tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56826909934799622602014-10-02T21:49:54.152-05:00Black And White And Loved All OverEllen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.comBlogger449125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-1603004725170947692014-10-01T12:56:00.000-05:002014-10-01T13:10:46.488-05:00Before & After We Cut a Doorway in a Wall And Doubled Our Living Room <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Longest I've ever gone without blogging? Nearly three months. I think so. Been working my tail off and, also, enjoying summer. But I'm back with a good icebreaker--probably our biggest renovation to date. Essentially, we doubled the size of our living room and made our house feel bigger, airier, sunnier, and certainly more functional for us. The renovation happened a few months ago now, but I've been having fun all this time tweaking things and creating fun new nooks. Also, trolling Craiglist for the perfect petite midcentury sofa to go in what we now call the "music room," since it is home to Nekos' zillions of records.<br /><br />Our friend T.J., who is also the realtor who sold us our house, suggested to me about six months ago that we cut a doorway in the wall behind our couch. We had just moved Tessa and Livvy into the same bedroom upstairs, and Tessa's old bedroom downstairs (behind the wall the couch was against) was pretty much useless to us. Plus, we were craving more space for dance parties and dinner parties and family hangs. Being a realtor, T.J. was sensitive to the notion that we wouldn't want to lose a bedroom and thus decrease the value of our house, so he said we should just cut a door in the wall instead of knocking down the wall entirely. That way, when it's time for us to sell one day we can just install french doors and call it a bedroom. Plus we still have three bedrooms, so once the girls decide they're done with sharing a room, we can separate them. Anyway, T.J.'s suggestion felt like a revelation, as it would be a relatively easy and hopefully inexpensive way to totally change the feel of our house.<br /><br />Here's what our little living room looked like before. We live in a 1926 bungalow so the rooms are all <strike>small</strike> cozy.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t-cEv0tLo34/VCwn5pNOAjI/AAAAAAAAL2E/U335OZVuv1g/s1600/Living%2Broom%2Bbefore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t-cEv0tLo34/VCwn5pNOAjI/AAAAAAAAL2E/U335OZVuv1g/s1600/Living%2Broom%2Bbefore.jpg" height="479" width="640" /></a></div><br />On the opposite wall is our mantle, which had our TV hanging over it--blegh. Our front door is just to the right.<br /><br />Here's one last look at the untouched wall, right before demo:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I_61XMJhY4M/VCwoFC8_LqI/AAAAAAAAL2M/X0LpZvbqn7c/s1600/one%2Blast%2Blook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I_61XMJhY4M/VCwoFC8_LqI/AAAAAAAAL2M/X0LpZvbqn7c/s1600/one%2Blast%2Blook.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's the demo process. This guy estimated that labor and materials would cost around $500. It cost $1,700 total. Is this just par for the course with subcontractor people or what? I literally had to tell him, "Uh, I don't have that much money. I can pay you half now, half next week?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHNLqKSmQaY/VCwo0J7WqII/AAAAAAAAL2U/j1vOMEIRUiA/s1600/demo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHNLqKSmQaY/VCwo0J7WqII/AAAAAAAAL2U/j1vOMEIRUiA/s1600/demo.png" height="422" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, the work itself was really solid. He did an awesome job of recreating a historical doorway so that it perfectly matches the existing doors. And he said this demo part took much longer than he anticipated since the walls were like a fortress. It took him and another guy the better part of a day to clear away all the wood and concrete between these two rooms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Afterwards, Tessa and Livvy and I couldn't quite believe it. It didn't look or feel like our house, as we could now see from room to room and the girls can run in a circle now through the rooms. Would you believe I had all of this done while Nekos was out of town? And the mess? It was profound. Dust like you wouldn't believe. But totally worth it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NspyJ-hNgoI/VCwpnVRlCdI/AAAAAAAAL2g/x9kOykd1Baw/s1600/cut%2Bopen%2Bdoorway.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NspyJ-hNgoI/VCwpnVRlCdI/AAAAAAAAL2g/x9kOykd1Baw/s1600/cut%2Bopen%2Bdoorway.png" height="422" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before I show y'all the finished photos, here's one last mini-makeover I did with the fireplace. I painted the ugly pink-ish tile the same gray as our kitchen cabinets. And after patching the wall where the TV used to hang above the mantel, I painted it "Alabaster" (Sherwin Williams), just to brighten things up, though I still love the sky blue that the rest of this room is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-urSNKd_fQ9w/VCwqR_PNM3I/AAAAAAAAL2o/NirXZXFyYJ4/s1600/before%2Band%2Bafter%2Bfireplace.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-urSNKd_fQ9w/VCwqR_PNM3I/AAAAAAAAL2o/NirXZXFyYJ4/s1600/before%2Band%2Bafter%2Bfireplace.png" height="452" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And let me back up a minute. The very first thing I did, before any demo, is to paint <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2012/09/tessa-jeans-new-room.html">Tessa's old bedroom</a> (our new living room). It was a sunny yellow; now it's "<a href="http://www.benjaminmoore.com/en-us/paint-color/wickhamgray">Wickham Gray</a>" (a watery blue-gray) by Benjamin Moore. The deeper blue in the "music room" is "Salty Tear" by Behr. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So here's the new view from our front door:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fljJcoYnrxs/VCw1qlmeBxI/AAAAAAAAL3I/vj5joonHq94/s1600/from%2Bfront%2Bdoor.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fljJcoYnrxs/VCw1qlmeBxI/AAAAAAAAL3I/vj5joonHq94/s1600/from%2Bfront%2Bdoor.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5d0DXB_IoyA/VCw14FMRvCI/AAAAAAAAL4Y/9KIZ5aFRXdE/s1600/from%2Bfront%2Bdoor%2B2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5d0DXB_IoyA/VCw14FMRvCI/AAAAAAAAL4Y/9KIZ5aFRXdE/s1600/from%2Bfront%2Bdoor%2B2.png" height="418" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's looking into the new living room:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qwRhry74HxA/VCw1vTF17qI/AAAAAAAAL34/WAhQILD3ckw/s1600/view%2Binto%2Bnew%2Bliving%2Broom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qwRhry74HxA/VCw1vTF17qI/AAAAAAAAL34/WAhQILD3ckw/s1600/view%2Binto%2Bnew%2Bliving%2Broom.png" height="422" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvHCt1B22sw/VCw3-Ve-cCI/AAAAAAAAL40/3R3F9Y7AAUc/s1600/nook2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RvHCt1B22sw/VCw3-Ve-cCI/AAAAAAAAL40/3R3F9Y7AAUc/s1600/nook2.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the new, TV-less mantel, which has been so fun to decorate:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MAHVAiMeOok/VCw9NjpcYiI/AAAAAAAAL5c/X_SDofz3as0/s1600/mantel%2B3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MAHVAiMeOok/VCw9NjpcYiI/AAAAAAAAL5c/X_SDofz3as0/s1600/mantel%2B3.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I am loving this sailboat my mama got me for my birthday last month:<br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2q3es580MiA/VCw1uocmsOI/AAAAAAAAL3w/IDw71ymRgEU/s1600/sailboat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2q3es580MiA/VCw1uocmsOI/AAAAAAAAL3w/IDw71ymRgEU/s1600/sailboat.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jfn4yOWAmIw/VCw7UkpCWlI/AAAAAAAAL5M/j0Rbb0ZnnXk/s1600/mantel2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jfn4yOWAmIw/VCw7UkpCWlI/AAAAAAAAL5M/j0Rbb0ZnnXk/s1600/mantel2.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br />After this renovation, we realized we had basically no furniture to go in our old living room, so I found this sweet midcentury piece of ass on Craiglist. We adore it, and it is so comfortable.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tn1QL41U6Ok/VCw-EB4cH7I/AAAAAAAAL5s/t1GAMj1yBEc/s1600/couch.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tn1QL41U6Ok/VCw-EB4cH7I/AAAAAAAAL5s/t1GAMj1yBEc/s1600/couch.png" /></a></div><br />I am dreaming of putting <a href="http://www.cb2.com/peekaboo-clear-coffee-table/f699">this CB2 acrylic coffee table</a> in front of it one of these days. And I want a pair of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Baxton-Studio-Fiorenza-Plastic-Armchair/dp/B002ECDTHS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1412185728&sr=8-1&keywords=modern+chairs">these chairs</a> (look how cheap!) In the meantime, my mama loaned me these two handsome armchairs for seating.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8nvxi0M_WQ/VCw1w-bAsnI/AAAAAAAAL4I/DMPCCxQ2gD0/s1600/view%2Bof%2Bold%2Bliving%2Broom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8nvxi0M_WQ/VCw1w-bAsnI/AAAAAAAAL4I/DMPCCxQ2gD0/s1600/view%2Bof%2Bold%2Bliving%2Broom.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kUJfK_Ces8M/VCw4cyHo5vI/AAAAAAAAL48/AYa23z78GPs/s1600/nook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kUJfK_Ces8M/VCw4cyHo5vI/AAAAAAAAL48/AYa23z78GPs/s1600/nook.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And here is our new living room/TV room. The TV is on the wall opposite the couch:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iGT3HnEopSw/VCw3lwFNyWI/AAAAAAAAL4s/eiICSeUTCQo/s1600/new%2Bliving%2Broom2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iGT3HnEopSw/VCw3lwFNyWI/AAAAAAAAL4s/eiICSeUTCQo/s1600/new%2Bliving%2Broom2.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9iT_zEyQyq4/VCw1rvyudeI/AAAAAAAAL3Q/_8S69WYk8MY/s1600/new%2Bliving%2Broom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9iT_zEyQyq4/VCw1rvyudeI/AAAAAAAAL3Q/_8S69WYk8MY/s1600/new%2Bliving%2Broom.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Msse-prOV6Q/VCw1n8AEGJI/AAAAAAAAL28/mG50xYf7icg/s1600/details.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Msse-prOV6Q/VCw1n8AEGJI/AAAAAAAAL28/mG50xYf7icg/s1600/details.png" height="300" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gt7Thf9h1y8/VCw1v91wQ8I/AAAAAAAAL4A/YnO6-0ZohL8/s1600/view%2Binto%2Bold%2Bliving%2Broom2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gt7Thf9h1y8/VCw1v91wQ8I/AAAAAAAAL4A/YnO6-0ZohL8/s1600/view%2Binto%2Bold%2Bliving%2Broom2.png" height="402" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks for having a look. I am always going for cheerful, colorful, comfortable, and eclectic. I think we got it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-30700061536122979482014-07-11T09:23:00.004-05:002014-07-11T10:01:11.050-05:00Beach Times Infinity. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JKXKJt20WH8/U7_mD4TuuyI/AAAAAAAALec/utT5MJkij_A/s1600/10487599_10203854072219857_7454100341501561366_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JKXKJt20WH8/U7_mD4TuuyI/AAAAAAAALec/utT5MJkij_A/s1600/10487599_10203854072219857_7454100341501561366_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last week we got to spend five days and nights in Sandestin, Florida, with plenty of daytrips back and forth to Grayton Beach and Seaside, too. There is a chance you guys may be thinking, "Are these assholes <i>always </i>on vacation?" Because there was <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2014/05/postcards-from-ocracoke-and-outer-banks.html">our Outer Banks trip</a> not so long ago, and I got to escape to California for <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2014/06/a-quick-trip-to-central-coast.html">a business trip</a> recently. But here's the deal--we have just been super blessed this summer with generous friends who have helped make all of our family vacation dreams come true. This go 'round, we went to Florida with our friends Johnny and Tara (and their two sons, ages 4 and 2) and were able to stay in their family's beach house. For the record, I recommend making friends with people whose lineage includes beach houses. It also helps that the dynamic between our kids is pitch perfect at the moment, so we could enjoy lots of adult hangs while our kids played together. Tessa has an epic crush on four-year-old Sawyer, who she has known since birth, and she said all kinds of moony, swoony, nauseating things like, "Mama, don't worry, Sawyer will protect me" and "Sawyer, we are gonna get married when we grow up, right?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k_q2zLNBYa4/U7_mGDmCdhI/AAAAAAAALew/rtnCNxxGMng/s1600/10511565_10203854065059678_7225774027078205342_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k_q2zLNBYa4/U7_mGDmCdhI/AAAAAAAALew/rtnCNxxGMng/s1600/10511565_10203854065059678_7225774027078205342_o.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It felt like our first real family vacation because it was long enough for us to get comfortable and settle into the easy rhythm of it, and we had all four of us there. When we went to the Outer Banks we didn't get to take Liv with us. I liked the freedom of being baby-less, but I missed the snot out of her. This trip I really bonded with her. Because I felt lighter, buoyed without the pressures of everyday life, I could just carry her around on my hip as much as I wanted and fully snuggle into her sweetness. I feel very aware right now of her fleeting babyness. It is almost gone, so I am drinking up every last baby drop before she traipses off into full-on toddlerhood. God willing and the creek don't rise, she is my last baby. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QJAYxzEweac/U7_mBeDiAFI/AAAAAAAALf8/2E7JEbbHR58/s1600/10400763_10203855833423886_1162025425094796456_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QJAYxzEweac/U7_mBeDiAFI/AAAAAAAALf8/2E7JEbbHR58/s1600/10400763_10203855833423886_1162025425094796456_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was Livvy's first visit to the ocean. She was not a fan. The waves and the cold water overwhelmed her. Instead she loved the pool. <i>Loved </i>it. We found a baby float for her and could hardly get her to part with it for the whole trip. Tessabean has definitely proven to be a water lover this summer--unlike last summer, when we endured the world's most traumatic swim lessons. She ate the ocean up with a spoon and then went back for more. The pool was equally delightful to her. It's hard to believe that her fingers and toes aren't still wrinkled. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XyxJpiei6zk/U7_mFBp2mkI/AAAAAAAALes/bKbq1mzyyO8/s1600/10496247_10203855839184030_5749051454571308942_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XyxJpiei6zk/U7_mFBp2mkI/AAAAAAAALes/bKbq1mzyyO8/s1600/10496247_10203855839184030_5749051454571308942_o.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am a landlocked baby who was born with saltwater and piƱa colada in her veins, so I am incredibly grateful for having gotten to lay eyes on--and float in--the ocean so much this summer. On Monday, the day we headed home, we weren't in any particular hurry to get on the road for the seven-hour drive back to Nashville. Instead we drove out to Seaside again. Nekos wanted to take photos, and I wanted to take one more dip in the ocean. It was the first time since our vacation had begun that anxiety found me again, a tight knot in my throat. I felt myself getting irritated with the kids and with Nekos, with myself. No one wanted to get in the ocean again except me, so I walked down to the beach myself and stripped off my dress. I waded into the water, layered as far as the eye could see in shades of clear blue, turquoise, and navy. And then I just floated, palms to the sky, hot sun, cool water. All I could hear was my breath, deep and even. The anxiety fell away. I have to keep this feeling with me. I think I will. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KdAVyiX7ZF0/U7_mDWuIgtI/AAAAAAAALeQ/9nX_ATjGaq0/s1600/10482415_10203855837863997_7451894619824259288_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KdAVyiX7ZF0/U7_mDWuIgtI/AAAAAAAALeQ/9nX_ATjGaq0/s1600/10482415_10203855837863997_7451894619824259288_o.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k0cRo53lEIY/U7_mLGOE5NI/AAAAAAAALfw/BvMw2WKe_so/s1600/10547193_10203854061659593_2083028935368616299_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k0cRo53lEIY/U7_mLGOE5NI/AAAAAAAALfw/BvMw2WKe_so/s1600/10547193_10203854061659593_2083028935368616299_o.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BTgDDBHbeJY/U7_mMSVk4_I/AAAAAAAALfs/O-pdTPH-J50/s1600/1559523_10203855841464087_1841361122674706151_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BTgDDBHbeJY/U7_mMSVk4_I/AAAAAAAALfs/O-pdTPH-J50/s1600/1559523_10203855841464087_1841361122674706151_o.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wLalIcFcm7Y/U7_mKKH9UuI/AAAAAAAALfI/4_PbD8-3nKU/s1600/10537126_10203854067819747_8745210904160718329_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wLalIcFcm7Y/U7_mKKH9UuI/AAAAAAAALfI/4_PbD8-3nKU/s1600/10537126_10203854067819747_8745210904160718329_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-5669781505400882014-07-08T13:47:00.001-05:002014-07-08T13:54:37.686-05:00Rockin' Roses Stencil Wall. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="414" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/14420098398/in/photostream/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe><br /><br />I was so optimistic about doing this stencil wall. First, it's not a very big wall--not even six feet high. It's just this little patch of wall at the top of our stairs. Like I <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2014/05/next-project-on-docket-wall-stenciling.html">blogged about before</a>, what I really wanted was this Hygge & West wallpaper called Petal Pusher that I couldn't afford. Instead, for Mother's Day, I asked for this <a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/">Royal Design Studio</a> stencil called <a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/products/rockin-rose-damask-modern-stencil">Rockin' Roses</a>, since it's really similar to the wallpaper.<br /><br />I think I just went about this whole process all wrong and made it way too hard. It literally took me about six weeks from start to finish--although I took plenty of breaks along the way because I got frustrated. In fact, I can't remember ever getting so frustrated with a home project. I wanted to paint over it many times and just pretend I had never attempted this. I normally love taking these things on, if you couldn't tell. But I'm not an artist, and I ended up having to basically hand-paint on every detail because my stencil work was not good. For one thing I think I should have ordered the paint and the stencil brushes that Royal Design Studio sells, instead of trying to save money and source them elsewhere. Instead I used this crappy Martha Stewart stencil brush I found at Michaels and this <a href="http://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/styles-and-techniques/faux-finishing/metallic-impressions/">Sherwin Williams' Metallic Impressions</a> paint, which was really shimmery (like I wanted) but also really watery (which meant I had to roll on three coats of this very expensive gold paint to get started, and which meant any touchups I did with the gold had to be retraced at least twice). For the white paint, I used Sherwin Williams' "Alabaster."<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="960" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/14420098628/in/photostream/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe><br /><br />Among my mistakes, I used an apparently lint-covered paint roller that left maddening specks of lint all over the wall. It was so bad that I had to sand the wall to get them off. I've since learned to put my new paint rollers in the dryer for a few minutes and then go over them with a lint roller before putting them anywhere near a wall. I also just taped the stencil onto the wall with painter's tape, but I think I would have had better luck using spray adhesive like a lot of people online suggested. Finally, I am quite sure I could have chosen a way more basic stencil instead of this majorly elaborate (but totally gorgeous) one. <br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="427" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/14420098278/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe><br />In any case, I love the result, which is what matters. I don't even want to think about how many hours I logged at the top of my stairs with just me, Spotify, a bottle of beer, and my paintbrushes. Towards the end of the project, Tessa would catch sight of me working on my wall and say, "Mom! Are you working on your project AGAIN?!" Shamed by a four-year-old. But man did it do what it was supposed to do in my mind's eye, which is give my hallway a really fun pop of personality with a glamorous edge. In my mind's eye this pop of personality would be far less imperfect than it is, but so be it. And finishing this wall also encouraged me to add quarter round around the edge of the floor, where there was a gap from me pulling up the carpet and <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/11/the-final-chapter-of-flooring-saga.html">painting the floors last year</a>. Now I just need to do the rest of the upstairs trim. Fun times. I'm actually serious about that "fun" part. Everything is fun compared to stenciling. And my upstairs already looks so much more polished with the trim in place.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="960" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/14606134252/in/photostream/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe><br />By God, I love it. Worth it. That's what I tell myself anyway.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-50806060307051153372014-06-04T14:10:00.003-05:002014-06-04T14:15:09.469-05:00A Quick Trip to the Central Coast.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nativetrails.net/copper-tubs/60-aurora.html"><img alt="Native Trails Aurora plated nickel copper bathtub" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fXSR90SJv3A/U49jmst9jcI/AAAAAAAALXg/DtUK_CkyUl8/s1600/Native+Trails+Aurora+copper+bathtub.png" title="Native Trails Aurora plated nickel copper bathtub" /></a></div><br />I'm now on year five of full-time freelance writing/editing/marketing/social media-ing/blogging from home. I blog far more often for other people than I do for myself, and most days I love it. Especially recently. Things seem to be taking shape professionally in a way that has eluded me before. My mantra this past six months has been to find a way to work smarter, not harder. I'm a fiercely hard worker and can sometimes get so immersed in cranking things out and paying my bills that I lose sight of the big picture and what I really want for my career/future. What I really want is to continue to be my own boss, to be able to break from work and meet my girlfriend for coffee in the late morning or take the occasional day off and spend it at the pool or the zoo. When my kids are both in elementary school, which will happen sooner than later, I want to have enough work to keep <a href="http://www.blackandwhitetype.com/">my freelance business</a> going. I imagine--and fantasize about--long, uninterrupted stretches of time to work. Now my time is fragmented, always interrupted. I'm too often rushed, frustrated with my kids. I think that working from home while taking care of two kids has actually taught me to appreciate my work more. I really value having something separate from my home and family to focus on and invest in. And because I've been stuck working for miserable, scary people before, I love that I get to be my own boss and that no one person can come along and fire me. Or make me speak in public. Along the way I've found that I really have a passion for helping small companies (that I believe in--that's key) grow and find their voice to tell their story.<br /><br />Anyway, all that's to say: I have a new freelance writing/marketing client that I'm really excited about! See. I used an exclamation point, which I make a point to use sparingly. I'm legitimately exclamation-point excited about these people and these products. It is the dreamiest of companies--a sink and bathtub company called <a href="http://www.nativetrails.net/">Native Trails</a>, based in San Luis Obispo, California. Their niche is hand-hammered copper, which they sometimes plate in brushed nickel (like <a href="http://www.nativetrails.net/copper-tubs/60-aurora.html">their Aurora tub</a> above). These sinks and tubs have texture and glamour and yet aren't fussy. Best of all, the company is owned by 40-year-old Naomi Neilson Howard, who started this company when she was barely out of college. Her idea was to find a way to sell the handmade goods she collected from artisans she met during her travels to Mexico and Spain. Over time, she segued from selling pottery to selling copper vases to selling copper sinks and then tubs and then vanities and so on. Now she has on her hands a little empire of sustainable luxury goods for the bath and kitchen. She's also a mom to two young ones, and she's a wife. She's got a lot on her (copper) plate, and I can relate. Except that Naomi figured out the work smarter, not harder thing a lot sooner than I did. That's why she owns her own company, and I'm ... you know ... just me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nativetrails.net/farmhouse-series/farmhouse-30.html"><img alt="Native Trails farmhouse sink nickel plated" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jPp8zzd_FVU/U49oQt_MWsI/AAAAAAAALXs/8tNNbEonRyA/s1600/Native+Trails+Farmhouse+sink.png" title="Native Trails farmhouse sink nickel plated" /></a></div><br />Last week I flew to the Central Coast to spend two full days in the Native Trails offices and to cram all the product and backstory and personnel info into my head that I could. The last night of the trip, Naomi had me to dinner at her house in Shell Beach, near a breezy cliff alongside the ocean. There are blueberry bushes in her front yard and succulent plants the size of cabbages, and there are two pretty amazing tow-headed little children who live there with her and her hunky psychologist husband. Naomi is so warm, so interesting, so dang smart--the exact kind of person I want to work for and please. I believe in this company. If you're interested, you can follow Native Trails on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NativeTrailsInc">here</a>, Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Native_Trails">here,</a> or Instagram <a href="http://instagram.com/nativetrails">here</a>, which I'll be mostly managing for them.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GuU0M9ZO0v0/U49tG2cvqLI/AAAAAAAALX8/EQVlv9Yg-70/s1600/shell_beach_waves_L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GuU0M9ZO0v0/U49tG2cvqLI/AAAAAAAALX8/EQVlv9Yg-70/s1600/shell_beach_waves_L.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div><br />When I got back to Nashville my friends asked, "Did you miss your kids?" "Um, uhhh, not too badly, not really," I said. Because honestly the little break was nice, y'all. I stayed in an adorable bed and breakfast in SLO called Petite Soleil, and I ate coconut-orange pancakes for breakfast and sushi for lunch and I didn't worry about dirty diapers or sippy cups for a few days. But you know I was thrilled to see them when I got home. Nekos did a great job taking care of Livvy and Tessa by himself while I was gone, and he helped them make a gigantic sign that said "Welcome Home, Mom!" that they plastered against the window at the airport. It was one of those things that was so unbelievably sweet that it didn't even seem real. They are amazing.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-21289399685004434532014-05-27T16:26:00.003-05:002014-05-29T23:13:22.764-05:00Livvy, 18 Months. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I5kFGnYGBtY/U4Tto-kEtJI/AAAAAAAALVk/oAF9lwciiWs/s1600/Livvy+18+months+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i1GzeP90UMo/U4Tt0F26xKI/AAAAAAAALV0/M-ddKFsPiVA/s1600/18+months+old.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i1GzeP90UMo/U4Tt0F26xKI/AAAAAAAALV0/M-ddKFsPiVA/s1600/18+months+old.png" height="460" width="640" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I5kFGnYGBtY/U4Tto-kEtJI/AAAAAAAALVo/A6wwICrgysY/s1600/Livvy+18+months+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I5kFGnYGBtY/U4Tto-kEtJI/AAAAAAAALVo/A6wwICrgysY/s1600/Livvy+18+months+copy.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>This brown-eyed angel is a year-and-a-half old now. She is spinning like a top on the line between babyhood and toddlerhood so that I am doing my best to bear witness to the last of her baby-ness, as her milk-and-honey breath evaporates, and those nonsense babbles start to make sense. She continues to be in no particular hurry about anything, which is charming. Earlier today it took her damn near an hour to eat half of a red velvet cupcake, one lick and one crumb at a time.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Special, endearing things about Livvy Lara: She loves to be held and will fold her arms across her chest and burrow into you like she's cold, even when she's not. As has been noted here before, she is a dancer and a primo booty-shaker. In recent months Livvy has also learned how to run, but she flails while she runs and with such reckless abandon that she looks always like she's about to topple over. She can point to lots of her body parts now when we ask her where they are. Like every other kid in the world, she loves to sing along to "Let It Go" and "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?" She loves to give kisses and be kissed. She loves flipping through books on her own (more often than not they're upside down), and she loves to curl up in a lap and have a pile of books read to her. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is one sturdy little girl--she is in the 96th percentile for height, weight, and head circumference. Looks she will be tall like me. She says new words every day now. Some of her first words include: Dada, Mama, Tessa (pronounced "Tetta"), Yaya (for my mom), Hattie (for our dog), hi, hey, bye-bye, yeah, no, cheese, cracker, ba-ba (bottle), all done, Elmo, shoe, flower, yay, dog, thank you, ball, yellow, monkey, and quack-quack. There's also the word "mine," which Livvy actually says way more often than Tessa. Mostly, when she wants something she just grunts over and over, which we are trying to discourage because it's a real drag to have to serve a tiny, croaky tyrant. She understands so much of what we're saying that it's startling sometimes when we give her a command--like, "Bring Tessa this cup" or "Go show Daddy how cute your outfit is" or "Shake your bottom"--and she actually does it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She is an awesome sleeper! Takes a two to three hour nap around lunchtime every day and then sleeps 7 p.m. to 6 a.m. every night, usually without waking. If she does wake up, it's just because she wants to be rocked for a couple of minutes and then back into her crib she goes. Livvy is a picky eater, who loves certain foods one week and completely eschews them the next. Last night all we could get her to eat was hamburger bun and cheese for dinner. I'm far less <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2011/02/baby-food-fail.html">worried and annoyed</a> about this than I was with Tessa because now I know that tastes change and that pretty soon Livvy will be old enough to be sent to bed without dinner if she refuses what we're serving. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Livvy and Tessa are best friends. Livvy follows Tessa everywhere, but she is no pushover. If Livvy doesn't want Tessa all up in her grill, she screams "No!" and shoves her away. Livvy is not as loud as Tessa, but she has just as much personality. This personality shows up in some of the tantrums that she's starting to throw. Y'all, I can't believe I am having to deal with tantrums again. I just (mostly) got over that excruciating hurtle with Tessa. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next month we're taking Livvy to the beach for the first time with some great friends of ours who also have two young kiddos. The prospect of the drive down to Florida in our little car makes us nervous, but we otherwise can't wait for this family vacation. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy half-birthday, baby girl! You are very, very loved. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i1GzeP90UMo/U4Tt0F26xKI/AAAAAAAALVs/Yk4XPh-9KgY/s1600/18+months+old.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JzFEODMrslE/U4Tt0PgK0iI/AAAAAAAALV4/C0znp97EvJk/s1600/18+months+Lou.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JzFEODMrslE/U4Tt0PgK0iI/AAAAAAAALV4/C0znp97EvJk/s1600/18+months+Lou.png" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I47MxM0C9pI/U4TuSehYbSI/AAAAAAAALWc/RYamYzop0is/s1600/Tessa+and+Livvy+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I47MxM0C9pI/U4TuSehYbSI/AAAAAAAALWc/RYamYzop0is/s1600/Tessa+and+Livvy+copy.png" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zMzob-r2iwE/U4Ttz0wSILI/AAAAAAAALVw/HkyHo549LSQ/s1600/18+months+old+Livvy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zMzob-r2iwE/U4Ttz0wSILI/AAAAAAAALVw/HkyHo549LSQ/s1600/18+months+old+Livvy.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">p.s. Here's <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2011/09/18-months.html">Tessa at 18 months</a>. They are looking more and more alike to me every month. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-9601976284151015262014-05-20T11:02:00.002-05:002014-05-20T11:05:00.085-05:00Postcards from Ocracoke and The Outer Banks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gTtTTrsyKaM/U3tuYoCUALI/AAAAAAAALS4/C-GehMF6NUU/s1600/IMG_8939-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gTtTTrsyKaM/U3tuYoCUALI/AAAAAAAALS4/C-GehMF6NUU/s1600/IMG_8939-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had only vaguely heard of the Outer Banks when Nekos's longtime best friend, Chad, pulled up a Google map last fall and ran his finger down a long and skinny line of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. "Here," said Chad, who is an insatiable adventurer, "is where I want to take you guys." His finger stopped at Ocracoke Island, which I had definitely never heard of: "And <i>here</i> is where we'll get a place and stay a few nights." Thanks to Chad, who lives in Raleigh, this trip has been on our books since last year, but we hadn't had much time to get excited about it because, you know, life. And bills. And diapers. We left last Thursday and flew into Raleigh to meet Chad and his wife Lauren, who is eight months pregnant with their baby girl, and they took us the rest of the way across the state to the northern end of the Outer Banks, so that we got to see Nag's Head and Kitty Hawk, Rodanthe, the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse (the tallest in the country--we climbed to the top of it!), and all the blink-or-you'll-miss-'em beach towns in between. Finally we took a ferry ride to Ocracoke, which proved to be worth the wait--and worth all of the rain, which had beat down on us and our spirits for three days prior. We never saw a drop of rain once we got on Ocracoke. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aOkfgBbY0vk/U3tuiFTU-jI/AAAAAAAALTo/TTWscOYueyI/s1600/IMG_9128-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aOkfgBbY0vk/U3tuiFTU-jI/AAAAAAAALTo/TTWscOYueyI/s1600/IMG_9128-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My mom offered to keep Livvy (thank you, Mom!) because she knew that taking a baby along on a road/boat/plane trip would be the opposite of restful. Mom was right; I wouldn't have gotten to enjoy that carefree feeling that a good trip to the beach affords if I'd had a baby on my hip and had to worry about bottles and nap time and tantrums. Of course, I missed her and cried when I laid eyes on her beautiful, slightly bewildered face again, but I enjoyed my four-day break from baby duty, and Tessa proved to be one hell of a travel partner. She's been to the ocean before but doesn't remember it and has never gotten to play in it. Because it rained so much before we arrived on Ocracoke, the waves were great big and frothy, perfect to play in. Unfortunately, Tessa got hurt on the ferry boat over to the island; she was dancing around, flapping her wings like the gulls crossing overhead, and she clanked her head hard on a big iron thing jutting out of the side of the boat. For a minute, we thought she might need stitches, but it started to look and feel better pretty quickly, and she went about the rest of the weekend oblivious to the big boo-boo between her eyebrows. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Outside of the Caribbean, Ocracoke is one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever been to. Heaping sand dunes line the road, there are gazillions of shells, soft sand, breezes, lots of wildlife (we saw dolphins!), and very few fellow humans. Within the little town of Ocracoke, there are just enough amenities--a few bars and restaurants, a heavenly coffee shop, some places to rent bicycles, a market, and a couple of gift shops--interspersed among outrageously charming old beach cottages and a lighthouse built in 1823, to have kept us happily occupied. We stayed in a white house built in 1888 with a swing in the yard and a screen door that slammed. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our trip also included: many mojitos, many history lessons (we visited the Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kitty Hawk, where in 1903 the first powered aircraft left the ground, and the pirate Blackbeard took his last breath in 1718 off the waters of Ocracoke, so there's plenty of pirate folklore). There's also the matter of the very painful and very dumb sunburn I got my first day on the beach, which led Chad to suggest that I call this post "Black and White and Red All Over." I think my family's beautiful brown skin sometimes fools me into thinking that I, too, can do without sunscreen. It's a <i>fact </i>that I can't do without sunscreen on the beach--not even for a half-hour. It had just been a minute since I'd spent time on a beach, and I had forgotten about that. I remember so well now. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks to Chad and Lauren for showing us this beautiful place. We can't wait to go back!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AuTO9NrmviA/U3tuiEvBRdI/AAAAAAAALTs/jqmrQ-beq0M/s1600/IMG_9137-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AuTO9NrmviA/U3tuiEvBRdI/AAAAAAAALTs/jqmrQ-beq0M/s1600/IMG_9137-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3TdH_xNeWeA/U3tucA-Lq6I/AAAAAAAALSY/nLNW4XzB1YY/s1600/IMG_9026-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3TdH_xNeWeA/U3tucA-Lq6I/AAAAAAAALSY/nLNW4XzB1YY/s1600/IMG_9026-Edited.jpg" height="399" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Zv-SXmo0F0/U3tuP6Yz5SI/AAAAAAAALQs/nIRYYlOQgFE/s1600/Ocracoke+Island.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Zv-SXmo0F0/U3tuP6Yz5SI/AAAAAAAALQs/nIRYYlOQgFE/s1600/Ocracoke+Island.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TfEWBDM4KpU/U3tuXPArVTI/AAAAAAAALQ4/iG3vrtmKVQc/s1600/IMG_8910-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TfEWBDM4KpU/U3tuXPArVTI/AAAAAAAALQ4/iG3vrtmKVQc/s1600/IMG_8910-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MEoE5cPVsm4/U3tuXsqcn8I/AAAAAAAALRA/Mm12UdNI_Ng/s1600/IMG_8922-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MEoE5cPVsm4/U3tuXsqcn8I/AAAAAAAALRA/Mm12UdNI_Ng/s1600/IMG_8922-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5F3qJpVJmTc/U3tuYKFzO8I/AAAAAAAALRM/mfdqptV4o8M/s1600/IMG_8928-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5F3qJpVJmTc/U3tuYKFzO8I/AAAAAAAALRM/mfdqptV4o8M/s1600/IMG_8928-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zkC7S2yvp7c/U3tueA6g5TI/AAAAAAAALSU/dVDjimdiRIY/s1600/IMG_9054-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zkC7S2yvp7c/U3tueA6g5TI/AAAAAAAALSU/dVDjimdiRIY/s1600/IMG_9054-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtygLbjpxvg/U3tuYALgauI/AAAAAAAALRI/0lMGszKERuA/s1600/IMG_8937-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtygLbjpxvg/U3tuYALgauI/AAAAAAAALRI/0lMGszKERuA/s1600/IMG_8937-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9PWpriHDMG8/U3tuYspDRlI/AAAAAAAALRQ/SVNUSyGqkNg/s1600/IMG_8951-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--VM6itKQErA/U3tuaT54YkI/AAAAAAAALRo/mMB7kTfKT3s/s1600/IMG_9007-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--VM6itKQErA/U3tuaT54YkI/AAAAAAAALRo/mMB7kTfKT3s/s1600/IMG_9007-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhDQsfMwZTI/U3tug44tSbI/AAAAAAAALTI/ILK-jW4GRKw/s1600/IMG_9087-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhDQsfMwZTI/U3tug44tSbI/AAAAAAAALTI/ILK-jW4GRKw/s1600/IMG_9087-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-79jYRVLIUsY/U3tua3lRaKI/AAAAAAAALR4/719greYYl6Q/s1600/IMG_9010-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-79jYRVLIUsY/U3tua3lRaKI/AAAAAAAALR4/719greYYl6Q/s1600/IMG_9010-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kh2ONzoEIVQ/U3tudzyNuoI/AAAAAAAALSQ/X6SNRIl5yzE/s1600/IMG_9045-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kh2ONzoEIVQ/U3tudzyNuoI/AAAAAAAALSQ/X6SNRIl5yzE/s1600/IMG_9045-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idXjUphDF34/U3tua65_KaI/AAAAAAAALR8/_esfrgCHm3o/s1600/IMG_9016-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idXjUphDF34/U3tua65_KaI/AAAAAAAALR8/_esfrgCHm3o/s1600/IMG_9016-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZiMUn36WBs/U3tufe7RQ3I/AAAAAAAALS0/xUCRnvO4-p4/s1600/IMG_9076-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZiMUn36WBs/U3tufe7RQ3I/AAAAAAAALS0/xUCRnvO4-p4/s1600/IMG_9076-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cXB-iwYAJLY/U3tufRKC-nI/AAAAAAAALSw/AWY9HuhYSXw/s1600/IMG_9081-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cXB-iwYAJLY/U3tufRKC-nI/AAAAAAAALSw/AWY9HuhYSXw/s1600/IMG_9081-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PFhAaCfRT9o/U3tucDlh6wI/AAAAAAAALSE/1plytPrkSuQ/s1600/IMG_9020-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PFhAaCfRT9o/U3tucDlh6wI/AAAAAAAALSE/1plytPrkSuQ/s1600/IMG_9020-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mceEj7QFUso/U3tug8jcORI/AAAAAAAALTM/8C_tYq84RZc/s1600/IMG_9099-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mceEj7QFUso/U3tug8jcORI/AAAAAAAALTM/8C_tYq84RZc/s1600/IMG_9099-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRW72Sqq9Qs/U3tugzPaNTI/AAAAAAAALTE/FxTuwC_pumc/s1600/IMG_9112-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SRW72Sqq9Qs/U3tugzPaNTI/AAAAAAAALTE/FxTuwC_pumc/s1600/IMG_9112-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vvITGva5pKk/U3tuiSubPSI/AAAAAAAALTk/Mpi1vBnpofU/s1600/IMG_9142-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vvITGva5pKk/U3tuiSubPSI/AAAAAAAALTk/Mpi1vBnpofU/s1600/IMG_9142-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtNGIHwbRj8/U3tujLjFZFI/AAAAAAAALT0/gt8PSUbY3SE/s1600/IMG_9150-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtNGIHwbRj8/U3tujLjFZFI/AAAAAAAALT0/gt8PSUbY3SE/s1600/IMG_9150-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z-8ZZvR5BPk/U3tujACg4-I/AAAAAAAALT8/51vjJ97K1iA/s1600/IMG_9160-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z-8ZZvR5BPk/U3tujACg4-I/AAAAAAAALT8/51vjJ97K1iA/s1600/IMG_9160-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BeC6w6mh1cM/U3tujVSgT9I/AAAAAAAALT4/1BQaM5RIuYo/s1600/IMG_9170-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BeC6w6mh1cM/U3tujVSgT9I/AAAAAAAALT4/1BQaM5RIuYo/s1600/IMG_9170-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZmPAXRMDmc/U3tuj051--I/AAAAAAAALUA/jVAdL6uFATY/s1600/IMG_9177-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZmPAXRMDmc/U3tuj051--I/AAAAAAAALUA/jVAdL6uFATY/s1600/IMG_9177-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AdpT_kR2N_o/U3tujw6tZCI/AAAAAAAALUI/GXex3TRcJts/s1600/IMG_9173-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AdpT_kR2N_o/U3tujw6tZCI/AAAAAAAALUI/GXex3TRcJts/s1600/IMG_9173-Edited.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5DJ2HPVzExs/U3tukS7BNiI/AAAAAAAALUM/VJIvEPTVnWM/s1600/IMG_9200-Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5DJ2HPVzExs/U3tukS7BNiI/AAAAAAAALUM/VJIvEPTVnWM/s1600/IMG_9200-Edited.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-58621645954020689092014-05-09T14:49:00.001-05:002014-05-12T18:51:17.700-05:00Next Project on the Docket: Wall Stenciling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For Mother's Day, I asked for a stencil. A few years ago I would have been all about clothes, but I'm clearly on to home stuff now, which brings me more (lasting) pleasure, probably especially because I spend so much time at home.<br /><br />Anyway, what I really wanted was this wallpaper. It's the wallpaper I've wanted for <i>yeeeeears</i>. The glamour quotient is high, and I think glamour is what my house is missing.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U6h8i1VTNQA/U20cdjuJh7I/AAAAAAAALOk/7LRLRh8-xMc/s1600/Hygge+&+West+Petal+Pusher+gold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U6h8i1VTNQA/U20cdjuJh7I/AAAAAAAALOk/7LRLRh8-xMc/s1600/Hygge+&+West+Petal+Pusher+gold.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a9ihVhsvtWc/U20cdip-dBI/AAAAAAAALOo/D840Ayqr6pw/s1600/Hygge+&+West+Petal+Pusher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a9ihVhsvtWc/U20cdip-dBI/AAAAAAAALOo/D840Ayqr6pw/s1600/Hygge+&+West+Petal+Pusher.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a busy pattern, to be sure, so I'd only want to do one wall somewhere. And I'm not even into accent walls. But for this gilded masterpiece I'd make an exception. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kjgAqz_DqoM/U20ce9Ef8sI/AAAAAAAALO8/9tz0Ld4ZOrc/s1600/Hygge+&+West+wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kjgAqz_DqoM/U20ce9Ef8sI/AAAAAAAALO8/9tz0Ld4ZOrc/s1600/Hygge+&+West+wallpaper.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGMPldYHBag/U20cef3j34I/AAAAAAAALO0/eKVwpwFtX0U/s1600/Petal+Pusher+Hygge+&+West.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGMPldYHBag/U20cef3j34I/AAAAAAAALO0/eKVwpwFtX0U/s1600/Petal+Pusher+Hygge+&+West.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h4rvo1I7aEg/U20cgwgoKwI/AAAAAAAALPM/_lPNDImuk68/s1600/Petal+Pusher+wallpaper+Hygge+&+West.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h4rvo1I7aEg/U20cgwgoKwI/AAAAAAAALPM/_lPNDImuk68/s1600/Petal+Pusher+wallpaper+Hygge+&+West.jpg" /></a></div><br />The wallpaper is called "<a href="http://www.hyggeandwest.com/collections/oh-joy">Petal Pusher</a>," and it's by Hygge & West, and it's major expensive (in my opinion) at $125 per roll. I got really, really excited last week when I found this website called <a href="http://www.designpublic.com/outlet/oh-joy-for-hygge-west-petal-pusher-white-gold-outlet-item-condition-opened-box">Design Public</a> that had it on sale for $62.50 per roll. But then I realized the "roll" covers a swath of wall about the size of a toilet paper square. In other words, even half off this wallpaper is super duper expensive. I envisioned just doing this patch of half-wall at the top of my stairs, but even that would require, I think, four rolls of this wallpaper--so about $300 worth of this half-off stuff. Not gonna happen.<br /><br />Here's a picture of the place above my stairs that I wanted to wallpaper. FYI - the carpet is gone now, and the ancient wood floors are <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/11/the-final-chapter-of-flooring-saga.html">painted white</a>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zEZNzhmh3Ks/U20zvcQFU3I/AAAAAAAALQQ/l4cOnCNLXvE/s1600/bench+in+hallway.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zEZNzhmh3Ks/U20zvcQFU3I/AAAAAAAALQQ/l4cOnCNLXvE/s1600/bench+in+hallway.png" /></a></div><br />Wallpaper is just one of those things I can't ever imagine being able to afford, or at least to afford without giving myself a stomach ache. Like, I could buy these nine rolls of wallpaper and maybe wallpaper a single wall, OR I could go on a beach vacation with my family?<br /><br />BUT I found a great alternative on Pinterest. This stencil called "<a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/products/rockin-rose-damask-modern-stencil">Rockin' Roses</a>," which looks a lot like the Petal Pusher wallpaper to me, is sold by a company called <a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/">Royal Design Studio</a>. This is the stencil I asked Nekos for, and I'm so pumped that it's winging its way to me via the United States Post Office.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkH0fVYbIzI/U20qP-YFGrI/AAAAAAAALPg/8_6R9Hioftw/s1600/il_570xN.255632844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkH0fVYbIzI/U20qP-YFGrI/AAAAAAAALPg/8_6R9Hioftw/s1600/il_570xN.255632844.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KnWgcpzazRA/U20qP_x4rCI/AAAAAAAALPk/cHvODlTu0Z4/s1600/il_570xN.255718199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KnWgcpzazRA/U20qP_x4rCI/AAAAAAAALPk/cHvODlTu0Z4/s1600/il_570xN.255718199.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Noo5v_IAz0/U20qP6DK5yI/AAAAAAAALPc/XI89LqVAZEg/s1600/Rocking_Roses_Wall_Stencil_by_Royal_Design_Studio_1024x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Noo5v_IAz0/U20qP6DK5yI/AAAAAAAALPc/XI89LqVAZEg/s1600/Rocking_Roses_Wall_Stencil_by_Royal_Design_Studio_1024x1024.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WHjAvksx5GA/U20r7iJr9ZI/AAAAAAAALP8/1G2GrussfT0/s1600/Copper_Roses_Stenciled_Accent_Wall_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WHjAvksx5GA/U20r7iJr9ZI/AAAAAAAALP8/1G2GrussfT0/s1600/Copper_Roses_Stenciled_Accent_Wall_6.jpg" /></a></div><br />It's $60, which with the cost of paint will probably ratchet the project cost up to somewhere close to $100. Still much better. And I'm pretty excited to learn how to stencil. You can even use these stencils on furniture:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-19H9u48CUJg/U20r7bCpQcI/AAAAAAAALQA/nqo2hSQFCPY/s1600/7d4acb5750b135b8f5cf6d615c2be945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-19H9u48CUJg/U20r7bCpQcI/AAAAAAAALQA/nqo2hSQFCPY/s1600/7d4acb5750b135b8f5cf6d615c2be945.jpg" /></a></div><br />There are so many gorgeous stencils on the Royal Designs site. For example, h<a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/products/skylars-lace-floral-stencil">ere</a>'s a stencil called Skylar's Lace Floral that is awesome on floors and that has been <a href="http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/blogs/stencil-ideas/tagged/elle-decor">featured in<i> Elle Decor</i></a>.<br /><br />You know I'm going to come back here and show you how my wall looks when I'm done, right? I suppose if I really want to mimic the look of the Petal Pusher wallpaper I need to first paint that whole wall gold and then stencil white on top of it. This is gonna be scary, but the good kind of scary.<br /><br />Any of you have experience with stenciling? How did it turn out?<br /><br />Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there. May you get exactly the oddball present you wish for, in addition to the most important things of all--appreciation for all of your hard work--and a long, deliciously lazy morning to sleep in.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-7832042920214437582014-05-06T18:05:00.000-05:002014-05-12T18:57:09.896-05:00What No One Told Me About Having 2 Kids<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8mcLyal750/U2lgutaGdeI/AAAAAAAALOU/dOD2iWwMiPU/s1600/10313353_10203696266912748_8501467058983944010_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8mcLyal750/U2lgutaGdeI/AAAAAAAALOU/dOD2iWwMiPU/s1600/10313353_10203696266912748_8501467058983944010_n.jpg" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />I couldn't tell you how many times Tessa cried herself to sleep as a baby. Nap time and bed time were equally excruciating affairs. She never did go down easy. Most nights, Livvy, on the other hand, gratefully accepts her bedtime stories, a minute or two of rocking, and a microwaved bottle before I settle her into her crib, where she goes soundlessly off to sleep.<br /><br />Other ways that my daughters are different:<br /><br />There's a splash of amber around each pupil, but Tessa's eyes are mostly the color of the ocean, where it's shallow enough that you can look down and see your feet, all shifty and mottled on the sand beneath you. Livvy's irises, meanwhile, are deep and brown, through and through. Tessa is the sea, and Livvy is the land. <br /><br />Livvy's hair is only now beginning to really come in. At 17 months old, she has a wild, if patchy, little afro that I can't imagine will be long enough to pin into a ponytail any time soon. Tessa Jean, now age four, had hair to spare very early on: outrageous, tangled tufts. <br /><br />Tessa was passionate about her pacifier, Livvy never would take one. <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/11/10-thoughts-on-breastfeeding-for-year.html">Livvy nursed happily</a> until she was a little over a year old, but I couldn't make it work with Tessa.<br /> <br />They have similarities that I've noticed, too--both are opinionated, both have sturdy, long bodies, both are preposterously picky eaters. Their skin looks to be the same tawny color. If their skin had a taste, I think it would taste like an iced caramel macchiato on a hot day. <br /><br />For all the ways that my girls are alike, it's the differences that make me uncomfortable. It's the way I am forever comparing them--physically, developmentally, intellectually, emotionally. They are not meant to be compared. They are two little human beings who, it just so happens, will go through this life as sisters. And with me as their mother.<br /><br />--<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">"The problem is not of having a favorite. We all experience feelings of partiality towards one child or another, at one time or another. The problem is how to make sure we don't show favoritism ... How do we protect the other children in the family from our enthusiasm for that one child who speaks to our heart? ... If we want to stop showing favoritism, we first have to be aware that we feel it."<i> </i>-- from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Siblings-Without-Rivalry-Children-Together/dp/0393342212">Siblings Without Rivalry</a>, </i>by Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish</div><br />-- <br /><br />A week or so before Livvy was born I asked Facebook how I would ever love another baby as much as I loved Tessa. I asked parents of two or more kids for reassurance that I could. The responses came immediately. There were a lot of them. They were thoughtful, sure, but also full of platitudes about how my heart would double in size instantly.<br /><br />It didn't. Not really. <br /><br />I did love Livvy right away. And I felt a wild-animal kind of protectiveness. And welcoming a second child, though hard, was much less <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2012/10/that-time-i-had-postpartum-depression.html">anxiety-provoking for me</a>. But for my heart to grow into the big, pulpy, pulsating mess that it is for Livvy today--for it to be anywhere near as intense as the love I'd developed for Tessa (who had a two-year-and-eight-month head start), that has taken some time.<br /><br />For me, real love--even for a child of my own--is hard-fought and hard-earned. I have to really know you to love you, and if you ask me, you can't really <i>know</i> a baby. You can know that they go down for their naps at 10 and 2, that they smile when you blow raspberries on their bellybutton, that they have your husband's lips and a birthmark on their bottom. You can know that just looking at them makes you so proud that your heart cartwheels into your throat. But who can pretend to know much more about their infant than that?<br /><br />My feelings about motherhood were somehow simpler when I had one child, boiled down as they were to my experience with just Tessa. And of course the first child is the first everything. And you know what they say about first loves. <br /><br />I've discussed this with a few friends who have more than one child. Most don't quite seem to understand why it's taken me longer to become enamored of my second child; if anything, they say they felt more tenderness more quickly toward their younger children. Some moms I've talked to have a boy and a girl and say it's probably easier not to compare children when they're different genders.<br /><br />Maybe it's that my love isn't prolific enough. I'm an only child, I'm only close to one of my parents, and I have only ever had one real boyfriend, now my husband. Maybe it's just that I'm not a baby person. The younger my kids are the more stifled I feel, the more overwhelmed I am by how little I know this person who I have signed up to love and care for for the rest of their lives. I am more exhilarated by my children's autonomy than by their vulnerability.<br /><br />Or maybe the way I felt is the way that a lot of people feel and have felt since the beginning of time. Maybe people say that your heart doubles in size when you add another child because they don't know how to say that what actually doubles are the number of feelings you have. Feelings that are frightening because they are so beautiful and so ugly. They are so human. <br /><br />--<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">"Would it help ... to tell yourself that it isn't necessary to respond to each child with equal passion, and that it's perfectly normal and natural to have different feelings toward different children? The only thing that is necessary is that we take another look at the less favored child, seek out her specialness, then reflect the wonder of it back to her. That's all we can ask of ourselves and that children need of us. By valuing and being partial to each child's individuality, we make sure that each of our children feels like a number one child." -- <i>Siblings Without Rivalry</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>--<br /><br />I work hard not to compare Livvy to Tessa, but sometimes, especially at night when I am in her room rocking her and she gazes up at me through the filtered darkness, heavy with trust, I feel clenched with anxiety and so I put her quickly into her crib and leave her there in the quiet. What is this about? I think it's that my love doesn't feel good enough for someone who is as good as Livvy. My heart didn't double in size when she was born, it divided, and parceling it out is painful sometimes. <br /><br />It is not a perfect love--not the love I feel for either of my children--but is some of the best I have known. I want to get better at it. I want my heart to do what they say it should--to grow. I want a heart as big as my daughters'. I want the heart I had when I was a little girl, when love was simple. <br /><br />--<br /><br />"To be loved equally is somehow to be loved less. To be loved uniquely--for one's own special self--is to be loved as much as we need to be loved." -- <i>Siblings Without Rivalry</i><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-78375987601878959762014-04-27T09:44:00.000-05:002014-04-28T14:14:43.820-05:00Our DIY Subway Tile Backsplash <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">22 cents. That's how much it costs per tile to purchase the completely classic and yet completely on trend white subway tile. Since I was able to borrow tools to cut the tile, our white subway tile backsplash cost a total of $70. (It would have cost $300+ to hire a pro to do it.) Plus I will always remember this as a project that Nekos and I pulled off together--and had fun pulling off together.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMJ0G4XDHXQ/U1z_xwrL5UI/AAAAAAAAHWI/UgDoEhmliW0/s1600/white+subway+tile+backsplash+gray+cabinets.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMJ0G4XDHXQ/U1z_xwrL5UI/AAAAAAAAHWI/UgDoEhmliW0/s1600/white+subway+tile+backsplash+gray+cabinets.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A month ago I knew nothing about working with tile. But when my mom was going to have her kitchen countertop tiled by our friend Bobby, she asked me to come over to help him. She knows I'm a sucker for all things home improvement, and learning to tile was on my to do list. Her countertop turned out beautifully, and while we completed it, Bobby taught me how to cut tile, how to lay it, and then, the next day, how to grout. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's a picture from when we were working on my mom's countertop. My mom helped, too. It's one of the best times I've had with her in recent memory. Which is one of my very favorite things about DIY projects. Sure, it's nice to pay someone to do things for you, but when you do it yourself you create memories. And with every project, you put more of your heart and soul into your home. Then, suddenly, one day you turn around and your house is YOU. It's a beautiful thing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vyqYDvbdVm0/U10GtjSlpMI/AAAAAAAAHWw/OdLpSRfxobw/s1600/black+and+white+tile+countertop.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vyqYDvbdVm0/U10GtjSlpMI/AAAAAAAAHWw/OdLpSRfxobw/s1600/black+and+white+tile+countertop.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After we finished my mom's countertop, I borrowed Bobby's tools and took them home with me. That weekend I got started working on my backsplash. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's what we needed to do our DIY white subway tile backsplash:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- 1.5 boxes of U.S Tile Snow White subway tile</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Grinder saw with diamond blade (borrowed)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Tile cutter (borrowed)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Tile nipper (borrowed)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Notch trowel (borrowed)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Bucket of tile adhesive (got leftovers from my mom)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Bag of grout (got leftovers from my mom)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Sealer (got leftovers from my mom)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Drill bit for drilling through tile (we needed this for reinstalling some of the lightplates)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here are just a couple photos of the beginning of the backsplash process:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvTUk2llFLg/U10G4o2cgqI/AAAAAAAAHW4/W9CPqOC_yo8/s1600/DIY+subway+tile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvTUk2llFLg/U10G4o2cgqI/AAAAAAAAHW4/W9CPqOC_yo8/s1600/DIY+subway+tile.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I found this project surprisingly easy to tackle but also thought provoking, in that tiling is a lot like working a puzzle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And we love the fruits of our labor:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P_T55tfpX6I/U1z_xhwk9sI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/qHOBcHcuVB4/s1600/subway+tile+backsplash+cottage+kitchen.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P_T55tfpX6I/U1z_xhwk9sI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/qHOBcHcuVB4/s1600/subway+tile+backsplash+cottage+kitchen.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-qXpRA2K0A/U1z_ws4ItrI/AAAAAAAAHWA/KMBgrguXrp0/s1600/subway+tile+backsplash.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-qXpRA2K0A/U1z_ws4ItrI/AAAAAAAAHWA/KMBgrguXrp0/s1600/subway+tile+backsplash.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Mfm6OEsEVk/U1z_xgdxLSI/AAAAAAAAHWc/tA4iTlABIDY/s1600/lace+curtain+window+above+kitchen+sink.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Mfm6OEsEVk/U1z_xgdxLSI/AAAAAAAAHWc/tA4iTlABIDY/s1600/lace+curtain+window+above+kitchen+sink.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_7YBUSN4prw/U1z_yRx-XtI/AAAAAAAAHWg/6SaBUf2lRp0/s1600/white+subway+tile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_7YBUSN4prw/U1z_yRx-XtI/AAAAAAAAHWg/6SaBUf2lRp0/s1600/white+subway+tile.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Until we can afford to update our countertop, my work here in the kitchen is done. Moving on to other rooms soon. My office needs painting and new window treatments, and in the fall we're planning on moving the girls into the same room and then turning Tessa's bedroom into our living room. Yep. Stay tuned. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To see some of the kitchen process, see when I painted my kitchen walls<a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/02/my-minty-kitchen-remodel.html"> here</a> and when I painted the cabinets<a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2014/03/what-i-learned-from-painting-my-kitchen.html"> here</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-39575223047972300152014-04-13T10:16:00.001-05:002014-04-13T10:21:04.124-05:00She's Four. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FyOFtabXauw/U0qpN5PYtoI/AAAAAAAAHVM/Fn-obGO7UUY/s1600/four.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FyOFtabXauw/U0qpN5PYtoI/AAAAAAAAHVM/Fn-obGO7UUY/s1600/four.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygRdrChww7c/U0qnftmpeyI/AAAAAAAAHUw/wV3ub06jBZw/s1600/Tessa+birthday.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygRdrChww7c/U0qnftmpeyI/AAAAAAAAHUw/wV3ub06jBZw/s1600/Tessa+birthday.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br />Springtime in Nashville is so beautiful it'll about break your heart. It makes perfect sense that my feisty, tender, gorgeous, much-loved firstborn came to me in the spring. This pint-sized force of nature continues to prove to me that even when it seems unlikely, when the days with her are dark as night, she will burst into bloom and dazzle me once again.<br /><br />One morning last fall, while Livvy napped upstairs, Tessa and I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs along our front walk. I told her that they'd bloom by her birthday. As I watched the squirrels unearth our bulbs and hurry off with them, as the ground seized up with frost, I wondered if that could really be true. Over the winter, we weathered our most difficult period with Tessa yet. It's something I've tried to write about here, but I haven't been able to and I'm going to stop trying. It's part of the reason this blog has gone all but dormant. Let's just say: we wanted our money back. We wanted to take her back to from where she came, we wanted to stand there and shake our fists and demand our money back. That, it turns out, is not really an option as a parent. For a while there, my little girl felt like such a stranger to me that I was almost spooked. While she struggled through a behavioral issue, Nekos and I held on to one another. We cheers'ed to "Team Barnes" and found some strength someplace. Because we didn't have a clue what to do to help her other than to love her, we put away our attempts at disciplining her for a while and instead dumped a whole bunch of extra tenderness and understanding on her. She responded beautifully. It's true what they say about phases, which is that they pass. Whatever it was Tessa was going through--it vanished as quickly as it came.<br /><br />We had Tessa's fourth birthday party at our house a couple of weeks ago. There was a breeze on that sunny day and it rustled through all the Disney princess crap we'd strung up above the back porch. Her new Disney princess bicycle with the glittery handlebar streamers was parked in the lawn. Ten little girls came over for maraschino cherry cake and coloring and dress-up. And Cheetos. Tessa loves Cheetos on her birthday. Out front, the tulips and daffodils bloomed, big and bright. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ly8t7fjmTf4/U0qpyRVyHXI/AAAAAAAAHVY/4Xx_-N9bZiY/s1600/IMG_7924.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ly8t7fjmTf4/U0qpyRVyHXI/AAAAAAAAHVY/4Xx_-N9bZiY/s1600/IMG_7924.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-02VtqR8pDkA/U0qpycrM79I/AAAAAAAAHVU/Fc9BCTLwQAw/s1600/Tessa,+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-02VtqR8pDkA/U0qpycrM79I/AAAAAAAAHVU/Fc9BCTLwQAw/s1600/Tessa,+4.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-47658619420479290162014-03-20T19:11:00.003-05:002014-03-20T19:15:28.098-05:00Public Service Announcement for Moms Who Think They Are Still Cool and Want to Get a Nose Ring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This is a legit Public Service Announcement for Moms Who Think They Are Still Cool and Want to Get a Nose Ring:<br /><br />Don't do it.<br /><br />I did it.<br /><br />I was in San Francisco with a girlfriend, it was my 31st birthday, my kids were across the country, and I thought getting my nosed pierced was the best idea ever.<br /><br />This is the fateful sign that was outside the shop on Haight Street where I got my piercing. I thought, Yes! Today<i> is </i>the day! <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vwD1exw2IY4/Uyt_gehYiTI/AAAAAAAAHKY/fCP2uDIiW1M/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vwD1exw2IY4/Uyt_gehYiTI/AAAAAAAAHKY/fCP2uDIiW1M/s1600/1.png" /></a></div><br />This is me right afterwards. It was still kinda throbby and I was still tentative about it and still had ahead of me the learning process of how-to-pick-your-nose-with-a-nose-ring-in (which is, like, a whole new world), but anyway I was happy. I was drinking a beer in San Francisco--a beautiful place I'd never been--with my best friend and that was The Day I Got That Piercing I Always Wanted.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3i1CHNR0VVQ/Uyt_g4vIe9I/AAAAAAAAHKc/v8x7MS5NQuY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-09-24+at+9.26.06+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3i1CHNR0VVQ/Uyt_g4vIe9I/AAAAAAAAHKc/v8x7MS5NQuY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-09-24+at+9.26.06+PM.png" /></a></div><br />What about the fact that I had two young children at home? And the fact that my nose needed time to, like, heal and stuff? The fact that I needed to give it salt baths twice a day and all kinds of other TLC that I would probably never get around to because moms don't exactly have time to give TLC to themselves? I thought I just wouldn't worry about that. It would all be okay. <br /><br />That was before I knew the specific, exquisite agony of having an afro catch on my nose ring and then to have the little person attached to that afro lurch away. For the record, it feels like someone is trying to pull your entire brain through a tiny, tender hole in your nose. Like someone has tied one end of a string to your nosering and the other end to a doorknob and then slammed the door--like pulling a tooth, except it's a tooth in your nose. OK, you get it. <br /><br />Needless to say, seven months in and my nose still feels as tender and throbby as the day I got it. Because it essentially gets re-pierced once a week, no thanks to one of my kids' errant curls. <br /><br />Most days, I still feel like I <i>am</i> a cool mom, for the record. And most days I do still look in the mirror and think, Damn, that piercing looks good. But those aren't the days, like today, when the whole snag-on-the-crazy-kid's-hair thing happens. <br /><br />I would just take it out if I knew how. But it feels somehow like it's locked in there and someone has thrown away the key. No clue how to get it out. I would have to go to someone here in town to take it out for me. But I don't have time for that. Because I have two kids.<br /><br />Which is why I'm writing this today--to tell you that just in case you think that nose rings and babies mix, you're wrong.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-91652566238603090732014-03-14T17:39:00.000-05:002014-03-14T22:22:48.317-05:00What I Learned from Painting My Kitchen Cabinets <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Au3Fs3Fq-EY/UyODmhb9myI/AAAAAAAAHJo/xCotX2lhwog/s1600/martha+stewart+bedford+gray+kitchen+cabinets.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Au3Fs3Fq-EY/UyODmhb9myI/AAAAAAAAHJo/xCotX2lhwog/s1600/martha+stewart+bedford+gray+kitchen+cabinets.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Painting my kitchen cabinets is something Iāve wanted to do for years but was very daunted by, especially when I learned that I would need to use oil paint if I wanted the paint job to be durable and easy to wipe down. In case you didnāt know, oil paint is the opposite of awesome to work with. It is stinky and sticky and you have to use either paint thinner or vegetable oil (yes, this works!) to get it off your hands. Worst of all, it takes 24 hours between each coat to dry, and it doesnāt respond to sanding as well as latex, so youāre more likely to have to live with your mistakes. <br /><br />Here's what the cabinets looked like before I started:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3x0MrZ8y9dE/UyODl7IPfEI/AAAAAAAAHJg/mnF57-L7x20/s1600/after+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3x0MrZ8y9dE/UyODl7IPfEI/AAAAAAAAHJg/mnF57-L7x20/s1600/after+3.png" /></a></div><br />And here's what the kitchen looked like before I painted the walls about a year ago. Makes my eyes bleed now. Still amazed about how quickly my tastes can change over a five-year period:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mawbUcq8ZQE/UyODlVjrElI/AAAAAAAAHJU/iJ6dkD4-oGY/s1600/IMG_9061.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mawbUcq8ZQE/UyODlVjrElI/AAAAAAAAHJU/iJ6dkD4-oGY/s1600/IMG_9061.png" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Because I was painting my kitchen, which we obviously use often, I completed the project in fits and starts over a period of three weeks, usually working on the weekends. I always imagined Iād paint my cabinets white or cream, but then I found this gray that I fell in love withāMartha Stewartās āBedford Gray,ā which I thought would look super pretty against <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/02/my-minty-kitchen-remodel.html">my mint walls </a>(Benjamin Mooreās āCool Mintā) and perhaps not show dirt quite as easily. I found this color on <a href="http://hookedonhouses.net/2013/01/16/before-after-a-builder-basic-kitchen-goes-bedford-gray/">another womanās blog</a>, where she wrote about painting her own cabinets this color. I believe Martha Stewart herself has this color in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one of</i>her kitchens. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-grLKwKZRISU/UyODmlYFqJI/AAAAAAAAHJ0/TSBEFr7NdMw/s1600/bedford+gray+martha+stewart.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-grLKwKZRISU/UyODmlYFqJI/AAAAAAAAHJ0/TSBEFr7NdMw/s1600/bedford+gray+martha+stewart.png" height="580" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">In addition to painting the cabinets, I took down another one of the cabinets beside my kitchen sink and added open shelving with $10 corbels and lumber from Home Depot. We moved the cabinet we took down into our laundry room so we didnāt actually lose any storage. And now we have a great place to display some of our favorite dishes, including the beginning of my cake stand collection. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UzMjCpzk08g/UyODlacfRVI/AAAAAAAAHJc/jTQqdKDdS1Q/s1600/Bedford+Gray+cabinets.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UzMjCpzk08g/UyODlacfRVI/AAAAAAAAHJc/jTQqdKDdS1Q/s1600/Bedford+Gray+cabinets.png" height="427" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Part of the reason I want to share this project here, besides that I'm proud of the way it turned out, is that I learned so much during the process. I hope I can save others some time and frustration before they get going with oil paint on their own cabinets. So, in no particular order, hereās what I learned about painting kitchen cabinets with oil paint:<br /><br /></div><b>1. Donāt worry about painting the inside of your cabinets. </b>No one will notice, and it will save you a ton of time if you donāt worry about this part. I do plan on one day going back and painting the insides with something easyālike chalk paint. But not any time soon.<br /><br /><b>2. </b>To minimize the appearance of brush strokes, which are basically inevitable, in both your primer and paint <b>use a paint additive called Flood Penetrol</b>, which extends the already excruciatingly long drying time but really does make your paint less gloppy.<br /><br /><b>3. Spend a little extra on a paintbrush designed specifically for oil-based paints.</b> I began with a cheapie paintbrush but switched halfway through the project to a natural bristle brush that cost $15. This made ALL THE DANG DIFFERENCE in how smoothly the paint went on. The expensive brush also shed far less so I wasnāt constantly picking stray bristles off the wet cabinets.<br /><br /><b>4.</b> In spite of my paintbrush recommendation, try to <b>use your paintbrush as little as possible</b>. I got a far better finish when I rolled the paint on, and it also took me much less time. Also spend a little extra to buy a mini-roller thatās guaranteed to be lint free. I found mine at the Sherwin Williams store and loved it because it smoothed the finish out enough that I didnāt have to sand between coats of paint. Still, the final finish isnāt completely smooth; itās just so slightly mottled because of the texture of the rolling brush. I suppose if you want a mirror-smooth finish, you need to pay someone a few thousand bucks to spray your cabinets. I spent about $75 on paint and supplies. (The corbels and boards for six shelves cost the most--another $150.)<br /><br /><b>5. Donāt paint in the dark. </b>Oh, does this sound obvious? Well, since I have two small children, I like to do a lot of my projects after they go to sleep at night. This wasnāt a good one to do. I glopped on a coat of primer in low light one night and woke up the next morning to find a horrifying number of hardened drips. It took me at least an hour the next day to sand off all my mistakes. After that I did all my painting in the daylight.<br /><br /><b>6. Ventilate! </b>It was cold when I took on this project so I didnāt open a window, and I didnāt think to wear a mask. This was dumb, dumb, dumb; lots of people have since told me this. Iāve had several blinding migraines in the weeks since and now wonder if this might have something to do with the paint fumes I huffed for hours on end. <br /><br /><b>7. </b>I also learned: <b>All the hard work was worth it. </b>My kitchen makes me smile now, every single day. The cabinets were the one thing that was holding me back from full-on loving my sweet and humble and happy kitchen. Maybe one day we can knock down the wall between the dining room and kitchen and put in some white quartz countertops and a range hood (big dreaming here) to finish the pictureāand Iām looking for the perfect pair of barstools, which I found at T.J. Maxx but then let get away from meābut in the meantime I am so happy with this space now. It seems like a lot of people are dying to paint over their dated cabinets. I say: Do it! It's hard work, but you'll never regret it. Just put on some good tunes and enjoy the process. And open a window for God's sake.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t1XJuA1_C-0/UyODnEeIjRI/AAAAAAAAHJ4/vZzwSW-kIMQ/s1600/martha+stewart+bedford+gray.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t1XJuA1_C-0/UyODnEeIjRI/AAAAAAAAHJ4/vZzwSW-kIMQ/s1600/martha+stewart+bedford+gray.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.s. These pictures are <i>not</i> awesome. It looks better in person, and I am not super handy with my camera. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-52457564282205840202014-02-15T11:29:00.001-06:002014-02-15T17:59:31.021-06:00Opening the Door<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm baaaaack. Very ready to fire up my blog again after a several-months-long hiatus. This blog has been in hibernation for the winter because a) I'm not a winter person, b) We've just weathered a really tough and painful season with Tessa's behavior that we're now so happily emerging from, c) I took a break from home projects at my husband's request, and d) I've been really tucking into <a href="http://www.blackandwhitetype.com/">my work</a>. I took on a few more freelance clients (<a href="http://www.dluxehome.com/">D. Luxe Home</a>, <a href="http://www.bynumdesign.com/">Bynum Design</a>, and <a href="http://www.tjandersonhomes.com/">T.J. Anderson Real Estate Partners</a>), and it looks like a few more are about to sign on. I love that I've accidentally developed a niche with home improvement/interior design/real estate/building companies. It's probably, actually, not very accidental at all since these are the things I most like to write about and don't have to feign enthusiasm to do so. The irony hasn't been lost on me that I stopped writing my own blog so other people could pay me to write their blogs for them. But this space remains important to me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As always, it's been tough managing a full-time-work-from-home schedule while also managing these two little girls, wiping their perpetually snotty noses, staying patient and kind and fun--and staying focused on paying off our debt. We are proud to have paid off $10K in 2013 and have another $10K (and then some) left to go; this includes paying off our car but not our house. Some days I have to all but sit on my hands so I won't use them to online shop or drive as fast as I can to T.J. Maxx, which truly is my happy place. But I'm so thankful to have hit my stride with having two kids. It was a tough adjustment for me--going from having one apple of my eye to two--and it only took me a year. This is something I'd like to write about here soon. It's helped getting Livvy into one of Tessa's Mother's Day Out programs twice a week, and we're budgeting for even more childcare starting next month. I need the time to get my work done. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8kdOpmwLXnU/Uv-hohwt7HI/AAAAAAAAHHo/fVTFamKoMZQ/s1600/black+and+white+and+loved+all+over.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8kdOpmwLXnU/Uv-hohwt7HI/AAAAAAAAHHo/fVTFamKoMZQ/s1600/black+and+white+and+loved+all+over.png" height="640" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I also need the time to get back to doing some of the things that make me happy. Like painting everything in sight. Yesterday morning, before the gray skies broke into a long rain, I got back into the swing of things by painting my back door Martha Stewart's "Duck Egg." I flipping love it. And this morning, I started the process of painting our kitchen cabinets. After much debate, I decided that I'm going to do it the "right" way--with more durable oil paint, which takes forever to dry--rather than with water-based or chalk paint, which I was considering using. I'm using Martha Stewart's "Bedford Gray," which I chose based on <a href="http://hookedonhouses.net/2013/01/16/before-after-a-builder-basic-kitchen-goes-bedford-gray/">this kitchen transformation</a>. Crossing my fingers it turns out as gorgeous and fresh as I envision. <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/02/my-minty-kitchen-remodel.html">Here</a>'s what our kitchen cabinets look like now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNXjf4Cnhio/Uv-cgIUiD2I/AAAAAAAAHHY/TUywX3sKHS8/s1600/Martha+Stewart+Duck+Egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNXjf4Cnhio/Uv-cgIUiD2I/AAAAAAAAHHY/TUywX3sKHS8/s1600/Martha+Stewart+Duck+Egg.jpg" /></a></div><br />Cheers to spring--I'm a little premature to be sure, but I feel her coming. She's in my heart--a whole new season.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-51841777720273129822013-11-26T13:06:00.001-06:002013-11-26T13:29:05.885-06:00Livvy, 1 Year Old. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtGiNs3wNnI/UpTb7p_unSI/AAAAAAAAHDU/Z3ImHLWV0ZE/s1600/Livvy+Lara.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtGiNs3wNnI/UpTb7p_unSI/AAAAAAAAHDU/Z3ImHLWV0ZE/s640/Livvy+Lara.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">five days old</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Her eyes began gray. Over the past year the brown has crept in--as though tea leaves were steeping slowly but surely in the twin cups of her eyes. Now only the outer rim of her irises are gray. Those cocoa eyes are crowned by furrowed brows, and there's one deep dimple to punctuate her pouty lips, which remind me of an upside-down heart. Her mouth rests in a natural frown. It's a frown that cries out to be kissed, to be reversed. And I do, and it does. <br /><br />Along with those gray eyes Livvy's birthmark has faded this past year. I haven't written about it here, but she was born with a large Mongolian spot on her bottom and on up her back. When we first saw it, Nekos and I were alarmed and pressed the buzzer on our hospital bed to ask for a nurse. It was blue-purple, and we worried she'd been bruised during birth. Some people told us she'd have her Mongolian spot forever; others said it would fade dramatically over her first year of life. And it has, along with most other reminders of her newbornness. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/08/9-months-ago-livvys-birth-story.html">A year ago today</a>, Livvy was placed into my arms for the first time. This was the most heavenly feeling I've ever had the pleasure of feeling. Matched only by having Tessa placed into my arms two years and eight months earlier. My long wait was over, and my littlest girl was healthy and stunning. She seemed as relieved to be in my arms as I was to have her there.<br /><br />I've spent the past 365 days getting to know her, and she is fabulous. I work from home, and she's been here with me every day. I know her best, and maybe she knows me best, too. She's a little feisty, a lot sweet, sly and silly, and very loving. An easy, laid-back baby--not fussy, no problems with teething, no problems with separation anxiety. (Some notable problems, however, with sleeping through the night, but since this is her birthday entry we can talk about that another time.)<br /><br />Livvy has completed this family. We don't deserve her, but we are so blessed to call this brown-eyed girl ours.<br /><br />p.s. At the exact moment Livvy was born, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXij1LZl0rk">this song</a> was playing on the iPod dock Nekos had playing in the delivery room. <i>Look at where we are / Remember where we started out / Never gonna be without each other's love again ...</i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofje6qzgkFw/UpToQlUEaMI/AAAAAAAAHEc/m1RYlMd3NoU/s1600/Livvy,+1+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofje6qzgkFw/UpToQlUEaMI/AAAAAAAAHEc/m1RYlMd3NoU/s640/Livvy,+1+copy.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ynTZC5CfTOA/UpTnn_o8c2I/AAAAAAAAHEU/AwfKZ3T-7BM/s1600/IMG_5581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ynTZC5CfTOA/UpTnn_o8c2I/AAAAAAAAHEU/AwfKZ3T-7BM/s640/IMG_5581.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aStCBH2CYio/UpTnmwHm7bI/AAAAAAAAHEM/Ip0HlDYh3HI/s1600/IMG_5600_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="960" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aStCBH2CYio/UpTnmwHm7bI/AAAAAAAAHEM/Ip0HlDYh3HI/s640/IMG_5600_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-339411520720110702013-11-24T17:04:00.003-06:002013-12-04T07:43:46.573-06:00Livvy's First Birthday Party. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Hmk2OZNqpo/UpJ44zoVLII/AAAAAAAAHAw/G6edh_LGW48/s1600/liv+first+photo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Hmk2OZNqpo/UpJ44zoVLII/AAAAAAAAHAw/G6edh_LGW48/s640/liv+first+photo.png" width="592" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yesterday we had the honor of throwing Livvy her first birthday party. (She turns one this Tuesday.) Especially because she can tend to be an afterthought (being the little sister and all), I loved that she got to be the belle of the Barnes ball yesterday. Livvy doesn't have any friends of her own (yet) so Tessa, Nekos, and I shared our friends with her and invited them over for banana cake (made from <a href="http://dessert.food.com/recipe/best-ever-banana-cake-with-cream-cheese-frosting-67256">this recipe</a>, which turned out divine) and sliders. Beer and juice boxes. My sweet mama came--she is the person who makes Livvy smile the most, which she did so much of yesterday. Nekos played records and the kids played in the sandbox outside. It was crisp and cold but bright and sunny--the first sun we'd seen in a couple of days, and it was so welcomed. Livvy took more steps than I'd seen her take yet--about 10--at her party. I'll be back later this week to write more about our first year with Livvy and as a family of four. For now, it's taken me altogether too long to write this paragraph because I have two little girls vying for a spot on my lap. p.s. Here was <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2011/03/1st-birthday-party.html">Tessa's first birthday party</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5io7emg9FPg/UpJ5DuOuWAI/AAAAAAAAHBE/ZeDwCEUMXB8/s1600/IMG_6151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5io7emg9FPg/UpJ5DuOuWAI/AAAAAAAAHBE/ZeDwCEUMXB8/s640/IMG_6151.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qfXdZBE7dg8/UpJ7eC-jJVI/AAAAAAAAHCE/yip-AG0DXM8/s1600/IMG_6144.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qfXdZBE7dg8/UpJ7eC-jJVI/AAAAAAAAHCE/yip-AG0DXM8/s640/IMG_6144.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QIpczodT5S4/UpJ7WnGoZjI/AAAAAAAAHBc/j4YdFUwPmhw/s1600/sawyer.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QIpczodT5S4/UpJ7WnGoZjI/AAAAAAAAHBc/j4YdFUwPmhw/s640/sawyer.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jMBo5Oh4fy0/UpJ_xo3O8_I/AAAAAAAAHCg/C8lDIcjjLQ0/s1600/lou.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jMBo5Oh4fy0/UpJ_xo3O8_I/AAAAAAAAHCg/C8lDIcjjLQ0/s1600/lou.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JuJecs7hbTQ/UpJ9eEY8qvI/AAAAAAAAHCQ/EVKmMgk5FCU/s1600/chris.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JuJecs7hbTQ/UpJ9eEY8qvI/AAAAAAAAHCQ/EVKmMgk5FCU/s1600/chris.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm1_NNIN7O8/UpJ7XmNh_rI/AAAAAAAAHBo/ibT4qGl15no/s1600/ellen+and+tara.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm1_NNIN7O8/UpJ7XmNh_rI/AAAAAAAAHBo/ibT4qGl15no/s640/ellen+and+tara.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PO8Pfg1J-bg/UpJ7Xm9kWhI/AAAAAAAAHBk/nRL1nIeHU3Q/s1600/tara+mason.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PO8Pfg1J-bg/UpJ7Xm9kWhI/AAAAAAAAHBk/nRL1nIeHU3Q/s640/tara+mason.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMIJeM2uV0k/UpJ7apKzeXI/AAAAAAAAHB4/QMB2Z-Lzpso/s1600/brooke.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMIJeM2uV0k/UpJ7apKzeXI/AAAAAAAAHB4/QMB2Z-Lzpso/s1600/brooke.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-8mOPvWu5k/UpJ7Zq8anFI/AAAAAAAAHB0/iWLpdnc7bJc/s1600/IMG_6215.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-8mOPvWu5k/UpJ7Zq8anFI/AAAAAAAAHB0/iWLpdnc7bJc/s1600/IMG_6215.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Esd7t0yrFB8/UpJ_xIz9z2I/AAAAAAAAHCc/gC2pIW1MFUY/s1600/dylan+tessa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Esd7t0yrFB8/UpJ_xIz9z2I/AAAAAAAAHCc/gC2pIW1MFUY/s1600/dylan+tessa.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wer78dVBM-4/UpJ_xt9gPpI/AAAAAAAAHCo/-BmqXw4uXgc/s1600/livvy+lara.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wer78dVBM-4/UpJ_xt9gPpI/AAAAAAAAHCo/-BmqXw4uXgc/s1600/livvy+lara.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K6Dk26tSfOQ/UpJ5EBAaX7I/AAAAAAAAHBA/CcX1-dac09k/s1600/IMG_6147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K6Dk26tSfOQ/UpJ5EBAaX7I/AAAAAAAAHBA/CcX1-dac09k/s640/IMG_6147.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.partypail.com/"> <img border="0" height="228" src="http://lib.store.yahoo.net/lib/yhst-96990552598725/bestdecorationsbadge.png " width="215" /> </a></div></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a><br /><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-74370846575036481482013-11-21T21:45:00.002-06:002013-11-26T09:35:38.222-06:0010 Thoughts on a Year of Breastfeeding. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tj7B7X4K9dQ/Uo7TZD-U_wI/AAAAAAAAHAc/6ZyKCezxryQ/s1600/db7874c62abb11e3959e22000aeb1b4e_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tj7B7X4K9dQ/Uo7TZD-U_wI/AAAAAAAAHAc/6ZyKCezxryQ/s400/db7874c62abb11e3959e22000aeb1b4e_8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />I breastfed my first baby for five weeks. They were five of the worst weeks of my life. When it was over, I was inconsolable. I spent the next year or more feeling like a failure. More so than I have about anything else in my life. Even though I knew rationally that it was totally, completely fine that I couldn't make the whole booby-milky-mommy-nom-noms thing work, I couldn't <i>feel</i> that. All I felt was so sad, so defensive, so regretful. There were times when I looked at baby Tessa, with that satin pile of curls and those eyes that simply devoured me, and cried and said, "Oh, baby, I'm so, so sorry. Mommy is so, so sorry." It was so silly. I know that now. And I even knew that then. I knew that it was insane to beat myself up about it. But I beat myself to a pulp. And I made up my mind that I was gonna friggin' breastfeed my second baby come hell or high water. It has been said that I only had a second baby so I could breastfeed him or her. That's not entirely untrue. Before I had my second daughter, Livvy, I informed more than a few people that I wanted, and deserved, a "do over" with nursing. I got that chance a year ago this week. Here are some of my thoughts/notes on nursing my second daughter for a year:<br /><br /><b>1) The research. </b>When I was pregnant with Livvy, I read far less about fetal development and childbirth and concentrated instead on studying up on mammary glands. I read <i>Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Breastfeeding </i>from cover to cover, poring over the textbook-style photos of naked boobs with babes attached to them in various positions. I read lots about my first baby's condition--tongue-tied-ness--and about my own postpartum condition--postpartum anxiety. I got prepared. If breastfeeding and postpartum anxiety are the perfect storm, I spent all nine months stocking my storm shelter. I also read and admired books that rhapsodized about breastfeeding in a relaxed, not fanatical way. Like <i>Great With Child </i>by Beth Ann Fennelly, who I recall writing about how a braid of her milk sluiced into her daughter's rosebud mouth. Something like that. Something that made breastfeeding sound just as poetic and possible as it could be. These books were so important for me.<br /><br /><b>2) The chats. </b>At last, I lightened up about the whole breastfeeding thing. I had lots of conversations with girlfriends--mothers or not--who confessed that they didn't, in fact, think that breastfeeding was the bee's knees. They variously thought it was weird, perplexing, overwhelming, and overly difficult, even impossible; these were perspectives and opinions I needed to hear after drowning myself in the misery of online forums, where everyone knows that breast is best and formula is arsenic and you couldn't possibly love your baby if you put her to sleep by tucking a plastic nipple between her lips.<br /><br /><b>3) The tenacity. </b>I kept at it. In the beginning, when there were scabs on my nipples. And in the middle, when I was breastfeeding in a car, in a coffee shop, in a bathroom, in a bar, at a festival, at a funeral, on a plane, while I was peeing, while I was eating, in the middle of the night, before dawn, every hour on the hour. And when Livvy was nine months old and I went to San Francisco for four days without her, I pumped for four days. And it totally sucked. And it was humiliating. But I wasn't ready to be done. And I'm so glad I stuck it out. Even though I will never forget pumping in a handicap stall at the Phoenix airport, and I will never forget my best friend watching me pump--the <i>slurp-slurp</i> sound, the grotesque mechanics of it--and proclaiming it <i>so weird</i>. One of the things that struck me the hardest about "failing" at breastfeeding with my first child is that there was no second chance. Once the well had run dry, it was all over. I was so used to being able to have a second go at things, to go away for a bit, have a good night's sleep, return and make amends, and get started anew with something. The second time around I knew full well that when the milk was gone it was gone for good so I had better be sure I was ready to let it go when I did.<br /><br /><b>4) The veterans. </b>I found it invaluable to have a few girlfriends, seasoned at breastfeeding, who I could call, email, or pull aside and ask assorted questions. Things like, "So.... should I s<i>till</i> not be having my period?" "Should the baby really be <i>this </i>distracted during a feeding?" Every baby is different, as is every nursing relationship. But comparing and sympathizing with real women was important for me.<br /><br /><b>5) The being there. </b>From around four or five months old, Livvy has been an incredibly distracted and squirmy eater, which is why I started supplementing with formula around then. The only time she is insanely into nursing is when she's deliriously tired. Which means that our best nursing sessions happen before nap times and bed times and in the middle of the night. These are the times--in the inky darkness, with just the tick-tock of the clock and the creak of the rocking chair, that I can really relax and drink up the fleeting pleasure that is nursing my beautiful baby girl.<br /><br /><b>6) The sensuality. </b>I fear I will never feel as feminine as I have while nursing my daughter. My body right now is still a mess. It's wobbly and messy and luscious and voluptuous and squishy and there are three silvery vertical stretch marks on my lower tummy--and I wore exercise shorts and a tee-shirt on a canoeing trip this summer because I was too embarrassed to put on a swimsuit--but I have loved this body this year. It's been generous and benevolent, and I am grateful for it. (Maybe especially now that bikini season is over.)<br /><br /><b>7) The reactions. </b>Thankfully, I haven't had any problems with strangers deriding me for nursing in public. Probably because I didn't do a whole lot of it and never uncovered. (I made an art out of knotting swaddling blankets around my neck and nursing Livvy discreetly in East Nashville coffee shops.) When anyone did notice, I took some small pleasure in their reactions--a little squirmy and shifty, a little starry-eyed and nostalgic. It seems the sight of one nursing woman makes every other mother recall her own experience, for better or worse. I've loved hearing their stories, and I've welcomed them, especially since I've known both sides of this coin.<br /><br /><b>8) The culture. </b>Even though I had a great experience nursing this time and am thrilled to have been able to do it, I still say that the breast-is-best people need to shut their fat mouths immediately and go find something better to do with their lives than shame and bully other moms. The Nipple Nazis, especially those in anonymous online forums, are some of the cruelest pieces of shit I have ever come into contact with. To so much as infer that a new, formula-feeding mom is doing anything less than loving her baby as best as she possibly can is almost criminal. It's hard enough to learn how to be a mother without being told from the very beginning that you're doing things all wrong.<br /><br /><b>9) The golden ticket myth. </b>My first baby got sick a lot. During her first year of life, she had several ear infections and frighteningly high fevers and an incidence of projectile vomiting, and she became quite familiar with the pink goo known as amoxicillin. Each time she got sick, I blamed myself. My second baby has gotten sick, too. Not quite as frequently or as severely--though that may be unrelated to breastfeeding--but enough so that I feel reassured that breastfeeding isn't the magic get-out-of-all-ailments free card that I imagined it to be. Most importantly, and what's come as the biggest relief of all to me: Baby Livvy is no more bonded to me than baby Tessa was. Breast or no breast, a mother loves her baby wildly, recklessly, endlessly.<br /><br /><b>10) The awesome-or-nothing factor. </b>The first go-round, I thought that if I couldn't do breastfeeding "right," I just shouldn't do it at all. If I couldn't <i>exclusively </i>breastfeed. If I couldn't completely abstain from drinking or taking Benadryl or antidepressants or whatever the case was. This time, I've been way more relaxed and forgiving, less regimented and even more imperfect. I've supplemented with formula plenty. I've given Livvy bottles brimming with non-organic cow's milk, and I've heated those mo-fos up in the microwave. I've done the best I can. And, this time at least, it feels good enough. I thank God for the sweet mercy of a second chance.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NC7AW4mTT9c/UpS_pz7s93I/AAAAAAAAHDE/it6nF8cMGmk/s1600/Nursing+on+the+beach.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NC7AW4mTT9c/UpS_pz7s93I/AAAAAAAAHDE/it6nF8cMGmk/s1600/Nursing+on+the+beach.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Here I am nursing Livvy on the beach in Cape Charles, Virginia last May.<br /><div></div></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-7719853432560644892013-11-17T06:41:00.002-06:002013-11-17T06:47:32.072-06:00Tessa Talk, 3-and-a-Half. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's been almost a year since we made a video interview with Tessa. Here she was a couple days ago, being interviewed mostly by her dad, with a cameo by Livvy. Thanks so much to Nekos for putting together this video for us.<br /><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/9GYwYJ-akJ8?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-54281844597739236572013-11-15T12:28:00.002-06:002013-11-16T07:04:31.890-06:00The Final Chapter of the Flooring Saga. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--kOQT1RJJM8/UoZevFd4RYI/AAAAAAAAG-o/UHJHj8TcSDU/s1600/pulling+up+carpet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--kOQT1RJJM8/UoZevFd4RYI/AAAAAAAAG-o/UHJHj8TcSDU/s1600/pulling+up+carpet.JPG" /></a></div><br />A few weeks ago I had a really big, really boring writing deadline that I needed to meet. To procrastinate from really digging in on this deadline, I decided ("decided" may not be the correct word, as what I actually did was to just "do" and not "think") to finish ripping up the rest of the upstairs carpet. Note to self, for future notice: The worst possible way to procrastinate from doing something awful and stressful is to create more awful, stressful things to do--especially things that make your home look like it's been tossed around by a tornado.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qV0GiZdFq5s/UoZevGCcATI/AAAAAAAAG-g/sDS_62MtjHg/s1600/How+to+pull+up+carpet+from+hardwoods.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qV0GiZdFq5s/UoZevGCcATI/AAAAAAAAG-g/sDS_62MtjHg/s1600/How+to+pull+up+carpet+from+hardwoods.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>I had removed the carpet from <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/08/before-after-carpeted-stairs-to-painted.html">our stairs</a>, the hallway, and <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2013/10/painted-white-floors.html">the nursery</a>, and painted those floors. The master bedroom was the final chapter in this, the single biggest project I've taken on at our little bungalow. And it was hard work doing all the rooms I'd already done--not only the pulling out the carpet and padding and tack strips and disposing of it part but, much more tediously, being on my hands and knees for hours coaxing up nails and staples and then the sanding and the vacuuming and the scrubbing and the sanding and the vacuuming and the vacuuming. And the sanding. All this before I had the pleasure of covering up these heinous floors with creamy white paint (the painting part was just one big <i>ahhhhh</i> for my soul; all the rest of it was just what I had to do to get to the <i>ahhhhh</i> part).<br /><br />Because I'd already done the rest of our upstairs floors, I knew what I was up against. Until I found linoleum on much of the floor I uncovered in the bedroom. That's when I remembered that the guy who renovated our house seven years ago had mentioned to us that our bedroom was once a kitchen, and our house once a duplex. That linoleum was a vestige of this home's past, which is baffling to us.<br /><br />It turns out that linoleum is a real asshole to get off a floor. I spent an evening reading solutions online and found mention of using a hot iron and wet towel to get it off. That definitely ended up working and was how I was able to get all the linoleum up. But it took a long time, and it wasn't fun. And it didn't smell good. Think old, hot, melty, linoleum smell.<br /><br />Here's a little video I made, when I first realized this iron/wet towel trick would work; repeat times a bazillion and I was finally done getting up the linoleum.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5MOtR69ylmQ?list=UUnTv5Li-ynV1YOpmsMaBjCg" width="640"></iframe> <br /><br />And I have kids, you guys. A baby who wants to get into everything and put everything into her mouth--staples! hot iron! screwdriver! carpet padding! possibly lead-based old paint! stinky, wet, hot linoleum! And another little girl who is really curious and wants to help and finds it really hard to resist the very strong urge to touch wet paint to see if, in fact, it is still wet.<br /><br />This wasn't a project that could wait though. This is where we sleep every night. It's our little sanctuary after our big, busy, noisy days. So after I got the linoleum up, I paused for about a week to get that writing deadline knocked out, then got back to this project last week and worked over several days to finish up.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HNwFJcESElc/UoZm_DyLx0I/AAAAAAAAG_M/gHys1QK09eQ/s1600/painted+white+floors.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HNwFJcESElc/UoZm_DyLx0I/AAAAAAAAG_M/gHys1QK09eQ/s640/painted+white+floors.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />And, then, just because I am sort of crazy and because I thought the time was as good as any, I painted our bedroom walls, too. The color is <a href="http://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/find-and-explore-colors/paint-colors-by-family/SW6204/">"Sea Salt" by Sherwin Williams</a>. It was two years ago that <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2011/11/white-with-pops-of-color-our-new.html">I painted our bedroom stark white</a>, and it hadn't been sitting well with me. It was such a harsh white. When I saw "Sea Salt" on an acquaintance's walls recently, I realized it was the exact color I wanted in my bedroom. I'd seen the color bouncing around on Pinterest for a while, but seeing it in person--this dreamy, washed-out gray/green/blue--all multi-dimensional and soothing but not boring--clinched it for me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eP4BMD_QxTE/UoZm8v139oI/AAAAAAAAG_E/6TqaotcMnz0/s1600/Sherwin+Sea+Salt.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eP4BMD_QxTE/UoZm8v139oI/AAAAAAAAG_E/6TqaotcMnz0/s1600/Sherwin+Sea+Salt.png" /></a></div><br />Other than the paint, the only thing I bought new was this big jute rug (got it for $80, as <a href="http://www.rugsusa.com/rugsusa/control/rugs">RugsUSA.com </a>was having a 65% off sale) and these new <a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/30090117/#/20111974">Lenda curtains from Ikea</a>. We don't have an Ikea in Nashville, but I was able to order them online--$10 a panel, and the quality is awesome!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8kUqp9o8iS8/UoZm_5N4dDI/AAAAAAAAG_g/txU98GQyEi4/s1600/sherwin+williams+sea+salt+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8kUqp9o8iS8/UoZm_5N4dDI/AAAAAAAAG_g/txU98GQyEi4/s640/sherwin+williams+sea+salt+copy.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />I finished everything up yesterday. Finally. Worked in a fever until every last thing was back in its place and every last piece of art hung up. Lit a Glade Apple Cinnamon candle and felt complete. As I was passing the bedroom on my way downstairs, I caught a glimpse of the finished space and felt all <i>ahhhhh </i>inside<i>. </i>This was hard work. No one could pay me to do this kind of thing again, but I'm so glad I did it. I'm so glad that yucky carpet is a thing of the past and these old floors get to live a new life under my family's feet. This place is looking more "me" every year. Does it look like "Nekos"? I wouldn't know. He says he doesn't care and has no input, except to say, "Good job, babe."<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KyWwBlmNNnM/UoaBUvgLFZI/AAAAAAAAG_0/EKC0CdLIHhE/s1600/sea+salt.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KyWwBlmNNnM/UoaBUvgLFZI/AAAAAAAAG_0/EKC0CdLIHhE/s640/sea+salt.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUD4eGw_thc/UoaBUAr5asI/AAAAAAAAG_s/eaG00QqP0JE/s1600/white+painted+floors.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUD4eGw_thc/UoaBUAr5asI/AAAAAAAAG_s/eaG00QqP0JE/s1600/white+painted+floors.png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFcT_qBdTpA/UoZm9HETBhI/AAAAAAAAG_I/7Dr7qOAGR1Q/s1600/Sea+Salt+paint+color.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFcT_qBdTpA/UoZm9HETBhI/AAAAAAAAG_I/7Dr7qOAGR1Q/s1600/Sea+Salt+paint+color.png" /></a></div><br />Nekos says I need to take the winter off from working on the house. He's right. I've been a little cray and could stand to be less busy, to invite less stress into my life with big, open, wildly flailing arms. I hope to use my beautiful new bedroom to do more relaxing this winter.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wX0cAmgdDJQ/UoZm7968pzI/AAAAAAAAG-8/zu9w_gBCH7M/s1600/SW+Sea+Salt.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wX0cAmgdDJQ/UoZm7968pzI/AAAAAAAAG-8/zu9w_gBCH7M/s1600/SW+Sea+Salt.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div></div></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-73905086536784397462013-11-14T10:59:00.004-06:002013-11-14T11:01:46.113-06:00A Shared Space?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGC_kKBbQQ0/UoT7jvXqaVI/AAAAAAAAG9g/BViApX5_4aw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-14+at+10.33.20+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGC_kKBbQQ0/UoT7jvXqaVI/AAAAAAAAG9g/BViApX5_4aw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-14+at+10.33.20+AM.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: <a href="http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/maxines-vintage-sunshine-small-161774">Apartment Therapy</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Livvy has not been sleeping through the night. This has been going on for more than a month now. Sometimes the reason is clear--her diaper has failed her, and she's cold and wet and very, very mad about it. Other times, I have not a clue why she is up and wailing her guts out. I bring that up because when this time is over, when my baby is a good, sound sleeper again, and perhaps at the same time that we move her to a big girl bed, we also want to move her into a room with her older sister. Tessa loves this idea. I'm sure they won't always love it, and when they're pre-teens (!!?!) we'll be happy to separate them again, but in the meantime we'd like to get everyone on one floor of the house, and we'd like to reclaim our guest bedroom. (And--obviously--I am always looking for new rooms/spaces to decorate.)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pj3xT5LBX-E/UoUAJXbu8pI/AAAAAAAAG-A/4jVACuXrW3w/s1600/first-picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pj3xT5LBX-E/UoUAJXbu8pI/AAAAAAAAG-A/4jVACuXrW3w/s1600/first-picture.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: <a href="http://laybabylay.com/shared-room/">LayBabyLay</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I write this little post not just as an icebreaker--as I've been away from my blog for quite a while now--and not just for an excuse to put up some of my favorite shared space inspiration photos, but because I want to ask your advice about shared rooms. Are they better on paper? Will my little girls wake each other up every time one has to potty or upset one another when one shouts "mommy!" frantically in the middle of the night? Of course, I have visions of them whispering and giggling together, of shared bedtime stories and, sometimes, shared beds. But: Would we be crazy to put them in the same room?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zsVB9p4tvCs/UoT9vgaBSXI/AAAAAAAAG90/9sxbxHj1GlE/s1600/custom+bunk+beds.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zsVB9p4tvCs/UoT9vgaBSXI/AAAAAAAAG90/9sxbxHj1GlE/s1600/custom+bunk+beds.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-34871275764278327052013-10-31T11:36:00.001-05:002013-10-31T11:37:21.757-05:00Livvy, 11 months.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcqR0ZwG2RA/UnKDXB_FFEI/AAAAAAAAG84/8NDQ8Sq9ic8/s1600/1379901_10202236727945186_1121235633_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcqR0ZwG2RA/UnKDXB_FFEI/AAAAAAAAG84/8NDQ8Sq9ic8/s640/1379901_10202236727945186_1121235633_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Fall in Nashville started off slowly, grudgingly, but now the leaves can't seem to fall off the trees fast enough. And now my baby is 11 months old. Last Halloween, we took Tessa trick-or-treating bundled up as a bear and I was <i>so </i>pregnant. Livvy was bearing down on me, an anchor resting at the very bottom of my belly. I was still almost a month away from having her, but by then it felt like she might come any day. It's incredible to think how much has happened in a year's time, how my life has changed and how our family's changed since Livvy entered it. The footage flickers so quickly in my mind; it feels frantic. There has to have been so much I missed, so much I'll forget.<br /><br />Here are some things to remember:<br /><br />This past month in Livvyland was most notable in terms of her communication skills. She's not saying any words, not really, but she's getting so much better at communicating to me what she wants or doesn't want, and she's so pleased when I get it. Sometimes she emphatically shakes her head yes or no, and she more often seems to comprehend what I'm saying--whether I'm telling her, "No, don't touch that!" Or "I seriously love you so much I can't even stand it, you little piece of angelpie you." She took her first step this week, although I still think it'll be awhile before she's walking, as she doesn't seem to have the confidence to really go for it just yet. She is more "into everything" than ever before. I just ordered cabinet locks, since her favorite thing to do is open up the kitchen cabinets and take every last thing out. Everything still goes straight into her mouth, disgusting or not, and about 85 percent of the food I put in front of her she either drops off the side of her highchair, where the dog waits, or she chews and spits/drools it down the front of whatever outfit she's wearing. She is still nursing some. We are down to three times a day, which means she gets about four bottles of milk a day (usually a mix of cow, almond, and coconut milk). She loves her milk--all kinds--and in the bathtub she is the most darling, with her potbelly covered in suds.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e1C-nFIAxNc/UnKDXOZW3-I/AAAAAAAAG88/dYGQ5IRKGSI/s1600/1377250_10202233230097742_679998156_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e1C-nFIAxNc/UnKDXOZW3-I/AAAAAAAAG88/dYGQ5IRKGSI/s640/1377250_10202233230097742_679998156_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>She is the last baby I'll have. This family of ours is pretty maxed out. So while I was always tucking away Tessa's outgrown baby clothes and things for Baby No. 2, this time I'm dropping them off at Goodwill or stashing them for expectant friends. Of course, the very most sentimental things--mainly, the outfits that both girls have worn--I'm saving so I can pull them out decades from now and cry buckets over. In any case, knowing that Livvy is my last is bittersweet. I'm cherishing her milestones and her quiet, stunning moments that much more--having seen how fast time flew (and continues to fly) with Tessa.<br /><br />Still, I fail at being Livvy's mom more often than I'd like. I think it was last week that I threw an ink pen against the wall when she wouldn't stop crying and marched upstairs like a child and threw her door open and said, "Please! Please, God.Why won't you nap?! You really, really need to nap. I <i>need</i> you to nap." Tessa "babysits" Livvy more often than I probably should let her, while I'm working or am elbows-deep in one of my compulsive, impulsive, and deeply involved home projects.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9p_Sbw9bv64/UnKDXA1AihI/AAAAAAAAG80/9j4VXbiSzdQ/s1600/1391807_10202233230177744_2135266750_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9p_Sbw9bv64/UnKDXA1AihI/AAAAAAAAG80/9j4VXbiSzdQ/s640/1391807_10202233230177744_2135266750_n.jpg" width="640" /></a>There are things that I do right as a mother, too. I kiss and hold and beam at her whenever she catches my eye. I rub lavender lotion on her knees--tough from so much crawling--and I rock her and nurse her until her eyes flutter closed, and I lay her in bed and cover her and tiptoe out of her room. I marvel over her. She is exquisite. Each of her smiles feels like a triumph to me. I love her, not perfectly, but truly. Next month she will be a year old.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-67981294669742015322013-10-10T12:12:00.001-05:002013-10-10T12:31:02.539-05:00Tessa at Three and a Half. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLijHpUT_NA/UlbbgXiyGFI/AAAAAAAAG7o/aBaK4_Bp5eA/s1600/3.5+tessa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLijHpUT_NA/UlbbgXiyGFI/AAAAAAAAG7o/aBaK4_Bp5eA/s1600/3.5+tessa.png" /></a></div><br />A couple of weeks ago, Tessa hit the half-birthday mark. We didn't put a party hat on her or hand her a slice of cake, but I have been celebrating her in my heart in so many ways. In fact, when I think about Tessa, I get that fluttery, half-dizzy feeling I used to get when I'd have a crush on boys in high school. Back then, I wrote poetry in my diaries; now I write entries on my blog. Back then, I pined quietly; now I get to love my family out loud. I've affixed so much hope and awe and unconditional love to this little girl, with her wild hair and her loud voice and her insistent kisses.<br /><br />A lot of cool things have been going on in Tessa Land recently. I guess we planted the learning-to-read seeds long ago, with all those story times and alphabets recited. But watching her love of the written word begin to bloom bonds me to her even more. In just the past two months, she's decided that she wants to know what every word starts with and what are other words that start with that letter, too? She goes around saying, "Buh-buh-buh" or "Fa-Fa-Fa" a lot, sounding out words to figure out what letter they begin with. She can spell her own name and Livvy's name. And she has started to write out her name, although it's still a jumble, and she usually writes it backwards on the page, like A-S-S-E-T.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nRDGG-m1GPQ/UlbbgSr43yI/AAAAAAAAG74/NivmhyZ1RdE/s1600/3.5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nRDGG-m1GPQ/UlbbgSr43yI/AAAAAAAAG74/NivmhyZ1RdE/s1600/3.5.png" /></a></div><br />Last week, she got her first haircut. I had been putting this off because her hair is normally a rat's nest (it starts to 'dread about 24 hours after I last washed it and detangled it), and I couldn't imagine any hairstylist taking the time that I do to patiently (or <i>im</i>patiently, depending on my mood or hers) yank a comb through her curls. But since she wants to be Ariel for Halloween, I thought I would practice blow drying her hair and straightening it. (On Halloween, I'll spray it red.) While it was all combed out and semi-straightened, it seemed a great time to go get her dead ends cut off. These pictures show her pre-haircut and post-flat iron. How hilarious is it that this is what her hair looks like after a flat iron? Mine would be stick straight. In other words, her hair doesn't usually look anything like this, but we had to document it with pictures. It's normally either in a puff of a ponytail on top of her head or it's in tight curls that don't go much past the nape of her neck. She was really apprehensive about the prospect of a haircut, as she thought it would mean that she would return home without any of her hair. But she relaxed once she saw minimal curls land on the floor around the stylist's chair.<br /><br />It kind of bothers me how much Tessa is into her appearance in general. I never tried to stress that with her, as she'll have enough time to worry about her looks later in life. I certainly have made plenty of fuss about how beautiful she is, however, so I'm trying extra hard now to gush about how smart, strong, and thoughtful she is, too. She wants every day to pick out her own outfit and is generally against pants or shorts, always picking skirts or dresses. She loves to accessorize with bracelets, barrettes, headbands, rings, necklaces, and everything has to be princess or ballerina or Minnie Mouse.<br /><br />I'm sure at least some of this focus on looks comes from her loving to watch movies, which are mostly about Prince Charming coming to a beautiful girl's rescue. <i>Cinderella,</i> <i>Tangled, The Little Mermaid, </i>and <i>Beauty and the Beast </i>are favorites, although she also loves <i>The Princess and the Frog</i>. I have kind of given up worrying about how much TV she watches. It's a great way for me to reward her or to get her to stay quiet while the baby's napping, and it means I can get things done around the house or for work. There's no time to beat myself up about stuff like this. There's only time enough to do the best I can. And I make sure that her TV time is counterbalanced with lots of playdates, one-on-one time with me, and outdoor playtime. Her go-to activity is to play with her Barbies. This is kind of a new thing--a love of hers that we stumbled upon when my mom found a basket of my old Barbies in storage. There was no turning back after that. We've already sent a dispatch to the North Pole asking Santa to squeeze <a href="http://www.target.com/p/disney-princess-ultimate-doll-collection/-/A-14298320">this</a> through our chimney come Christmas Eve.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgtbxF2xS1o/UlbbgheMTwI/AAAAAAAAG78/DmlbfjZTuhE/s1600/tessa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgtbxF2xS1o/UlbbgheMTwI/AAAAAAAAG78/DmlbfjZTuhE/s1600/tessa.png" /></a></div><br />Tessa's tantrums have been better in recent months--more subdued and therefore less infuriating. For instance, yesterday she wanted headbands at the grocery store, and I said, "Nope, can't have 'em." And her face got all red and splotchy and she cried for a few minutes, but softly, and she kept walking with me, instead of flopping on the floor. Maybe she is growing up? This is the only thing I like about her growing up. Oh, and potty training. I guess that was a cool thing about her growing up, too. It was awesome when I didn't have to bear witness to her bodily functions all the time. <br /><br />In other news, Tessa has a cavity. It appears to be a genetic one because it's in a unique spot on the outside of one of her molars. (But I'm sure it didn't help that we gave her a spoonful of honey right before bedtime for months at some point when she had a cough that wouldn't quit.) In any case, we've visited the dentist several times so far, and we have another visit coming up at the end of the month, during which she'll be sedated so they can fill the cavity. I'm nervous about it.<br /><br />She is a living doll, and she is growing up too fast. I'm going to blink my eyes and find myself sending her off on the school bus and then ... dropping her off at college. Just thinking about that last milestone, I feel an incredible emptiness. For now, I try to hold her tightly as much as I can, and I come here to write down all of these little details so I can remember what she was like when she was three-and-a-half and giggly and I got the privilege of standing in her doorway, eavesdropping on her playing with her Barbies while wearing a princess costume and kindly letting her baby sister gnaw on a Ken doll.<br /><br />p.s. Here's <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2012/09/tessa-at-two-and-half.html">Tessa at two-and-a-half.</a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-85478667666323657712013-10-07T20:18:00.001-05:002013-10-07T20:25:01.044-05:00Painted White Floors: Livvy's Room. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37vN8raW8fQ/UlNbmk6ARAI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/aSjIGF2CwRs/s1600/painted+white+floors.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37vN8raW8fQ/UlNbmk6ARAI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/aSjIGF2CwRs/s1600/painted+white+floors.png" /></a></div><br />I have nothing against natural hardwood floors. Love 'em to death. But, for me, refinishing the hardwoods I found beneath our upstairs carpet was not an option. These floors were royally effed. Like someone took an anvil and held it realllll high in the air and then dropped it just for fun. There were 80 years of paint splatters and staples and nail holes, and in a couple of places, I could lift a split floorboard up to see the joists. (I told Tessa they were "secret hiding places.")<br /><br />Painting these floors was the only option. And because they were upstairs, where most of the dirt is contained to Hattie [dog] hair and hairballs from a flokati rug, I decided off white was the way to go. I started a few weeks ago and ripped up the carpet in the small hallway. After some light sanding and some intense vacuuming and staple and nail plucking, I coated the floors with the rest of a can of Sherwin Williams Porch and Floor paint that I had from painting my porch. It turned out so damn fine, and I knew I had to do the rest of the upstairs. The color is "Antique White," which looks almost beige on the card, but is in real life a super versatile, lovely shade of cream. I love that paint could camouflage the hot mess underneath but still show these floors' character.<br /><br />Last week I tackled Livvy's room, also upstairs. <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2012/11/a-nursery-for-livvy.html">Here's what it looked like with carpet</a>. I'm such a nerd because I had so much fun doing it. My friends/family think I'm crazy, but this DIY remodeling thing is just my bag. It makes me happy. It's what I do when no one else is at home (that doesn't happen often); I pour most of my "me" time into my house. My kids are used to me covered in paint, and Tessa will often walk into a room and say tentatively, "Is there wet paint in here?"<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lrnxzCJ5a9w/UlNblrHlYgI/AAAAAAAAG7I/9xljSR8JFLg/s1600/painted+white+floors+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lrnxzCJ5a9w/UlNblrHlYgI/AAAAAAAAG7I/9xljSR8JFLg/s1600/painted+white+floors+4.png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xQR3fDcfXk/UlNblsjsCiI/AAAAAAAAG7E/kIERCgXsV6A/s1600/painted+white+floors+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xQR3fDcfXk/UlNblsjsCiI/AAAAAAAAG7E/kIERCgXsV6A/s1600/painted+white+floors+2.png" /></a></div><br />Anyway, I a-friggin'-dore Livvy's room now. I need to say that it normally doesn't look like this. I moved the diaper pail out of the room, so as to pretend that babies don't poop, because wouldn't that be so awesome? And before I picked up all the books and toys and put them into and onto their respective shelves and baskets, the floor was so thick with toys that I could hardly see it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-giyy-DN-fAU/UlNbl-29UxI/AAAAAAAAG7U/Qqe4nToD6CE/s1600/painted+white+floors+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-giyy-DN-fAU/UlNbl-29UxI/AAAAAAAAG7U/Qqe4nToD6CE/s1600/painted+white+floors+3.png" /></a></div><br />The floors in our master bedroom will be next. That's the biggest room in our house, so it'll be an undertaking, but worth it. Happy October!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S5spisgJcd4/UlNbmeqgrFI/AAAAAAAAG7Q/73YA_khI78A/s1600/painted+white+floors+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S5spisgJcd4/UlNbmeqgrFI/AAAAAAAAG7Q/73YA_khI78A/s1600/painted+white+floors+5.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-74064604490001094012013-10-01T12:53:00.001-05:002013-10-01T12:53:39.419-05:00Two Lil Paint Projects. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I picked up the old paintbrush again a few days ago, needing to touch up my green coffee table, which had become etched with markers and other kid-related scars. While I was at it, I used that same color--<a href="http://www.homedepot.com/p/Glidden-DUO-8-oz-MSL106-Martha-Stewart-Living-Rhododendron-Leaf-Interior-Paint-Sample-GLD-MSL106/203448183#.UksLqmRi9FU">Martha Stewart's "Rhodendron Leaf"</a>--to paint this old Cosco stool that we use in our kitchen constantly. A couple of years ago <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2012/03/spray-paint-on-sunday.html">I spraypainted it blue</a>, but it was always too bright for me, and the baby likes to chew on it, so it had gotten all kinds of effed. Yep, chew on it. When I'm not looking/listening, she crawls up to it and scrapes her teeth along the top of the stepstool.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRWUsQnlqYs/UksKAHkx5RI/AAAAAAAAG6U/M6cSSi-n9Ts/s1600/Martha+Stewart+Rhodendron+Leaf.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRWUsQnlqYs/UksKAHkx5RI/AAAAAAAAG6U/M6cSSi-n9Ts/s1600/Martha+Stewart+Rhodendron+Leaf.png" /></a></div><br />And this morning, while Livvy was napping, I tackled the porch swing. I had whitewashed it a long time ago, but it needed to be yellow. I used the same buttery yellow I used to paint Tessa's bedroom--<a href="http://www.homedepot.com/p/BEHR-Premium-Plus-Ultra-8-oz-340C-3-Pismo-Dunes-Interior-Exterior-Paint-Sample-340C-3U/202181568#.UksLwGRi9FU">Behr's "Pismo Dunes."</a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hwF_GZQjJE/UksLJAZesuI/AAAAAAAAG6k/Ilaj1_LV62M/s1600/Behr+Pismo+Dunes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hwF_GZQjJE/UksLJAZesuI/AAAAAAAAG6k/Ilaj1_LV62M/s1600/Behr+Pismo+Dunes.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy October!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-82194064964883640392013-09-30T10:33:00.002-05:002013-09-30T11:07:39.572-05:00One Year as a One-Car Family.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Or5RTekWPRg/UkmZwXWijGI/AAAAAAAAG6E/m5G4ufGLqU8/s1600/recite-13629-1868803643-nizgqn.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Or5RTekWPRg/UkmZwXWijGI/AAAAAAAAG6E/m5G4ufGLqU8/s400/recite-13629-1868803643-nizgqn.png" width="375" /></a></div><br />September was a big month for us. It always is. Nekos turned 33. I turned 31. We celebrated 7 years of marriage and 11 years since we first kissed. This month also marked one year that we've been operating as a one-car family.<br /><br />We sold my Mini Cooper (with its many "quirks") last September. And we kept the Nissan Cube that we "bought" when I was pregnant with Tessa. I say "bought" because I think we only put $2K down on that sucker. We're in fact still quite a ways away from having purchased it in full.<br /><br />I was really apprehensive about what it would be like for a family of four to get by with one car. I think the only reason we've been able to pull it off is because I work from home. If Nekos and I both had to go into an office--and tote the kids back and forth to daycare--there is no way we'd have been able to do this. The other huge saving grace has been our home's proximity to Nekos's work. His office is about four miles from our house, so on days when it's nice (most every day in the spring and fall) he can ride his bike to work. Plus, one of Nekos's coworkers lives in our neighborhood, and she has been an enormous sweetheart to pick him up all the time. All the rest of the time, Tessa, Livvy, and I take Nekos to and from work.<br /><br />It's all my fault. The fact that we had to sell our car. When I started doing full-time freelance writing three years ago, I didn't put any of that money away to pay our taxes the following April. Needless to say April 2011 came as one big punch in the gut. After chipping away on that tax bill for half a year, Nekos and I mutually agreed that it would be a good idea to sell the Mini Cooper to pay our IRS debt in full.<br /><br />Here's the rub: Damned if I didn't do it again and not put any money away for taxes in 2012. I can't recall what I was thinking (or <i>not </i>thinking), but I know it was a tough year for us, financially speaking. I lost the most lucrative freelance job of my life when I was seven months pregnant with Livvy. While I scrambled for more work, we spent the small amount of tax money I had saved.<br /><br />When the tax filing deadline rolled around last April, it hit us even harder than the previous April. We had no cars left to sell, no magic trick in our back pocket, no escape hatch. The baby cried in the backseat all the way home from H&R Block, and Nekos and I were devastated. We blamed each other, blamed ourselves, blamed our kids. Looking down the barrel of our financial situation and seeing how dire it was--all we saw was darkness and hopelessness. I realized then why money problems are the No. 1 cause of divorce. Money can be terribly ugly and destructive. When your partner spends it frivolously, selfishly, it can come across as incredibly unloving. But just like we need food, we need money. We can never truly escape it, so we just have to learn how to handle it.<br /><br />The day after we got that second horrendous tax bill, Nekos left on a business trip. We were so angry at one another that we hardly spoke the whole time he was gone. But one of the times I did talk to him, I asked if he'd be willing to go to a Financial Peace class with me. My mom recommended it to us, and it felt suddenly like, <i>Yes, this is what we have to do. We need HELP.</i> He said yes, but not enthusiastically. I was hesitant to go because there's a religious component to the class; I don't mind that, but Nekos is super wary about religious stuff, so I glossed over that part of it when I explained to him what the class was about.<br /><br />In the end, this past year as a one-car family has been transformative. There have been some frustrations and some logistical nightmares, but far fewer than I expected. We've saved on gas, on insurance, on maintenance, not to mention on car payments. We've spent more time together as a family--in the car, sure, but it's been good time--talking about our days, listening to music, stopping by the grocery store together on the way home. It's simplified things.<br /><br />And thanks to the Dave Ramsey/Financial Peace school of thought that we've now completely adopted, we are inching toward a future that seems much less terrifying and hopeless than it did last April. We have so far to go--debts to pay off, savings to build, and then maybe, hopefully, Lord willing and the creek don't rise, wealth to build. But there's a plan. Every single month Nekos and I sit down together at our dining room table and hammer out our budget. We support one another's efforts to bring in more money and to reign in our individual spending impulses. I've sold a whole bunch of shit on eBay and Craigslist, tried to steer clear of trouble zones (The mall! Oh, that heavenly place, I know she misses me.), and we stay accountable to one another for most every dollar we spend.<br /><br />I was chatting with my friend Brooke on the phone a couple of months ago, telling her that there's so much stuff I'd like to do to the house, telling her that we really would love to have another car. I told her that in the past I would have just "put it on the credit card" or signed ourselves up for another car payment we couldn't afford. It feels so different to just live within our means, to live within parameters that we previously ignored. We struggle with it every day still--and sometimes we fail--but the fact that we have one car (that is kind of mangled on one side, as Nekos backed it into an Indian restaurant this year) and the fact that our toilet leaks all over the floor because there's not room in the budget for a new one and the fact that our deck is home to the world's most mismatched, dilapidated furniture ...<br /><br />"It's honest," said my friend. "You're living a more honest life."<br /><br />Honest! That's exactly right. I'm being honest. I hear it's tacky to talk about money, but I like to talk about it now. With my friends and family, with you guys. Because the honest truth is that too much of the time my family lives paycheck to paycheck, just like so many other families. But I'm tired of it. So is Nekos. We got sick and tired of being sick and tired, and now we're clawing our way out, having finally realized that the answer is not to make more money (although that can help) but to manage the money we <i>already </i>make wisely. The weird thing is we're kind of having fun doing it. It's bonded us--this mutual task of undoing a lifetime's worth of poor financial decisions. And of course there's more at stake now. It's not just about me and Nekos. There are two little girls whose college educations we'd like to pay for.<br /><br />So, as we continue learning these lessons, we have four wheels to our name, instead of eight. And it's honestly all good.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682690993479962260.post-20016598038884407692013-09-27T20:25:00.002-05:002013-09-30T10:44:46.469-05:00Livvy, 10 Months Old. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">My monthly ode to Livvy...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9973971235/" title="livvy 3 by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="livvy 3" height="427" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3709/9973971235_b8e48fde43_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9974118644/" title="lou by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="lou" height="960" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2863/9974118644_43cecb90b7_b.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9973978085/" title="Stool name puzzle by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="Stool name puzzle" height="421" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7333/9973978085_21c9cfe461_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />Baby Livvy turned 10 months old yesterday. From the top of her head to her tippy-toes, this one has "angel" stitched into her very fabric. Sometimes, when the light falls across the crown of her head, you can still see her soft spot pulsing wildly. It's one of the last, dearest vestiges of her newbornness. My mom heard someplace that when a baby's soft spot takes longer than usual to close, she's receiving an extra dose of divinity. I love that idea. But doesn't every parent love the idea that his or her child is special, protected, and part of a great big mysterious plan? All I know is that, in spite of my moaning and groaning and dark circles and feeling older than my age-ness, both of my girls make my own life seem greater, bigger, and more mysterious. And brighter beyond measure. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9974108053/" title="Livvy 4 by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="Livvy 4" height="427" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7433/9974108053_1435826dea_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />This past month Livvy cut her eighth tooth (four up top, four down below), began to stand up for a minute at a time without holding on to anything, and yesterday she climbed all the way up our stairs by herself (with me right behind her every step of the way). She says "mama," "dada," "baba," and "hi" pretty indiscriminately, and has just started to wave hello and goodbye, although not reliably. She crawls around so very fast. I'm not ready for her to walk. Oh, please, not yet.<br /><br />This is the point, by the way, at which I can't imagine life without her. Lots of people say that about their babies right off the bat, but it has only now become true for me. Ten months in, and I am a goner for her.<br /><br />p.s. The Livvy <a href="http://gifts.personalcreations.com/gifts/Puzzle-Name-Stools-30012047">puzzle name stool </a>was a really exciting gift from <a href="http://personalcreations.com/">personalcreations.com</a>. I completely adore it. And it was responsible for teaching Tessa how to spell her sister's name, which is super touching.<br /><br />p.s.s. Here's <a href="http://www.blackandwhiteandlovedallover.com/2011/01/10-months-old.html">Tessa at 10 months</a>.<br /><br /></div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9974107793/" title="livvy 5 by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="livvy 5" height="960" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5493/9974107793_6e7858dcc1_b.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackandwhiteandlovedallover/9974035776/" title="Livvy 6 by Black & White & Loved All Over, on Flickr"><img alt="Livvy 6" height="427" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7347/9974035776_fb4c47279d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-evJMbWputHQ/USKEpcpir9I/AAAAAAAAGIY/oi-GHwhTAqw/s1600/black-white-loved-all-over-signature.png" /></a></div><br /></div>Ellen Mallernee Barneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02731567055096236924noreply@blogger.com1