You Complete Me

A while ago I wrote about my kids' bathroom, formerly known as One of the World's Ugliest. Shall I refresh your memory?




How cute is this pic of the kids bidding farewell to their beloved green toilet? They said goodbye; I said good riddance.

What we came up with was a brand new bathroom with shiny chrome and porcelain fixtures, bead board walls, and a bright white shower with subway tiles going all the way up. The kids loved going from a single to a double sink. Wish Tom and I had two in our teeny tiny bathroom.

We also had the contractor make a little niche to be used now for sterling baby cups, later for Molly's "products," of which there will be many.

One thing was missing. The huge 60 inch mirror desperately needed framing. I thought of taking it down, but it was glued to our brand new drywall. I know a lot of people DIY when it comes to framing mirrors, but I knew Tom and I weren't up for that.

Instead, I contacted the great folks at Mirrormate for their opinion on which of their easy to use frames to purchase. Seeing the bead board and other old fashioned touches in my bathroom, the creator and founder of Mirrormate recommended Acadia White.


Before:

This made me a little nervous because while my bathroom is a little old fashioned, most of my recent decorating attempts have veered more modern. I mean, how could they know about my sexy new Crate and Barrel bench and a liberal use of zebra print?
I wondered, would the new frame be too frilly for me?

I took the plunge and ordered, and within just a few days, everything we needed came in the mail. Tom and I assembled and hung the Mirrormate frame directly on top of the existing mirror. It worked great!

I would say as far as marital home improvement projects go this one is rated:

1 eye roll

2 grumbles

1 smart ass remark

Not bad, considering what a change it made in our bathroom! Good measuring, a little glue and some teamwork is all you need.

Once it was up, I did feel as if the room was a sea of white, but when I re-hung our black frames and added a little black tray for toiletries, I thought it looked great.

What an easy, inexpensive way to change a room. Thanks, Mirrormate! You complete me.

There are tons of styles to choose from. Visit Mirrormate and check out the easy to follow assembly video. They seem to have had even more fun than Tom and I did. Nary an eyeroll in sight.

In Which I Consider Becoming Superstitious

So I've never been superstitious. No knocking on wood, throwing salt over my shoulder or good luck rituals.

Not much freaks me out either. We looked at a house next to a cemetery and I considered it a nice peaceful place for the children to play. Superstition goes against my beliefs and seems to be limiting in so many ways.

Events of the last few months have made me reconsider my stance, so I'm exploring my superstition options. You see, I am the one who bragged at a staff meeting that in 11 years of parenting, we had never had an ER visit. Within the week, we were well acquainted with the place.

I also had the audacity to say to my husband, "the kids haven't been sick at all this year." I know, I know. Stupid.

This week, I was heading off to my son's baseball game. It's getting toward the end of the season and I've been grateful there has not been a spectacularly tragic meltdown like we had at the end of basketball season (camera in purse) after he'd been up all night at a sleepover. As I put the camera in my purse to capture some baseball highlights, I had a pang. A pang as in, maybe having the camera will make this evening turn to crap.

Some background here: 22 years ago I headed off to the hospital to visit my very much alive mother. I tucked my camera into my purse. I felt a pang and ignored it. I hopped in my car, stopped off at McDonald's for a fillet of fish, and by the end of the day my mother was dead.

The thing is, I don't WANT to be superstitious. It seems to represent a lack of faith and freedom.
When I got to the baseball game, camera in purse, our team was winning 5-0, bases loaded, no outs. S-weet! The camera curse was not in effect! Woohooo!

Less than an hour later, we lost 8-6 and one child, who shall remain nameless, was having the most dramatic, epic tantrum in the dugout the likes of which our Little League has never seen before and probably never will again. Later, he cried himself to sleep, lamenting that he had reacted so inappropriately in public. My heart ached for him.

So, you may be saying, "Anna, your child's reactions have nothing to do with your camera and more to do with the fact that organized sports are a challenge for him."

I know, I know.

But I say all of this because the very next day was his school's performance of "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" and I seriously, seriously, considered leaving the camera home. I mean, if a small action on my part could somehow prevent a karmic, cosmic flame-out on a day that was so important to my kid, I was on board.

The thing is, parents DO bring cameras to school plays, and I did not want to be held hostage by crazy thoughts. The camera came.

Shortly after 9 am the play began, with my progeny playing the lead role. Each line flowed silkily off his tongue. His timing was perfect. His movements superb. He was comfortable and in his element. He stayed in character and did not react when a few others flubbed their lines. I wondered-- dare I remove the camera from my bag and capture this moment of glory? I hesitated and thought, "What the heck?" I pulled it out of my purse, and turned it on to document his moment in the sun.

"Memory Card Full."

Geez.

My Cup is Half Empty

So today at church a friend gave me $10 she owed me. I wanted to donate it to our Well Project. Since I was wearing a dress and didn't have any pockets, I decided to do what any classy, well-bred woman in my family would do-- tuck it in my bra.

My late mom was a buxom beauty. She was head cheerleader and Homecoming queen in the 1950's when the uniforms were modest,the bras pointy, and the lipstick red.

I remember a trip into Washington DC with cousins when I was about 10. Mom played tour guide and was in charge of all the important stuff. I remember watching in horror as she pulled 11 metro tickets, the house keys and possibly a small map of the city out of her ample cleavage, or as she called it, her "bosom."

I've never been built like my mom, except perhaps when I was nursing and could no longer see my feet over my boobs, but I have been able to carry my own in curves department.

Things have changed, I guess. When I went searching for that $10 bill later, I realized it had snuck right out of the bra, headed south, and made its way right out of my dress. Boo. I told Molly and she said, "I saw a guy pick a folded ten dollar bill off the floor at church and look around to see if anyone had lost it."

Poor guy, poor me.

Thinking I could keep that bill held securely in my bra was akin to convincing myself I could keep jello from running through a sieve.

Oh well. Here's to a Monday where your cup is MORE than half full!

Martha, I Hardly Knew Ya

Just got my new Home Decorators Collection catalog. I love to look through all of the furniture in there that ranges from Mission style simplicity, to Rococo (!), to wacky pieces like the unforgettable "chair shaped like a hand." HDC fits the bill for inexpensive furniture in pretty much any style. All items need assembly, which helps keep prices down. I am more of a peruser than a buyer because I live in a house full of chairs and am trying to get rid of things, not add things, but I really like some of their items.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a lovely new collection on the cover by Martha Stewart Living! Now I know Martha has her upscale furniture line, and that she tried a line at Kmart, but this is yet another collection. There were some really cute items like this bedroom set:




And this side table comes in lovely colors plus an unfinished version you can paint yourself:

Her rugs are gorgeous, too.

This dresser is lovely, but at $799 plus shipping, doesn't that seem quite steep for something that comes Ikea-style flat in a box? Just imagine the arguments my husband and I could have trying to put THIS together:



Oh, and one more thing. This desk has some little vases on it that Martha has dubbed ...

"Menage a Trois Glass Bud Vases."

Really, Martha? In all of your infinite wisdom and experience, you couldn't come up with another way to describe them?

Friendship Friday

Every once in a while I'll write a post, usually that I'll find very funny, but then I'll take it down.

Why?

These posts are usually about another person. The rush I get trying to put into words someone's ridiculous or rude or clueless behavior lasts a few minutes, but the regret lasts longer.

You may think this is totally weird, so for a psychotic-Anna point of reference I'll tell you I still feel bad that I turned down the chance to dance with Jeff Travis in 9th grade at a "Sock Hop." He was a friend from elementary school whom everyone called, "gay." I chose my burgeoning social life at our new school over loyalty to an old friend. 27 years ago. It haunts me. You get the picture. Speaking of pictures, that's me in 9th grade at the top of this post. Eeek.

I even removed a rather innocuous post that referred to a man I saw wearing a cape. A CAPE! It was, I thought, hilarious, but the uncomfortable feeling I had after I wrote it lingered until I took it down.

Now if we look at the issue of a grown man wearing a cape (not of the super hero variety-- more Sherlock Holmes-ish) you may have sided with me in thinking that his fashion choice was outmoded at best, bizarre at worst. I would have been "right." Hello? A cape? But was it kind?

I know that's a silly example, but I've been thinking about kindness a lot lately.

Recently I saw my son struggle to play a kick ball game with a group of kids of varying ages. He got all wrapped around the axle when some of the kids weren't playing "by the rules." As a mature 40 year old, I could see that when kids aged 4-11 are playing a game together, it's not really about playing the game correctly. It's about finding common ground in which all can have a good time. And truthfully, only one person wasn't having fun, and that was my 11 year old son, the oldest in the group. He was intent on being right, but he didn't care about being kind in that situation.

I have friends who are in conflict right now. To an extent, both sides are "right," but damage is being done. I feel for everyone involved. And I wonder, do you think it's easier being right or being kind?

Feelings Friday

Just got back from Walmart. As I walked through the aisles I realized my kids were too old for the little clothes, too old for the toys. I felt weepy and hopeful all at the same time.

Moms, if you haven't had a chance to watch this yet. It is well worth it. Get past the blush, get past the use of "countless" when a more precise number would have sufficed. Grab a tissue, and let's go...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olSyCLJU3O0

I wish for all of us, the gift of an ordinary day.

It's the Little Things

So, while I'm really yearning to gut my kitchen, that's not an option right now.

I had to find a decorating project that would put a little spring in my step, but not set us back money-wise.

Last weekend I bought my first can of Oil Rubbed Bronze spray paint. I know, I know, I'm a little late on this. It was hard to spurn my first love-- Heirloom White.

All of the traipsing up and downstairs taking care of sick kids meant I had many opportunities to look at 3 of these beauties in our upstairs hallway. Don't you love the green tarnished effect?

Tom took them down for me, I took the glass off, gave them one quick coat of oil rubbed bronze in the backyard, and had Tom hang them up. Easy Peasy.

It's not a dramatic change, but in a multi-level house, where these suckers sometimes hit me at eye level, it's a welcome one.

My photos, as usual, are terrible, but trust me on this. They turned out beautifully!





If you came to visit, you probably wouldn't even notice them now, and that's just what I hoped for.