Weezy Wednesday: Birthday Girl

The obligatory smash cake!

Last Year’s Lessons

On March 20th my little girl turned one years old!  I’ve spent the weeks surrounding her big day pondering (when I wasn’t hot gluing plastic bugs onto planter boxes- more on that later) all that I have learned in the last year and comparing my old self to my new self- because make no mistake about it- in many ways I am an entirely different person. 

Here is an abbreviated list of lessons learned in the last 12 months:

1. I think I finally get physics.  7 pounds, 2 ounces can emerge from a small crevices given enough velocity. (You knew I wouldn't miss the chance to talk about my pachina- also more on that later ;)
2. Sleep is the magic elixir that makes me smarter, kinder, prettier, and a whole hell of a lot happier. 
3. Who knew Dads could be this sexy?
4. Your marriage will change when you bring another person into your family; it doesn't mean you’re weak or your marriage is weak, or that you are a bad wife, or you have a shitty husband.  It just means that you, the collective you, husband and wife, are re-learning how to be together and adjusting to the added changes and responsibilities.  It will take awhile to find your footing, but with patience, communication, motivation, and understanding, your marriage will become stronger than it ever was before.  Also, a lot of sex certainly helps.
5. Though I still cannot be bound, sturdier undergarments are going to be necessary until my little shark is weaned.
6. Renting is under-rated.  Just kidding.  Just kidding on the just kidding.
7. Baby crap will take over your house.  There is no getting around it, accept it and buy cute storage containment units.  (Non-parents: don’t be alarmed.  By baby crap, I mean gear- not actual poo.  We do not store poo in attractive baskets and such.  Most of the time anyways.)
8. You do not need 1/2 the baby crap you buy.  Eloise’s favorite birthday present was the silver ribbon that came on her add-a-pearl necklace from Auntie Bun (so cute!), and she lives in zip-up footie jams and she ignores her fancy light-up walker, preferring to push a little foot-ottoman around the house.  Baby gates and brown shirt are pretty much all she (we) requires!
9. Motherhood and selflessness do not need to go hand-in-hand.  When a new baby enters your world, you have no choice but to put your own wants and desires on the back burner.  But thankfully for me, I learned relatively quickly that to be the mom that Eloise deserved and to be the wife that Brakes deserved, I had to have the life that I deserved.  In the last year, I remembered that I love to swim, sew, work, write, wear fancy make-up, have fancy hair, and take long and luxurious bubble baths.  Giving up those things does not make me a better mother; taking the time, spending the money, doing whatever I have to do to feel human and find definition outside of my familial roles, is what makes me a better mother.  Last year Gas defined herself almost exclusively by the roles she played for other people, this year Gas (apparently talks in the third person and) is so much more than what she does.  As a result, I am a much, much stronger and more powerful woman than I ever thought I could be.
10. Hormones are like heroin.  (I am guessing- no actual experience with heroin. Ick.)  Do not underestimate their power.
11. Memories of the pain DO NOT fade, but your daughter’s dazzling blue eyes and the sound of her giggle certainly make you feel like it was worth it.
12. Brakes and I created a sweet, sassy, brave, fiery, smart, loving, gorgeous, funny, ballsy, baby girl.  My love for her is fierce and voracious.  I could never kiss her, hug her, squeeze, and smell her enough.  She is joy incarnate and I would never, never have fathomed that I could be this lucky.

My Apologies

Sorry for the long absence, folks!  I would like to say I was traveling the world, discussing the various merits of drop-cloth decor (that’s right!  I have gone so far beyond windows) and educating people about the many, many uses for this generation’s most underrated fabric.  But alas, I wasn’t.  My only excuse is that my sweet BABY turned one and I was pretty much obsessed with that the entire month of March.  Poor Brakes got so sick of my daily, “Remember this time last year….” marathon.  He finally drew the line when I took him and Weezy on a walk through the park with the specific intention of paying homage to the porta-potty I was standing next to when I had my first contraction.  I may have wanted to take a picture.  My nostalgia had reached new heights, people.  I was out of control. Way out of control.  Brakes had to set some boundaries.

So after a firm talking to (“Gas, there will be other birthdays…”) I am back; birthdays are so yesterday’s news (See, Brakes?  I’m learning.), and we’ve got all sorts of fab stuff to discuss in the B&G household. 

• Weezy’s birthday breakdown (Last time, Brakes.  I promise.)
• House updates  (You never said I couldn’t talk about drop cloths!)
• Some life-changing new products to review! (Some may have been purchased for events that we will no longer mention. Cupcake stand.  What?!  Hunh?!Who said that?!)
• Bachelorette Party madness in May (which happens to be my birthday month.  What, Brakes?!  You said nothing about my birthday!  You just said I had to quit talking about Weezy’s birthday!).
• Tablescapes (You know, table decor for a party.  Like maybe for a birthday party.  Oh, crap.  I did it again.)

I am obviously working on letting go, readers.  Have patience.  While you wait for me to get my act together, feast your eyes on this sweetheart who I think (I can’t quite recollect), may have possibly, perhaps, celebrated an important event recently.  Or maybe she has cake mashed all over her face on every plain ole regular Saturday night! And yes, her onsie is bedazzled.

An Unhealthy Obsession

So you may be wondering why Brakes has taken over the majority of blogging responsibilities as of late- he’s a control freak, he needed a hobby, he’s stealing my thunder, I have succumbed to an unhealthy obsession.  Drop cloths.  As in painter’s drop cloths.  As in oatmeal colored beauty with ebony flecks big-ass, heavy cheap canvas fabric used to protect floors when painting.  You can get them at Lowes for like 10 bucks a pop.   I buy them in bulk, but I am pretty sure you can buy one at a time too.  I wouldn’t know.  Anyways.

The obsession began innocently enough.  When we moved in I could not get Pago’s 30 year-old-likely-never-seen-the-inside-of-a-washer-drapes down fast enough.  Literally, our realtor was ripping them away as Pago pealed (I’m guessing he knew about the skunks and wanted to make haste before we realized we’d been conned) out of the driveway after the final walk through.  For awhile we made do with satin bed sheets stapled over all of the windows (why do we have 6 different satin sheet sets?  Wouldn’t you like to know!)  but after awhile our “whore-house chic” look grew a bit stale (gross) and I was ready for a change.  Unfortunately this itch (to continue with the stale-whore-house theme) coincided with Brakes’ tabulations of the budget.  After his sketchy number-crunching (pretty sure he secretly loved the satin sheets) he said there was no moula for new window treatments, or as I like to call them, curtain-scapes.  Sadly I packed my Restoration Hardware and Anthropologie catalogues away in my “someday box” and tried to squelch the vision of custom panels dancing in my head.

It kept me up at night.  I could not sleep from the glare of the alarm clock bouncing off the shiny polyester adorning my window.  I grew desperate.  After unsuccessfully trying to piece together a couple of nice wholesome cotton pillow cases in a faux- patchwork look and a failed goth-inspired moodboard (I may have been watching Vampire Diaries.  Don’t judge.) which prominently featured a tin-foil valance, I grew desperate to solve this window covering conundrum!  I promised sexual favors to clip coupons and forgo wine Puffs if it meant I could buy some proper curtains!  In the end, Brakes and I reached a compromise: I could get new curtains but I would have to do it on a very slim-budget. 

Off to TJMaxx, Ross, JoAnns, and Ikea I went.  I scoured dozens of different fabrics and materials and I just could not find anything that made my heart skip… until I happened upon the drop-cloth aisle!  My mental computer raced as it tried to remember some of the blog posts I’d read about drop-cloth DIY.  I examined the color and realized it was just the rich cream that would perfectly complement the cool tones of our new paint job!  I started slow and gently put two drop-cloths in our basket.  Brakes  congratulated me on my ingenuity and self-control.  If he’d only known…

Now every window in the house is dressed in a different varietal of my drop-cloth mania and I am busily trying to figure out how to hot-glue together a slip-cover for our padded headboard (satin sheets and a padded headboard!  Do you feel uncomfortable yet?)  When I resurface from the heady cloud of creation, I’ll try to post some pics!  But until then………….. Hellooooo, Gorgeous!

She makes my heart sing!

Weezy Wednesday: Its Like Trying to Herd Cats

In honor of the Olympics, Brakes and I spent a good part of last Sunday choreographing a short movie montage depicting the trials and errors of a marathon runner.  We laughed, we cried, we deserve an Oscar.  Or a gold medal.  Either one.

Take 7:

Take 22 (we only wish we were exaggerating):

Victory!

Celebrity Lookalikes!

The other day a soon-to-be father asked me what it is like to be a dad.  I immediately knew how to answer. Remember the Mogwais? Those cute little fury creatures from the movie Gremlins.  

Well, just like the movie we were blessed with our very own Gizmo 11 months ago. Isn’t she cute?

When we brought her home we knew the rules were simple: Don’t let her stay up past midnight and whatever you do DON’T GET HER WET!

But the other day she sprinted for the sink and next thing we knew….

She was in the kitchen. Gremlins can be extremely reckless and they are really messy eaters.

I summed up my conversation with my friend with this sage advice:  You have two jobs as a parent:

Keep them out of trouble and prevent spawning at all costs. 

Gremlins are a lot of work!  Its a good thing it’s 11:45 PM and Gizmo is finally in bed!

Neighbors, Skunks, and Green Leafy Plants. What do they have in common?

The morning after the floors were completed Gas and I were awoken by an odd smell emanating from the furnace vents. To be more precise it smelled similar to a big greasy breakfast. We were a bit puzzled at the time, but decided to let it marinate (to continue with the food theme. Gas is a fan of themes and I am a fan of Gas, so please excuse my “cheesy” theme. Get it? Cheese? Anyways.) with us for a bit and we opened the windows. The smell appeared to get better until we turned the heat back on in the evening and within minutes the house stunk again although it had morphed into an odor more “herby” in nature; Gas swore it smelled like skunky-weed.

Now the neighbors directly to our north are somewhat of a strange couple. They are older and retired. The wife is a very talkative and gregarious type, while the husband actively avoids eye-contact with us as he trudges to and from his house. I might be able to pick him out of a lineup, but only if it was a profile. Rather than decide he just isn’t the neighborly type, my imaginative wife theorizes that he must be terminally ill and he does not wish to make friends with her for fear that the loss will be too great when the time comes. She has mentioned that I should hint to them that she writes a hell of a eulogy. (I’m not sure that’s the choice of words I would use, honey.) In any case she felt that he may be numbing his pain with the occasional “joint” on the balcony relatively close to our crawlspace and attic intake vents. Case closed. Or so we thought…

I was not so convinced of this story, particularly because it seemed to be localized to the furnace and the crawlspace or catacombs as we like to refer to them. So we searched the furnace ducts and opened the front to the furnace but couldn’t find anything. I kept wondering if maybe the Weez had deviously planted a woodsprite in one of the furnace ducts and it was baking every time we turned on the heater. After suffering (not silently, Gas!) through this for a week or so we decided it was time to call in the experts. I don’t think Mel, our local furnace pro, had ever been greeted at the door so warmly. Gas verbally made-out with him at first site! Its a good think I am not the jealous type and Mel was a happily married Grandfather. After sniffing around a bit we headed to the catacombs and he immediately recognized the smell of a skunk. Apparently the little critter had sprayed near one of the catacomb vents and the smell got pulled into the intake. He recommended taking something that smells nice and attaching it to the furnace intake. So we wet a rag with some sweet pea oil, turned on the heater and within 5 minutes our entire house smelled like the Body Shop. I would highly recommend it.

So, in the end, what is the lesson in all of this? Don’t judge a book… err, house… err, grumpy neighbor… by it’s… err, his… cover… I mean smell. And also demeanor. Anyways.

Till next time, folks! I’ll just leave you with a picture of my sweet-peas in our sweet-pea smelling house.