Well isn't that just dandy.

I have to say that I am very sad, very, very sad and empty.

I have been working very hard on creating a sewing room downstairs, from a room that was very raw, no dry wall, no floor, no insulation, just one wall, some shelves, and peg board.

So I added stick on vinyl tiles, added insulation, drywall and paint. I even took down the shelves to paint under the stairs.

I am very excited about this for many reasons, whoohoo my own sewing room, whoohoo, more room in the basement, whoohoo, get to practice my design skills.

But I am sad because my husband does not share my enthusiasm for this, he is bugged, put out, annoyed, aggravated.  He doesn't compliment me, just gets bugged about all of it.

Just wish I he could complement me, see the value I am adding to the house. I am not asking for unbridled excitement, just not the silent treatment. 

I am also doing this on the cheap, hand me down tiles, left over primer, second hand accessories.  I haven't spent two hundred bucks even.

I would hope more space and order would be worth that little.

I am sure he has his side, the money spent with out being discussed, the messier house, less time with your wife, I am sure there is more, I get it, but how much does support cost?

Todays fat burning tip.

We have a small house, compared to today's standards, but it isn't tiny, and in this house we have a downstairs family room. Also our house isn't insulated, in anyway really, so you can hear everything everywhere, so if the boys want to go downstairs and watch tv it isn't a bad thing. I can hear them, I can feel them jumping and bumping around the room. Also there is a kiddy gate to sorta keep them corralled. Unless they use a ottoman and a cooler to jump it, well slowly hurdle it.

It is also a very ummm, well,  umm,  it is furnished in a college frat boy sorta way. Two beds, one chair, two tv's, and a treadmill, with a built in bookshelf, actually the wall was bumped out for a three foot section to be made into a bookshelf. I hate it, but hey what can you do, when you have to spend money taking care of all sorts of other issues with your house first, like oh the sewer and roof.

One thing about the boys being downstairs is that I get kid free tv time, which is rare around here, I also get kid free climbing on mom time, well no one is climbing on me when they are down there, so it is just no climbing time I guess, not just kid free climbing time, just to clarify. But I also don't hear any whining and endless request for stuff to eat, and no toy tug of wars.

There is how ever one side effect, the extra workout, because I do find myself running up and down the stairs over and over, to take care of them, and the laundry, and anything else I might need from down there, it is making me sweat, so much so I might forgo the trip to the gym.

So there you go parents, my tip for the day, move the kiddos to another floor and let the fat just melt away. Unless you are a horrid parent and don't check on the kids, or do laundry, then this won't work for you, sorry.

lost slipper....

I am running around with one slipper on, I feel like a peg leg pirate doing the walk of shame. 

Yep that's all I got today.

On second thought...

I was pretty sure this blog was going to be about my love affair with food, and how I need to Break it off. But instead it will be about my lack of parenting skills.

My two youngest are curently in the kitchen, playing with everything, even the stove, well oven really, the inside of it, yes I know this is bad, yes I know they shouldn't, yes I know, I know, I know. They will trash the kitchen, themselves, and the rest of the house, but right now I don't care. So what if the oven rack is now being played like a musically instrument, and the pot lids are crashing to the floor.

I can say this because while they are in there trashing everything, I am in here, in the living room, away from my children, who are not hitting, not biting, not name calling, not climbing on me. I don't know if you know this or not, but little children have very sharp elbows and knees, and well every bone they have really, it cuts right into you, leaving all sorts of bruises. I am sure I look like a punching bag some days. A dirty smelly punching bag that hasn't taken a shower in days, with turnover crumbs down the front of its over sized men's shirt, bright pink comfy pants. (sexy I know) (did you catch the turnover crumbs, there is part of that love affair with food I mentioned)

Also if I go in there, I will see the mess, and I will then have to punish my children, which means dragging them to time out, and extending the time out for throwing things at the door, and then getting them out of time out, only to have it start all over and having them cast dirty looks my way.

Yes I will get up, yes there will be a mess, yes I will talk to them and try to get them to help me clean it up, but will end up doing it all myself, no fear I am not a complete lackey, I just want a few minutes peace while no one is showing me their mouths full of half chewed pretzels, and some how simultaneously screaming MOM, MOM, MOOOOMMMMM!!

Oh sweet peace, please let this five minutes, turn onto twenty, please, just this once?

BTW, I am not a horrid mom, I took both to the zoo this morning and pushed them up and down all sorts of hills, and lifted them up to see the sleeping leopard, and waited patiently with them, until the polar bear poked out her noise, just so you know.