When it was mine it was a sort of green leaning aqua color with animal decals.
I painted it purple and added the wooden hearts for Thing 1.
Since Baby K doesn’t have a favorite color yet, I chose two soft coral colors hoping she’ll like them.
First, I took it completely apart and sanded it. Then I used wood glue to ensure it went back together properly before prepping it for paint.
I finished painting it Friday. (you can see where even with sanding it well, the decals and where the hearts were attached were problematic)
I put it back together Saturday.
YBW had a piece for the bottom that became exactly what was needed with a little reinforcement.
I cut foam to the perfect fit for the crib mattress.
Went to Target Sunday afternoon for a pillow case to cover the foam mattress. (WTF was I thinking going anywhere on the weekend in these mask-wearing-pandemic times? Target was straight chaos. For a bit longer, I will only go public places during the week.)
Anyway, we had fun reimagining this little doll bed for Baby K.
Now it’s in her room, and ready for her to put her dollies in when she gets here.
Three weeks from today!
Y’all know about this file folding your clothes situation?
Seems it’s been around a while, but gained serious momentum with Marie Kondo. Of course I consider myself a damned fine laundry doer, but this file folding is something I’m not familiar with. And I’m always game to learn something new. Especially if it’s about my fave household chore!
A quick google search lead me to Abby Lawson’s youtube channel.
Her voice is kind of annoying. But I quickly became focused on what she was doing and stopped listening to her.
Y’all! This is so freaking simple!
It’s almost how I pack a bag, only it’s a combination of rolling and folding.
I’m over here like, Oh hold on sister, I got this!
I went to my tee shirt drawers.
Yeah, you read that right, drawer is plural. There were three of them. (mind ya business)
There were three because separating them suited my way of life more than necessarily needing that much storage.
One was plain tees. You know, a few each of black, white, and navy with a couple other colors thrown in. They’re for layering, for wearing outright, and can be worn with anything to dress up or down.
The second was printed tees. You know, words about reading, or books, about kindness. These are the tees I can wear to school on casual days.
The third was printed tess that aren’t school appropriate. You know, that Drink Naked tee from Naked Mountain Winery. The three concert tees I own. All my Nats gear (can wear to school, but only on spirit days).
So, after a super quick purge (maybe 8 tees?) I got started. I was saving so much damn space I even got shirts off hangers in the closet and folded them.
This one is all the plain tees and my Nats gear.
This one is all the printed tees.
At this point, my concern is wrinkles. If they’re a hot mess, I’ll rethink this file folding situation. If not, BOOM baby! I’ve got three drawers and some hanging tees all in two drawers.
I’m considering doing my sleeping tees and jammie pants next…we’ll see.
In other news, we’re looking at less than a month until Thing 1 and her family move to this house! I’m ready for unrestricted access to that baby girl! Of course, she’s going to exhaust me and I’ll be like, Birdie’s over it, go tell your Mama. But to be able to love her whenever either of us wants. And to watch her do all the weirdo baby things as she does them? Priceless!
I’m excited to meal plan and do food things with Thing 1. I’m super eager for her to bake for me. That girl is the queen of baking!
We talked today about her anxiety about me and her dogs. I’m honestly super chill about the concept of three dogs in this house. I mean, that may change, but instead of me having a huge temper fit when I’m at the end of my rope, we’ll discuss and problem solve anything as needed. She seemed more relaxed after we talked. Yay!
Had delicious (appropriately social distanced) lunch on the porch with Nora Wednesday. She brought Greek food. Because she rocks! Y’all I do love me some porch life!
Yesterday, I went grocery shopping and finally went to get a pedicure. I know. I know. It was frivolous, but I DGAF! I needed to do that for me. Now I have feet as soft as a baby’s bottom and adorably peachy-pink nails. My feet and I are content! (mind ya business again)
Today I’m painting a crib for Baby K to put her dollies in.
It was mine when I was a little girl, and Thing 1 and Thing 2 used it when they were little. Now it’ll belong to Baby K. I’m nearly finished with all the painting at this point. I’ll share the process in it’s own post.
I also need to go to the liquor store. That seems almost more frivolous than getting a pedi. But I took vodka with me to Thing 1’s and accidentally left it there…twice! So while we have wine and bubbly, summertime beer, and bourbon, also a bit of tequila, we have no vodka.
I’d like to make vodka lemonade with some of my porch grown basil.
We do have gin and fresh limes, so I could make gimlets. Oh! I’ve got that mint growing on the porch, I could make a south side…hmmm…maybe I’ll go to the liquor store next week?
What’s funny is I’m not even hankering a cocktail. I just want to be able to do what I want when I decide I want one.
This is YBW’s last week working from home.
His company finally moved into the office that’s right near the house we want to buy. The office space is bigger so the entire team can be in the same physical space while being appropriately distanced.
I can hear him watching Trevor Noah right now, so I don’t guess he’s working all that hard at the moment. I’m not calling him out or anything, I’m just sort of acknowledging that there’s not really much he can do at home. It also means I can go in there and see if he wants to hang out with me with probable success!
And that’s what’s up around here.
Hope all y’all are content in your week.
The first time I heard this song I was like, um…no.
The second time I heard this song I was like, well, maybe.
The third time I heard this song I was like, *nods head* hmm…OK.
The fourth time I heard this song I was like, I kinda dig this.
The fifth time I heard this song I was like, it’s going to be a tune for Tuesday just so I can hear what everybody else thinks about it.
This is Check Your Phone by Cheap Cuts featuring Pete Wentz.
I’m curious to know what y’all think.
I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.
On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.
I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.
When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.
I feel like Sirius Black.
How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.
I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.
I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.
My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.
This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.
This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.
I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.
I absolutely adore this Killers song, y’all.
I especially love that Lindsey Buckingham plays on it!
Check out his insta post:
This is Caution. Let me know what you think.
This is not a very Roby song, but I find myself starting to love it.
This is AWOLNATION featuring Alex Ebert.
Check out Mayday!!! Fiesta Fever and let me know what you think!
Y’all, my husband is a precious man.
I mean a truly precious man.
When he asked about my day and I told him I was feeling a way (mood) he began suggesting things he could do to help. From providing me with things to keep me occupied, (things he knew I didn’t really want to do) to coming up with things he could do to be helpful.
When I told him I appreciate him trying to help make it better, but I didn’t need him to fix it. He told me knew that, but he wants to help fix it because he loves me. And I honestly couldn’t argue with that.
We talked about me going to Thing 1’s. He inquired about girlie hotel weekend with Thing 2. She’s on the way regardless of which direction I’m heading.
This man is over here like, I can’t make it better for you, but if being with one or both of your girls will, I can make that happen.
He’s been very clear during the pandemic about how he understands his life is much more normal than most of the rest of us. He goes to work every day every other week, so those weeks feel normal. He gets out. He sees people. He gets do do the work he loves doing.
And I know how lucky we are!
We aren’t worried about how to pay the mortgage, or feed ourselves, or whether or not there’s enough loo paper.
We don’t have little kids at home who need to stay safe and continue to be educated.
We don’t have elderly parents to worry about.
Our kids are safe and healthy.
I’m quick to get frustrated.
And my husband often bears the brunt of that. I mean, sometimes he’s part of the situation, sometimes he’s just in the line of fire. But I hope he really understands how precious he is to me.
We had a conversation over the weekend in which I shared my concern that he never hears the good stuff. That he only hears negativity and criticism. I suggested that predated me. I’m not saying that I can’t be critical, because I can.
I’m hopeful he’s listening more for the good stuff.
My feels for this man are deep and wide.
We were meant to find each other in this life, but only when we were truly ready to accept the other with an open heart.
I waited my whole life for YBW.
He was worth the wait.
He told me “I think I’m falling in love with you.” the first time we were in the same physical space after dating over the phone and email for a couple of months. The smartest thing I ever did was decide to trust him.
His love and his kindness are without measure.
His desire to do all he can for the people he loves is bigger than he is.
His sense of humor is twisted and kind of gross, yet he continues to amuse me.
He’s creepy and weird but it somehow compliments my own creepy weirdness.
He has loved me though the last ten years with a kind and playful heart.
I am grateful for his willingness to fix my problems even when I don’t need him to.
Him simply being him eased my anxious heart and helped me feel more calm and settled.
I am grateful to feel safe in his love.
It’s Wednesday and I’m trying to create a plan for my day…
Only I’ve literally done all the ‘things’.
Nothing left to sort or organize. Nothing to prep. Nothing to engage me creatively.
Other than laundry and food prep, I have no tasks or projects to keep me occupied. And truth be told, I don’t really care about food right now.
I’m reading, but even that’s not enough. I find myself finishing a chapter or two and looking around for something else to do.
Writing is tricky as I’m not sure what to say that doesn’t sound whiny AF.
Monday my big event was going over Michaels for a curbside pick up. Driving with the windows down and the beautiful sunny breeze was excellent. I almost just kept driving. Only I didn’t put on shoes before I left since I knew I wouldn’t have to get out of my car and it felt a bit ridiculous to be out and about without shoes, what if something happened and I had to walk?
Tuesday I stripped and remade the bed, laundered and folded sheets and towels. I skipped laundry day Friday because I had an appointment with the acupuncturist. So I also did clothes instead of just linens.
Even laundry didn’t help me perk up. Though it is nice to have everything clean.
I’m in a mood.
No, I am a mood.
I’m not entirely sad.
I’m not entirely angry.
I’m sure as fuck not content.
I’m tired. But not the kind of tired a good night’s rest alleviates. I’m the kind of tired that seeps into your bones and fills the very marrow.
And tired isn’t quite the right word either.
I’m searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on…
Something to keep my brain and body occupied in a positive way.
Perhaps I should go down to Thing 1’s and help her pack…of course making that trip twice in two months is over the top…at least it would give me something to do. And I could see that delightful fat baby!
That drive though…
Perhaps a quickie trip to see Thing 2? We could do a girlie hotel weekend! Are hotels even open?
I keep thinking inspiration will arrive via roundhouse kick to my soul…
So far, so nothing.
I’ve sworn off social media for a while. I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t stand how people claim to be woke then say bullshit like all lives matter.
Of-fucking-course all lives matter, but the only people dying in the streets are black people. So yes! Black lives are what matter right now.
I will never understand what it’s like to be a black person or other person of color in America, but by God, I am paying attention!
I’m grouchy.
I’m antsy.
I’m chock full of nervous energy with nothing productive to pour it into.
I am frustrated.
I am tired.
But above all, I am hopeful.
I keep looking for the silver lining. For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. For the muses to show up and dazzle me.
Alas…here I sit. Writing about being a mood.
I appreciate your patience.
I’ve never been shy about expressing my love for The Kills. In fact, they are one of my all time favorite bands.
Well, Alison Mosshart just put out this single and I’m kinda digging it.
I know what it’s like to be poor in America.
And I mean poor. The kind of poor in which a family is chronically on the verge of homelessness.
I know what it’s like to be a woman in America.
A place in which my rights to my own bodily autonomy hang by a thread. A place where I remain constantly vigilant whenever and wherever I am out in the world.
I understand being fearful.
I understand being hungry.
I understand feeling my effort to improve my life falling consistently short.
But even though I know these situations, I cannot fathom the depth of feelings they would bring if I was a person of color instead of a white woman.
I understand grief. I understand trauma. I know how hard it is to experience these huge feelings.
I understand the need for peaceful protest. My God, I understand the need for non-peaceful protest.
I find myself working so hard to understand how deep and wide is the pool of fear and grief that causes people to destroy their homes and businesses. That the only way to express that desperate depth of feeling is to lash out at your own neighborhoods.
I have no way of understanding the endless generational racial trauma constantly pounding down on people of color. That level of pain. That constant barrage of fear and grief and killing.
No human should be made to live like that!
What is going on in America is frightening!
The status quo is sick and wrong! It needs to change!
I have so many feels and no where to go with them.
I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what to do.
But I have to try!
I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.
I am fearful of doing the wrong thing.
I am fearful that by doing the wrong thing, I’ll contribute to making the situation worse.
I am fearful that by doing nothing to avoid doing the wrong thing I am actively making the situation worse.
Because I’m a white woman, I feel like my voice can be easily misconstrued as disingenuous and I feel unsure about speaking out. However, I realize my silence is me being complicit.
I feel like my duty is to listen and learn as much as I can.
I feel like my duty is to support those who need it.
I feel like my duty is to help educate people. Especially people like me who won’t ever have to worry because of the color of their skin.
We are one human family.
I am resolved learn how to be a true ally.
I may stumble and make things temporarily worse. But I am committed to doing what is right. I am working toward being a true member of this human family.
therobynbirdsnest 