Bedheaded Randomness

Monday I took advantage of a husband home and a temporarily sick baby to tackle a project. I think this is the first thing I've ever done within a few days of thinking I wanted to do it and then buying the materials and finishing the whole thing in one day.

I might actually be shedding the procrastinating shell.

Yeah, I'm dreaming on.

I even bought the board and had the nice man cut it at Home Depot for me all by myself. The fabric store was not so easy--apparently I've mixed up my holidays and Monday was the Day For Sewing Ugly Things Day. (And the let's be redundant day)

I seriously do not know what those ladies were thinking up in their heads. My favorite was the little old lady with a shopping cart full of cut pieces of fleece. I admit it has been cold.

Then there was the lady who looked like she'd just travelled a time machine and came straight from the 90's with no detours to Macy's who was buying green shiny sequiny trims (3 kinds!) and told the cutter she was making a St Patrick's Day sweater.

?!

Anyway, I digress and get a little rude.

Seriously, I'm worried about that sweater.

Moving on.

Any guesses to what this is going to be?

It was at this point that I began to wonder what I was thinking trying to do this by myself and if I'd finish before the kids and husband got back from sledding.

Anyway, here's a before of the intended project's place.

Which obviously is a headboard.

Yes, we've been living with ghetto bed for a while.
I haven't talked the Money Maker into this or this from Pottery Barn yet.

Here's what I ended up with:
I made the bed especially for you.

I really did this on Monday and not last summer.

Here is where I highly recommend having a lot of boxwood shrubs outside and then letting them get overgrown so you can enjoy them from inside all year.

Even though you might not enjoy still having nasty metal windows with holey screens.
Stupid economy and 1960's windows that are 17.2 feet wide and cost $500 but were less $$$ three years ago when the rest of the windows were replaced. And of course we have two. Apparently they still didn't have much electricity in the early 60's, hence explaining the large windows on every wall and the average of 1.75 outlets in every room. No, we never worry about fire at Christmas time.

Yeah we don't ever leave our bedroom in last place to get beautified. There aren't Huggies boxes full of pictures from the living room piled on our dresser. Nor is there a broken rocking chair at the end of the bed.
All kinds of classy going on over here.

Clearly I though I lot of pictures of the same thing at different angles would be vastly fascinating for you all.

Consider that wish fulfilled.

Now can somebody please explain the need to watch TV (or not) like this?

This is the safe version--usually that rocking chair is on the table. The new stadium seating.

Now I would like you all to think that the windows are entirely covered in snow to elicit pity from those not living with us in Klondikeville, but I think we actually had sun shining. Reflecting off the multitudes of snow.

Wii are so glad this lives at Grandma's.

Notice his hands are a blur.

Speaking of Grandma, for Valentine's Day she gave the grandchildren stickers,

and markers.

Yes, that's my couch. This time it was Mr Tornado, who was home alone with Dad.

Oh, and could someone please explain the meaning of this?

That would be the Dora potty-training seat for those who might not recognize it.

Apparently we're all kinds of desperate for summer.

And should not be left alone for any amount of time during a bath.

Home Improvement, Destructo Style

Warning: This post contains potty talk.


Methinks it's snowing again. At least this year we've had breaks between storms and it hasn't been like last year that felt like the transition stage of labor when the contractions are horrendous and before one finishes, another begins. Why am I describing it? You've all been there--at least those brave enough to skip the epidural. Which I was not every time, I am not ashamed to admit.

Anyway, I was talking snow, and totally digressed and am hoping that Mr Destructo is going in the potty and not in his pants. Why is potty-training such a pain in the nethers?

So, you'd think that while I'm stuck in the house, I'd take advantage of the entire lack of yard work and do something inside the hovel. Like finish painting. So far, out of the entire house, one room had 2 and 1/18 walls painted. That 1/18 looks fab, let me tell you.

( Ooh--heard a flush, that augers well, right?)...(Woo-hoo one less stinky to change for me! Now can someone explain to me why the underwear has to put on backwards? The front looks like saggy Granny undies while the back looks like a too-small Speedo complete with cheek peeks. Too much information? I did warn you.)

So, the other day, feeling ambitious, I started washing another wall to paint and accidentally put a lot more water in the bucket than I needed. After a while the kids decided they needed to help me. To boost their self-confidence, I let them. It wasn't long before they were holding their rags in the bucket watching TV. (Oh-and the bucket was sitting on a little table we have in front of the TV so I didn't have to bend over as far to rinse my rags--I do believe I have mentioned before my extremes of laziness.)

So, thinking the kids might eventually finish the washing, I started the never-endingness-of-fun spackling. At which point, the chair Mr Destructo was standing on fell over of it's own volition (of course), taking Mr Destructo with it, and since he was up to his armpits in the bucket, taking that and it's 3 gallons (I'm estimating) of dirty, soapy, wood chipped water with them.

Needless to say, any self-confidence boosted in my kids got smashed right there. Some french bombs may have gone off. A putty knife may have been thrown that may have dinged the supposed-to-be-indestructable wood laminate floor. The carpet may still be wet today. I'm surprised it doesn't stink yet.

And now we all know why I don't bother doing much improvement around this house because it's destructoed before it's even bettered. At least it's water and not--you know--the stuff that might be all over the Thomas the Tank Engine Speedo and my new already stained couch in ten minutes.

By the way, I put a once a month limit on washing the couch slipcovers or it would be every other day, I tell you. Like slipcover labor. Because you were dying to know.

Getting Ready For Christmas

I hate when I take a ton of pictures of things to blog about, don't blog about them and then end up with so many unfulfilled dreams. Or something like that. Maybe if I weren't so wordy.

So brace yourself a little.

We made Gingerbread houses with Grandma.

So colorful.

See that little hand?

So proud.

Don't even last a day.

I copied these fabulous gals and made these little men out of my pumpkins.

And Mr Destructo got to them.

He kept saying, "It fell over," and grinning and laughing at himself.

He'd knocked. the. head. off.

And I was standing right by him!

Like the white 80's toothbrush splatters? It was no toothbrush, my friends. You can achieve the same look with spray paint when you're trying to fix a little spot without taking everything apart. Don't try it. Doesn't work. You end up with the overdone-and-so-yesterday-splattered-toothbrush-paint look.

Finished decorating.

The boxes are actually gone.

Last year I left them out all year--in my room. Turned out to be a good move when it wouldn't stop snowing and the sheds outside were buried.

The piano is filled with breakable Mr Destructo and S-man temptations.

Took the Nester's advice and combined all four skinny garlands I had into one big one. I cannot believe I never even combined two together before--how did I survive with skinny garlands all this time and actually think they looked good?!

The horrors.

Tonight I made my famous orange fudge. I'm so full of myself. The first year it was great (I'm guessing from the feedback), and last year just good, so I think I brought it back to it's mighty goodness this year, for all those who care. You know who you are.

While I was trying to zest a Clementine on the top, I dropped it in.

Meanwhile, the husband was playing with the kids and S-man threw a toy at him. All I heard was a mad rush for the bathroom and the husband yelling, "He threw a toy at me and my ear's gushing blood!"

I thought he was kidding. Because he kids that way.

He wasn't.

I heard the inevitable, "Can you get blood out of a white shirt?"
He's a big boy, so I figured he could clean himself up, and went about my business.

While I was thinking of getting the camera to photograph my orange dropped in the fudge, the husband yelled, "Aubrey, You want to get the camera and take a picture of this for your blog?"

(Aren't they funny how they want blog attention all the while cursing blogging and it's direct effects on the messy house and unclothed children?)

Nice, isn't it? I took the picture and he asked, "How does it look?"

"It looks pretty bad." (Um, duh, right?)

"Oh," chuckle, "I meant the picture." Never mind that I'm bleeding down my face. Priorities.

Then I was talking about putting liquid band-aid on it, and Lexie honed in on 'band-aid' and asked her dad, "Do you want a Scooby-Doo or Dora band-aid?"

We're not outrageous or anything.

The weapon of mass destruction (that will involve Spray 'N' Wash).
Oh, just a little thing, I finally talked the husband into

a new sofa.

Uh, we figured out the secret to getting the seat covers on straight on the third cushion.

Love Ikea. Love Ektorp. Love slipcovers. I am so on top of getting Christmas presents done early this year.

That ear-cutter is leering like a Chucky doll.

The L-O-N-G Weekend

We are all tuckered out.

Yes that's the vacuum tube on his stomach.

The vacuum is on. He slept through it.

His father did it.

I wasn't home.

I think we survived the weekend unscathed. We did stay up until 2 AM, not one, but two nights (I wasn't even blogging!). The kids too.

Not.

We are getting older, but not much wiser, so it seems. And apparently with age comes redundancy, so it seems. We did not get to go to Hawaii like this person does every. other. year. Try not to hate her, she's really nice and my bff since 8th grade. Before texting and bff's, so it seems.

Anyway, we did turkey at my in-laws'. Since we had a smaller group than the usual 50 we have with my family and the common-sensical paper plates, I tried to play Eddie Ross. (I took baby steps, Martha.) (Eddie works for Martha.) (And she comments on his blog.) (Whoa.) (Well, I'm pretty sure it was her, but I couldn't actually check, so don'tquoteme.)

My centerpiece before Little Miss Sassy Pants came.

I think I love burlap. Because I'm so classy.

I wanted Mason jars at my wedding. Maybe Lex will let me use them at hers.

After she brought her acorns. Not a huge difference, but I'm learning here.

Our father-in-law's signature table setting. (With Sassy Pants' charger.)

Look hard, what's wrong with the picture?

It's all about convenience. Don't mess with us.

I made fancy drink.

It was cranberries garnished with beverage. It was supposed to be the other way around until I dumped Maine's entire harvest from this year into the bowl. I did it before I added the liquid so I wouldn't get splashed, but it's hard to guess proportions.

That's Mr Sassy Pants Jr. who got stuck with Barbie because Mr Destructo got the one Star Wars plate.

Lexie found a game. Her dad's excited to play it. They never figured out the rules. This Game is Bonkers has been kid-tested, mother disapproved, and scatters all over the floor really well.

This is Mexican Train Dominos. Prepare to burn your eyes out of their sockets. It's fun. I actually beat Mr Sassy Pants Sr. He always wins. Well, actually, his wife won, but I came in 2nd and smoked him. Sort of.

I have realized one of my life's great ambitions. I can die now. But I'm too lazy. And don't want to. I have to see what the Nester's up to.

Mr Destructo got into the wood-burning stove downstairs.

That was luckily not burning any wood.


The cousins played.
Yes Mr Destructo is in a girl's baby stroller.
With his younger i.e. smaller cousin pushing him.


Tiny Miss Sassy Pants chillin' with her peeps. I love it when they spit out their binks.


We took some photos of the brothers and their babies. Except that's the single (available) brother-in-law holding my baby. He only has a cat named Baby. That opted to stay at home. Thank goodness.


I tried for a new profile picture, but had jaundice. And I am always holding that baby.

And apparently have big wrinkles under my eye. Note to self, get new make-up. And go to bed before 2 AM.
And
New life ambition: get profile pic without S-man.


Took more brother picture's.

Single Brother adores Mr Sassy Pants Sr. He kept doing that!
I think Single Brother just wants to hold the baby and is telling Mr Sassy Pants Sr with his eyes.


More pictures of oldish bald men.
And two thrilledish babies.

Mr Destructo and Mr Sassy Pants Jr were awfully quiet while everyone was upstairs taking pictures?
Mr Destructo recruited.

And they got into the fireplace again.
(Mr Sassy Pants Jr was a little hungry I guess.)


The clean up: Mr Destructo has to be outnumbered--look at him holding up his hands like a criminal.

That was our cue.
We left soon after.
We had a lot of fun.

Sorry, my family, that we never showed up.

You ate pie without us anyway.

Sacrilege.

Next year I so want to play walking basketball. I really do.

Christy and Brandon, you know you want to come to our side again so we can hang out more.

The day after Thanksgiving my cousin got married. I forgot the salad dressing for my wedding-dinner-offering and we were pushing it to be on time before we had to go back for Kraft Raspberry Vinaigrette Light and totally missed the ceremony. So did one of my other cousins and his little family. And the cousin getting married? His brother totally fell asleep on the couch in the foyer and missed the whole thing too.

The cousin about to cut the cake is a Marine, if you didn't guess.I was not one of the photographers.

That's a fourth cousin holding his big fancy new Nikon D60 SLR that stands for Something Looking Really fancy that takes awesome pictures. I guess it's a Nikon D60 SLRFTTAP.

I have so many cousins. The mystery to disposable goods at Thanksgiving is solved.

My cousins' (another one) cute little daughter who always snags the flowers. Smart girl.


Amongst all the weekend's excitement, I harbored dreams of getting the hovel decorated for Christmas.
We got the tree up. It's making it's debut this year. It's bigger than the old one.
I thought it would be bringing more lights. Whatever.
We started decorating it.
With 7 ornaments, 7 strings of beads (we're all about beads, I also harbor hippie dreams), and it was attributed with 7 muttered-under-the-breath swear words. It's a heavy tree.
Nothing is sacred. Hello? S-man?! No touchie. See that blurb on the floor? It's the clicker that turns the lights on and off.
He already figured it out.
This picture looks familiar...
I have pictures of Mr D doing almost the same thing, but they wouldn't upload.

I made so much progress with the rest of the sty.
Hmm.
Wow.
The desk just vomited all that stuff. I've never seen it before. Two monitors? What two monitors?!
Packrat? What packrat?!
(Melissa--that's one of your baby's garlands on the back of that chair--what do you think so far?)
Breathtaking.

And just the look I was going for.
Georgeous.
The bathroom rug drying on a chair just completes it.
And we had a kidnapping.
Apparently the sheep got in the way.
I promise I don't have a fluorescent light bulb in the lamp right above it.
We've put out several Amber alerts and interrupted lots of bube-tube viewing, but to no avail. Good thing I'm a packrat and have like 13 other nativities.
Oh well, at least I already mailed out our family newsletter.
Don't hate me, I emailed it.
Try it, you might love it like I do.
Oh, and make that 3 nights until 2 AM. With early church. I am so smart.