We have had it this week.

Name it, we’ve had it.

Except boils.

So there’s a silver lining.

My sweet girl has been through the ringer.

I’ve taken all my sick leave at work.

But this morning she woke up singing.

“A, B, C, D, L, M, N, P”

I was thrilled. It’s been too long since my little song bird felt good.

Now we’re back to business.

Thank goodness.

My heart couldn’t take anymore of that sad little face.

I have a love/hate relationship with this stinking store. 

I go through periods where I boycott it completely.

Then I get birthday money and they have a cut-throat clearance.

All of a sudden I own $3 deer face knobs.

In other news, Jane calls Cheerios “Chipoos.”

Also, I don’t care for the word bucolic.

There’s just something about it.

Apparently there’s a thriving coyote population in our neighborhood.

Washing and drying sheets does not get the wrinkles out.

Hanging them as curtains doesn’t smooth them out either.

And this morning I realized I don’t want to be a stay at home wife,

but I’d like to have one.

It was a freeing thought.

I’m slowly but surely unpacking and decorating. Emphasis on slowly.

I found these goodies in a box last week. Several family members travel a lot and bring me little trinkets from all over the world. My aunt brought me this painted egg  from the Ukraine.My brother-in-law brought me a piece of the Great Wall. Rachel found a shell in Venice. This is a very happy bowl.

These are Jane’s favorite shoes in the whole wide world. Tiny Dorothy. They’re her contribution to decorating.

So, here’s the living room. I did not clean up toys, or stage, or, well, anything, for this picture. We have four gallons of white paint just waiting to cover up those beige walls. I’ll be so happy when it’s done.

I also took the plunge and hung a gallery wall. It happened in about fifteen minutes, on the fly. Things could have been much worse, but I’m sure I’ll tweak it later. The window panels are flat sheets.They are my new favorite window treatment. Ahh…white walls, white curtains. Just in time for spring. Maybe. You know. If we can stop watching Chopped on our DVR and get off our duffs to actually paint.

I never in my life thought I would willingly own a large, brown, leather sectional. But guys, let me tell you, I get it now. When Jane face plants with cheese dip all over her mouth, or Mabel comes inside smelling like she wallowed on a dead skunk and jumps in the middle of it… it’s awfully nice not to freak out and run around with a bottle of stain remover and Febreeze. I have pillow plans though. It needs some perking.

We needed a coffee table and settled on an old trunk. I love that it’s an actual old trunk, with real steamer stickers and everything, and not a new fake one.

The thing about decorating is not to get in a hurry. I tell other people this all the time. I tell it to myself. But it’s so hard to actually put into practice. But truthfully, when a room happens over time, it always looks better. Unless you have loads of cashola and can hire an awesome decorator. In that case, feel free to send them over to my house. Until then, I’m taking my time.

So that’s the living room so far. I think the thing that matters most to me, and to everyone, is that a room is happy. And you don’t need expensive curtains, or pricey rugs, or brand new furniture to make that happen. It’s all about the things that light up your face. Bowls full of travel trinkets. An old trunk.

A plastic pig. And the doll without hair behind the couch. Or the pink Barbie car with the door ripped off. Those say, “Hey, Jane lives here.” And that’s the best part of this house’s decor. A little, giggling, happy kid lives here.

Thank you Lord.

Jane, Mabel, and I spent a rainy afternoon at home yesterday by ourselves. It’s a long story, but it  was nice to have a change of pace on a stormy, cold Monday. Life is moving at a break neck speed lately, and on top of it, I had to take a round of steroids this past week. Um. Whoa. Let’s never do that again. Slowing down was probably medically necessary. I unlatched sane-Liz who was handcuffed in the back of my brain. She rubbed her wrists and shook her finger at me.

“Never ever take steroids again. You are not Hulk Hogan. You aren’t big enough to back up that mouth of ours. Now go take a long bath and let’s get back to normal.”

I can’t believe we’re already wrapping up February. My birthday month. Freezing, rainy weather is hanging on with it’s fingernails, refusing to let go. This morning the run-off ravine behind the house was roaring, a tiny river. Mabel really doesn’t care for it. I caught her standing at the back fence, looking down like, “Guys. Is that a giant swirling bathtub? Cause you know how I hate baths and this is not cool.”

Jane is a toddler. A terrible-two’s toddler. She slings around the word no for everything.

“Jane, would you like to eat some dinner?”

“Noo, yes.”

“Jane, would you like to read your favorite book?”

“Noo, yes.”

“Jane, would you like to take a bath.”

“No.”

Oh well. It’s my bad for asking a question I already know the answer to. Her personality gets bigger and bigger by the day. She loves to laugh and laugh and laugh. She tries to make jokes. She is really quick to notice if anyone passes gas and then yells, “Poo Poo? Poo Poo?”

I love every single second with her, good and bad. I miss her after we put her to bed at night. Being her parent is the greatest job in the whole world, even when I’m tired. Even when I’m on steroids.

 

                                                   Anne Hathaway wore WHAT?

That’s OK Anne.

You’re beautiful even if those dress darts were disturbing.