Exhausted

Yesterday, I learned that the word 'periodontal' is synonymous with pain, swelling, and bruising. How? Yesterday, I had a gum graft on three teeth. A gum graft is basically necessary plastic surgery for your gums. A section of tissue on the roof of your mouth is removed and transplanted to your gumline in order to give a little lift to receeding gums.

Sound like fun? I didn't think so.

Truth is, I needed the surgery so my smile can be healthy for the next 80 years. And...to be fair, my peridontist is a wonderful man with absolutely sugar-sweet nurses. However, rational explinations and fabulous personas aside, periodontal surgery is nothing to smile about.

Although my mother says no one notices that I, albeit temporarily, look different (she flatters me), I notice. I notice that the sides of my face do not match when I smile. I notice that my face is beginning to bruise and it appears as though I have taken quite the punch to my left jawline. I notice because I am living with the condition and the pain.

When you live with something, be it for a day or for a year, you notice the flaws better than anyone else. You may have a front row seat to what looks right (my abs look gooood today!) but you also have a bird's eye view of what's wrong (can't even talk about my need for a tan). No one else notices these things about oursleves, but we do. Our pastor told me when Rhett and I got married that even though I had a front row seat to Rhett's mistakes, it was not my job to point them out (really? I thought that's what wives did best?). Marriages aside, when it comes to things you live with, like your health or your home, you are allowed to point out (and correct) the flaws. While the process may be painful (pass the Lortab), the end results are always worth it.

While my jawline, cheek, gums, teeth, face, and ego are healing, I want to take this opportunity to highlight another quick-fix correction from our main bathroom (you didn't want this entry to be ALL about me, did you?). I wrote an entry last October called "Seeing Stars" in which I told of the light fixture in our bathroom when we bought Tara. There wasn't a great deal that was original to the ranch that we hoped to save, but the light fixture was something special, and I haven't been able to part with it. However, apparently in the 1950s no one took hot showers, so the fab light fixture had to go to make room for a dual light/exhaust fan. Fortunately, the original light fixture only went as far as the laundry room.

As for the main bathroom's new fixture, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to live with something functional in place of the quirky statement piece I'd had before. *sigh* But wait- much to my surprise exhaust fans don't have to be utilitarian- they can actually be functionable and fashionable! Sure, there are the small white plastic versions we've come to expect in bathrooms, but there are also other options- see below!

Would you know it was an exhaust fan? Me neither. It masks its real purpose (keeping the bathroom cool under the hottest conditions) and instead masquerades as a relative of the designer piece that lived upon the ceiling before. Let there be light...(and a fan). Another bonus? Rhett did all the work to make the finishing touches happen. If you're not as handy as Rhett, you're going to need to hire someone to take the light to a light/fan combination...apparently, it's tricky business.

In the end, while I am sad to tell you that Scarlet is under the weather this week, I am happy to report that our main bathroom is finished. Really! I think the main bathroom is the only room in the house that might be completely "done." I'll post the requisite before and after shots in the next post so you can see for yourself.

In the meantime, I am hoping my smile will be finished and back in working condition as soon as possible. I'm exhausted.

Love Muffin

Someone once told me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I've generally found this to be true, though I have cooked for boyfriends in years past who couldn't care less and not cooked for men who thought I was fantastic regardless. Food may not be the answer to all relationship problems or be a sure thing to get the ring, but it never hurts to add some yummy munchies into the mix. Who can resist a homemade dinner or delectible dessert?

One of my favorite things about Rhett is that we cook together. He's technically more of a cook while I'm more of a baker, but being in the kitchen with Rhett is a lot of fun either way. Rhett isn't afriad to improvize and take chances, and he has taught me a great deal about how to get around a kitchen.

I should say here, in all fairness, that both of my grandmothers are excellent cooks and their influence on my cooking habits shouldn't be overlooked. When I recently needed advice on fudge pies, the first person I called was Gran. She searched her cookbooks and found a simple starter recipe that put me on the road to becoming a professional at making fudge pies. Once I had the recipe down pat, I started substituting ingredients and playing around. That journey has been downright delicious and has ended, for now at least, in a pretty darn good dark chocolate fudge pie.

But I digress. While family members taught me the basics, Rhett has taught me not to be afraid to branch out a little. I once had about 5 amazing dinners I could make, and now I have the confidence and know-how to cook about anything. Last night I made a Barefoot Contessa tomato soup for the first time and changed things around to make it my own- the end result was scrumptious!

This Valentines morning, the girls and I woke up to this:



Happy Valentines Day to me- Dad was making breakfast! This is a big deal for Rhett, because asking him to get up early is like asking him to have his teeth pulled. But breakfast at B's Valentine Cafe? What a way to start the day.

What was the cafe serving, you ask?

At one kiss per item, the girls and I could eat like queens. Our oldest chose 4, 5, and 7 with hot chocolate to drink (topped with a dollop of pink cool whip). Our youngest chose number 8, and Mom noshed on basically what everyone else didn't eat, as most Moms do. And, typical of me, I'm still nibbling- on a leftover love muffin right this second. Do I have to pay for that?

Maybe it's not so much the food a loved one prepares that goes straight to your heart, but I think it's the selfless act of cooking that warms the soul. Making something from scratch to nourish and delight another person is really a cool thing- a priviledge, almost. It's nearly impossible to cook for someone else without putting love in it. And how lovely is that?

Happy Valentine's Day!

Well Dressed.

Although for the past 14 months I have been getting dressed either in maternity clothes or just to get spit-up on (I'm not bitter, though- I swear!), I do love fashion. I'm not a trendsetter, but I have to say that I really appreciate the details in a great piece of clothing. Maybe it was the years I spent working at Ann Taylor and Kate Spade, but I can certainly tell a good sweater from a cheap one by the stitching and fabric, and I'll always advise investing in the former. My closet is my temple, and I'm (again with the type-A personality) absolutely militant about going through it every 6 months. Let's suffice it to say that I can be difficult to please when it comes to dress.

With the rush that we had moving into the house this past summer, I didn't really get to take the time I wanted to when we picked out the paint colors (see previous post) or fabric choices. My friend Holly (and Sarah Richardson!) will tell you that when you're re-doing a room or decorating one for the first time you should choose a fabric first and work the room with that as a starter. An idea board is never a bad idea, and while I would have loved to do that I simply did not have the time.

So, I had to backpedal.

I told you before that my MIL (see prior post 'WPJE' for the use of this acronym) is an excellent cook. Really and truely. YUM. Did I mention that she's also an amazing seamstress? (No, Rhett does not have any single siblings and yes, our marriage is just fine.) She offered- get this- to make a shade for each of our bathrooms. All I had to do was pick out the fabric.

Yes, please!

For the main bathroom, I chose a "document" print fabric, and at about $9 a yard, it was perfect. The walls are a brownish-gray and the vanity in that bathroom (see 'You're so Vain' post from September 2010) is a scene stealer, so I needed something to coordinate but not overwhelm. Here's what we got:

The small bathroom between the nursery and the master bedroom was much trickier. How do you find something that pairs well with a soft yellow nursery and a master bedroom, full of greens and browns? Luckily, our youngest daughter's nursery has a bit of an outdoorsy theme, so this amazing fabric (less than $17 per yard) was a perfect match. The colors work well with the bathroom, and the print is a bit whimsical, but still grown-up enough to be used in a bathroom off of the master bedroom. I think it channels John Derian a little, you?

Thanks to my amazing mother-in-law for such goodies! The curtains in these bathrooms make the rooms feel more distinquished and put together, two things that my current wardrobe isn't usually. It's a good thing my bathroom windows are now well dressed, even if I can't be.

Wonder Woman

Helen Reddy famously sang, "I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman!" Friends, this should be my anthem for today.

Our neck of the woods has been hit by more snow than usual this winter. While my northern friends are shaking their heads at our shock to wake up to 4 inches of snow, we Southerners are battling the elements as best we can- with a little help from Jack Daniels.

Not only are we armed with a good drink, but Southerners also have a fighting spirit that is not daunted by a little snow. Or, as it turns out, a lot of snow.

The latest measureable snowfall happened last night, and this morning Tara was covered with a beautiful blanket of white. After braving the 10 degree cold and taking my oldest daughter sledding at 7am, I came inside to find that Rhett was braving his own cold- the one you get from germs. While most of us would use the weather and a cold as excuses to stay inside, Rhett was ready to hit the shower and get out to the office. I wouldn't say Rhett is a work-a-holic, but he is a team player of the best kind. When someone else is at the office he is too, so he was determined to travel to work this morning.

But since Rhett had a cold, who was to clear the snow off of the drivway?

Did I mention that we don't have a plow? We don't have a snow shovel either. What we do have, since we are serial renovators, is a nice 2x6 piece of plywood.

I suited up, hiked back outside with my piece of plywood and started to plow by pulling the plywood down the driveway and then off to the slide afer every few feet. Our driveway is long and steep, and gripping the plywood eventually made my hands cramp and hurt so badly that I fear the magic of Kiehl's Hand Salve cannot possibly bring them back to their former state. I should add here that Rhett has done this before, and he was moaning about it for days.

I have learned snow gets very heavy and slippery after a while, so as I made progress on the driveway my task became harder. Did I mention that the plywood only scraped enough snow off the driveway for one tire tread? No, my husband doesn't drive a bicycle to work so I had to do the whole driveway twice. Somehow I don't think my body will miss my usual morning workout after the grueling duel of Scarlet v. Driveway.

As I worked my way down the driveway, I, like any war hero, began to have hallucinations. I dreamt of pina coladas on a secluded beach and J Crew Sample Sales just for me. But as I looked up at what I had accomplished, I saw that the rising sun had begun to melt the thin layer of snow left by my plywood tracks creating- could it be- a clear path down the driveway for Rhett.

My hard work paid off and Rhett was able to easily make it down Tara's driveway and out to the office. I wish I could say the same for the rest of our city, whose streets are still lined with cars from last night's terror of a rush hour. By the way, my arms and back feel pretty good- I may have to come up with an aerobics class involving snow as a resistance.

Until then, I am okay with missing my morning run today, and looking outside at our clear driveway tells me that I can probably hit the gym tomorrow. I will, however, keep dreaming of pina coladas and the J Crew sample sale.

WPJE

When I was a child, my uncle Mark gave me the nickname 'WMPC' which stands for, obviously, World's Most Perfect Child. I probably didn't even have to tell you that. As it turns out, after climbing up (and tumbling down) Fool's Hill more than a few times, the nickname doesn't really ring true anymore (to anyone but me, that is). In the end, a nickname is a nickname, and usually- regardless of the truth associated with the moniker- a nickname sticks. And to answer your question, yes, you can call me WMPC.

I share that not to delight in a fuzzy childhood memory but to illustrate that I feel like acronyms are everywhere. For instance, when I was known as WMPC, I was wearing a WWJD bracelet, attending a school called GPS, working at the YMCA, taking the SAT, and probably making plans with my BF or BFF. Do we live in a world where there are an acronyms out there for everything? It's easy to sometimes feel like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle when he's looking for Jonah and the only thing out of the mouth of Jonah's friend Jessica are letters.

Tara's main bathroom has recently been bestowed with her own acronym, WPJE. Let me first say that initially I thought this sounded like some sort of rehabilitation center, but it's not. However, this we can learn from any rehab program:

The first step on the road to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.

For us that problem has a name: Worst Paint Job Ever.

OMG. Our bathroom paint was a mess. Overall mistake: we selected it in a hurry. After all, let's remember that I was 8 months pregnant and we needed to get in the house. So, when it came time to tell the painters what color to paint the bathrooms, we told them to just paint the beadboard white and paint the walls the same color as our master bedroom, a silvery sage green from Restoration Hardware (tip: don't buy your paint at Restoration Hardware, but do grab the chips of the colors you like. Then take the chips to a paint store and they can usually match the color perfectly.)

There are several issues with this bad decision. First mistake, the color was all wrong. It's a muted green that *should* have gone with everything, but no color REALLY goes with everything the way you think it might, no matter how much you love it. Second mistake, the finish was all wrong. We have an eggshell finish in our bedroom, and bathrooms need a semi-gloss, no exceptions. Third mistake, the painters were terrible, and we were so anxious to get in the house that we let their careless mistakes slide. For instance, they didn't sand the beadboard before they painted it, resulting in a rough mess. Sheesh.

Fortunately, this is all fixable for just about 30 bucks. PTL. Not all mistakes are so easy to fix, but if your paint job is all wrong and you have your own version of WPJE, no worries. We used a power sander (clarification: I thought it was too loud so Rhett used it) to sand down the beadboard and we then repainted it white (so smooth now!).

For the walls, we found a color we liked (hooray!) that looks beautiful with the existing decor and *voila* our bathroom nightmare was saved. TG!

Out with the old, and in with the new.

TTYL, WMPC

Benched.

Moms can multitask.

Anyone who's ever been a mother or seen a mother in action knows this to be true. At some point during the day, I am simultaneously on the phone, carrying/feeding/changing a baby, sending an email, reminding a 6 year-old to grab her jacket, wrangling the dog, taking out the trash, coordinating a reunion/meeting/dinner, and cooking a nutrtious, tasty, and budget friendly dinner...with my little toe. Most days, I wish I had the magical and cute little nose wrinkle of Samantha on Bewitched to solve daily stressors, but alas, that has yet to be the case (although I am a big fan of using prayer as a form of magic to get me through the day.)

So instead, I, like most modern mothers, combat the day the best way I know how, by multitasking and staying on top of the chaos as best as I can. I am exceptionally organized (some might say I am a little TOO type-A) but I thrive in an organized space and operate at optimum speed when there is a place for everything and, as the song goes, everything in it's place.

So what do you do, as a contemporary wonder woman, upon getting out of the car and into the house with groceries, children, a bottle of wine (YES!), craft projects, lunchboxes, carseats, and the mail? Do you open the door, turn off the alarm, and drop everything (including the children, but hold on to the wine) on the floor? No, sweetheart, you create an organized entryway.

A lot of my friends have these clever lockers inside the backdoor, and I think that fad in home design and function is simply genius. Rhett and I are planning, in the next five years or so, to add a second story. If we do that, we'll put lockers under the stairwell by the garage entrance, and I can't wait. Not only is it a good tool for your children to keep up with their belongings, and by children I mean husband, but it's practical and can be stylish. Love it.

In the meantime, Rhett and I have decided to use repurposed items inside the entrance from the garage into the house, and we couldn't be happier.

We found on old pew that perfectly fit the wall. 81" to be exact! What a find. Bonuses- it belonged to my mother, was free to us, and is an antique. Check, check, and check. Next, we found the top of an old doorway (around $10 at an architectural antiques store) and 4 vintage, mismatched doorknobs (around $4 each at the same store). Rhett attached them and- voila!- a coat rack. Lastly, we added a vintage-looking tin sign from my old condo that tells our little troops to "Get Busy. Looking back, we created- for under $30- a perfect place to stash everything we bring home. Backpacks, carseats, laptops, and coats now have a place to rest until they are picked up again the next morning.

The best news about an organized entry? Multitasking Mom is now free to get cracking on the rest of her to-do list.