If these walls could talk.

family room in progress
don't mind the lack of baseboards

If you were a fly on the wall in this house when I have my 'we've-been-here-for-months-and-I-want-it-to-feel-like-our-home-not-just-a-house' meltdowns, you would be thoroughly entertained.  Thankfully for my nerves and my dear, sweet husband, those fits have been few and far between these days.  I can be a real whiny, rhymes-with-rich sometimes a LOT of the time.  When I feel control slipping away from my paws, I don't know how to deal with it.  Enter the crazy, ball bustin' Beth.  And, let's face it, who has total control in a house full of four kids ages 3-9?!?!  Routine, yes.  Total control, no.

The big joke around these parts is that I keep Jake's nether regions in a jar.  I like to pretend that it's a vintage mason jar.  You know, for aesthetic reasons.  That makes me feel a bit better about my issues.  That pretty jar with not so pretty male anatomy resting inside.

Then, I snap out of it, and realize I am eternally screwed up.  More than anything, I'm so grateful that such an incredible man decided to love me.  Control issues and all.  A man who hung stuff up for me.  Because he loves me, and tolerates my psychoticness.  A man who cursed his drill {because it was 'screwing' up big time}, but stuck with it so a certain glossy red curtain rod could be placed in order for me to sew up some panels.

There is a calm settling over this house.  I am blissfully content, but I am sure my man is happier than I.