A Chapter Out Of The Book Of Forever

Some things just never change.

Temperatures soared to unseasonal heights, so we thought we'd make the most of what may have been the last hot Saturday of the year. As the water slide inflated, it was obvious we had made a good decision. A gaggle of kids stood dancing nearby, squirmy with anticipation. Setting up the water slide that day at the backyard cookout gave our group of bloggers and neighbors several hours of peace as it kept that gaggle of kids busy, busy, busy.

We didn't so much as hear a peep from the kids, which pretty much made it the best picnic ever. It's always nice to get to chat without interruption from short people, so that's what we did. We talked and we laughed and we talked some more, not even pausing to take any photographs of the gleeful kids. They were off doing their thing, politely taking turns going down the slide and self-policing in a way that only well-mannered kids can.

Eventually the odds became a bit skewed as there were five girls playing and only one boy. Things had been closer to even earlier in the day, but the youngest of the kids had grown weary fast. Once the younger kids had departed, the dynamic of the play instantly changed. The group of 5-8 year olds became more competitive, more daring, and even more crazy in their play than they had been before. And then came the moment when the lone boy realized he was the lone boy.

And just like that, it became obvious that some things never changed.

We parents looked on as the one boy did what all boys do when surrounded by a group of cute girls--he started to show off. It started with some Spiderman-like climbing up the side, but when that didn't impress, he went for broke. He grabbed hold of the sprayer and began taunting the girls with it, purposely twisting it so that it would spray them in the faces.

In a completely predictable moment, the girls shrieked and ran away, only to return moments later for more torment. Of course, the boy was happy to oblige because if there is one things the male species learns early, it's that it's fun to torture girls with the same shenanigans over and over again.

After the fourth or fifth attempt to climb the slide without being assaulted by the boy with the sprayer, the girls grew annoyed. They clamored over to us so that they could tattle. Because, surely, no girl has ever done THAT before.

We debated whether or not we should intervene for a moment, but because the mother of the boy didn't seem concerned that he was dancing on the line between good fun and malicious intent, we gave the girls an idea.

"Ignore the boy," we said. "Just go play in another part of the yard."

It took all of ten seconds for the boy to put on his Annoyed Face. How dare the girls ignore him! HOW DARE THEY!

He ran off to chase them and to try to find a new way to torment them, but the girls had learned that their mothers were right. Ignoring would work. They glanced our way before stomping over to yet another part of the yard, never giving the boy so much as a glance.

Which, of course, made the boy mad. He stomped towards them, desperate for attention, but the girls kept walking away without a word.

The whole production lasted maybe ten minutes before all of the kids grew tired of the Gender Games and resumed playing nicely on the slide. But, those ten minutes, they were like a chapter out of the book of Things Have Always Been This Way.

Some things just never change.

One Down, Three To Go

Because we started with lovely issues like this:

and this:

and a lot of this:

It took a long time for us to get around to making our house feel like a home. Call me crazy, but I figured we should get rid of the holes in the ceilings, replace the buckled and water-damaged floors, and clear out the mold before we worried about things like paint colors and curtains and such.

(If you haven't been around these parts since we moved in 2009, long of the short is that we bought a foreclosure that had been TRASHED by the previous owners and which had significant plumbing problems. We're talking about the kind of significant plumbing problems that lead to your appraiser needing an umbrella and waders  to stand in the family room. We took a huge risk in buying the place, but came out ahead when most of the repairs were within our DIY abilities.)

It took about a year and a half to get all the Reasons We Got This House Cheap fixed. That means I've had the last eight months to FINALLY do fun stuff. FINALLY. Cue the angels singing and the sun shining and unicorns farting glitter!

A lot has actually gotten done in those eight or so months, but high on the AWWWW, YEAH, I DID THAT! list is the guest bedroom. I'm not sure why I love that room so much, but I do. I love it so much that I'm making you look at it. DEAL WITH IT. (Or click away. Whatever.)

So, ta-dah!

The bed we've had for years and years. It was one of those things that I really, really wanted, but then hated the second we got it home. I wasn't smart enough to fess up so I could return it, so I am learning to work with it. I still don't like it, though. (Don't ask me to explain why I don't like it. I haven't figure that part out. I JUST DON'T.)

The bedding we've also had for a few years. I think it came from Walmart. I KNOW. It's unfathomable that I go there willingly. I'm game for doing it when I can get cute bedding cheap, though.

If I'm not mistaken, that bedding cost less than the purple and green throw pillows (from Stein Mart) did.

The curtains are from Overstock. I believe I had to sell a kidney to buy them, but they were cheaper (and FASTER) than making some myself. I offset some of their cost with that chair in the corner, which I found at TJMaxx for $20. It had a broken leg, but it was the sort of broken that was easily fixed with some glue and a screw or two.

All of the frames are from IKEA, the postcards in the frames are from Amazon, and pretty much every other accessory in the room came from TJMaxx.

In other words, it's absolutely an I Found It Cheap Room. Because I'm on track with putting that room together for under $300 (not counting the stuff we already had before we moved), I refuse to spend too much for the lamps I still need, the ceiling light fixture that HAS to be replaced, and the artwork that is still missing. REFUSE. I'll find what I want for a price I'm willing to pay eventually.

Oh, and the wall color is a soft purple from Behr (I think it's called Brioche). I picked it because it flowed well from the rest of the house, but wasn't too deep or bold. And possibly because I came across an "Oops Can" of it for $5 and figured it was good enough. That definitely might have been a factor. Or the entire reason. Whichever.

Anyway, that's the guest room and every time I walk past it, I feel like someone should hand me a trophy and a Certificate of Completion because WOOOO! It's (mostly) done!

And this is where you tell me it looks purdy, unless it doesn't, in which case you just don't say anything because my ego can't handle that sort of thing. Heh.

Psst. . . I'm still working on this room. Here's the latest update. You should enter to win on both of those posts. :-)

Bitter, Party Of Two

I am absolutely aware that the words I'm about to write are Crazy Talk, but hear me out.

I hate school uniforms.

I know. I KNOW. I am very likely the only parent in all of history to be all WAAAAH! about their kid having to wear uniforms to school, but I am very much so WAAAAAH! about it. While Alexis is fortunate that her dress code isn't the worst ever, the fact that she's stuck with polo shirts and khaki or navy pants pants and skirts pretty much breaks my heart.

I used to battle with Mini Alexis over what she would wear each morning. She was a HUGE fan of dresses starting the moment she realized that there were these things called "clothes," so she wanted to wear a dress every single day. Sometimes I just wasn't feeling the four pairs of tights, long johns, and a snowsuit thing when it was really cold, though, so I would battle with her to get her to wear pants.

Eventually, though, she grew big enough for me to let her make a fashion mistake from time-to-time without risking frostbite. She quickly learned that when I said it was too cold for a sleeveless dress, it truly was too cold for a sleeveless dress. Once we had that vital fashion rule out of the way, it was smooth sailing.

Since then, the kid has picked out all of her own clothing at the store. I, of course, have veto power, but she rarely asks for anything that I would deem inappropriate anyway. And if she does? Woooo! I have the power of NOOOOOO!

(An aside about the JCPenney kerfluffle with that t-shirt . . . why was that such a big deal? Isn't it simpler to just be all "I am not buying that" than it is to drum up drama? I mean, I see stuff all the time that I think is hugely inappropriate for Alexis but that comes in her size I'M LOOKING AT YOU, YOU STUPID JUSTIN BIEBER T-SHIRTS AND AT YOU, YOU STUPID JUICY COUTURE EVERYTHING. Annnd . . . rant over.)

She is then responsible for picking out what she is going to wear every day. It hasn't always been smooth sailing, but it has definitely been just dandy for a long time now. She dresses herself and I don't even pay attention to what she wears. Life. Good.

But now we're back to battling over clothes because if there is one person who hates school uniforms more than me, it's the short person who lives in my house. Alexis hates school uniforms with the fire of 10,000,000,000,000 suns. Wait, make that 10,000,000,000,001 suns. It doesn't matter that she can wear skirts every day if she wants to or that she can have as many pink shirts as she wants, she's bitter. VERY bitter.

We were standing in Kohls one day and I said something to Mr. Husband about the fact that the uniforms they sell there are definitely not my favorites. I wasn't trying to buy any (obviously) and barely paused to look at them, but HOOOBOY did the drama break out. Alexis crossed her little arms across her chest, stuck her chin out as she scowled, and gave me the dirtiest look she could muster.

I asked the little grump what was wrong. She wouldn't answer. She just glared and then stomped away, clearly pissed off.

Later she finally explained that she was mad we were talking about uniforms. Apparently not only does she hate wearing them, even discussing them is grounds for being disowned.

I already hated fighting with the kid about something as insignificant as what she wears, but when I share in her hatred for her clothing? Then life really is annoying.

BRING ON THE BIEBER T-SHIRT!