Adventures In DIY: Hardwood Floor Before and After

Those 3 letters, D, I & Y make any job seem reasonable.  So when the sticker shock of hardwood flooring plus installation smacked us in the face, we decided doing it ourselves would be the smart thing to do.  So we called my dad, put on our knee pads and went to work.  Here are the before and afters

 

 

 

 

We ripped up all the carpet, tack strips and staples first...and you can see we started to peel up the kitchen floor but realized it would take some major time so...

 

 

we started in the upstairs hallway 

 

 

then the stairs

 

 

Living room

 

 

then we tackled the kitchen.  The builders glued down cheap hardwood that peeled apart when we tried to pull it up so it took longer than we thought it would.  3 full days to peel it all up and then another day to scrape and smooth out the floors for the new hardwood.

 

 

 

While things were cleared out we decided to update the feel of the room.  I LOVE the beach and wanted that bleached-out driftwood laid back vibe so this grey media console was perfect.  Found it at Haverty's. 

 

We capped off the ends of the staircase...

 

 

 

I roughed up my previously perfectly white picture shelves so that it made sense with the media console

 

This would be considered the dining area...but a play area is more important to us at this juncture of life so we kept it wide open

 

 

 And used the old tv armoire for toy storage

    

 

Our house is pretty neutral throughout so I used some old Martha Stewart paint samples I had in the garage on the front door and laundry door

 

 

This door is constantly smudged and dirty from all the traffic in and out of the garage so the darker color hides a lot of that mess

   

 

This was an old wall hanging my husband and I made that used to look like a patchwork quilt with bright colors...but Carter, my son, and I white washed it and monogramed it  

 

Found these beachy white curtains with citron stitching at target

 

We got rid of our matchy-matchy coffee table, end tables and sofa table and opted for a few smaller mis matched tables.  This one has a lid with storage inside...

And this one can be used like a tv tray.  Found them both at World Market 

 

So glad the floors are down, and while there are STILL small trim projects to be done, it was worth the sweat equity.  However...I don't think we will tackle another one this large for the rest of our existence.

Why Best Friends Are The Best

"Men need women, and women need each other."

As young girls we learn the prestige of being named a "best friend." We learn that its a coveted and honored title and not to be taken lightly. And in my 29 years of life I have come to a deeper understanding of what it means to be a best friend and the blessing of having best friends.
The title "best friend" ,to me, means that at some point, you have accepted one another for who you are. Flaws, hangups, imperfections and all. There is a commonality that bonds you tighter than just a friend. That you are able to see past all of the mess to see the person underneath.  The person that is going through life the only way they know how. Being a best friend means that you care for their well being and root them on no matter their position. That you listen to them, because sometimes, that's all you can do. That you pick up the phone when they call. That you make time for them. That you can count on their honest opinion. That there is a shoulder to cry on. That they know your heart even when you say the most atrocious thing.
The beauty of best friends is that they are probably with you as you grow and change and are probably running the race right beside you. They are your playground buddy, your cafeteria table mate, your pompom sideline partner, your hot off the press drivers license passenger, your sleepover go-to, your late night landline phone call, your first college roommate, your heartbreak eyewitness, your fill in boyfriend, your shopping enabler, your designated driver, your last call reminder, your dance party double, your fashion guru,  your bridesmaid, your first real coworker, your emergency contact, your baby shower hostess, your hospital visitor, your last minute babysitter, your beach chair sidekick, your morning/afternoon/late night rendezvous, your vault of secrets, your stand-in when you've lost the strength to pray, your belly-laugh-till-you-cry instigator, your cranked up to 20 Taylor Swift soprano harmony, your interpreter, your second opinion, your therapist, your emergency last ditch effort parachute, your outside perspective, your backup, your cover up, your no questions asked best friend.
Here's to all my besties who have been with me and beside me and who have helped me accept and love myself for who I am at one point or another. I couldn't have done it as gracefully without you.

Here's To My Twenties...And Why Sisters Are The Best

Talking with a friend recently, I realized that this is indeed my last year as a twenty-something.  Which, obviously the memory sector of my brain will be hit the hardest by age if I'm already forgetting how old I really am.  And the age itself doesn't really bother me.  I refuse to give those silly numbers power, but what does make me gasp is how the time has flown by.  And I have decided that to let anymore time go by without telling the people I care for most how much they mean to me would be wasteful of my last few months as a twenty-somthing. So to celebrate the closing of my second decade on this planet I will be writing about the ones I love who helped me along the way to be the person I am now. After all, the nicest things I say about the people I love most shouldn't just be at their funerals. Life goes by too quickly, and I want the ones I care about to know that they matter to me. And the first lucky winner is ...my sister! So, this one's for you Jenn.

Why Sisters Are The Best
If you are lucky enough to be a girl and also have a sister then you know that it means, whether you like it or not, there is someone on this earth very similar to you, genetically or otherwise. And while that doesn't sound so amazing....let me explain.

Having a sister means that you had another female in the house to go to other than mom. That you had a different but maybe more understanding female perspective on hair or clothes or makeup or boys. It means that there is someone who shares your life point of view. Who grew up with the same parents in the same house living on the same income making things work day in and day out just like you did. It means that even though responsibilities might have fallen differently for each of you, you were probably raised similarly.  With the same foundations. With the same cornerstones. They took the same how-to course in Family as you and inheritly understand your roots. Sisters not only know your back story, they know how you FELT about your story. Because girls major in Feelings by nature. And your sister is the first female, who is not your mother, that you learn to relate to. She is your only classmate in the school of Being A Girl until you are brave enough to find other suitable substitutes.  And if you are as lucky as I was to have an older sister  then you know that you had someone to check you before you wrecked you{rself}. Someone to pull the plug on the bad ideas before they were REALLY bad ideas. Someone to talk you down from the oh so dramatic ledge you worked yourself on to. Someone to provide the first examples of girl power. Someone to push you to think again. Find a better way. Compromise. Share. Accept. Relate. Empathize. Sacrifice. Accept or offer help when needed. And someone to teach you how to love another female through their faults. That giving up and walking away after an argument or disagreement proves to be a lonely option. That a difference in opinion or position doesn't make her better or lesser....it just makes her different. 
Sisters are the best because, if they are anything like my mine, they teach us and in return learn from us, in our earliest years, how to one day be a woman who opens up and shares with other women. How to band together for a common good. How to get past differences and help each other.  How to see past the surface layer, the one we all put on when we leave our homes, and find the true value in each other. How to forgive and accept that we are all women doing the best we can each day. Such valuable lessons in a world where we are tempted daily to do the exact opposite.  So this one goes out to all sisters, "big" and "little" and all of the wonderful in-betweens....and especially to my sister, Jennifer.

Keepin' It Real

So I took a little blogging hiatus for a while.  Refocusing and all that jazz.  And of course, I could wait until my life is a living Pinterest dream to whip up some fancy blog post like I'd planned, but chances are that's a bus I'll be waiting for that never comes. 

Because...let's face it. Kids can be bat$*it crazy sometimes. And it's a miracle and by the grace of God that we Mommies don't go bat$*it crazy right along with them {it's okay if you do. I'm sure the "I took a break with Jesus in the pantry to eat little debbies in the dark" blog post will come soon to explain how I deal with the crazy}.  So who has the time or energy for new exciting projects when your toddler is testing the buoyancy of brand new rolls of toilet paper in the nearest latrine?  No. Not me.

So here we are.  At the corner of I'm Trying & Keepin It Real.  I'm a real mom doin real mom stuff. 

And in light of this new outlook...I need fresh air and sunshine in a bad way {no for realz. I just caught a whiff of the inside of the diaper genie} so we are taking our first camping trip with children.  *insert applause*

Ok...with child. 

Singular.  *it' still okay to applaud*

My amazing and perfectly outrageous 3 year old son, Carter. 

 

Because there is only so much this mom is willing to endure, and the crying screams of an 18month old

 

in my ear as I carry him on my back to the top...and then back down to the bottom of Stone Mountain is not really what I envisioned for myself on this trip.  So us big kids, who are potty trained and a little better suited for the wilderness{ish} are leaving him with the grandparents tomorrow and heading for Stone Mt. Park in GA.

 This place seems a little more like urban camping with things like train rides, laser light shows, carnival games, duck rides, and zip lines...makes my plans of tents, campfire, and hotdogs or s'mores for every meal seem a little lackluster... but we will see how it goes.  If ya want to check it out...here ya go



Lessons Learned: My loving memories of Dorothy

I've often said that one day I will write a book about grandma's life. Although no one would believe half of what I wrote because, if I hadn't heard it from the woman herself, even I wouldn't believe some of the stories she told. Some too awful to imagine, some too sad to bear, and some too outrageous be real. But weaved in and out and throughout her stories and her life is a common thread of strength. Grandma acquired a stubborn steadfast strength that could outlast and outwill anyone or anything. I believe it was this same strength that may have given her the...shall we say...disagreeable side that some knew her to have. I'd be lying if I said she got along with everyone....because she didn't. But as a woman and a mother, I believe that we all do the best that we know to do. And I think she did the best she knew to do. And I also believe that where there is strength, there is something to be learned. So I want to share a few of the things that I have learned from one of the strongest women I know... grandma dot.
I learned that time spent with children is never time wasted. That it may take a little longer to get things done and there may be a mess to clean up...but lessons are learned and memories are made. You see grandma taught me the absolute best way to peel a hardboiled egg. The importance of good penmanship. the advantages of having a great smile. To always look my best when leaving the house...and for her that was a swipe of her favorite raspberry pink lipstick. that a painfully tight french braid after bathtime meant princess worthy waves in my hair the next day. That sparing the rod would inevitably spoil the child and being spoiled was the absolute WORST quality anyone could have. That a frying pan could indeed be used for self defense. that homemade is always better. That the shape of the paintbrush tip was dependent upon the project at hand. That asking nicely can get you just about anything from her sewing room. That fly swatters could be used both for insects and unruly children. She taught me the recipe for a good mud pie and the ingredients to the best make-believe witches brew. she taught me the satisfaction of working hard and giving your best....even when it meant donning rubber gloves to pick up all of the fallen rotten apples from the tree out back. That the best way to clean a potty mouth was with a toothbrush and a bar of soap. That any household chore is made easier with the radio on. That moth balls in the flower beds keep the rodents away...a bb gun is also acceptable. she taught me the importance of honoring a birthday and what it means to a child when you show up to every.single.one. That highschool plays,dance recitals, and cheering from the sideline of football games is always more fun when grandma is in the audience cheering for you right back. That simple things like popsicle sticks, glue and glitter can make a holiday special. That the best way to greet anyone is with a smile and a pat on the back. That you can make a child eat anything, even salmon patties, when they are left at the table alone long enough. That a sense of humor is necessary and that you can snicker your way out of just about anything. That grandma is the 2nd call you make from school when dad doesnt answer and you need to play hookie for the 3rd time that month. That arguing with your elders, especially her, is pointless and obedience is rarely regretted. that a day should never begin without a cup of coffee. That kisses are never too sloppy and hugs are never too tight. That men are ridiculous and it's our job to tell them. But that strong women like us need a man who will tell her no if need be. And that sometimes our families need a strong woman to hold things together when the seams of life wear thin. She taught me that cats are the devil's pet and should be treated as such....especially if they wandered over from a nearby residence. That money won't buy a child's love. That women are almost always stronger than they look and with enough conviction can accomplish just about anything. And that time spent with loved ones around the table talking and laughing and asking questions about their lives lets them know that you care and that they matter to you. And I learned all of those things from her and will miss her because she did just that. I only hope that my children grow to cherish their memories with their grandparents as much as I have cherished my memories with Grandma. And my tears are not tears of sadness. They are tears of respect and love for one of the strongest women I know.

Don't hate me...but I didn't read your last facebook status

Do you ever feel like you're in one of those music videos where the surrounding world is moving at back-breaking speed while you are walking in slow motion?

That's been my life the last few months.  Maybe it's my ever-growing news feed on Facebook.  Maybe it's the hundreds of tweets I don't really read while scrolling through merely trying to reach the top.  Maybe it's the inbox full of bloggy notifications letting me know that everyone is blogging EXCEPT me.  Maybe it's the 9 million instagram pics of people seemingly living a life that I want for myself.  Maybe it's the 16 different unwatched shows that are silently haunting me from my DVR.  Maybe it's the 300 or so pictures on my camera's memory card that have yet to be downloaded.  Maybe it's the overflowing monthly calendar of places to go and obligations to fulfill.  Maybe it's the laundry list of things to do....you know the one you start and successfully cross off a few things only to lose steam and transfer the rest to a whole new list which may or may not, weeks later, still be untouched and pinned to a bulletin board that you walk by hundreds of times a day.  No?  Just me?  *Shrug. Whatevs.

Whatever the cause...some days I feel like I'm driving for the first time on the interstate with two hands on the wheel in the slow lane watching others speed by while multitasking on their smart phones and bluetooth earpieces.  It's taking all I have to focus on the face-to-face encounters with the people that I love most.  It's taking all I have to raise my children and run my home and not end the day with one big headache.  It's taking all I have to connect with God each day in a meaningful way.  And it's taking all I have to fulfill the obligations I've already committed to.  So excuse me while I put the chatter of everything else on hold.  It's not that I don't care that you love Country Outfitter's cowboy boots that they may or may not give away because you "like" their page {has anyone ever REALLY won anything by doing that stuff??} or that I don't enjoy a good crazy cat video, or that I don't want to see your beautiful vacation pictures, or that I think I'm too civilized to watch the latest American Idol Vegas cuts.  It's just that right now....I'm moving in slow motion...so go ahead...Ill catch up later.

A Year Later {Charlie turns 1}

A year ago today, I fell in love with a 3rd Watson boy.

 

My second son Charlie was born and God again made room in my heart for one more.  After having some trouble getting and staying pregnant this go around, my perspective changed a bit, and I have soaked up every minute of his first year.  Seeing how fast Carter grew up also made me realize how fleeting babyhood really is.  So through what seemed like never ending sleepless nights, days when I fought to keep my sanity, and moments when my patience wore thin, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he grows a little more every day.  And if I'm not careful...I'll miss it.  So I've rocked him a little more, cuddled him a little longer, and kept everything baby for as long as possible.  I've been in no hurry to make him walk, talk or do anything remotely toddler...in short, I'm procrastinating.  There's no going back once they find their legs, and I know he'll be walking into a Kindergarten classroom before I know it.  But for now, I'm living one day at a time, finding joy in the little things, and stealing as many kisses as possible from those pudgy baby cheeks. 

He is happy, giggly, and an all around easy baby.

 

For his 1st birthday, I went with everything little man inspired.

Everyone wore their best tie and donned a 'stache before being served desserts and homemade hot cocoa.

 

 

 

 

 

My favorite moment of the night was looking up and seeing everyone giggle and point at each other's mustaches.  Laughing is my favorite thing to do, but honestly I've been too exhausted to do much of it lately.  It was good to be silly for a few moments and laugh with the ones I love.

 

Not to mention this kid.  He tends to light up any room

 

also...he may be a sugar fiend like his mommy

 

 

This birthday wasn't just a milestone for Charlie...it was a milestone for me, too.  I have learned so much this past year.  And for someone who likes to move 100 miles a minute and be perfect at everything, the most important lesson I learned was to stop...and enjoy the crazy messy non perfect moment.  Because those are often the best ones.

Happy Birthday Charlie Joseph