mini blinds, mini budget, many regrets

After the bedroom swap last week, our highest priority was hanging window treatments - do it yourself roman shades, in this case - in Annie's new room. The fabric I bought to make them was more impulse than anything. My first mistake was not taking a swatch home for good measure. My second mistake was only ever looking at the fabric folded around the bolt. I should have unwrapped a few feet and held it to a window where I would have realized just how sheer it was. But, alas, John and Annie were in the car, impatient to go home and I felt rushed. 

**I'll give you a vague rundown of how I made them, but you can find the original tutorial here.**

First, I bought two four dollar sets of mini-blinds from Home Depot to fit over the glass part of our window. (In retrospect, I wish they were wide enough to cover the window trim, too.) 

I pulled the cord to let them fall to its longest length and laid them on the ground. I cut all the cords that keep each cross strip in place BUT I DID NOT CUT THE TWO PULL CORDS ON EITHER SIDE. 

There are little plugs on the very bottom panel that you can remove to detach the pull cords from this stiffer panel. I did that and then removed everything except for the top six panels. Then, I put that bottom panel back on, retied the knot and put the plugs back. I gave 80 of the extra strips to my daughter for playtime. Say what? Choking hazard? Well, it's been a week and she's still breathing, so I think we're good. 

I ironed the curtain fabric in our lovely, orderly, immaculate apartment that makes John crazy every time he walks in and steps on a stapler or a lego or a dog.

I put the pressed fabric face down on the floor and laid the blinds on top. That's when I started glueing the two together with Tacky Glue. I think I glued each strip 9 inches apart. Before this I did fold and iron the perimeter of the fabric 2 inches in all the way around. Once the strips were glued across, I glued the perimeter fabric seam as well.

And that, my friends, is the extent of it. Pretty stupid simple. You use the hardware that comes in the box to hang them as usual.

(See in the picture below how the shades only cover the window, and not those two inch wood panels that frame the window in? That's why I wish I'd bought wider blinds)

Here's the rub. All of the sudden, once they were hung, I didn't really love the fabric. It was much greener against a bright window than laid out on a cutting table (why I wish I'd unrolled the fabric from the bolt and held it up before I bought it). AND, although there wasn't too much to keep in check, I somehow managed to not iron those 2 inch seams with perfect continuity. So when the blind is rolled down, you can see the shadow of that seam and it ain't straight as an arrow. 

But for the real kicker. The point was NOT to prevent peeking Toms. It was to make the room dark and sleep worthy! And that was NOT accomplished. In fact, now the room is a little trippy given that there is a green cast on everything. I wish I had either ironed interfacing on the back of the fabric before glueing it to the shades, OR that I had used a heavy upholstery fabric. I could easily rip the fabric off and replace it, but I hate to spend more money on fabric right now. These will have to do. I left up our old linen drapery panels to serve double duty. The added coverage is minimal, but we'll take what we can get. 

Stop reading if you love brick, because you might gasp when I tell you it's the last red brick remaining in the apartment and it's getting painted this week. Whoops. I know, some people love brick. And I did, too. That's why I bought this place. But it's been five years and I'm real bad tired of it. There are five other units in this building (nearly identical) that are for sale right now with loads of brick if that's your thing. So take your pick. 

Along with the brick, the trim and ceiling will get painted. I'm thinking of going dark...grey. All over, all the way. Except for the ceiling. Grey. That's my jam right now. Yes, I said that. 

And there you go. A little rewind for you? Here are my big regrets with this project:

1. Didn't head over heels love the fabric pattern/color.

2. It was way too sheer - should have sewn in interfacing or black out fabric.

3. Should have bought wider blinds.

4. Should have been more precise with ironing my seams. 

i can't handle your normal.

When my parents went to Colorado in June, John and I were in charge of Ryan. It. was. terrible. No, Terrible, with a capital T. 

I don't know how it works in families with special needs kids. Are you allotted one major, disproportionately sized meltdown per lifetime, per decade or per day? Not sure. But I had mine. 

I vividly remember Ryan had just woken up and was still in his downstairs bedroom, I was sitting at the table organizing pictures and BOOM. Ryan came up the stairs and started knocking on the wall to scare me. And it did. But what it really did was send my dog into a frenzy. Which was no surprise. Ryan knew he would bark incessantly and did it anyway. And there it was. The first tiny misstep which led to my demise. Then came breakfast. He pulled out a mixing bowl. A MIXING BOWL, people! And poured half of a box of cereal in it. Then, there wasn't enough milk so he added coffee creamer. Say what? Chunky globs of artificial powder floating in your milk doesn't sound tasty? I took a deep breath. Then he sat down at the table and demanded I take him to buy a caramel latte from Latte Land. And I snapped. 

Not reach across the table and choke him, snapped. Just crumble on the inside, feel a tinging in your skin, push out a deep, voiceless moan, snapped. It was like a mirage of feelings I knew I would experience over the course of the entire day came all at once. The hopelessness. The exhaustion. The frustration. The impatience. The boredom - what to do for the next hour WITHOUT spending money (I'm cheap to a fault). And I felt overwhelmed and not in the mood. I told him he can't demand things of me. He pushed the dining chair back invoking a screech against the hardwoods that would make you shudder. His milk and creamer cereal splashed as he went from sitting to standing. And a few choice words came from his mouth in a relatively calm manner as he walked back to the kitchen for more cereal. Namely, Fine, you little brat. Damn you. When is mom coming home? I'm calling mom right now. You don't do anything with me. I hate you. I'll do whatever I want. Where's John? 

Good question. Where is John? At work. Lovely. 

Both my dad and John had encouraged me to just leave if I ever felt like Ryan was getting out of control. But he wasn't. I was getting out of control. 

I got up anyway, told him that I couldn't handle him and I went to the car. That's the disproportionate part. We put up with stuff like that all the time. We never leave when the worst word out of his mouth is damn. I think he was shocked. And enraged. He ran out to the car and told me I better not leave and raised his fist. 

*****This isn't the time to be playing out scenes in your mind from a movie about an abusive man. This wasn't me driving to a battered women's shelter. This was me raising the stakes by reacting the way I did. Ryan feeds off of your reactions to him. You're happy, he's usually happy. You yell at him. He'll yell back. I knew I was overreacting. And he hadn't even been in a bad mood that morning. He was far from any sort of aggression. He was just playing the part I invited him to play with my attitude. And he never would have gone through with it. A lousy push would have been the best he'd had.*****

He went inside to get a shirt on and said that I better take him if I was leaving. I got out of the car and went straight to the shower. I needed alone time. A place where if he called for me, I'd have an excuse not to answer back. And I just started crying. Weeping really. For the first time in longer than I can remember. I'm not a big crier. And I started praying. The prayers were more like groans and moans, and I don't know. Maybe you'd call it a pity party. But have mercy on me. I'm a selfish kid. 

I had this crazy idea that if Ryan saw me cry he'd feel remorse (remorse for what, I'm not sure...eating too much cereal? knocking on a wall?). I thought I should let him see the stress his selfishness puts people in. But that's the pinnacle of selfishness. Can you imagine if God did that to us? Let us feel the weight of our sin? Consequences, sure. But guilt is not from God. The Spirit convicts; it doesn't guilt. God offers full forgiveness, not deserved punishment. And I was hoping Ryan would be so overcome by guilt for making me feel so hopeless that he would be nicer. 

It didn't work. He started insisting that he take a chill pill to calm himself down. It's a pill reserved for the very worst days and his very worst meltdowns, when we need him to majorly calm down and fall asleep for a long, long night. And that's when I shouted, "Ryan! Don't you get it? You're not having a meltdown! I AM! You're not out of control. I just can't handle your normal! Your everyday, normal behavior is what's too much for me!" 

I just can't handle your normal. 

Can you imagine a better way to make someone feel like a piece of shit? He looked so confused. I'm sure my emotions came out of left field for him. Like I said, he really wasn't being any different than he usually was. It was as though he had to make himself madder than he was to match my anger because he didn't know what else to do. And he had no idea why. 

I didn't know where to go from there. How to get through the day. I took him to Latte Land for that damn caramel latte he wanted. Then my mom's friend Karen came over to be a buffer. Ryan took that damn chill pill even though I didn't want him to. And he slept from maybe 3 in the afternoon through to the next morning - whereupon I put my best smile across my face and took him to Oceans of Fun. Life continued as normal. 

I used up my mental breakdown of the decade. No timeouts left. You have to get back on the field and play the rest of the game. 

This week my mom is in Michigan with some friends. Bless her. She needed a break. And my dad is working, although he's tried his darndest to come home every four or five hours and make sure I'm not in the bathroom weeping :) Or maybe it's to come home and check on Ryan and play with Annie. Because this time, unlike last, I have my baby here with me. And I planned ahead to have relief from friends of my parents every day. A dinner with one family, a movie with another, even a Bass Pro outing. I won't name names but one of these gracious people even bought Ryan a pair of shoes in exchange for his commitment to vote for 'Ronny.' You know, Kylie, the one who's president of all the taxes and stuff. 

And this week, unlike the last, I've surrendered a lot to God. I've tried to embody grace towards Ryan. I've tried to be kind to him. To be authentic with him. To enjoy him. To give him credit where credit is due. It's still the morning. He's not even awake yet and we have another 11 hours before my mom gets home, so who knows. But, as of this moment, it's the best four days I've ever had with him. 

let's pretend my closet is a window

A few weeks ago I had mentioned wanting to make cornice boards for over Annie's nursery window and closet. Then the swap happened and we inherited the doorless closet problem. So I coerced John and Annie into accompanying me to Nell Hills for some fabric buying action last week and landed a half dozen lovely prints. I've been a busy little bee these last few days watching my brother Ryan while my mom is out of town and then sneaking off to sew whenever everyone's asleep or accounted for (shout out to all those who have hosted Ryan this week - huge help!). 

Anyway, here's a real-time, in progress update on where we are with the cornice boards. I bought a huge piece of foam core board at Michael's last week with Ryan. He carried it out to the car and was offering to sell it to people he ran into in the parking lot 'for good money' he said. Ha. Anyway, I took it and drew this shape:

Then cut it with an exacto knife to make this:

On each side, I scored flaps, but left them attached. Then, I covered it with batting and a Jonathan Adler print called Limitless. My staple gun's staples were too long and punctured the fabric so I borrowed my mom's regular paper stapler (Annie permanently disassembled mine last week - thank you ma'am). The whole process was a pain in my arse. I made sure my mom's stapler was fully loaded before I left her house. But at least half of the staples didn't catch straight and were unusable. By the time I made it to the ends, I was out of staples and energy. I ended up taping a lot of it and using tacky glue. Super classy. But, alas, it's not possible to finish without a few more staples for the ends. I guess that means I'm in the market for a new stapler. Anyway, here's where we stand at the moment:

I can't actually hang it until I finish upholstering it, so John was my holder upper. I knew I got married for a reason :)

And then here he is holding it above that amazingly well UN-organized closet of ours (pendant flags will eventually go to Annie's new nursery):

Here's where things get Kylie-crazy. In keeping with my weirdness and still on a roll from having painted our built-ins orange, I had another winner of an idea for the closet. What if, instead of hanging drapes (which is traditional) under the cornice in front of the closet to close it off, I hung more bamboo shades? I know, I should work for a creative think tank and get paid to come up with more of these fantastic ideas. Because everyone wants to pull a sting to roll up their blinds and pick out a tank top. C'mon, you know you want to. Really, though. The closet is 80 inches tall. It's also an odd size in width meaning that closet doors would have to be custom ordered (aka expensive). And we had closet doors like that in our bedroom in New Orleans. That bedroom was even bigger than this one and it still felt crowded anytime we accessed it. So how much more so with this room? Too much more so. Doors are out. 

On to drapes. Drapes are expensive because of the amount of yardage you need for full coverage. And for experimentation purposes, I hung our shower curtain and realized that I didn't like how much bulk it's going to create when it's pulled to the side. So drapes are on thin ice. But still in the running.

Enter the bamboo blinds. We already have them on our window and love the look. They're affordable. And I can get them at 98 inches long, instead of 80 inches. So I can hang them 18 inches above the top of the closet so that when I roll them up, all the stacked bulk will clear the opening. You feel me? It won't hinder access to the top shelves and racks of clothes. The blind itself would be huge and look something like this, but in a darker color:

Source

Well, putting blinds over a closet is weird enough for me to not jump on buying them quite yet. We wouldn't close the closet that often. It's not like we'd raise and lower it five times a day. Just have the option to hide the mess on occasion and in doing so, match the existing bamboo. What do you think? Am I off my rocker? I need a few more days to visualize and then I'll pull the trigger. In the meantime, I need to find a reliable stapler and finish the cornice boards!

goodbye, again, new orleans.

My sister and Annie on Bourbon Street listening to John perform last summer

It's easy to surrender something you never fully had. And that's what giving up our hopes of returning to New Orleans felt like this Spring. John had used numbers like 90% to describe how certain we were we'd live there again after his seminary. We looked at apartments to rent online, had a friend drive by them to check them out, secured some steady music gigs. I knew it was never a done deal though - it was why he left out 10% of his certainty. There was pressure coming from Kansas City and pressure coming from inside of us as well. We still owned a condo in Kansas City and could lose our renters any day, putting us in an unwise financial situation. And on a deeper level, we had family in Kansas City. Family we wanted Annie to know. And know well. And often. And a brother who needed more community than mom and dad - something that John and I could offer. We were going to risk the condo and sacrifice the family to live in a city that we adored. And we were trying to be okay with that. Because our love for New Orleans runs deep. But we just couldn't reconcile it. There wasn't enough down there to make it seem justified.

But! Here comes the but. If John could find a job with health insurance down in New Orleans, we were golden. It would give us and our families peace - that we were no longer going to be bumming it in Louisiana, going from gig to gig with a baby at home. It would offer security, stability and a reason for returning. But the job never came. Having been a firefighter for 5 or 6 years in Kansas City, John took the exams and applied in New Orleans over two years ago. And every once in a while, he'd call and they'd say, "soooooon, we'll be hiring again." And the soon wasn't soon enough.

So we said the same prayer in Branson that we said when we left New Orleans. Lord, make it ABUNDANTLY OBVIOUS where you want us. LEAVE NO ROOM FOR DOUBT. OPEN DOORS THAT CAN'T BE SHUT. And what do you know? This God of ours is faithful. Our renters called and asked to end their three year contract nine months early. It was a small arrow pointing back to Kansas City. Not a deal maker or breaker. Just something we now needed to deal with. The plan was to come back after seminary and get the condo in shape to sell. Tie up loose ends. Then head down to the bayou. But God started pouring reason after reason to stay. Everything from the gorgeous spring weather and the new patio that a neighbor built at our condo to...drum roll...a job offer. A lovely and blessed job offer. One where John could play music. One where he could grow in his faith. One that would keep us in Kansas City.

So we mourned the loss of New Orleans. We'd go back to visit. We'd retire there someday. Being a worship pastor at an incredible church was so beautifully fit for John that it was impossible to attribute the opportunity to anything but God's provision and direction for our life. New Orleans drifted from out of the picture. But not without some tears on my part. And not without some sadness from John, too. And the baby'd cry if she knew what a fun hometown she was missing out on growing up in. Though, she'll always be our little New Orleanian. 

But like I said, it's easy to surrender something you never fully had. We never had that stable job offer that would have lent itself to a real debate between the two cities. So our decision was so easy. Kansas City it was.

And then yesterday happened. Exactly 51 days after John started his job as a worship pastor in Kansas City, the call came in. The one from New Orleans. The one from the Fire Department. The one offering him the job. With the benefits. And the retirement package. And the Louisiana address. 

Well, it's not going to happen. It's too late. If it had come in May, I'd be posting from New Orleans right now. But it didn't come in May. And this job in Kansas City is more than a job. It's a life. So we're staying. But that doesn't mean I'm not sad. Or that I'm not mourning the loss of New Orleans all over again. It doesn't mean that I didn't hold back tears when John told me last night. Or that I didn't quickly try to rearrange our whole life to make it happen.

So I'm learning how to surrender to God both when it's obvious and when it's not so evident. Both when it's inevitable and when there's a choice involved. I know this is where we should be as a family. Right here in Kansas City. But, man, I love the Garden District. They say that alcoholics can fully recover but that doesn't mean they should go hang out in a bar. I feel like I can be content without New Orleans but that doesn't mean I ought to let myself spend hours remembering the music in the French Quarter or the flowers in the Garden District or the food or the river or the Saints games or Magazine Street or our friends and our church. Because that's what makes it hard. 

We're putting our trust in God - that his timing is perfect. 

<<For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.>> Jeremiah 29:11

Goodbye, again, New Orleans.

down to the wire: nursery reveal

John and I would love to have more kids. Like yesterday. So on a whim Thursday, I swapped our master bedroom for Annie's much smaller bedroom. She's still months out from sleeping in a twin bed and we're not even pregnant yet, but I wanted to get a move on finishing the whole apartment - as in choose fabric for drapes, the daybed and the walls in our room. But the idea that our room could become a kids' room sooner rather than later to accommodate a crib AND twin, meant putting a major halt on any custom fabric purchases, etc. So rather than live in the between indefinitely, we went ahead and transitioned. Did I say we? I'm sorry, You must think I have fleas. I transitioned while John was at work. I lugged our bed frame, mattress and box spring across the apartment, nearly breaking them all and nearly shattering every lamp on our way. It was a battle, with bruises on my body and scratches on our hardwoods to prove it. 

But first, anticipating a future moment of nostalgia, I snapped a few pictures of Annie's nursery so that I could always "remember when..." By the way, I never actually finished the room, because talk of the swap kept me from getting in too deep. But in a whirlwind hour, I threw a few last things up on the wall and called it done. Took some pictures. And ripped it all apart again. So let's begin. Welcome to her room before:

. 

And after:

The brick finally got painted white. And that rug I bought on the street in New Orleans did get a professional cleaning. The Oeuf crib came from a shop on Magazine Street, but is all over the Internet. It was pricey and I love it. I've never for half a second regretted the splurge. And I had a plethora of very generous people help me to buy it at our baby shower. Very lucky. Very grateful. Still very much all about it. You don't see too many of these on-the-crib changing tables but I don't know why not. They're fantastic. I'll never be able to change a baby from the side again. Head on is where's it at. And it's a total space saver for all those closet sized nurseries out there. We bought ours for a steal on Ebay but it's from the Oeuf line as well. And that little rocker in the picture below was John's as a baby. Once again, his mom pulled out another gem from the past! Annie lurves it. Way too much. She'll probably crack her skull from falling off someday. What can you do?

Sweet Griffin made his way into the room as well of course. He watches over Annie as she sleeps and protects her from all the robbers. The glider came from a shop in New Orleans. John's mom graciously bought it for us and it's been lovely. (On the left side of this picture you can see the beam that I had built in the living room to add a little more character to the condo. The same talented guy who built this in our kitchen made the beam.)

Below is a shot of John's mobile as a baby. And the frames behind it came from Ikea. Love those things. As you know, I'm still on the hunt for what to fill them with. Although my artist aunt Jeanie is trying to persuade me to personally paint something for the frames....Eek. I never like anything I make as well as the real deal! But I'm super excited for when Annie starts cranking out some finger paint art. There's no better way to decorate a kid's room! But walking before painting, people. One milestone at a time.

And trite, I know. But I'm still into those pendant flags. The fabric was what we call 'chere' in french. I like that word because it not only translates as expensive, but means darling, too. Takes the edge of the expensive part. I used the bulk of the yardage to make crib bumpers and then not only read all about how dangerous bumpers are - whoops - but didn't love the final result of them anyway. Here is a picture from a couple years ago when I made them.

Down filled bumpers from Serena and Lily are the way to go. They're also bank breakers. I bought cheap inserts from Joanns and you could tell. So I cut apart the fabric and sewed the pendants instead. Couldn't let it go to waste!

The flowers on the left in this next picture and the hanging driftwood are sort of a funny story. I had initially asked people to give store credit in lieu of a baby gift at my shower. I wanted to pool it together to buy the Oeuf crib from an online company. However, after the shower and before I used the gift cards to make the purchase, I happened to walk into a store in New Orleans that had a huge Mother's Day sale going on AND also had the crib. Everything was 25% off. I asked the sales assistant if that included the furniture and she said it was doubtful but could ask the owner that night. In an attempt to soften her up, I told John we needed to buy something and be good customers. So we snagged those really delicate hand made flowers and the driftwood. Attribute it to what you will, the owner called back that night and said that although furniture was NOT included in the sale, she'd give us the crib at sale price anyway! Woot woot! (We used the online baby store credit to buy a carseat instead.)

So there you have it. Some not so put together final pictures of the never finished nursery. And in case you're counting, this represents the THIRD nursery she's had in fourteen months. She's now asleep in number 4. You can see the first and second nurseries here and here. 

And I mentionned, the minute after these pictures were taken, I tore it all done and threw it into our bedroom. Here was what the house looked like by the time John came home from work. He was thrilled...

(P.S. On the floor you can see a glimpse of a little project I just finished for Annie's new room. They're roman shades that you make out of cheap mini blinds. Pictures to come soon...)

fireplace painting

You know what my favorite thing to do is when the last thing I want to do is finish a project I've already started? It's to start a new project. And so a few weeks ago, when I was supposed to be putting on the final coat of paint in our kitchen, I instead gathered my brushes and went over to my friend Amy's house to paint her fireplace. And wouldn't you know - not only has the final coat of paint not been put on in my kitchen (three or four weeks later) but I haven't even finished her fireplace yet! Poor family! In my defense, I was planning on returning the next morning, but we came to the conclusion that given that the fireplace no longer works, the ugly gold screen ought to come off. And her husband, the engineer, had some concerns about asbestos, etc. So, several weeks later, the screen has yet to come off (though there's talk of that happening in the next few nights) and I have yet to sand and do the final coat.

In the meantime, here's the before:

And here's the current state it's in:

The fireplace may be the beginning of a larger room makeover for them. But Amy and her family have had the kind of year that's hard to believe with more physical injuries and surgeries than you can imagine. Add three kids to the mix and a volunteer painter who's bad at finishing things and your guess is as good as mine as to when things will get done! 

it's the journey, not the destination

I'm on the hunt. I bought three more frames from Ikea a few weeks ago that match the few I bought in New Orleans. But, alas, I have nothing to fill them. I've already done the real cheap duct tape art approach. This time I want color. And pattern. And texture. And personality. But not too much. Because I'm afraid of all of that and in the end always stick to oh so colorful beige whenever I buy anything - couch, chairs, etc. I must break out. I'm too drawn to color to keep avoiding it. So John and I took the baby on a little jaunt. (Funny, I constantly refer to the baby as 'the baby' and my mom constantly reminds me that the baby has a name. Yes, and until we have another kid, her name is baby.) 

First stop was the Paper Source on the Plaza. What about buying a sheet of their handmade paper to frame?

I'm all about framing wallpaper or in this case, just plain ole paper. But I wanted it to have more going on then these did. I wanted more a of non-pattern kind of pattern. You feel me? Like rather than swirls on wrapping paper, a big asymmetrical bird so it doesn't just scream, "I'm a piece of paper in a frame because my owner is too cheap to buy real art!" But I couldn't find any, so we were back to square one.

Luckily, as the week rolled out, we landed on the first Friday of the month in the Crossroads.

Next up was a little downtown jaunt with the baby. It was a beautiful night in Kansas City. As we headed toward the hub of the evening to look for art, we were yanked inside a studio by a couple of ballerinas. It was a free little circus-like show for families. Annie was enthralled. 

I got asked on stage to verify that this acrobat is NOT very strong. Huh? It was weird. I felt awkward. 

But it's too cool that there are artists in KC willing to put on free shows like this and make our city appealing. Speaking of artists, Brady at Hammerpress is also too cool. Here are two posters he did that we considered buying for my frames to put in Annie's nursery.

But cue my indecisiveness and we left we neither nor. We did measure the matting of the frames at home and went back a few days later, but still couldn't pull the trigger. The poster sizes just didn't fly with the frames. 

So, First Fridays was a hit. Art buying was a bust. Except I did run into the guy who painted this piece that hangs in Annie's nursery. Apparently I had had one too many glasses of wine the night I bought it and didn't notice how the paint had run from what looked like drops of water. It's not too offensive so I'd still hung it all these years. But, the guy was all too happy to have me bring it back four years after the fact and he'd try to restore it. 

Annie's New Orleans nursery

Hopefully, he hadn't had one too many glasses when he told me that. Plan on calling him this week and we'll see if he pulls through...

gentle dental

Did you know that I am terrified of going to the dentist? As in, I didn't go for three years, terrified.

Did you know that John's dad is a dentist?

Did you know that for years we didn't have dental insurance so my only option was going to my father-in-law?

Did you know that the only thing more terrifying to me than having a stranger poke and prod inside my mouth is having my father-in-law poke and prod inside my mouth?

Did you know that the majority of the arguments that John and I got into in 2009, 2010 and 2011 centered around me refusing to go to the dentist?

Marriage is hard. Battles must be chosen. My mouth lost. I went to my father-in-law. The dentist. I held back tears. I tried to do what I always do when I'm scared and feel uncomfortable - TALK. Talking while your mouth is pried open and your words aren't pronounceable makes things double awkward. And there was lots of slobber. And finally I just closed my eyes and dreamed of never opening my mouth again. 

Did you know that the only thing worse that having to go to the dentist this year would have been if someone had taken a picture of me there? That is why there are none. So, instead, here's John, the baby in all her cheeky glory and the dentist. Aka the father-in-law. Aka the grandpa. 

Lately

Look how handsome my handsome husband is.

By the way:

Anyway, my handsome husband has been in the market for new glasses since...forever. He just didn't used to know it. But his glasses have been lame-o since I've known him. And now with his new job, we have vision insurance! WOOT. WOOT. So off to Costco we went. Here's a little sampling. He'll be thrilled to know I plastered these iPhone gems all over the internet.

Anyway, he settled on what he calls 'the least offensive' and they'll arrive next week. In other words, he thinks that all the glasses I picked out are too trendy and that I'm trying to turn him into a hipster. Me? Turn my husband into something he's not? Please, people. I have never tried to manipulate any sort of change in him ever in my life. Except for that one time where within one year of dating he didn't own a single piece of clothing he owned upon meeting me. And that other time where there isn't a single piece of furniture from his old four bedroom house that we still own. Oops. 

In other news, the baby is altogether smitten with John. She fell asleep on his chest the other day after church. Look at that kid. 

Angelic, right? Except that little did we know the whole time she was asleep she dreamt of ways to terrorize the house. Behold:

Oh, baby. What to do? I know. Buy a new house. What? Yeah, I'm sort of on a let's buy a new house kick. Except that usually, within the hour, I've decided beyond a doubt that we should stay here in our apartment for another three years. Until dinner, because then I've changed my mind again. And on it goes. Call me panda. I'm black and white all day. Here's the house I wanted to buy.

Can it get uglier? I submit that it cannot. And yet I like it all the more. I called the real estate agent. It's under contract. Rats. And it sold for less than half of our would be house buying budget. Which means we could have thrown a hefty sum into a little renovation sensation. So mama's bummed and daddy's happy. He thought I was out of my mind and is glad to have it out of the question. 

Anyway, that's a little taste of our life lately. Except for the part where I took ecstasy and painted our entertainment center orange. WHAT?! No, I wish I had done something terrible and crazy like take ecstasy when I made the decision to paint our built-ins from black to orange. Because then maybe it would be understandable. But, I was stone cold sober in every sense of the word. It wasn't even a late night, fatigue-induced decision. It was a late morning, fully awake decision. Needless to say I'm just waiting for the weekend when John can go on baby duty and I can pick a more sane color with which to repaint it. I'd show you a picture of the orange cabinets. But I'm afraid that if I do you'd lose all respect for me. Think pepto-bismal meets orange sherbet.