 kids who are constantly up my ass. Today for instance, is grocery day. As I type this, I'm supposed to be cleaning out my fridge and getting rid of stuff for the serious amount of food coming in. And I mean serious. When it's just me here with the kids, I stock up like I'm preparing for a natural disaster. I like to only have to go to the store like every three weeks or so, barring the occasional milk run. Or cheese run. That's pretty important too.

After the grocery shopping of epic proportions, its home again for me, where I'll prepare all my food for the week and put all my meals and snacks away so I can just grab and go. Which is important because I'll be spending my nights this week making superhero capes and masks and making everything to turn my freshly decorated house into a superheros wet dream... Which is probably inappropriate because it's a birthday party for a four year old, but whatever. I'm an inappropriate kind of person. I'm OK with it.

I'll post pictures of everything when I sit down at the computer later because, let's face it, I'm not here for anything other than procrastinating on the things I SHOULD be doing... Oh well.

Probably total TMI...

I hate being pregnant. For many reasons. Today, though, probably takes the cake.

**Warning: Lots of vagina talk ahead!!**

Shaving becomes a massive pain in the ass when you're pregnant. I'm not talking about your armpits. That's easy. Everything south of your belly button is the problem. You can't see, you can't bend, and lets face it, you don't have motivation to be in the shower longer than 5 minutes.

That's why your vagina ends up looking like a Peruvian jungle. Maybe it's just me. If so, I don't care. I have no shame. I don't think it is though. I think lots of pregnant people out there pretend to keep up with the hoo-hoo grooming just to save face. No one wants to be THAT guy.

I don't care. I'll be that guy. As I recently described to a friend of mine, shaving in the no-no zone while in your 3rd trimester requires the use of a fog free mirror and the National Guard. You can't see a damn thing. And your blindly scraping a sharp ass instrument over the most sensitive part of your body. No thanks. Isn't it bad enough that a flippin' human being is going to come out of there soon enough? You'd think, that since we have to be pregnant and all, God would stop the hair growth for us. But no. We get to pay for a crime that happened at the beginning of time. I DIDN'T EAT THE DAMN APPLE!!!! And technically, if Jesus died for our sins, then wouldn't that erase Eve's sins, therefore letting us off the hook? I've always wondered about that. Anyway, that's a topic for another day. Hairy vaginas are the topic of today.

So today, I realized that things were getting uncomfortably out of control down south. Both my legs and my hoo-hoo were ridiculously hairy. Something had to be done. After trimming down the excess (I told you it was bad. I didn't want to clog the tub drain. Explain that hairball to a plumber.) I hopped in the shower and hoped for the best. I have no idea what the end result is. I can't see it. And I didn't want to examine it in the mirror. I would imagine it isn't pretty. But it's much more comfortable, so I must have done something somewhat right.

I don't plan on doing this again until I'm coming up on my due date. It's incredibly stressful, and requires a lot of creative bending that they don't teach you in yoga. But I'll do it right before my due date. I don't care about pooping on the table, but I definately don't want nurses and doctors judging my vagina. That's embarrassing.

4:05am... And here I am... Awake...

with heartburn. I hate heartburn. This is the third time this week that I have awakened to nastiness in my esophagus. And the second night in a row that the beast had night terrors. 2:15 like clockwork, he woke up screaming. Thankfully, he went back to bed immediately, but it definitely scared the be-jeezus out of me.

The worst part is, I have no one to blame but myself.

I scare my child. I don't mean that I yell at him until he quivers and trembles, or beat him senseless, or anything like that. Essentially, I lie to him and.... exaggerate situations so that he listens. I see nothing wrong with this. I mentioned before his fear of the Easter Bunny. It started out harmless enough. We went to the mall to get a picture of him with the giant bunny. He was excited. Until it was our turn. The beast didn't realize that the bunny was alive. When the Easter Bunny reached out his arms to hold the beast on his lap, chaos ensued. The situation ended when my just-turned-three son picked up a pink, glittery decorative egg and chucked it at the Easter Bunny with all his might and then ran screaming from the little fake cottage area. Needless to say, we didn't get the picture.

Anyway, my mom felt really bad for him... Her poor poopy-head and all. ((She's called him that since birth... Ironically, it has nothing to do with actual poo.)) I saw a golden opportunity. One day the beast was being particularly beastly. And before I knew it, I told him the Easter Bunny was upstairs hiding under mommy's bed waiting to come get him if he didn't start listening. And it worked. The kid hid under a blanket on the couch watching his shows quietly. He got up only to pee. Ever since that day, the Easter Bunny has been the boogy man of our house. The story has gotten more elaborate. Eventually he got so scared that we had to promise him that the police had locked up the Easter Bunny in jail. Now we tell him that the police will let him out if he's bad. So we've instilled a healthy dose of fear of police to our 3 year old. Great.

But that isn't why my child has had night terrors the last two nights.

Yesterday, we made a quick run to Wal-Mart. As in the usual Wal-Mart manner, four of their 30 lanes were open, and the lines were wrapped back into the clothing section. A very nice employee glanced in my cart, saw my 7 items and told me to go check out in the jewelry dept. My kind of service. I hauled ass over there, hoping no one overheard her tell me we could check out there and inadvertently beat me to the oasis that would allow me to get out of there quickly. And damned if someone didn't beat me there. So while we stood waiting our turn, the beast was checking out the Halloween section that was just across the aisle. Up on top of the shelves was this giant yard inflatable of a spooky house with trees and ghost all around. Here's how the conversation went down.

Beast: Look, Mommy, a Halloween house!
Me: Yeah! And look at all the scary ghosts!
Beast: Those ghosts aren't scary.
Me: Those ghosts work here.
Beast: Nuh-uh.
Me: Yup. When kids are bad, they fly down from the tree and eat their faces off. Then they chop off the bad children's feet and send them to jail for the Easter Bunny to eat them.
Beast: Oh no.
Me: Yup... On Halloween, you'll see the kids who were bad in the store. They have to wear masks cuz the ghosts ate their faces off.
Beast: I'm going to be a pirate for Halloween. ((at this point his eyes will not leave the display))
Me: Yup... So you better be good because we didn't get you a mask. And if you don't have a face, you can't go trick or treating.
Beast: Mommy, can we go home?

The guy in front of me was laughing so hard he had tears, and he gave the cashier the wrong amount of money. The cashier stared at me in stunned belief. The look on her face told me everything. While she was amused at the situation, she clearly did not agree with my parenting style. Not that I cared. It worked. He was good in the store. What's a little fear when you can get through a Wal-Mart trip unscathed?

And now he has night terrors and I have heartburn.

Thank you, Karma... You've been very helpful this week. Hopefully we get along better next week.

Just Another Day In Paradise!

Today started out like any other day... I stumbled out of bed some where around 10 am... ((The beast woke up last night and stayed up till roughly 2 ish... He slept in this morning, thank GOD!)) I made coffee... I ate toast... I ate Fruity Pebbles... I CityVilled... I laid on the couch and watched the View. Things were good.

Then I started watching the Chew. God I love that show. While thinking about the inevitable commissary run in my future, I decided to check my bank account to make sure my car insurance had gone through. I have been paying my bills online for a long time, and yet every time one is due to come out, I still check. You'd think I'd get over it.

Thank God I haven't.

Much to my surprise, our account balance was scary low. Like, so low we would be royally FU--..... Screwed.... So I begin scanning the account details thinking that my husband was going to be getting a serious ass-kicking... And lo and behold, it's not my husband's fault. ((Much to his relief, let me add.)) Our account was hacked, and some idiot charged $150 to a Video Game and Arcade store in Seattle, Washington. We live in NC... Doesn't get much farther away than that. So after calling the bank and straightening it all out, the end result is full refund in 3-5 business days, new debit card for me in 7-10 business days, and no access to funds until then. Because USAA does not have branches here. And my husband is gone training until the end of the week. Fudgin' A.

So to make myself feel better, I decided to sit down and get some sewing projects taken care of. Mainly, the crib bumper, which is all set and pinned and just needs to be sewn to be finished. But the bumper irritated me. And my child was irritating me. So after banning the beast to his room ((something he hates, which I will never understand since it is filled with freakin' toys)) I sat down and decided to sew B's best friend a shirt out of some jersey knit fabric I scored in the clearance bin at Hobby Lobby a few weeks back. It's super pink and super girly. I found the tutorial here at the Lil Blue Boo blog and have been wanting to try it out for awhile. Tonight was my chance. Super easy, super fast, and best of all, I got to put my ornery son in a pretty pink shirt as my model. He deserved it. He was a real jerk today. And then I took pictures of it. And now, I'm going to put them on the internet, and they will be here FOREVER, so he will always be embarrassed by them. Mother of the year right here!

He looks so upset at being put in girl's clothing, doesn't he? *Sigh* Don't mind my messy house in the background... It's the least of my worries today.

SAHM's have it rough too, ya know...

So, maybe I'm being petty. And maybe some people think I just 'don't understand'. But being a stay at home mom isn't easy. I'm so freakin', flippin' tired of having people tell me that I just wouldn't understand the demands of the working mother. Um, hello? It's not all bon bons and Days of our Lives around here! You try waking up and coming downstairs to start the coffee pot and finding your 3 year old asleep on the kitchen floor surrounded by empty go-gurt wrappers. Sure it's cute while he's still asleep, but clearly, in the long run, this is not a good thing. When was the last time any of you working moms had to clean shaving cream off a TV, a closet door, a bed and the carpet because your child and his friend decided to play in the bathroom while you were having a pregnancy induced hot flash that forced you outside into the rain to quickly cool off before returning to keep watch over the shenanigans going on in the house? I did it roughly six hours ago. ((With the help of another awesome SAHM! Far-away-high-five, Shayna!))
You can whine to me about your deadlines, and your office politics and about how the last thing you need when you get home is to clean house and cook dinner. It doesn't make your day harder than mine. In fact, if I had the luxury of spending nine hours a day with adults, hearing adult conversation and looking at spreadsheets instead of listening to those damn Fresh Beat Band kids sing about their great day and cleaning up after a husband who's primary job is to get dirty and 3 year old whose finger lives in his nose, I wouldn't be complaining! Here's the thing. I have worked and taken care of a house at the same time. It is NOTHING compared to spending days on end in a house with a little person whose conversational skills stop short at, "I can't", "I don't want it," and "No." Oh and lets not leave out the ever popular, "Mommy there's a wheel up my nose." Bet you don't have that going on in your office meetings do you? When was the last time you had to turn to the guy at the table next to you and use tweezers to pull something out of his nose? That's what I thought.

Don't get me wrong. I love my son and the time I get to spend with him. I wouldn't have it any other way. I get to be a part of all the good things too. But the next time someone tells me I don't have a "real" job, I just may scream. And then I will tell them that they are right. I don't have a real job. Because if this was a real job, I'd get paid. I'd get weekends off. I'd get to clock out at 5pm. I'd get to call in sick every now and then. And I'd get vacation time. I'd probably know what day it is, and I don't mean the date. I'd probably shower with more regularity. (You can judge all you want, but since leaving the beast alone, even for the 15 min a shower would take isn't an option, that has to happen at night, and I'm to damn tired from NOT working all day.) My sex life would certainly be better because I wouldn't be so tired from RUNNING around a house all day. Literally running. When was the last time you office gals did that? That's what I thought.

In short, I don't feel bad for you. And I don't expect you to feel bad for me. We have all made our choices, or were forced to choose. I'm blessed enough to be able to stay home with the beast. Lord knows he'd probably get kicked out of day cares from here to Timbuktu if I wasn't. But don't diminish and demean what I do. Not everyone can do it, or do it well. It takes a lot of juggling. The reality of it is, I've known women who could run offices daily and not be able to run their house with the same smooth efficiency. Being a SAHM isn't for the faint of heart. It is work. Hard work. As is going into an office every day. Like I said, I've done both. I just knew what day of the week it was, and my legs were usually shaved when I went to the office.

Holy Cow, it's not 1 am!

Who knew you could blog at the very normal hour of noon?? Not this girl! But apparently, it works.

Then again, the beast is hanging on my arm, trying to crawl in my lap and won't shut up... I remember now why blogging at 1 am is the perfect time in this house. Added to that, I have like maybe 10 minutes before my husband walks in the door, complaining of hunger and shooting down all my ideas for lunch.... Starting this blog right now really doesn't seem like the smartest thing I have ever done. Oh well.

On another note, I just found out JoAnn's is having a moonlit madness sale going on this week, and it's starting today... And I was planning on going today. Hot Diggity Damn, it's going to be a good retail day for me!!! Assuming I can get my stupid cell phone fixed also. My cell phone is quite possibly the crappiest Android ever made. I'm so frustrated with it, in fact, that I am going to Sprint to DOWN-grade my phone back to something basic. I have come to realize that when you cram an ass ton of technology into something so tiny and basic, there's no way it can function properly. That, and Sprint has a phone that says who's messaging you. So when you get a new text it says: "New Message from Drama Queen" or whatever you program the phone number in as. This is my kind of phone. I can be happy all day with a phone where I can program people's names in as however I think of them. And it's super basic. Texting and phone calls. That's all I need. I'm a SAHM for crying out loud. If I need to check my Facebook, I can get up and go to the computer. Unless the View is on. I won't get up then. Or the Chew. Or Biggest Loser. Okay, so that list could really go on, and pretty much embarrass me forever when all my trashy, reality, guilty pleasures come to light. ((I know I can't be the only one who gets excited when Real Housewives of Orange County comes on... If I was, the show would be over!))

Because there really is no purpose to this post... Or any of my posts really... Except to escape the insanity of my home for a few short moments, I'll leave you with this picture of the beast, so you know just what I mean when I call him, the beast.

He's getting ready to throw himself down a slide on his best friend's playground... There's an evil look to his eyes, as if he's waiting for a target to get in place...

And here he is when he's cute and sweet... And extremely dirty... As all boys should be!

Must. Go. To. Bed.

At 1:43am, when you get an intense craving for marshmallows, and there are none in the house, what do you do? Turn to the Lucky Charms. Green Poop here I come... Hopefully anyway.

Today was a ball... I took the beast to a play date, which is code for "go annoy your friend, so us mommies can sit in peace for five freakin' minutes." Our play date was 9 1/2 hours... I brought PJ's with me, so I choose to believe that makes me a good mom. And he was asleep before we got home.... at 10:45pm.

Some people pick their friends based on the things they have in common. And while that is probably a great jumping off point, I feel it is better to be around people who parent the same way you do, and find the common ground later. Nothing soothes my heart more when I don't have to roll my nearly 7 month pregnant ass out of a chair to yell at children for something, because I know my friends will have it taken care of. Chances are, if you parent the same, you have a TON in common. I need to surround myself with people who won't bat an eye when I threaten to rip my child's leg off and beat him with it. Clearly, that could never happen! I don't have that kind of arm strength. But my 3 year old doesn't know that. And that, my friends, is productive parenting. That is what gets shit done. Because let me just tell you, the beast is not phased by the word 'spanking'. Some toddlers cringe in terror, but the beast will laugh if you even try. Cue the body parts being ripped off. That's effective. And when that starts to fail, I'll tell him that the police let the Easter Bunny out of jail (where he has taken up residence since Easter 2011 and the unfortunate Egg Incident at the mall) and if he makes a lot of noise the big bad bunny will find him. That should at least get me through until next September when he goes to full day Pre-K... Thank you, NC for providing my child with a place to go so I can take a nap.... Oh wait. There will be another one here. Oh crap.

On that depressing note, my ramblings are over and I'm waddling my shamrock booty to bed. Only 2 minutes past my self-imposed bed time. Oh wait, 3. Crap.

Life on an Army post....

...means that sleep is never guaranteed. Especially, when soldiers are out in the field, setting off bombs and shooting M4's WAY beyond when they should be. In my opinion anyway.

So here it is, 1am... And I'm awake. Does that surprise you? I didn't think so. I haven't gotten near as much accomplished around here as I would have liked to. I HAVE done TONS of daydreaming and making lists of things I want to do... But the actual doing of these things has not happened. I think, about the only thing I have accomplished this week was making the crib skirt for the nursery. I didn't even take pictures of it. Oh well. I plan on making the crib bumper this weekend, so when I take pictures of that, you can see the crib skirt as well.

But the daydreams I have had, and the inspiration I have found from other blogs has been amazing. My whole house is going to be revamped before long... At least, that's the goal. I set my goals high because I am totally okay with failing.

That's not entirely true. I hate failing. But I like to have 27 things on my plate all at once. Keeps me going. After I finish the nursery, I plan on tackling the Beast's room. Living in on-post housing definitely poses a challenge. Anytime you leave to go somewhere else, you have to return the house to the way it was when you got it. Which, fine, I get it... Technically we are renting. Makes sense.

But DAMN it really limits the things I can do. Not for any reason other than, my husband will kill me if he has to put 16 layers of primer on a wall to cover up the paint color I HAD to have. Because lets face it. I'm not going to have any part in the primer-ing or puttying or anything else that has to be done before a PCS. Sure, I have no problem getting in there and getting my hands dirty when it's to make something look pretty. But I want no part in having to make it look ugly.

Anyway... back to the Beast. I got enough of the gray paint we used in the nursery to paint his room the same color, so eventually, it will get on the walls. I plan on doing his room in a Navy, Red and White theme. I know what your all thinking. How very patriotic of you, wife of a soldier. But really it has more to do with me loving the color scheme. And aside from the colors, there really probably won't be anything patriotic about it. Not that there's anything wrong with Patriotic themes... I'm just surrounded by all things America everyday... Patriotism comes in the form of dirty ACU's and constant dirt/sand from desert boots on my floors around here.

And here's the kicker. My husband is going to be so happy when finds out what I'm going to let him do. I very very rarely let my husband build stuff. Refinish, sure. Not build from scratch. Why, you may ask? The truth is, I don't completely trust him. I never tell him that, but he knows. It's the elephant in the room. But I'm going to let him build the Beast's bed. (OMG just typing that gave me indigestion!)) I have been scouring CraigsList and yard sales and thrift stores, and I just can find what I want for a price I'd be willing to spend. And yes, I know that building the bed can be pricey, but I'm willing to pay a little extra for something that I hope  know will be worth it in the long run. Plus, it's just going to be a platform bed, so it really can't be all that hard... And of course, I'll supervise.

All the other furniture for his room we should be able to find used. Can you believe the child doesn't have a dresser? Again, since we are in military housing, we battle with the constant problem of room size. Things have to be multi-purpose here so they don't take up a bunch of space. Since I'll be adding a dresser, I'm going to need to get rid of the bookshelf he has. Conveniently, his bookshelf is white and will match the nursery perfectly. Also, I will be able to get rid of his TV cart, as I'll be able to put the TV on the dresser.... I'll pause a moment so everyone can judge me. It's like, ever since SuperNanny said it was bad, no kid has a TV anymore! In my defense, he has it so I can get an extra 30 minutes of sleep in the morning. He wakes up, turns it on, and there's Nick Jr. OK so that shames me further, I know. But I'm not out to win any parenting awards so it's all good.

I can't wait to tackle the living areas of the house, but I feel like I should get my kids together first. Of course, the last room to be done will be the master. Not only because it's not much of a priority for me, but also because it's the one room in the house, that I just don't have a plan for yet.

One of these nights, while I'm awake listening to the sounds of fake battle, it will come to me. But it won't be tonight. Tonight is for Tums and a Nora Roberts novel... I'm just full of guilty pleasures.

So Much For Super Cheap...

Remember how I said I found a crib set at Wal-Mart that was super cheap?? Stupid Wal-Mart raised the price on it by $15. Now is that a lot of money? No. But, I just finished sewing my very first rag quilt, (using a tutorial here) and it turned out exceptionally well. So much so that my quilting superstar grandma raved over it, and told me not to stop sewing because I have a gift. (She really does love me! :P)
Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm a superstar by any means. But it did give me the confidence to tackle the crib set myself. I ordered the bumper pad filler things from the Wal-Mart website for $20 and have several JoAnn's coupons put aside for a big fabric purchase this weekend. The rag quilt I made is going to be the comforter for the crib, so that's already done. And I used fabric scraps left over from that to make a mobile this weekend. I found a tutorial for fabric pinwheels here, and fashioned them into a mobile by buying a large embroidery ring, and some ribbon and hot glue. And let me just explain to you just how much of a crafty virgin I am. I had to read the directions on the hot glue gun package. Not because I needed to refresh my memory but because I have NEVER used a hot glue gun before. Ever. Using my $4 hot glue gun scared me more than using my sewing machine. But I got over it, and the results ended up fantastic! I finished off my weekend of crafting by taking a semi-broken Ikea end table we used to have in our living room, and spray painting it read. And ok, if I'm being totally honest, my husband fixed it up and spray painted it. I really just had the idea while eating a bologna sandwich and he had it finished up before I could rinse my dish... Ok well maybe not that fast, but he got on it because his very large-and-in-charge pregnant wife scares him.
So the color theme of the nursery is black, white and red, with gray on the walls. Another project my husband tackled this weekend. And he really can't complain, because the room is the size of a closet and the whole thing took him MAYBE 2 hours, including trim and what not. We are still working on the dresser. That thing is becoming the elephant in the room. We don't want to look at it, we don't want to talk about it, we just want it done. I just wish little fairies would come in and take care of it for us while we were sleeping or something. Or that my husband would just do it. That would be acceptable too.
Here's the picture of my rag quilt:

And my fabric pinwheel mobile:

And my Red table:

More to come as it gets done!

While the thunder rolls...

It's 11:40pm on a Wednesday night. The beast is upstairs, not sleeping, and I have a child in utero who insists that day is night and night is day... She is currently flapping up a storm and giving me a mean case of heartburn. Do I care that my three year old insists on playing with his toys and not sleeping? Not tonight. And maybe that's a piss-poor attitude to have, but I'm enjoying it for the moment.
Don't get me wrong. I firmly believe that the beast should be in bed right now. And if it wasn't for the day that we had, I'd do much more to force him there... But after he ate a penny and then threw it up all over my stairs, I've decided that today doesn't really count, and tomorrow we will get back on the disciplinarian train.
I decided to start this blog, because amazingly, all of the relatively sane people in my life are sleeping at this late hour, and I'm bored. Speaks highly of me, I know.
Currently, I'm in the middle of redoing the nursery in our house on an insanely low budget. Living in military housing certainly restricts us, and lets face it, I'm no professional, but I should be able to pull this together... I'm a firm believer that if you google things enough, you learn something. And never underestimate CraigsList.
While there isn't necessarily a bottom line, do not exceed figure on the amount we can spend for the budget, we are going with whatever falls in our laps the cheapest and we can spruce up ourselves. Because the room is small, we aren't going to clutter it up with a lot of furniture. I found a crib, secondhand that is in AMAZING condition for only $50 on a local secondhand site, and I don't have to do anything to it, other than give it a quick dusting. We also found a really great dresser that we are in the middle of sanding and painting and giving new life to. This is going to double as our changing table. We spent $50 on the dresser, and another $30 on supplies, and hopefully it turns out as great as the image in my head. Eventually, my husband will come home from his latest training mission and it will be finished. And just tonight, I purchased and arranged delivery for a great LaZBoy armchair I found on craigslist to put in place of a glider. I would so rather tuck my feet in a comfy chair at 3 in the morning than get motion sickness on a glider! Plus there is the added benefit that when it's served it's purpose in the baby's room, we can recover it and add to our living room. This chair totally fit the bill at $50, including delivery. And the best part is, the last owners just recently had it professionally reupholstered in a fabric that will go very well in my nursery. So far we have spent roughly $180 bucks on the big ticket items for the room... And with the possible exception of a small bookshelf, I'm done with the big stuff.
I've also been working on some sewing projects to make the room more modern and unique without spending the big bucks... I've never sewn anything, with the exception of a very poorly made apron back in high school, but apparently I've become some sort of domestic diva and decided that I could sew whatever I set my mind to! So far, I've made 16 burp cloths and 8 pairs of baby leg warmers. The seams aren't perfect, but I don't care. I'm not trying to be Martha Stewart. I'm just trying to have cute stuff for cheap... But even I have my limits. I'm not about to tackle sewing a crib set, but I did find an amazing set at Wal-Mart for super cheap, given the style. Once I receive it, I'll post the pictures.
Working on the nursery, (with a healthy dose of nesting thrown in) has totally lit a fire under me to work on the rest of the house. Because we are in the military, we do things on the cheap. Not only because soldiers don't make as much as the politicians who lie to them, but also because if it gets damaged in a move, you don't cry. There are no heirloom antique items in my house! I'm hoping to go room by room once the nursery is complete, sprucing things up. I'm starting to feel more and more like an adult.
And now, this adult is going to swallow some Tums and cuddle with the beast in the hopes that we can both fall asleep to the soothing sounds of a thunderstorm. Or maybe just watch some trashy reality TV. Who knows.