I don’t know why this is so hard for me to admit but it is. Maybe because every time I say I am going to make this or paint that, my boyfriend rolls his eyes and says “ok, baby, ok.” and I know he totally does not believe it and it annoys me. Even though he is probably right. I throw the word procrastinator around with no problem and would probably put it on my business card if my company would allow me. I like to keep people informed. If the deadline is Tuesday, they should know whatever it is will be the last thing I work on on Monday. I am better under pressure. Or at least that is the excuse I have used my whole life.

However, I hate being a half-finisher. I have a head full of ideas at all times and sometimes I even start these little ideas, but almost never finish them. My basement is full of half-started crafts. I have flower pots I painted yellow with the intention of painting something adorable on them and making them into end-of-the-year gifts for my girls’ teachers. They somehow ended up in the basement when I decided I didn’t want to do that anymore. Mainly because Cori’s teacher really irritates me, but that is for another day.

I have mini quilts started, I have scrapbooks started - one that was for my boyfriend of his last youth football season coaching. The season that ended last November. Olivia’s room is still half-painted and the ideas that I have to finish that room are bombarding my brain at all times. Last night I lay in bed thinking about the adorable pendants I would make her to hang on a short awkward wall, out of gorgeous fabric I would buy off Etsy. I don’t even know how to sew. I don’t even own a sewing machine.

These days I can’t even visit Etsy, because I see things and say, Oh I could do that. I think I will do that for so and so for Christmas or paint something similar for so and so for her birthday.

I have a box of thank you cards and a box of birthday cards for my new year’s resolution of sending out birthday cards to family this year. They are still unopened. In fact, the present I bought for my nephew for his birthday is still in a box in my trunk. His birthday was April 15th.

Now I have it in my head that I want to do a homemade only Christmas and make things for the family. That I am going to learn to knit and make scarves and paint beautiful pictures and make thoughtful scrapbooks.

I also tell myself I could craft more if I had a craft space - a space that is dedicated to the craft supplies I have strewn about the house in different colored and shaped totes. I have a walk-in closet that I don’t use so I thought maybe that would be nice and I could clean it out and line the shelves with cute contact paper and have cute little boxes I could label to organize all my things. Yeah, the farthest I got on that project was opening the door to the unused walk-in closet and saying “Eh - tomorrow.”

Maybe the worst was the Sparkbook idea. I got this from a homey type magazine. You take a normal everyday notebook and you decorate it adorably and then use it to keep all your ideas until you get around to doing them. I thought this was a great idea and promptly bought one for each of my girls and myself. I even decorated them. Quite adorably I might add. Not a page one has an idea written on it.

Granted on a daily basis, I work, go home, make supper, clean up supper, help with homework, give baths, do hair, read books, tuck in kids, try to fit in a load of laundry or mop a floor and there is not a whole lot of time for crafting. Oh, I try to make time for the boyfriend too. Oh and I volunteer two days a week. But why on earth do I start all these dagon projects if I know I won’t finish them? Why don’t I have the self control to step away from the glue guns and fabric swatches at Wal-mart?

Is there a half-finisher’s anonymous? If so, I need the number.

I have step one down pat. My name is Mandy and I am a half-finisher.

Thank you. Thankyouverymuch.

In the car this morning on the way from her sisters’ school to her babysitter :: our mommy and me time….Emma is looking out the window and then turns to me quickly and looks at me quite inquisitively and says,

“Mama, when we go to Heaven, is Jesus the cooker for everyone, or does he just take us to eat at restaurants like Papaw?”

I tell ya, kids are so awesome!

Here I am again starting the week with a tearjerker, but if you read this post, you will understand that this story is a bittersweet one, and not all sad. I believe sometimes we can be so hardheaded that the Lord uses others and their stories to teach us something. I have learned alot from this distant family. Watching this video this morning blessed me more than anything I have seen in a very long time. Even if you are not a believer in the true story of Christ, please look into Angie’s eyes in these photos. I see past her smile and into those eyes that are filled with sadness…..but peace. Watch the video and if you need to, go read their story. You will be blessed.

Audrey Caroline Smith - Slideshow

Every day there are children just like yours and mine in impoverished countries that die from PREVENTABLE diseases like Malaria and AIDS. Today at BooMama, she is asking her readers to donate a ONE-TIME, no obligation donation of $10 to buy mosquito nets for children in Uganda. She is urging her readers to donate 50 nets in 50 hours. I know I do not have a large audience, but if just one person that visits this blog, then links to hers and donates, that is one child we could be saving together.

So skip Starbucks today or tell your kids they could maybe wait a week or two for new flip-flops and go save a life already. You can get all the information and donate here: BooMama: The Blawg. 

Some days I get sick of picking up dirty socks and washing dishes at least twice before I go to bed. Then there are days when I am giving the girls a bath and the sun is just setting and it is warm enough to put them to bed in t-shirts. I sometimes go out on the porch just to relax for a moment before finishing my tasks before bed, and I can hear them giggling upstairs through the open window; not quite ready to let go of the day and give in to their exhaustion. I look around and see how even a stranger could stop by and see the evidence of children all around. Some days I get sick of the evidence, and then some days I just look around and see how full these kids make my life and how much I will miss these things when they go away…..

THIS IS HEAVY AND VERY MUCH SELF INDULGENT AND THERAPEUTIC. SISTER, GET A TISSUE.

Dear Tony,

For the past three years, it seems you fell off the face of the planet. At one point I realized I did not even know if you were dead or alive. Some days I still see you. Emma will make a face that reminds me of you or I will pass an old DVD on the shelf at some store and think about how it was your favorite. Last week, I saw a guy buying sardines in the grocery store and I remembered how you would eat those for breakfast with french bread.

Then last Saturday it happened. At first I thought I was a mirage. My mind playing tricks on me. But there you were. Riding in the back of a truck with a bandanna on your head. You were dirty from what I can assume is a job working for your dad or uncle. I did not wave. I did not attempt to make any kind of contact with you. Mostly I just held my breath and prayed to sweet Jesus that one of the girls would not recognize you. My stomach did back flips and I felt nervous.

For the rest of the day I thought about you. I think of you sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.

However, I never miss you. I never wish you were back in our lives. I have never thought your halfhearted attempt at fatherhood was good enough for my girls.

But sometimes I will be taking out the garbage or mowing the grass or putting money into a sock so that the next payday I can add to it to buy shoes or new summer clothes for our kids and I get angry with you. I think about all the things I am doing because you simply could not be a man.

Sometimes I look at my kids at the park or at karate practice and I feel sorry for them. I feel pity that they do not have a dad there to watch them like the other little girls.

Sometimes I look at my kids and I feel guilt. I feel guilty that I chose the man I chose to be their father and he let us all down. I blame myself.

And then I have moments of clarity like now and I think, I am not to blame and if anyone should be pitied it is you. You are missing out on the lives of three smart, beautiful, lively, creative, strong little girls.

They do miss you and I let them. I often thank God you did not stay around long enough for them to get to know the real you. What they do remember of you are good things and I feel content with leaving it that way.

I do this for them, not you.

When you walked from our lives I felt more for the girls than I did myself. I cried for them and I prayed for them. But someone somewhere was praying for me. Someone somewhere was praying that God would send a man to me and these little girls.

He has arrived. And I am giving your children to him.

I use to wonder if they would miss you on their wedding day. If they would wish you were there to walk them down the aisle. My new prayer is that this man is here to stay and your honored spot at their wedding will be taken over.

He has taken over every other spot in their lives and he does it as a volunteer, getting paid only in love.

He calls them and kisses them and tells them he loves them.

He taught Emma to throw a baseball and he taught Cori to ride a bike with no training wheels.

He is teaching Olivia the importance of being a lady and respecting authority. He checks report cards and kisses boo-boos.

He is present at their birthday parties.

He wraps the presents he buys them for Christmas and he was their very first valentine.

But more importantly, I believe deep in my heart, that no matter what happens, he will be there to comfort them after their first heartbreak and he will pick them up at the movies. He will attend soccer games and take pictures before prom. He will help fill out college applications.

He will walk them down the aisle.

He is the father you chose not to be and I thank you. For all things there is a reason. The reason you left and shattered my world led to the reason this man found us.

From today on I choose to believe that leaving the way you did was the nicest thing you ever did for me and our daughters.

From today on I choose to feel sorry for you, because believe me when I say:: You lose.

Love,

Mandy

The last two days have been so unbelievably wonderful that I don’t even know where to begin. As I have mentioned, oh a million times, my boyfriend is a chef. The last few days he has had some chefly type events to attend, and we have had such a wonderful time together.

First was the dinner at the Westin Hotel on Monday night. The Menus were the live performance. I am not much of a Menus fan, but they were very good. We got dressed up and made it downtown as the sun was setting. The party was going pretty strong when we got there. Two too many glasses of wine later we headed home.

Yesterday was the big shin-dig and the part I was looking the most forward to. One of his largest purveryors was having a food show at the convention center. I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting, but it was way beyond what I thought it would be. There were beautifully decorated booths as far as the eye could see. Oh, the best part? There were samples. Large samples. At.every.stinkin.booth. By the time we got ready to leave, I was actually tired of eating. I ate one of everything under the sun. Twice.

Apparently one thing I should not have eaten was the Lobster. And the lobster bisque and the crab and lobster stuffed tilapia. Seems I am a tad bit allergic to lobster. And by tad bit, I mean I am now covered head to toe in big red blotchy and very itchy hives. My throat feels a little like it is closing up and I look like this:

Ok, I took pictures and even uploaded them until I realized I was about to post nasty hive pictures of myself. On the internet. So I didn’t. But believe me. It is ugly and itchy and red and blotchy and itchy. and itchy. Did I mention they itch?

So now I know what not to eat at the next food show. And by the next food show, I mean every food show he is invited to from now until the end of time. There is something so right about all that free food under one roof.

I promised myself I would not talk about the polygamist sect controversy on this blog because I really just don’t want to get into a big debate (you know since I have so many readers) but I read this article this morning and it angered me and made me so unbelievably sad. I realize the people of this ranch should enjoy the freedom of religion like the rest of us, but as a mother of three sweet girls, I ask myself, “Could I ever watch my child carry the burden of a pregnancy and all the emotions that go with it, and more importantly go through labor at the age of thirteen?” Unfortunately, mistakes are made in this country everyday and young girls have babies way before they should (ahem, present company very much included, Read:: I was way too young to be having babies when I was having babies), but to knowingly subject your daughter to the risk seems so heartbreaking to me. I do not think I could handle it.

Dear Lady in the Grocery Store, or the Mall, or the line at the Pharmacy,

I realize you are of an older generation and sometimes change is hard. Especially when it involves race relations, which we all know is a toughy. I am sure seeing a white lady with brown kids can be a little perplexing and sometimes some of  your silly questions can even be validated. Like are my kids adopted. That one I can give you I suppose. My youngest two pretty much look nothing like me and they are well, brown. But the questions that are really none of your business anyway like “Are you married?” and then the one that always follows when I say no, “Do they all have the same dad?”, um, that’s a little much. I apologize if you ask me these questions on a bad day when I may answer by saying “I dunno, the UPS man just dropped them off one day” or “Why yes they do, have you ever heard of Denzel Washington?”

I am not near as nice when the really silly questions come out like “Is that her natural hair color?” (my red head) or “Is her hair that curly naturally?” so try to avoid those. I once convinced a lady at the playland at the mall that I paid $200 every 6 weeks to have their hair permed and professionally colored. They were 2,3, and 4 at the time. She nodded along and then made a beeline for her Canasta meeting to tell everyone all about the crazy white lady at the mall.   

I can also cut some slack on the truly sympathetic questions like “How on earth do you keep it all together raisin’ those girls without a husband?” to which I can usually just say “Easy - I just don’t keep it all together” and then point to my mismatched socks and unbrushed hair.

My new favorite is the one I was asked when we were at the dentist last. I mentioned to the girls that we needed to get moving so we could get Emma to therapy on time; an appointment that was just 20 minutes away. After brazenly asking me what she went to therapy for, I answered “um, she sees a therapist for her ADHD.” “Oh you really believe in that ADHD stuff?”

Yeah, don’t ever think it is okay to ask these kinds of questions really. If you don’t believe in ADHD I would be delighted to invite you to my house at midnight when she is so worked up and fidgety she can’t close her eyes when it is clear she is exhausted. Those nights are always a blast.

So I see that some aspects of my life can seem a little curious and just sometimes you feel like you must ask the question that is burning in your mind. But do me a favor, don’t ask me.

But lady from the gas station this morning, if you are reading this, questions like “Aren’t they just the cutest things?” are fine. Because why yes, yes they are and thank you for noticing.

Love,

Mandy

I promise I am not getting paid for this post, though I wish I were. Because if I were, I would spent every red cent at the very site I was promoting. Just found it by way of another blog and I could not send it to my favorites file fast enough. Some of their stuff is a little tongue-and-cheek (or is it tongue-in-cheek?) and you may not want to check out the site with your 12 year old son looking over your shoulder. (*ahem* - sister that was for you. Isaac go somewhere else for a sec. love ya.) It is WishingFish.com and their stuff is completely adorable and sometimes funny. But mostly just AWESOME!

I mean, check this baby out…. I have subconciously been wishing for this my whole life. Nothing more disappointing than settling for a middle brownie when all the chewy corner brownies have already been confiscated by the short people in my house. I give you - ok - WishingFish gives you:

The All Corner Brownie Pan

Pure genius I tell you. Pure genius.

And then there are the cutest stinking plates in history that someone that reads this blog could just so happen to mention to our mother that I love and remind her I have a birthday in June and maybe slip her the link in her next email. Just sayin.

 or  or

They would be hung on the wall of course. I mean, they are stinkin cute right? Right. (For my slow friends: that is 3 different sets - all equally loveable)

I know this seems a little impractical now, but the 14 year old in me so wants to buy this and put it on my desk for when I am doing homework paying bills and I just need a little snacky snack.

Not that a coaster has ever been thought about being used in my house, these little puppies are awesome. I may even consider using coasters if I had them. Who am I kidding? I would probably never let anyone use them. But they’re awful purty to look it.

Wonder if they would be as pretty with a Princess straw cup on top or one of the various McDonald’s and Arby’s cups we use for drinking in our house? Hmm. Maybe not.

And my all time favorite is this little puppy. What I wouldn’t give to has this and actually be able to use it without being fired.

It’s a stamp and it is awesome. And if I could use it, I would be out of ink by 3:15pm on day of receipt.

So now you know what to get me for Christmas. Good day.

(not sure why I just said Good day. we’ll let that one pass.)

My friend Christine has started a Monthly Contest at her blog Are We There Yet, Mom. This month doesn’t have a theme, so I entered a picture of Olivia I took recently. I edited it a little at Picnik and did a cool “posterize” edit on it. I like how it turned out and how it displays her sweet smile and bright eyes.

I don’t post pictures of my niece or nephews very often because my sister has internet privacy paranoia in the worst way, but this must be shared and melted over by the masses.

Yesterday was my nephew’s 12th birthday. His younger brother Isaiah wanted to do something special for him so he decided to make him a shelf for his room. A few weeks ago he broke the blades on his jigsaw so he asked Isaac if he could borrow his for his special surprise.

Well, Isaac said no.

So instead of pouting and saying “Fine,  you ain’t gettin nothin then” which is exactly what I would have told my sister when I was 7, he set about his task anyway.

He made his brother that shelf he envisioned.

And he cut the pieces of of wood with his handsaw. By hand. I know the term handsaw pretty much explains he used his hands, but I felt the need to emphasize.

This sweet little boy cut wood by hand to make a shelf for the big brother that would not let him borrow his jigsaw. And not just any shelf. A shelf he sweetly fastened nails to so that this shelf also became a dual-purpose hat rack/shelf. And he countersunk the screws. I have no idea what that means, but I assure it was very sweet of him. Because he is the sweetest. boy. ever.

And he is also a super-secret spy, by the way. Just sayin.

I told the girls about the Earth Day Art Auction and just as I suspected, they were definitely game. Before I got all the details out of my mouth, they were running in three different directions gathering paint and brushes and markers and crayons.

They sat down and got right to work. Emma and Cori skipped all the planning and debating and got started right away.

Olivia likes to do a little more planning…

A little more erasing and redrawing…

Corina tends to get very frustrated by her lack of planning, but of course not enough to actually start planning. She just jumps in with both feet, and then gets completely annoyed by a circle that isn’t exactly round or colors that creep from the lines. I cannot get her to accept the fact that art is about expression and not perfection. A little much for a seven year old I suppose. And she’s left handed, which means she right brained or warm hearted or going to shake hands with someone important or something or other.

So Cori continued to color and then crumble many pieces of paper before she tried to give up alltogether and stomp her way to her room.

But her baby sister said a prayer for her and asked Jesus to show her sister that practice makes perfect and to give her the patience to try again.

Go ahead and pick your heart up and put it back in your chest. I’ll wait.

The girls fervently worked on their paintings for over an hour and peace reigned in our kitchen for the evening. When dinner was finished they laid their paintings to the side to dry for tonight’s big finishes.

And then? Then they cleaned up the whole mess by themselves without being asked. Art is magic and I am so in love with watching my kids create it.

 I love Pottery Barn. Have always loved Pottery Barn. Also, I love PB kids and PB Teen. I started to get a little panicky today that maybe Olivia’s room was a little too babyish and I needed to big-girl it up a little bit before the birds and flowers lead to painted stuffed teddy bears in a futile attempt to keep her my little baby forever. So I checked out PB Teen to get some ideas on things I could do myself for a fraction of the price. A very large fraction.

As soon as I entered www.PBTeen.com into my web browser, up comes this atrocity.

I mean really? The only reason I could ever, ever, ever think this is a good idea were if for some horrible reason my child was bedridden, but you know, still there are far too many books and coloring books on the planet to justify even that.

Ever see that episode where Lizzie McGuire’s little brother tries to invent a chair that does everything for him? It pours his drinks, has a radio installed in the side, does his homework….yeah, you see where I am going with this.

The Bed with the TV in it: Helping Your Child Excel at Laziness!
Every parent’s dream!

When we moved into our home three years ago, I promised Liv we would do something fun and cool to her room. Up until two days ago it was a small room with beige walls and white ceiling and trim. Not the funnest room for an eight year old. It was also wall to wall furniture. Getting bunkbeds at the time seemed like a great idea. Although necessary for Cori and Emma since they share a room, not so much for Liv. I don’t believe she has ever stepped foot on the top bunk of her bed. However, she did use her desk on the side daily. Because her room was so crowded with furniture she had a hard time even fitting a chair back behind her desk. So I decided to take the bunkbeds apart and take the extra bunk to the basement out of the way. Ok so it is still sitting in the hallway in 52 pieces, but I do have intentions of getting it to the basement and out of the way.

I also started painting in Liv’s room as I mentioned before. I learned last night that by doing this only an hour or so at a time, I may not be finished until late May sometime, but I want to chronicle the process. Last night, while the girls were painting in the kitchen, I snuck upstairs to Liv’s room to get some work done.

The current state of Liv’s room with two coats of white on the walls and ceiling.

My intention (there’s that word again) was to put another coat of white on the largest wall where her desk will go and then touch up some spots around the room. But see the artist in me knew there were small quarts of wonderful colors just sitting in my closet waiting to be cracked open and used….so I just could not resist it any longer. I got a little ahead of myself and I got those colors out. At first it was just the green. The green for the trim and the window casings and door frames.

So I got two coats on most of the trim and window casing. But then I remembered the blue. And I just wanted to look at. To, you know, remember what color blue it was exactly.

Nice huh?

But see, once I saw that beautiful blue, I just keep imagining how awesome the clouds were gonna look on those stark white walls in this amazing shade of blue. And then, once I had clouds, I just kept imagining this cute little bird sitting on a cute little branch. But branches are brown, so I had to crack open the brown.

And then I figured once I had the brown and the blue and the green open, I might as well break out the yellow and the orange. And before you know it, there were things growing everywhere.

Stay tuned, I have a feeling this is going to get out of control… Tonight I open the pink and purple. I know -I’m dangerous.