Merry Christmas!
We're celebrating the holiday with my husband's family, and all has gone very well. No drama, no strife. And everyone seems to like their gifts, which makes things even better.
My mother-in-law found a fantastic book
I will use this space to share my progress, and I'd love to have some of you join me. It's certainly a good time for me to embrace such a project. Definitely a good time.
I'm getting pretty serious about gardening, so I've decided to chronicle my adventures in a new spot. Check it out if you're interested, and please pardon the dust. I haven't spent any time on the blog design just yet, but it'll get pretty in a few days.
On the thirty-first anniversary of Elvis Presley's death, I took some pictures of the Memphis I love. Please to enjoy!
After a few busy weekends, the family calendar has very little ink this weekend. Which is a good thing - I don't strive to fill up every extra moment. The kids started school on Monday, and that's cut into their down time (as well as totally destroying their preferred sleep schedule, which resembles the sleep patterns of teens more and more). Seeing as I'm the self-appointed creator of the pajama day, down time is something I encourage.
But not this weekend. At least not tomorrow.
My feed reader brings me news of local events, and this one I'm not missing. Mainly because it can be done as a family, and it can be done however we choose.
As a lover of Memphis, this is an opportunity to create a visual love letter to my chosen hometown. It's also an opportunity to encourage the kids to look at their city with a different eye. To examine what they see.
I'll share pictures once we've got them. We can't start until 12:01. I'm making a list of what I want to photograph. Keep your fingers crossed that we see a bunch of Elvis impersonators.
Yesterday evening, I had dinner with my group of au pairs. We meet once a month - an opportunity for me to make sure they're all okay, and an opportunity for them to all be in the same place at the same time - and they usually go out afterward as a group.
These young women have a unique perspective about children, since they are full-time (for the most part) caregivers for children ranging in age from toddler to teenager. They entered the program with more childcare experience than many first-time parents have had. Individual au pairs have different motivations for joining the program (lack of jobs in their home country, a desire to improve their English, a desire to study in America, or, yes, the desire to marry an American), but they definitely all learn at least one thing while they're here: kids are a lot of work. Sort of like the show "The Baby Borrowers" but in a much more real-world setting.
When we get together, we talk about their lives - how they're getting along with host families, if they're experiencing homesickness, how school is going - but they often move the conversation to my life. Most of my au pairs have met my family at least once or twice (the kids have joined me for more than one monthly meeting), and they ask about the kids. I try to share one or two interesting stories and leave it at that.
Yesterday, my son became the topic of conversation quite unintentionally. We'd been talking about kids' movies, and one woman mentioned "Prince Caspian," which she'd loved (I did too). I told her about Alex's response to the movie, and the whole group was really intrigued.
See, Alex isn't one of those boys who loves violent movies and games. He's a gentle kid. His taste in video games is dominated by games that emphasize interpersonal relationships, especially the Sims games. He hasn't shown much interest in fighting games, and when he plays with friends, he's not the kid who instigates games based around violence.
And when we saw "Prince Caspian," he was weary of the battle scenes long before the movie was over. I remember sitting next to him and seeing him begin to squirm and look uncomfortable with what was going on onscreen.
Weeks later, just to drive the point home, all four of us saw the new American Girl movie about my daughter's favorite fictional character, Kit Kittredge. The movie was smart, interesting, and didn't include violence (although it definitely did include difficult subject matter, based as it was in the Great Depression). We knew Susie would love it, but we were pleased to hear Alex's review: "It was the best movie I've ever seen!"
He starts his week at summer camp today. It's his third year at this camp, and he thrives there, with the guitar and campfires and cooperative play. It's a gentle place, and it's good for his gentle spirit.
Since we've been in our house for three years now, I've started to get a little restless with some of the design choices we made. The children's bedrooms are the most recent focus of my dissatisfaction. We helped Susie's room grow up a little bit by swapping out her old, white furniture with the furniture we've been using in our bedroom (which was in my grandmother's bedroom since the middle of the last century). Making those changes for her, however, just pushed the point home that Alex's room was in need of even more drastic changes.
I consulted with him to see what he wanted for his room. When we originally moved into the house, he was really fascinated by maps, so we had chosen fabrics that emphasized geography.
This time, he wants a Hollywood theme. We have some decorations that we use for our annual Oscar party; those will work well in his room. And I have ideas for the window treatments that will emulate the curtains around a movie screen.
This weekend, Craig and I took a spin through a few different stores, looking for items that might work in Alex's room. A quick glance through the aisles of children's furnishings at Target showed us that the world of retail still thinks there are only a few things that boys need: sports, cowboys, and camoflauge. (And the "girl" side of the aisle was no better, with its emphasis on pink and flowers - none of which I eschew, but it seems awfully limiting.)
I had the same frustration when I was buying clothes for my children when they were little. Boys' clothes had the same motifs as the bedding: bugs and sports. Items for girls were decidedly pretty, with precious florals or ladybugs, and predominately pink. (And those were the ones without Disney or other characters.)
Raising a child who doesn't quite fit within the culturally-dictated norms is interesting. It takes creativity. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
edited to add: I found the most fantastic curtains at IKEA a few weeks later...they're red velvet! I bought four panels, two of which I'll turn into valances, thus leaving two panels to curtain his windows, and the valances to bridge the wallspace between, thereby creating a "movie screen" between the two windows. He was THRILLED when he saw them. Now I just need to get to sewing and finding adequate curtain rods.
I'm just coming off a busy few weeks, with a busy week coming up, but I see some blank spaces in my calendar in the not-too-distant future. Bringing that together with my to-do list makes for a perfect meld. That white space in the calendar shall not be spent on bon-bons on the chaise lounge. Especially because I don't have a chaise lounge.
No, I've got projects to do. Projects involving sewing machines and paintbrushes. We've lived in our house two years now, which is long enough for it to look "lived in." And, since we worked with a decorator to select our flooring and paint and all that other stuff, we're not quite ready to scrap the colors, so it's time to touch-up whatever the magic eraser can't fix.
But please understand that this is entirely at odds with every fiber of my being.
Because my name is Kaleigh and I'm addicted to redecorating.
The only thing (besides the potential for guilt at undoing the decorator's great work, and my love of her work, and my love of the compliments we hear all the time about our house....wow, that's a lot of things, really) standing in the way of me scrapping things and redecorating with all new colors is that amazingly tall (and unreachable) piece of wall over the stairs. When I look at the stairway walls and grumble about the handprints and how we should have chosen a different color or semi-gloss paint or something, I look up and say, "There's no way in hell I'll ever paint that."
So no redecorating because I'm easily daunted and don't handle guilt well. Oh, and because I really like things the way they are.
But, and not just to prove there is a reason for this post, because so far all I've said is that I'm going to touch up the paint and maybe do a little sewing and who the hell writes four paragraphs about that when a couple of bullet points would have done nicely, I do think there is something to this whole, "It's been two years and it's time to do something to change up the space." When I was a kid I rearranged my bedroom furniture every few months. In our old house I changed things around a lot, too, not just rearranging furniture but repainting, often doing new curtains as well, every two or three years. And I did fall deeply in love with a particular color combination right after we had committed to a different (and very beautiful) color scheme. And that color combination sometimes jumps in my head and gets stuck for a few days.
So yeah, it's time to look around the house and see how I can spruce it up without undoing what makes it work.
And maybe once I hit those spots with a paintbrush I'll get all this out of my system and vote for bon-bons instead. Even if I don't have that chaise lounge.
Because I feel like I'm watching my foodie self atrophy, I started this. If you want to eat what my family is eating on July 4, my plans are detailed. With recipes.
Please check it out and comment often!
There's something really appealing to me about our unmade bed.
Craig got in the habit of making our bed every morning around the time we had our first house on the market. We had showings all the time, for nine months, and we did a good job keeping the house neat and clean that whole time. That habit got pretty deeply ingrained in both of us and, as a result, our house is mostly guest-ready at any time.
Every once in a while, however, the bed doesn't get made. That is most likely to happen when Craig gets up before I do. Like today.
I look at our bedroom and see the unmade bed and it makes me smile a little. The bed is rumpled, showing how, and where, each of us slept. It reminds me of the deep intimacy of sharing sleep. It reminds me of the other reasons we share a bed, too.
A few days ago, I called my dad to ask him to build a new headboard for our bed. I'm lucky to have a father who builds stuff and fixes stuff, and does it willingly and even happily. In the conversation we had, I asked him if he remembered what my bedroom looked like. He admitted that he didn't.
It makes sense, really. He's spent only a few days, total, in this house. I'm sure he can describe my kitchen, my living room, my dining room, the guest room, even my bathroom. But the master bedroom in his daughter's home? Not exactly the prime hanging-out spot.
What a change from childhood, from the teen years, even from early marriage. Until I moved into my second apartment (my first was a studio, so it didn't have a separate bedroom), my bedroom was my world. It was the only part of the house that I controlled (and, even then, I didn't have sole control; my parents had veto power). The posters on the wall, the arrangement of the furniture, the way I shelved my books on my bookcases, those were means of self-expression.
Now I have the luxury of imposing my taste on an entire house, the house we custom built. Our builder had an interior designer who worked with his clients, and she and I met several times to make sure the colors and finishes expressed our family's aesthetics and sensibilities as much as possible. She and I selected dramatic colors for the most public spaces of the house, the living room, dining room, and kitchen (my original choices were less-dramatic, but she suggested that the artwork we owned would be better displayed against a more intense background; she was right).
Our bedroom, on the other hand, is less playful. The colors are more muted. The textures are more sensuous. The artwork celebrates romance, the physical, our marriage. It's the most grown-up room I've ever had a role in designing.
Our designer's work was a success. Our house, now a home, expresses our family so well. The capriciousness of candy-pink in the living room. The drama of chocolate brown and hot pink in the kitchen, set off with pale wood floors and cabinets. The light, bright green and pink bedroom my daughter loves. My son's room, with retro fabrics and maps.
And that unmade bed, beckoning me today, telling me it's okay to take a day away from work and accomplishment.
Okay, first, that kind of House. The season finale last night? Was awesome. Best television I've seen all week. Of course, there was very little competition, since we watched University of Arkansas baseball on TIVO all weekend at the in-laws' house. I heart House and his grumpiness.
But I really mean the other kind of house, like the one in which I live.
It's not a done deal yet, but there's a good chance our house is going to be on the Downtown Home Tour this fall. We were invited to be featured last year, but the timing didn't work out.
This means I have some work ahead of me. Yes, our house is only two years old, but we have children. And pets.
The walls along our staircase aren't working for me. Along the wall without the rail, I hung a triptych I had painted as my senior project in college. I put it there when we first moved in because the wall needed something and I couldn't figure out how to make the ladder cooperate to hang anything higher. The paintings don't work there at all. It's a high-traffic area. So the paintings get bumped all the time, so they're askew all the time, and my low-grade OCD can't handle that.
The staircase walls are immense. At the bottom of the stairs, the ceiling is vaulted (for lack of a better word). So the walls go from the floor of the first floor to the ceiling of the second floor, over twenty feet. Repainting the entire wall is not an option. But I'm thinking of painting the area under the rail (roughly 3 feet, from the stair treads to the rail). Something interesting. Maybe stripes (the current color and a slight variation? or something more dramatic?). And I've looked at wall words. But how would they look going uphill? Maybe just several different words, rather than a phrase? Wallpaper is not entirely out of the question, since the area below the rail is not huge. I've hung paper before, and while it's not fun, it's not the worst thing in the world. (Taking it off, however, might be the worst thing in the world. Which is a good argument to skip that idea entirely, despite how awesome this or this or this might look.)
So, the goal is this: interesting wall treatment for staircase. Needs to be durable and cleanable. And needs to match the carpet (greenish tan). And be accomplishable by Craig and me this summer.
Open to suggestions.....
After yesterday's bout with the stomach bug (which resulted in taking half the day off at my boss's urging), I took another day today as I was not feeling even close to 100% this morning. Maybe it was the awfulness of American Idol. Or maybe it was a virus. Same difference, right?
So today, I was left to my own devices as the kids were at school and Craig was chaperoning a field trip. Which means I got crafty. (And I watched Ever After, too, but that's just 2 hours of couch quality time.)
Here's what I made:
A throw for my bed
These pillows
A cover for our body pillow.
I have this problem with fabric. I buy it, sometimes in very large quantities, then it sits in a storage box, sometimes for years. Some of the fabric had an intended purpose when it was purchased, but much of it just tickled my fancy for "something, someday".
The Chinese fabrics were purchased last summer. I had bought a large amount of one fabric for our bedspread. And I made that the same day the fabric arrived in the mail. But the other fabrics were for more nebulous purposes....maybe pillows, maybe something else. And nothing got done.
But this week was the seasonal "changing of the quilts." The quilt with the Chinese brocade is very heavy, which was great in February, but not so much now. So I got out the quilt my Grandma made for our wedding, but we're using it face down (because the colors I selected in the early 1990's doesn't really go with the stuff in our new bedroom). That expanse of white needed something, but I wasn't sure what. So I dug around in my boxes of fabric and realized there were two fabrics I was "saving" for something. Perfect for a throw. And I had just the right amount of trim to go around. And enough of the red fabric left to make the heart-shaped pillow.
Before
After
Looks pretty good, right?
Oh, and these red pillows are from that big fabric purchase (but I didn't make them). They're the traditional Chinese "Lovebirds" pattern with the symbol called "Double Happiness". So sweet!
My birthday is this weekend, but the weekend is so very busy that I'm quite sure I won't post anything, so I thought I'd celebrate early, at least here.
In honor of my 36 years on this planet, here are three dozen things that I love. If you feel the need to buy me a present, or make me something, this would be a great place to get ideas. But if you don't feel that need, that's okay. Just leave comments about how pretty I am. Or something.
1. Fresh baked bread
2. Petunias
3. My pink cell phone
4. Tiaras
5. Kittens
6. The way my dining room and kitchen look when they're clean
7. Country fried steak
8. Coffee
9. Beer
10. Jasmine tea
11. Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine
12. My pillowcases made of this fabric
13. These shoes
14. This makeup
15. This shirt
16. This piece of furniture
17. Books by Anthony Bourdain
18. Books by Poppy Z. Brite
19. The food at Bouchon in Las Vegas
20. Pretty cookbooks
21. The cute backpack my mom gave me for my birthday (thanks, Mom!)
22. My Roomba (but it really needs a friend)
23. The quilts my grandmother made for me
24. The quilts that I made myself
25. Frank Kozik posters
26. Wacky 1950's and 1960's kitsch
27. Yoga pants
28. Flip flops
29. Pajamas
30. Shonen Knife's music
31. Three 6 Mafia (my husband thinks I'm such a dork for that one)
32. My dog, Biscuit
33. My other dog, Gravy
34. My husband
35. My daughter
36. My son
See, that wasn't so hard. Now we have proof that my inner 5-year-old is definitely alive and well (kittens, tiaras?!), but so is my inner gangsta'. Sweet.
And a shout out to my mom, who was so tired of being pregnant thirty-six years ago today. Sorry I didn't manage my escape before Mother's Day. That would have been a nice gift. But watch this space on Mother's Day (probably after dinner). I'm hoping to post the BEST POST EVER!
We had a fun, busy weekend. Which is going to be followed by a very busy week. (Okay, a correction: I'll be busy, the kids will be busy, but my husband's semester is over so he's chillin'.)
We had extra kids in our house just about every moment this weekend: Friday we had two girls spend the night, and one boy who didn't spend the night but came home from school with the kids and left at dinnertime. Saturday, the girlie went to a girl scout function in the morning (while I went to rehearsal and the boy and husband went on a bike ride to our favorite place), then one of the sleepover girls and one friend from girl scouts were at the house when I got back. They left about the same time that Susie's best friend since she was four came to spend the night. She stayed with us until mid-afternoon Sunday, at which time we braved a sudden downpour and went bowling with the brother and sister who had joined us on Friday night. Dinner out after bowling, then a little television and sleep for the kids.
Did I mention that we also finished Alex's school project about howler monkeys (including making a cd of sound files found on the internet of the noises they make that give them that name)? And that Craig helped me make twelve fairy wreaths for the concert? And grocery shopping and a trip to the most horrible place on earth? And that I went shopping BY MYSELF for the supplies for the fairy wreaths and school project?
Honestly, sometimes I come to work because I get a little rest.
So, instead of a real blog entry, I'm sharing my list for this week:
Monday:
Me - dress rehearsal for Gilbert & Sullivan, 6:15-11 p.m.
Alex - guitar class
Tuesday:
Me - dress rehearsal for Gilbert & Sullivan, 6:15-11 p.m.
Alex - guitar
Wednesday:
I think we actually have a night off here
Thursday:
Me - tentative rehearsal, but not on stage because the stage is otherwise occupied
Susie - piano lesson until 5:15
Alex and Susie - school music program at 5:30. I have a feeling we're taking two cars to this one because I'll probably have to run to rehearsal.
Do you get the feeling we're a little bit triple-booked here?
Friday:
Me - concert, then dinner afterward
Alex and Susie - invited to spend the night with friends
Saturday:
The unofficial celebration of my birthday - family bike ride to our favorite place, and maybe this place too. And a neighborhood grill out thing. And I'm pretty sure there's something else. I hope it's written down. Oh yeah, Susie is going to a birthday party. Across town. So I guess we'll find something to do while she's watching Spiderman 3.
Sunday:
My birthday. Mother's Day. Oh, and just in case that's not enough....I'm also leading worship and delivering a sermon at church, THEN singing the concert at 3 p.m. Because me? I love to be busy. Eating? Yeah. I'll get right on that.
Since some other crazy moms are showing off pictures of the cool stuff they made, I guess I'll play along.
Susie is a crafty kid, and the other night she was in the kitchen while I was cooking. Some of her craft supplies live in our pantry, and she found one of the craft kits
Now I'm often the one to say "no" to crafts time, especially around dinner time. Because messy! Little pieces! But somehow I was in just the right mood to say, "Sure! I want to do one, too!"
And we did.
Thursday is the school's science club's "Egg Drop". Alex participates in the science club (he loves it!), and in order to participate in the egg drop, he needed to create something in which to drop the egg. The goal is that this egg holder would protect the egg from breakage when dropped from the school's roof onto the pavement below.
When I got home from work yesterday, Craig had raided my sewing supplies, looking for something soft and fluffy. I suggested that the kids pick up all the feathers in the yard and the park, but everyone just looked at me like I was nuts.
So we began creating the egg drop vehicle. We began with a plastic container that had housed cherry tomatoes. And part of a styrofoam egg carton. But padding....what to use? The quilt batting that Craig had found was insufficient. The egg moved around too much: of three drops (from about ten feet), two eggs broke. We needed the egg to stay still inside the container, but we also needed to absorb the shock at landing.
Cotton balls! Glue gun! I covered the inside and outside of the plastic tomato carton with cotton balls, then glued the egg carton pieces in place. Three drops out the second floor hall window, all successful.
But how will the egg fare from a school roof, onto the sidewalk? We'll find out Thursday afternoon.
::Edited to add: The egg fared well, surviving three of three falls. Which means he's advanced to the all-city egg drop in late April. Great news, because my dad (an engineer) is coming in town next weekend. My neighbor emailed me to let me know that in school she learned that pyramid shapes fare best, so we'll keep that in mind. Woot!::
