Bibles & Batteries

I'm having a bit of a decorator meltdown at the moment.  Too much Design Star, too many Room Crasher reruns, too many awesome diy blogs!!!  They are killing my joy, people!

Then I find the book I desperately needed at the moment called, "We're Just Like You, Only Prettier" by Celia Rivenbark.  If you are craft-challenged, have ever felt guilty for not finishing a home project (like half of your backyard fence is stained, but the other not - for the last 2 years), or have ever fed your child a pack of Smarties for a snack in a pinch because its the only thing you could find in your purse, then go... no run and go get this book.

You will laugh your head off until you are crying and can't finish reading a sentence out loud to your husband.  I could have written this book, the stories are so right on.

But back to my little meltdown this weekend.  My attempts at making my home look anything like some of the blogs I read has been little more than hysterical.  And I don't mean in a funny way.  I am content to let stuff go and just have the house relatively clean, laundry mostly under control, and kids happy by spending time with them.  And then, out of no where, the little decorator monster comes creeping out. 

All of a sudden, the kitchen and dining room that I was just fine with, is now the enemy.  I must have a make-shift entryway BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS!  All of a sudden this self-imposed deadline is waking me up at night and I am rushing to my laptop to search on how to make an entryway out of a broken chair and a wire cart (the two items I have in excess at the moment).  It SHOULD be easy.  Any normal blogging mama can tackle this with some spray paint and bakers twine while a homemade pie cooks in the oven and the kids make sun catchers at the craft table and sing Jesus Loves Me in perfect harmony.

But not this blogging mama.  I resort to getting weepy on the phone with my poor husband who is currently fighting the economy and tonsillitis, but I want to know what his thoughts are on driving giant screws in to the wall for hooks to hang up book bags that won't be in existence for another month.  (Its a wonder he is still married to me, for Pete's sakes.  Good thing I'm cute in an unconventional way and am known to whip up some mashed potatoes once in a blue moon.  Ok, so they are Bob Evans from the fridge section, but still!)

I don't know what gets into me.  So I proceeded to make this huge list, at the suggestion of my baby sister, of all the projects I wanted to tackle in the house.  This list has potential to motivate me and as I start with the smallest thing and mark it off, I will feel accomplished and stress free.

Again, I'm positive this would work for a normal human being.  However, this list encouraged the monster to critically eye each area of scratched paint, each hole in the drywall I made during the last decorator meltdown when I redid the upstairs bath and didn't realize the 1986 builders of my humble abode cemented the mirror to the wall.  As I walked around with my list and noted each crack, each color faux pas, each mismatched piece of furniture, I fed the monster more and more.  Finally I collapse into a heap on the couch with a box of tissues, wondering what I am going to do if I can't find a letter "E" to bedazzle and put on the mantle.

In comes husband/rescuer/my rock/reality slap from my heavenly father, stage left.

My husband sacrifices an entire Saturday with me and the kids, including parent watching at the west end hair salon that is just for kids (although we have seen some parents hop up in the little mini chair to get a trim), and a birthday party at Chick Fil-A with some good friends and kids, to clean out the landscaping in both the front and backyard (on my list), vacuum, declutter, clean the toy table and help move around the kitchen to make a place for my decidedly necessary entryway.

All this, while his wife just checks off more complaints.  How awful is that???

I don't know why the ugly decorator monster visits from time to time.  I believe it has something to do with this sinful nature I still walk around with and constantly have to ask God to come in and sweep out with the dust pan.

But my hubby is just too sweet to me.  He will clean out the cabinet so I have room to put the bibles and batteries while at the same time telling me how silly I sound and helping me defeat the monster one more time.

Thank the Lord he brings me a partner in life to keep me on the path we want for our family.

And that path has nothing to do with spray paint and bakers twine and has a lot to do with tickle fights and swimming in our backyard pool.