True to my word.

I'm starting to think that people have a HUGE misconception about me and what my house looks like on a daily basis.

I had promised awhile back to dispell those non-truths.  I have delayed this post as long as I could.  Mostly because I don't want anyone to think I'm a mess. 

If my house looks a mess at any given moment, what must my insides look like? 

To honestly answer that question, sometimes my insides are a mess.  Even with all the healing that's occurred on my heart the last couple of years, I still have dark days.  Bad times. 

Don't we all?

 So, here you go.  This is what my house looks like most days. 

A mess.

Sometimes I feel like the messier it is, the happier I am.  The more I've learned to let go of stupid hang ups.  Keeping your house perfect all the time is a source of GREAT stress and anxiety.  It's a full time job of worry and psychoticness.  Trust me when I tell you that.  I've lived that life.

Cleaning the house to tip top shop 3+ times a week for 3 years so that Betsy's home therapists didn't think I was a failure when they came over to work with her was hell.  Because somehow having a clean and tidy house made me have it all together. 

Back then, I didn't.  Not even by a mile.

But, I wanted so badly to control the things that I could because the rest of my life seemed to be spiraling so desperately out of control.  It was a hopeless feeling.  At the time, I thought my cute, clean house was all I had.  I was blind then.  By grief, by sadness, by hopelessness, by desperation, by whatever you want to call it, but blind.

I still have work to do.  Lots.  I know this because you have no idea how badly I want to make a million and three excuses as to why it looks like this.  Which really isn't that bad considering most of the mess is pillows, clothes that need to be put down the laundry shoot, and dirty dishes in the sink, and let's face it my toliets are freshly bleached and tubs scoured out, but for me this is a disaster. 

I want to scream at the top of my lungs to the internets that this is right after getting the kids on the bus.  That this is right before I start to do my morning tidy-up routine.  That I am editing photos like a mad woman {tis the season}, and haven't been staying current on my housework.  That it's get my work done and feed the kids, or have spotless floors.  That it NEVER looks this bad.  That I plan on cleaning tomorrow when the kids DON'T have a half day of school to interrupt the progress. 

But, those are all just excuses.

See? That's what I do.  I am always trying to make excuses for things like this, so you don't think my house is, heaven forbid, messy sometimes. 

**GASP!**

I mean, what would that say about me as a person?

Would you like me less?

Would you like me more?

Would I like myself less?  More? 

It's territory I don't really want to explore, but I'm going to.

So go ahead and judge away.

I am human. 

I have four kids.

Wait a minute, are those just more excuses?

As much as I would like to, I canNOT control everything.

A lesson driven home by the birth of a baby girl that would change everything I thought I knew about life.  Thank you, Miss Betsy Jane.

Random fact about me...I HATE a closet that is left open.  HATE, HATE, HATE.  Always have for as long as I have memories. 

Hey, at least Pete made his bed this morning.  That's progress.

Someday, I'll let you see our laundry/storage area.  For now, I'm not that brave.

My 2011 Holiday Wishlist

Because sometimes people Big Daddy needs some direction, and PLENTY of time.

Oh, who am I kidding.  We rarely even do the gift thing. 

So, I will be really irrational and make some of these items DREAM wishes.

Go big or go home.

The gifts are more fun when they're for the kids anyway.

But, just in case...

Cath Kidston Gnome Jasmine Jumper

Lensbaby Composer Lens & the Sweet 35 Optic

Hunter Original Tall Wellies in Dark Olive or Green

AlienBees B400 flash unit

Tory Burch Patent Caroline Ballet Flat in Camille Pink

a trip HERE because I heart it, and haven't been in 12 years

{can we add Scotland & Ireland this time?}

Yeah, right.

And, since I have been a good girl this year, and will be receiving every item on this list, thank you in advance, Big Daddy. 

Wink, wink.

Adult Party?

So, we are having our second 'Grebe Fall Ball' coming up here, shortly.

Basically, it's an event we have with no kids allowed, so that our friends {most of whom are paretns}, can relax, socialize, enjoy some good food {without worrying about sharing with little hands}, and the company of friends {many of which we don't get to see all the time}. 

To say I look forward to this night is an understatement.  It is such a fun time. 

We have even had guests come in formal wear, which may or may not have included a tuxedo shirt and old bridesmaids' dresses.  I mean, we do call it a ball, right? 

Funny enough, the first year we had this soiree, I was telling some folks that they should come, and I was giving them the deets.  All I said was, "You know, it's an adult party.".  I was met with some quizzical looks. 

Apparently, an adult party to some means something totally different than what it means to me.  Ha!  I was told I didn't seem like the adult party type.  At that point, I picked up what the were puttin' down, so to speak.  I assured them there was nothing 'questionable' involved.  No strange 'toy' demonstrations, or unrated movies, or bowl of keys, if you know what I'm sayin'. 

Needless to say, I have since referreed to the party as the 'no kids allowed party', or the 'find your babysitter party', or 'mom & dad's night out party'.  But, every once in awhile I catch myself saying things, like, "Hey, Big Daddy...did you invite Bob and Suzie to the adult party?".

I must admit, it does sound a bit sketchy. 

So, the moral of the story is this, if you ever receive an invite to an adult party from me...you can rest easy.  It's not what you think.

A problem.

I have a confession.  I go to Hobby Lobby probably 3-4 times a week, average.  The thing is, I don't have an Etsy shop, I don't supplement our income in any way by crafting, I'm not a fabric hoarder, I don't scrapbook, and I don't really like their home decor items.  So, what gives?  Why do I harbor such an obsession?

Sometimes, I find myself pulling in the lot, walking in the store, and realizing I don't have a purpose.  Half the time I don't even buy anything.  If I did, it may be grounds for Jake to divorce me. If only he had such an easy out.  *wink, wink*

In my defense, it is right across the street from a plaza with Target, Wal-Mart {shudder}, TJ Maxx, Lowe's, and HomeGoods.  And, one of Rosie's and my favorite lunch spots {'Chipolte'} is right smack dab at the front of the parking lot of Hobby Lobby.  Sigh.

It's a constant internal struggle.

Am I the only one?  I think I need to know I'm not alone.  That someone out there has the same problem.  That might help.  If not, I may resign myself to sucking my thumb in the fetal position in the corner of our room.

Please, don't let that happen...

Dreaming.

My 33rd birthday is approaching.  February 9th to be exact.

The best day of my mom & dad's whole life, I'm sure.  Well, maybe a tie for the best day, what with me having a sister and all.

Jake and I don't really make a big fuss over our birthdays.  Homemade cards from the kids, and a cake.  That's about it.  Somehow, it doesn't mean quite the same thing as it did when we were littles ourselves.

I thought it would be fun to put together a luxurious wish list.  The kind of list that includes items that even if I was a bazillionaire, I'm not sure I would afford myself.

Let's begin:

#1:

The elusive Hermes Cape Cod PM watch with double strap

$2,350.00

#2

Cutler & Gross sunglasses #0740
classic aviators

$450.00

#3

Belstaff vintage knight boot
These. Are. Incredible.

$400-700

#4

Tod's D Bag Bauletto

A classic bag that would NEVER go out of style.

$1450

#5

image via flickr

a second home in London's Kensington & Chelsea or Camden

or any place with easy access to music, pubs, the tube, markets, etc.

approximately $500,000

I mean this is a fantasy list.  And, I would totally wear all of that stuff when I'm visiting my fancy new flat in London, right?  

Duh

Because I still got it...

and because it's 10 seconds of funny.

THE END.

Baldy and me.

He had me at 'magic', all those years ago.

Crazy hot.

I think the heat is getting to everyone in the Lou.

Really.

It's been around 100 on the thermometer, with a heat index of about 115.

Here's the thing about Saint Louis heat...HUMIDITY.

It's brutal.

When you go outside, it almost feels like the oxygen is sucked right out of the air.  Leaving nothing remotely close to replenishing or breathable gas.

It's baking making everyone a bit loopy.

Case in point...

Yesterday, we took the kiddos to 'The Cupcakery' in the Central West End.

On the way back to the car, in the sticky hot wetness of the mid-western humid heat, we saw this sandwich board outside of a restaurant.

Now, I'm all about sick humor, but something about his particular sign struck me as, well...heat crazed.

I don't know about you, but I'm not into sipping 'housemade lemonade' {which I'm sure is delicious}
while sensationalizing the smells and sights {eek!} of 'swamp ass'.

Something about that seems all wrong.

I don't know how well their humorous tactic of luring the customers in will work.  But, I got a good laugh!

Oh, the sarcasm.

So, I'm thinking the heat swelled the brain of this said sign maker a bit too much this time.

P.S. I wish I could say that sign was Photoshopped, but you just can't make that kind of stuff up.

Yum.

Introducing...

Henry Cavill, from 'The Tudors'.

My new celebrity crush.

You, my friends, are very welcome.

Someone's in trouble.

Where in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is the Tooth Fairy?

Is he on vacation and no one told me?

Betsy lost her first tooth SIX DAYS ago, and still nothin'!

Maybe, he's confused.

See, we asked that Betsy not receive the typical cash exchange for her incisor.

She'd eat it, and that's no good.

For anybody.

So, I'm sure he's just deciding what would be an appropriate prize.

He better get it together soon, or, I tell ya, I don't know what I'm gonna do.

The Tooth Fairy is about to get unleashed upon.

Watch it, Tooth Fairy.

I got my eye on you.

I take no prisoners, mister.

The tale of a dress.

(I apologize for the suck-butt photo,

but I lack low-light skillz)

There once was a dress from here.

It was the prettiest dress I had ever seen.

It was the most beautiful blue color.

And, much to my amazement, it was adorned with little ivory bicycles.

It exuded charm.

It pleaded to be my own.

I promised once it was discounted, we could strike a deal.

It would come to live at 'House of Grebe'.

It would have many adventures here.

Picnics, summer parties, dinners at the 'Boathouse'.

It was kismet.

A discounted dress, in what I thought was my size,

came to me all the way from the Tuscon, Arizona store.

The LAST two-wheeled dress the Saint Louis store could track down.

THE LAST ONE!

My knees buckled with joy the day it arrived.

I tried it on, and styled it up straight away.

Gasp!

What's this?

Too big?

Waaaaaay too big?!?!?!

This cannot be.

Nothing is ever too big on me.

But alas,

I had to bunch about 6 inches of waistline along the back with my belt.

It was awful.

Oh, the despair.

And, it had pockets.

Pockets have never betrayed me in such a way.

It had to go back.

For, I had no intentions of gaining weight to make our relationship work.

Return day was bleak.

I shed a silent tear of anguish as it passed over the counter,

and was thrown in a bin of unwantededs to be put back into inventory.

Afterwards, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep.

Other dresses tried to come into my life,

but they just didn't measure up.

Bicycle dress left an unfillable hole in my heart.

A void.

And, so it goes.

The quest continues.

A quest, I fear, will be a lifelong search in vain.

I love you, Bicycle dress.

I will remember you always.

Smells.

Because I'm tired and still feel like I smell like puke & poo,
even worse, that's not my own {yum},

not to mention I've been trying to get the house in order for my mummy

to watch the kids while we're in Louisville 2 weeks from now,

{I don't care what anyone says, getting things prepared for someone

to stay in your house and watch your 4 kids is a lot of work},

I will leave you with a bit of eye-candy.

Just some of my favorite interiors floating around the web. 

Enjoy!

image via Francesco Lagnese

from the book 'Room for Children' by Susanna Salk
Designed by Platt Byard Dovell White Architects 
Tracy Bross Design
Photo by Jonathan Wallen

image from here

 

image via Massucco Warner Miller

And, just because it's funny...

 
Mom jeans always put a smile on my face!

Fabric & Swordfish

I have a super, special, secret project in the works with those scrumptious beauties up there.

I canNOT wait to get them in the mail.

I love fabric so much, sometimes, I think I could just pile it all up on my bed,

and roll around in it naked.

If you think that's weird...

you won't want to meet my sister.

Why?

Because she tells everyone that she wants

 to rub the swordfish from McCormick & Schmicks all over her face.

It's that good.

What the hell did my parents do to us?

Maybe they deprived us of important sensory experiences

when we were little.

{Nah, that's too easy.}

Maybe it's because they lied to us for years,

and told us that liver was steak so we'd eat it.

Maybe it's because we'd get grounded from going out on the weekend

if we didn't make our beds every freaking morning.

No, I'm sure it's the fact that

my mom used to play 'hide and seek' with us

just so she could scare the poo out of us when we found her.

Who knows?

I do know this...

that game sometimes pretty much always ended in tears.

Except from my swordfish loving sister who got giddy with excitement

every time Mom would pop out from behind the shower curtain and growl.

Grrrrrrrrr.

She totally misused her 'mom power'.

Those memories are priceless.

Oh, and Mom & Pops...

I love you.

Entrepreneur.

Pete is our little entrepreneur.

This week {spring break}, he is working on selling

anything that isn't nailed down.

And...

refreshments.

I mean, who doesn't want a juice pouch while they peruse retail goods?

I'm thinking sooner than later,

he will learn a very important rule of business:

You need to keep the prices of your

goods or services competitive

in order to be marketable in this economy.

With prices like those...

I think it will be a hard & fast lesson learned.

Life: it is what it is.

***WARNING***

This is a gross post.

Proceed with caution.

I have had some serious bubble trouble the last few days.

Which turned into some serious intestinal issues last night.

Needless to say, there is nothing left in my bowels.

Nothing.

But, apparantly, there is some action left in my stomach.

So, now, as of this morning, I'm thinkin'

we're gonna have some action at the opposite end.

Nice, huh?

Why am I telling you this?

Because,

Saturday morning I'm getting my second colonoscopy.

Which means on Friday, I get to prep.

And, anyone who knows what that prep consists of

knows it requires a 24 hour fast, some 'medicine', & some serious bathroom time.

Like bring-a-pillow-in-with-you-so-you-can-lean-your-head-on-the-sink stuff.

Too much potty time this week.

See?

I would say life wasn't fair,

but it is what it is.

The good news...

come Saturday,

I'll be 5-7 lbs. lighter.

Always gotta look on the brightside.

There's no place like home.

On Saturday, I had the unique opportunity to go and see Pauly D of 'Jersey Shore' fame spin some tunes here located in Ameristar Casino & Hotel.  It was with a fabulous group of fellow hot mommas, including, Mrs.Lewis. 

I got to dress-up, complete with make-up that I rarely wear.  Have yummy mozzarella wedges, a cosmo, and dance for a couple of hours. 

But, alas, I am old.  I am a mother (yes, mom, a mother).  I like being at home.

I can't say I've even ever been to a place like this, even when I was young.  And, let's just say, some of the clientele was a bit rough around the edges.  Some girls near us tried to create some 'tension'.  I didn't think that stuff really happened in real life.  Who is that unhappy and miserable?  There was another group next to us that was a bit more my speed, and they, too, were getting annoyed.  We weren't alone. 

My better judgement kicked in and I told Mrs.Lewis I had to get out of there.  So, while the other part of our entourage waited to get a photo of Pauly D in the flesh, Mrs.Lewis and I went to the seafood restaurant closer to the hotel and had Diet Cokes and talked.  When that restaurant closed, we ventured into the casino itself and had more pop (which is free in the casino and fountainy and cold, score) and sat at the slots. 

We weren't playing, just talking and laughing some more, while we watched some man blow through $100, at least, on slots all while not even watching the screen.  I guess he just looked up when it buzzed and rang.  How sad.

The other ladies texted us and said they were ready, and off we went to meet up with 'Scooter Guy'.  A fabulous operation that picks you up and drives you and your car safely home when a designated driver is needed, and more importantly, took me right to my doorstep.  My friend, Kelly, has a membership.  Too bad I could've driven us to Chicago and back with all my Diet Coke.  Although, I would've had to make about 163 restroom stops.  Better to plan on the safe side. 

So, overall, I would say, I'm not cut out for such escapades.  Did you read that, Mom?  You know I know this, but it is okay to venture out into the world, guilt-free, once in a blue moon.  No one was hurt, I was up bright and early on Sunday while Big Jake worked on the steps (which is another story for another day). The 'Too-much-fun Police' aren't going to arrest me.  I'm sure of it.  In fact, something I've always known was reinforced like a nail in my heart that night...I like being home.  Love it, in fact.  It's the only place I fell I truly belong.  I could stay home for days on end without going anywhere.  Not even Target.  Seriously.

I am a wife and mother, first and foremost.  FOREVER.  And, I must be doing something right, because my love of home and family is evident in my children.  They love being here together, too.  Both boys have told me so on several different occassions.  It's warm, cozy, stable, secure, and full of love. 

So, to my own dear, sweet, mother (from whom I've gotten my self-rightous/opinionated gene from)...

There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already thought.  Although I am more social than you are and have different interests, be confident that you have raised me right.  And that doesn't mean that I do everything exactly the way you would, but that I am a good and solid person.  And you are largely responsible.  I love you, and wished that you had gone on one or two adventures in your heyday. 

If I wasn't officially retired from nightclub life, I would've taken you. 

ps I've given up Facebook for Lent (maybe indefinitely), so if you need to contact me...call, email, or comment.  :)

Defying the laws of nature.

 

Should it be possible that

this eyesore of a coif

 be attached to the head of...

this angel?

15 tutus.

I am up to my eyeballs

in tulle.

3 tutus down...

12 to go.

And a shot rang out.

That is the man.

He's the best salt-n-peppery son with fur a girl could ask for.

But...

he is high maintenance.

He didn't used to be.

It's only been the last week or so.

Because, you see, he has diabetes.

You heard right.

Who knew?

He had been acting increasingly miserable for a few weeks.

Fast forward to vet appointment, and BAM!

The big diagnosis. 

His blood sugar was almost 8 times the normal limit.

Poor guy!

I am smart enough to know that dogs are, indeed, not humans.

However, with pet ownership comes some serious responsibilities.

I'm not as quick on my feet with his care as I used to be.

My four little humans deplete most of my energy.

But, we finally got him to see the doc, and we have him on the rode to recovery.

Dog diabetes means 2 insulin shots a day, after doggy mealtime.

And, yes, you have to pick up the insulin at a human pharmacy.

That's just wacky.

So, now we're talkin' shots.

Who knew I'd be giving my dog shots?

He hasn't flinched, yet, but I sure have.

Good news is, after less than a week, I'm an old pro.

The upside of all of this...

that we will, with any luck, have another fun-filled 6+ years with our 6 1/2 year old boy.

Chopper, you have accomplished what I thought to be impossible.

You are officially a bigger pain-in-the-@$$ than your human siblings.

Congratulations!

And, just like them, we love you to bits.

Riddle me this...

Q:  Why did my oldest eat just about every vegetable in existance since infancy, and then one day...bam...he became uber picky?  And, now, the youngest is following suit, even though they're exposed to many vegetables?  (I'm not going to lie, it's always been a dream of mine to raise foodies.)

Q:  Why is it when you have to take more than half of your offspring to the grocery store, you always, ALWAYS leave without something you need or with something you didn't?

Q:  Why is it that after you spend a great portion of the day cooking a big, wonderful meal for the loves of your life is everyone in one of those, 'I'm not hungry' kind of moods?

Q:  Why is it when you DVR your favorite show and settle down to watch it after all the kiddies are in bed, do one of them inevitably wake up with a fever or better yet puke all over?

Q:  Why, after all this (and more) do I love these little pain-in-the-rumpuses so darn much?

Do you have any unanswerable riddles?  I'd love to hear them...