Wilco Tango Foxtrot **

Maybe the question shouldn’t be Can Women Have it All?

Maybe the question should be Why would women want to have it all?

Value what you have. Strive to be better. Choose to be kind and thoughtful above all else. You may find you don’t need it all because, to paraphrase the inimitable Mick Jagger, you have all you need.

Requisite inspirational photo of something vaguely lovely that means nothing.

** Title may or may not be the author’s original idea but as the great Mark Twain wrote to his good friend Helen Keller, “As if there was much of anything in any human utterance, oral or written, except plagiarism! The kernel, the soul — let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances — is plagiarism. For substantially all ideas are second-hand, consciously and unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources.”

Wanna know more about Mark Twain? Ask me. I’ve read his entire collected works, including his personal letters and speeches. Because I am THAT sort of nerd. Having completed them left me with the same empty feeling when I finished Book Five of Game of Thrones, or the final episode of The Wire, a little heartbroken and lost. Hence the recent Breaking Bad Binge. Next up? Mad Men.

Publicly Announcing…

My intention to go to the gym this afternoon.

Yes, it has come to this. Public Shaming. Two full weeks away. My body is aching, my stress level is peaking, my ass is expanding.

<Resigned Sigh> I am just about to give up. My metabolism and weak will are taking over. I’m not happy with myself again. Frustrated that it takes an immense amount of effort to just maintain, let alone be more fit (and by fit I mean skinnier).

Has anyone tried Medifast? Does it work? Will I have to eat vegetables? I hate vegetables.

I was doing so well, even after I quit training. Getting to the gym four times a week, doing lots of cardio and body weight exercises. Then… Warning:  pile of excuses ahead… I got sick, Gabe got sick, work got stressful, yada yada yada.

So today it begins again. From Scratch AGAIN. This is going to be a never-ending battle, isn’t it? I’ll be saying the same thing for the REST OF MY LIFE.

You need me this afternoon at 4:30? I’ll be the one on the treadmill at LA Fitness cursing my past weeks’ slovenliness, wincing at how quickly I went from doing 30 pushups to… who knows? 20? 10? Wondering if I’ll ever see size 8 pants again (the answer is probably not).

PATHETIC.

FIT (Farmer in Training)

My baby may be a native Baltimorean, but I’m going to make damn sure he’s got a fair helping of country boy in him. That’s why weekend trips to West Virginia are invaluable, not only to be spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa, but also to teach him rural values and work ethic – particularly of the physical variety – that sometimes seems to be lacking in the modern, disposable, urban environment in which he will be raised.

To that end, in one very short weekend we managed to tackle just about every springtime activity you can do up in the holler from looking for tadpoles to planting beans. From the time he woke up at 8 AM Saturday morning to the time he collapsed in utter exhaustion at 10 that night, Gabe went non-stop. GoSeeDo! Even when a nap was sorely needed. By all of us. Activities included…

Riding Tractors.

City Boys on a Vintage Ford Tractor

Pumping the Oeeel Well.

This was not a pose. They were both standing like that.

Frog huntin’ and flower pickin’.

And kissin’

Hanging with Max.

Best 4 Wheeler Herding Dog Ever

Riding the Four Leeweeler. See also, scraping of the entire face on the porch bannister.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

Gardening, aka, plantin’ maters.

“Uncle Mark is being so patient with me!” Gabe said one MILLION times

And beans and corn.

The full country experience for as little as $0!

And Mister Bees.

200 Miles Fresher!

This doesn’t even include the things I didn’t snap photos of – baking a cake with grandma, seeing the horses over at Ron’s, helping pick fabric for new pillows grandma is going to sew for our couch, throwing the frisbee at Bruce ONE MILLION TIMES, or stopping the four wheeler to watch a turtle cross the road.

“You wanna touch it?”

“Ummm, No. NO.”

So, he’s not that much of a country boy. YET.

So Pretty

Yesterday I worked from home after a Friday spent in meetings and a quick weekend trip to West Virginia. I felt like I needed that quality day at home with Gabe. It’s good for him and essential for me.

He was my angel, my Agreeable Gabe again; asking for hugs, eating like a champ, listening and not arguing. More than once I thought Hey, there’s my kid! I thought he transformed into a three year-old hellion.

It made me realize that my kid has been sick for weeks. Our house has been struggling with colds and allergies, passing the snot-laden germs around like a hotcake. But I’ve been the worst mother of all time assuming my cranky, stubborn, whiny boy was just being a turd. He wasn’t being a turd, he just felt like a turd and did not know how to express it.

Oh my goodness were we glad to have that happy boy back again.

Last night Gabe was upstairs playing with Ryan. At some point, Ryan came downstairs and Gabe stayed behind. Eventually I heard him talking to himself so I yelled up, “Whatcha doing, Gabe?” Not because I’m a good supervisory parent like that, but because his constant blathering was interrupting my view of Breaking Bad on Netflix. COME ON.

“Just playing Office Jerk, mommy.”

“Okay.” I replied and returned to my program. Office Jerk is an iphone app where you throw various things – stapler, potted plant, pizza, computer screen – at a Dwight Schrute-like character who sits at a desk. Only the MOST educational games for my little genius!

More time passes, still talking to himself upstairs.

“What are you doing now, Gabe?”

“Still playing like the Office Jerk, mommy. Just lining things up.”

At this point, my curiosity was piqued, so I went to find out exactly what mayhem was occurring. He wasn’t in our bedroom, like I had assumed, he was in the … I don’t know what you call that room, the Den? The Library? My Closet?… well, he was in that room, sitting on my chair in front of the mirror I use to put on my makeup, holding a tube of mascara.

“See mommy? I’m lining things up. Like the Office Jerk does.” Various bottles and hair clips and junk from a catch-all basket I keep there were being arranged on the table.

“Oh yeah. Ohh-kay…”

He asked, “What’s this stuff?” messing around with the tube of mascara.

“That’s mascara. But don’t open it. It’s yucky.”

“Okay. What’s it do?”

I replied, “Well, you put it on your eyelashes to make them look longer.”

“Oh. Okay. You go back downstairs now.”

“Oooh! You want me to leave you alone up here?”

“Yes. I’m still playing Office Jerk. Bye.”

So I left. I encourage independence and exploration. And Walt was just about to shoot somebody on Breaking Bad.

A little while later he came downstairs and said, “Look how pretty my eyebrows are mommy!”

“Take a picture! I look Cool!”

All clothes gone, covered in mascara. Legs, arms, stomach, and “eyebrows”. He was so proud. Crazy thing is, he actually managed to get the tips of his eyelashes, and dammit if they weren’t pretty. And 5 times longer than mine already.

Not the easiest bath ever.

You know he picked the waterproof tube, too, don’t you?

I’m going to have so many AWESOME pictures to show his friends in the future.

Gaberversations Part Six

So far, Gabe seems to possess none of the inherent shyness that Ryan says he suffered as a child and that I somewhat vaguely remember battling. Maybe it will come in time, but right now that boy does not know a stranger, says hi to every kid he sees, and strikes up conversations with folks anywhere. In fact, he is aching for social interaction and is thrilled with any encounter with other kids. He talks about play dates days in advance and for days after.

“Mommy, you needa buy alll dees necklaces!”

At the playground: “Hi, my name is Gabe! What’s your name? Wanna play? Dat’s my mommy over dere and dat’s my dog Brucey and we have Deesee at home. That’s my house wayyy over on the other side of dat fence. Brucey loves to fetch sticks.”

On the street: “Mommy, who’s that boy over dere? Hey boy! Wanna be my friend? Where’s your house? Is that your daddy?”

Later: “Mommy, is that my new boy’s house? Do you think my new boy can come out and play?”

To the person behind him in the checkout line: “I’m getting this neeewww FIRE truck Rrracer! It costs forty-eight-nineteen dow-lars. Mommy buys me the cars and daddy buys me the sets. Daddy spoils me.”

To the person taking our order at Rita’s: “I want vaniw-la ice cream please. Wif a cone. And rainbow sprinkles! Thank you!”

To the girls manning the Kid’s Club at the gym: “Hi everyone! I’m wearing dis jacket and dis is my jammie shirt, but I’m wearing real pants. I’m going to take my shoes off and put them right here, okay? Where’s da tonka trucks?”

To me: “Let’s go to da playground behind our house. Maybe there’s kids there! I like kids. And girls.”

Now I want to go see him, dagnabit! This is why I can’t write about him at lunch anymore.

Filler

I know, I know…

Not sure what’s up. Busy, uninspired, my creative mojo got up and gogo’d. It’ll get better. I know it will.

In the meantime, here are a few recent pictures of the boy who screamed and cried the ENTIRE WAY HOME yesterday because he wanted to “Turn around and go back to that liquor store!!!! Turn around mommy! Turn a-rou-hou-hou-hou-hounnnddd! THE LIQUOR STORE!!!!”

Captain Unreasonable, formerly known as Agreeable Gabe. Sigh.

It only took me an hour to figure out that he remembered the one time we stopped at that particular liquor store probably three months ago to get some beer, the cashier gave him a lollipop. Seriously.

Whaddya mean we can’t throw all these perfectly awesome rocks in the koi pond? That’s just silly.

Three-year olds are certifiably insane.

Do I look sweaty to you? That’s because it’s 85 degrees, and the only thing I will wear other than my fleece jammies is this fleece urban camo pullover. It’s soft and I’m Hugh Hefner.

What’s a rabbit to do?

I”m less than cheerful this Monday morning. Maybe it’s the overcast weather bringing with it an atmospheric change sure to cause a headache, maybe it’s the lack of sleep due to a toddler who spent ALL NIGHT LONG looking for my boobies WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING. No lie. I was accosted by little fingers constantly petting, patting, searching. Little feet rubbing up and down my leg. Little curly head laying on my head.

I don’t know if he was having bad dreams (or why he’s still sleeping in my bed… I’m trying. Believe me) but finally at about 4:30 I decided the only way I was getting another minute of sleep was to go downstairs. At which point I was wide awake and spent the next hour planning out my week.

Now I’m here and my brain is barely functioning. I can’t remember my name. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m a little tired of humanity and all its shortcomings today.

My apologies. I hope to leave a bit early after my meetings and go back to bed to combat this horrible mood. This big, disgusting mood that won’t leave me alone.

Just call me Big Rabbit.

big rabbit

Big Rabbit had a mood.

Walk The Plank, You Land-Lubbin Wench!

Totally Normal.

In an as yet unsuccessful attempt to get Willy Wonka here to sleep somewhere other than “Mommydaddy’s bed”, we spent some time last weekend digging through the glory that is Nana’s attic and bringing home some furniture that would become GABE’S BIG BOY ROOM! You have to say it just like that – excitedly in all caps so he knows how awesome it is to sleep in GABE’S BIG BOY ROOM!

Sometime in the early 1930′s Nana’s parents bought her a solid maple bedroom set. Remember, this was the great depression, a solid maple bedroom set was not a minor purchase. Nana used it throughout her childhood, then Ryan’s mom slept in it when she was young, then Ryan and now Gabe. Four generations using the same furniture is noteworthy in this disposable day and age.

Having spent the last twenty years or so in Nana’s attic meant the furniture needed a little TLC before it was ready to set up. First I used a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to get any scratches or excess dirt off. Then I used a vinegar soaked rag to wipe them all down, even getting inside the drawers. Once the stink of vinegar fades, so does the musty smell that comes with old furniture – and believe me, vinegar is my least favorite smell of all smells. Except sauerkraut. And dog farts. More than once I had to walk away in a fit of retching after being overwhelmed by vinegar.

I let the pieces sit in the sun to dry out the vinegar smell for a few hours and ran to Home Depot for two products I learned about from the Petersiks over at Young House Love: Howard’s Restor-a-Finish and Feed-n-Wax.

Ahoy Mateys!

The picture of the headboard is before any cleaning, the top two close-ups are after the magic eraser and vinegar process. After they dried, I wiped on Restor-a-finish, let it sit for about a half hour, then applied a coat of wax and buffed it to a shine. Musty smell? Gone!It is amazing how rich the wood looks after a little attention and elbow grease:

Yarrr!

Look at the detail! And the condition of the pieces are spectacular. The some of the anchor is broken off the headboard, but Ryan thinks he may be able to fix it. Look how happy the boy is!

“I’m in the dresser mommy!”

Look at this armoire:

Armada-oire

After a few more hours outside drying, we took the furniture into Gabe’s room. The next day we traveled to the east side of the city to pick up a Craigslisted mattress and box spring and to Target for some properly boy-ish blue pinstripe full-size sheets. I’ll include pictures of the furniture tucked away in his cozy room in the next post. I’m running out of time here, folks.

Next up is giving the room a fresh coat of paint and some crown molding, and deciding on bedding and accessories. I’m thinking it has to be nautical to go with the furniture, right? Maybe A Pirate’s Bedding for Me from Land of Nod or a simple Navy Stripe, similar to this Rugby Stripe Duvet Cover from Pottery Barn Kids – although I’m just not ever going to pay that much for bedding for my kid. I’ll find a bargain elsewhere. He’s going to pour cereal on it and color it with markers. I’m not dumb.

Also? I don’t think my kid needs a duvet cover. He won’t even eat green stuff in his rice. He’s not ready for the world of Yuppie consumerism yet.

“This rice doesn’t have any green stuff in it! It’s yummy!”

By Jorge, I Think I’ve She’s Got It!

Oh that was so bad, it just had to be written.

Listen Ladies (and gents), you may think getting a massage is luxurious. Maybe you are a sucker for a good haircut and blowout. A day of manis, pedis and champagne are more your idea of luxury?

Sorry, I’ve got one up on you.

I’ve got Jorge.

Jorge is a smallish, immaculate gentleman who arrived at my house Monday in knee pads with an LED lantern clipped to his cap and an industrial-strength vacuum strapped to his back.

Jorge and his assistant spent almost eight hours cleaning my house.

When they left, my house looked like it was brand new instead of sixty-some years old. I did not know it was even possible for my house to sparkle and shine like it does. I’m just… speechless.

Call it an early birthday present to myself, call it a nine year anniversary to a home that has provided us with much joy, call it what it is: LUXURY.

When Ryan came upstairs and finished walking around in awed silence he said, “So this is how rich people live, huh?”

Yes. Yes is is, Ryan. Jorge is luxury. And Jorge is a luxury that will be coming to my house on a monthly basis and making it sparkle.

I reached a point where I couldn’t keep up with it all anymore. Where I spent hours every weekend scrubbing seemingly all for naught. Where my OCD insanity was driving my husband crazy. Where he finally agreed, after years of hesitation, to allowing a stranger into our house to clean it – only after a glowing recommendation from my friend Sheila whose husband calls Jorge The Man I Pay to Keep My Wife Happy.

Indeed.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

Playing Catch Up

Post Update:  This post exhibits neither my best writing nor my best photography skills. But it’s something. My apologies. I like to document progress as it happens before it’s no longer fresh in my head. Maybe I will revise it later. Most likely I won’t.

I owe you many posts. So much has been going on in life – we’ve been playing shows, working on the house, celebrating birthdays – I just need to find the time to fill y’all in.

Let’s get started: you’re long overdue for a basement office update. We are pretty much finished giving Ryan’s basement office/Gabe’s playroom/future place he hides when he hates his parents <SOB> a facelift. Just a few more items will complete it, including Ryan’s dream office chair, this Philippe Starck Louis Ghost Chair which will be his, oh yes it will be his. I was also inspired by this adorable side chair at Shades of Light – it’s far too expensive and girly for our man cave – but I could find a thrift chair, give it a sunny coat of paint, and re-upholster it in a fun fabric to use as a side chair. I love the idea of using two different fabrics on the front and back to keep it fresh and not too stuffy. It will balance nicely with the formality of Ryan’s Ghost Chair which will be his, oh yes it will be his.

Enough words, here are a few iphone shots I snapped downstairs working from home while Jorge, my new boyfriend, was upstairs cleaning my house like it’s never been cleaned before. But that’s another post. These shots are just a sneak peek of the final reveal.

You can see some of our base materials – our old whitewashed stone basement wall and acoustic ceiling tiles long ago painted grey. Ryan added crown molding to give the room a bit more refinement. Seriously, guys? Crown molding are the earrings of your house. Such a simple upgrade that makes a huge difference. We covered the floor with simple contractor grade carpet (scored for $14 due to a pricing error at the Home Depot), and jazzed it up with a $24 dollar deep red shag rug from Lowe’s. The leather cat-pee chair is the one I plan to replace with my future thrift shop chair.

(Related: Anyone want an awesome leather club chair that smells unmistakably like cat pee? For FREE?!?)

Hey Look! Some vintage basses. SHOCKER.

Close up-of the rug and dog busy pouting because my new boyfriend Jorge was upstairs cleaning all his dog hair.

It’s such a hard life.

We looked all over for the right light fixtures for the space. I thought I wanted something bright and cheerful, Ryan wanted something manly. We ended up with black. It was the right decision.

Black Lamp, tweed shade, stone and cork walls, patterned textiles. It’s a veritable cornucopia of textures!

The plan was to keep the background clean and highlight its textures and bring in color with accessories, like these cute pig dishes:

“Your mommy is the queen of tchotchkes, Gabe”

And Jaime Lannister:

Why yes, Kingslayer, you do look lovely in that steaming hot tub.

We used cork on the back wall to cover up the seventies fake wood paneling, both because it looks cool and because it helps absorb sound – essential in a rehearsal space for a 10 piece band, no?

And finally, a chalkboard wall and my mom’s old hope chest painted a happy happy blue. The Wilco art – which I used as my inspiration piece for the entire room – and a 32″ flat screen TV will eventually be hung on that chalkboard wall so I can properly watch Game of Thrones in my cave and have Jon Snow look at me.

Gotta put a bird on it.

Just a few final tweaks and it will be done, and I will take actual photos instead of crappy iphone snaps. We are really pleased with the way it is turning out, the space is far more cozy and inviting. It finally feels like another room in the house rather than just a dumping ground for music gear in the basement. And to think, it only took nine years!

Here is a partial product breakdown:

  • Cork wall tile: every Home Depot in the greater Baltimore area. This is barely an exaggeration
  • Red shag rug: Lowe’s
  • Tan carpeting, mentioned above: Home Depot
  • Orange retro futon: Ikea – years and years ago. I don’t even think they make that model anymore  but it is so comfortable and the perfect piece for the room
  • Black Lamp: Target (SHOCKING I know)
  • Yellow end table: Home Goods
  • Blue Chevron throw and sunny floral pillow: Marshalls
  • Accessories – all of the above except the Thai tiger, which belonged to Ryan’s dad
  • Wilco poster – a gift from our friend Micah, which we finally mounted and have a proper space for

So there you have it. An update. I hope you’re happy. Or not. We are, so that’s what really matters, right?