As always – I’m attacking hard hitting issues over at DC Metro Moms. Come visit – and let me know what you think!
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ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
Dream bathroom rendering at A Schematic Life
Beautiful paintings from Penny Graham
In searching the archives at Brabourne Farm for a specific image, I found several posts on artists that I just loved.
Penny Graham’s paintings of interiors (and exteriors) are charming:
I could sit and stare at these for long stretches of time – drinking in the detail of the textiles and textures. And the soothing colors make me want to stretch out on one of her couches with a book.
I’ll post my other favorite discoveries via Brabourne Farm this week.
As you may already know – I’m a big fan of Michelle Moorland’s room renderings over at A Schmatic Life.
But this one may be my favorite:
I’ve never much liked baths…always thought it felt like sitting in soup…but for this bathroom, I might change my mind.
When I call my oldest child, Oliver a “big brother,” I’m not just talking about age. Weighing in at 9 pounds 2 ounces at birth, he’s been my “big boy” ever since. And every day, he continues to confound people who assume that he’s at least one year older if not two.
But today is his birthday and he’s FIVE. Five sounds bigger. And even though he’s as tall as some seven year olds in our neighborhood, Oliver looks like he’s five.
My five year old boy has many challenges ahead of him. As big as he appears on the outside, his communication skills and behavior are still more like that of a little guy. His delays hold him back from some of the things that come so easily to the other kids his age – but every day he amazes me with new accomplishments. This slower pace of his may not match that of his lightning fast-growing body, but I have to believe that it will all even out in the end.
Even I have had my share of fear and anxiety these last few months as Kindergarten starts to loom…but in the end I just look at my bright, beautiful boy and I can’t help but feel hope instead of worry. He has more strength of character than many adults I know, and I’m so, so proud of him.
Happy birthday Oliver. No matter where life takes you – in my heart, you’ll always be my first baby.
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ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
Bathroom transformation at Odi et Amo
On Style Key West…
Style can also be comfortable
Because I do it all the time. Like every day – several times a day.
Sometimes with cooperation from the “pickee,” and sometimes with resistance that requires a full nelson and lightning fast reflexes for success. But pick that nose I will. Because I cannot abide boogers.
It all started with Oliver. He was one of those snorty newborns. The first night he was home from the hospital, I had to use that suction bulb thing that I found by his head in the hospital isolette. Shortly after his birth, a nurse demonstrated the mouth suctioning I was supposed to perform on him periodically. But after the first day, I decided that he was in little danger of choking on his own saliva. I almost didn’t keep the suction thing, but all the books said to steal everything in the room that wasn’t nailed down since I (i.e. my insurance company) had paid for it. So along with several boxes of cheap tissues and as many panty liners as I could grab, the suction thing traveled home with me via a bulging bag of hospital contraband.
And thank god – because I was beside myself trying to figure out how to stop the first night home snorting that must surely have been a precursor to something requiring a call to 911. I believe it was my aunt who woke up and suggested the suction thing. And I supposed that after climbing over her to reach the baby supplies drawer on the other side of the pull out couch, it was the least I could do to take her advice.
Worked like a charm. His little nostrils were unplugged with two quick squeezes and my long standing career as an expert nose cleaner was born.
Saline drops were another tool in my booger fighting arsenal, and I had the entire process down to a science. After a brief rookie period in which I actually sprayed the solution instead of letting it drip – the first of many occasions upon which I unwittingly caused my children mild to severe discomfort – I had a seamless technique for maximum results with minimal crying.
And I used it frequently since for the first year of his life, Oliver had a perpetually stuffy nose. Other mothers make sure they don’t forget the pacifier when they leave the house – I double and triple checked for my snot supplies.
One of my favorite booger-related memories happened on a trip to visit my in laws in Phoenix. Halfway through the long flight I noticed that seven month old Oliver had an airway obstruction. And the size of what I extracted was unreal. I actually held it up for my husband to see, “oh my god – look how big this is!” His response? “Is that Oliver’s?!” I was scandalized into sarcasm, “no, it’s mine – OF COURSE it’s his!” I mean, really…
Anyway – once the twins came along, I had three victims upon which to hone my skills. I’ve even been called by neighbors for assistance with their newborns’ clogged nostrils long after the Hood children outgrew the suction bulb thing. As someone who birthed three babies in 18 months, I’ve gained a bit of a reputation as a parenting guru. One that isn’t in the least bit deserved with the exception of this one area. No one matches my booger removal mojo.
But years have passed, and while my three and five year olds do know how to use a tissue, I still feel the need to forcibly extract anything from their noses that might resemble something in the mucus family. It’s not quite an obsession…but it’s not far off.
In recent weeks though, I’ve wondered if it’s time to pass the torch. Those kicking feet and flailing fists can hurt. And really – where does it end? When someone breaks my arm? When my teenagers run away from home because living on the street sounds preferable to frequent sneak attacks from a booger obsessed mother?
I’m thinking that it’s time to stop the madness. But it’s going to be hard. You know, it’s allergy season, and the twins appear to have inherited their father’s Spring hay fever. I may have to find distractions – focus my attentions elsewhere.
I have to say, their ears can get very waxy. I wonder if it affects their hearing… Someone call Child Protective Services, I’m breaking out the Q-Tips.
Speaking of beautiful wallpaper…
I am in love with the powder room redo sighted on Odi et Amo last week.
It features several of my favorites: chinoiserie, blue and white AND Annechovie:
Great inspiration for wallpaper in small spaces.
I am FAR behind in lining up posts for this week due to an outrageous amount of time I spent looking at Fromental wallpaper online yesterday.
I found this company via Brooke at Fabulous Doodles (a super fun fashion illustration blog if you are into that kind of thing – and if you’re here, I assume you are…) She raved about the display she saw at the Architectural Digest Home Design Show and I was intrigued.
So 24 hours and a Google reader exploding with 1000+ unread posts later… I thought I’d justify the time I spent on the Fromental website by inundating you with pretty pictures.
This London based company opened their doors in 2005 with a mission to “to create the world’s most beautiful wallpapers.” They call their hand-painted and embroidered designs “couture for your walls.”
I couldn’t agree more…
This Carousel design would be adorable for a Park Avenue nursery, don’t you think?
I don’t know which colorway I like best. But I’m in love with that zebra.
And now I guess I should go catch up on all of those unread posts in my reader…or feed the children or something… It’s Spring Break for Fairfax County public schools – and even with Oliver only going to half day preschool this year, it’s going to be a looooong week.
Last week, Ellen was outed as an 80’s New Age true believer – but Carl hopes it’s just a phase. He’s more concerned with the toll her Color Magic business may take on their finances…
Want to catch up? You can do so HERE.
The premise behind Color Magic was that everyone looked best in specific colors, all of which could be grouped into four separate categories. And each category was a season.
When Ellen first heard people talking about someone being “a Winter” or “a Spring” – she was charmed. What a lovely idea. She always felt that each season had its own particular beauty and should be appreciated for what it was, rather than what it wasn’t.
And the same could be said for people. A pale redhead shouldn’t regret not being able to wear colors better suited to someone with black hair and dark skin. She should be focusing on all of the shades of green that would best set off her flaming locks.
This was a lesson that Ellen started learning as she dressed her blond cherub of a little sister in the pastel frocks that she and her mother so lovingly made. She was always drawn to delicate shades, but the petal pink that brought out roses in Nancy’s creamy complexion made her own sallow skin appear even more yellow. Like any other teenage girl, she felt quite cheated by the universe that her favorite colors made her look like she had just returned from the rain forest with a raging case of malaria.
But of course, she eventually got over those hang ups and embraced what she now knew as her Winter coloring. She gravitated to vibrant hues of red and blue and wore deep crimson lipstick. She stopped putting lemon juice in her hair each summer and opted for makeup that accentuated her dark brown eyes. While studying in France, she emulated the chic little olive skinned women she saw on the street. She learned to appreciate qualities once lamented and dressed accordingly. In short – she discovered one of the most basic secrets of true style: she knew what suited her best and didn’t try to fight it.
She also came to terms with the fact that no diet in the world was going to make her as petite as those elegant French women, and looked elsewhere for body type role models. But body image aside, Ellen always felt confident in her color choices.
Color Magic was basically a tool that anyone could use to better understand what color choices they should be making. This seemed pretty ingenious to Ellen since she spent many an hour in friends’ bedrooms trying to explain why the fuchsia was a bit too bright for them and the pale aqua was the obvious winner. She could see the truth of this, but could never quite reason it out to anyone’s satisfaction.
Now with the Color Magic swatches and manual she could actually teach people how to identify their season and the colors that would help them to look their absolute best. So far, all of her friends were thrilled with their results. There was something decidedly glamorous about having your own season. The Winters felt dramatic, the Autumns, sophisticated and the Summers, as youthful and light as sunshine. The Springs were always smug in their status as the least common of color types. They had the same complex quality of the Autumns, but their paler version was a less frequent result when the swatches were draped.
Ellen found this amusing since the manual said that Spring was the most “difficult” season to style. For some reason, women interpreted that as rare or special. She couldn’t decide if this was commendable, as if they were looking for the bright side, or if it was just elitist vanity. Either way – there weren’t many of them, so it could just be chalked up to coincidence. Difficult people getting a difficult season.
She bought the Color Magic kit from a woman she knew through a wine tasting group they had joined. Julie often had a new “thing” that she was into, but this was the first that had appealed to Ellen beyond polite small talk. The package itself wasn’t very expensive, but the only way to really use it as a business was to buy some inventory of the Color Magic makeup formulated for the specific seasons.
She first bought some for herself and was impressed by the quality. Ellen was a bit of a makeup snob and would rather save her money for a trip to the counters at Bloomingdale’s than randomly pick up lipsticks as impulse purchases at the drug store. And in her opinion, this makeup was just as good as the retail brands she preferred. It wasn’t cheap – but unfortunately, good makeup never was.
So she presented her ideas to Carl. She would buy enough sets of the products to cover her own samples to bring to clients, as well as some extras to have on hand for purchase. She would be conservative to start – and just see how it went.
For some reason though, Carl didn’t find her approach to be conservative. When he heard how much she would have to spend before she would actually make any money, he became quite agitated. And Ellen grew more and more deflated as he pointed out the multitude of flaws in her plan. She would break even at best…she would run out of contacts…she didn’t have the killer instinct for sales…she would have to convince other people to sell under her to make a real business out of it (which of course, is exactly what Julie did to her)…
As the tirade went on, Ellen’s deflation turned to annoyance. Who said she was looking to make a a lot of money from this? She very clearly explained that she thought it would be fun and she could make “a little money” doing it. Honestly – Carl never ceased to amaze her with his ability blow every little thing out of proportion.
But when it came to money, Carl didn’t see any expenditures more than pocket change as little. And compromises would have to be made for Ellen to continue with Color Magic. She would have to spend 50% less than she had hoped, and she would have to develop a business plan detailing how she would recoup her investment.
Later as she demonstrated the system for Carl, draping him with the various swatches, it came as no surprise to her that he was without question, a definite Spring.
Don’t worry – Ellen’s not a total flake. She just tends to get enthusiastic about the things she likes. Aiming for another installment on Friday…
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ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
A new take on Toile
Personalized illustrations
Maybe it’s tied in with my love of chinoiserie, but I’ve always had a bit of a thing for Chinese lanterns.
Earlier in the week I posted some images of fine china and my absolute favorite piece was this bowl with a lantern motif:
It reminded me these two Janet Hill paintings that I’ve kept in a folder forever – just so I can look at them and sigh:
If I could go back and do anything differently with my wedding – I would consider tying in a theme of Chinese lanterns:
Not sure how well it would have worked with the beautiful painted ceiling of the ballroom we used… Maybe it would have to be my parallel universe wedding under a tent…
Anyway – I saw this image today, and it pretty much summed up my love of lanterns in a nutshell:
I want to live in that picture. Dim Sum anyone?
Images: 1 Katidid 2 home, james! 3&4 Janet Hill Studio 5 The Milwaukee Wedding Blog 6 Wedding Fanatic 7 ngoc minh ngo via Lolalina
Have you ever wanted an illustrated portrait? On a business card or note paper? Yes, yes and yes please! How darling.
I found Rifle Paper Co. on A Cup of Jo tonight and I’m in love with those little people…
A custom invitation to an event (say – a wedding…) would be really special:
I’d say that this is a fantastic gift idea – but let’s be honest… I just want it for myself.
