Painting madness

A couple people asked me to post pictures of the rooms I've been painting recently. So here's the guided tour:

This is the family room. It was light beige. Michael is posing here for you in his post-fireside attire. He actually seemed excited to go to it. What's up with that? I think aliens must have taken over his body. But seriously, it's cool that he's turning over a new religious leaf. :>

Here's the kids' bedroom. It used to be lavender, but now since Emma and Evan share a room, I wanted it to be more uni-sex. You have to think about these kinds of things when your father keeps telling you he doesn't want his grandson to be a gay caballero and did I know Austin is the San Francisco of the South? Thanks Dad. So I'm sure yellow and green will make Evan more manly than lavender would have.

Here's my master bathroom. The color you see is called "Starry Sky" but it turned out a tinge more purple than I intended. Purple enough for Michael to sing the Barney song to me. So annoying. I'm halfway done--I still need to paint one wall tan.

Here's my bedroom. It's taken me six years in this house to finally do something with my room. I did two walls the color you see. The other two walls I'm going to do a really really subtle light green. Wish me luck. I'm sick of painting!!

Dr. Seuss is My Kindred Spirit!

I don't remember my mom reading many Dr. Seuss books to me when I was young. But as I've read Dr. Seuss to my own children, I've really come to love his stuff. Not only are his books fun to read aloud but some of them teach really good lessons....take The Sneetches or Today is Your Day. Also he writes the kind of silly, goofy poetry that I find particularly funny.

Anyway, I just discovered a new favorite: What Was I Scared of? Here is an excerpt for your reading pleasure:

I yelled for help. I screamed. I shrieked.
I howled. I yowled. I cried,
"Oh, save me from these pale green pants
With nobody inside!"

But then a strange thing happened.
Why, those pants began to cry!
Those pants began to tremble.
They were just as scared as I!

I put my arm around their waist
And sat right down beside them.
I calmed them down.
Poor empty pants
With nobody inside them.

I think I may find this story about pale green pants with nobody inside them unusually funny because they remind me of something my roomie and I did when we were young and silly (in college, of course). We stuffed a pair of unclaimed pants and had them sticking out of a garbage can with their legs in the air. Just to see people's reactions as they walked through the apartment complex.

Guess you had to be there.

Ma'am, We're Gonna Have to Ask You to Step Away From the Shovel and the Paint Roller and the Sewing Machine and.....

Ma'am, while you're at it, please hand over that credit card.

So I'm pretty sure I've got some sort of mental health issue here. I looked up mental obsession on Wikipedia and here's what we've got (with my comments inserted in parenthesis):

"Mental obsession is an obsession that may cause mental, physical, or even emotional pain (no, not really other than the pain of realizing I really might be crazy). The condition can lead to insomnia (yes, definitely from staying up too late working on projects) as well as other health-related issues, and may keep you from focusing on more important tasks such as work or social activities (such as mailing a father's day card to your dad or remembering your visiting teaching appointment!!).

Well, it looks like I mostly fit that description so I guess it must be true. The latest examples of my mental obsession (we'll say MO for short) are of course, the yard. Then it got too hot so I had to focus my MO elsewhere. That led to repainting the family room, painting the kids' room, painting my room, painting my bathroom. And when I say painting, I mean rolling it up and then finishing the line where wall and ceiling meet with the size of paintbrush that comes in your kids' watercolor set. Man, I'm kind of embarrassed telling you all this. But oh well, the first step to recovery is admitting and confessing.

Next there was the case of the fancy dresses for Emma's tap number at the Primary talent show. A normal, reasonable person would have just bought something from the dress-up aisle of Wal-Mart. But not a person with MO. Nope. A person with MO would decide to sew the dresses herself. (It was actually pretty fun, but I still felt MO-ish doing it.)

Anyway, if you've got any good tranquilizers, let me know. Or maybe I should just get pregnant again. That will knock me out for a good three months--absolutely no other activity besides puking and staring at the carpet.

An Example of Coolness

The kids found my sunglasses and as you can see the glasses have not been the same since. They were cheap so it's not a biggie, though I do hate squinting at the park or the pool. So I think I'll go for a new look. I mean, how cool is that? It's so one of a kind. I'm sure I'll get some envious stares for my new happening style. Embarrasingly enough, after I took the picture I kept the glasses on, loaded the kids in the car and drove around town looking like one-eyed Willie (I just made that up. I don't know any one-eyed Willies. It might make a good pirate nickname though.) So yeah, I'm pretty styling.

By the way, I'm not usually so serious-looking. But I've found when taking pictures if I hold the camera above my head and don't smile, it's easier to avoid "fat face."

I Should Get Hazard Pay For This

So I was cleaning up this morning, putting laundry away, straightening up the kids' bathroom etc., when I picked up a pair of Evan's pants that were left on the bathroom floor. I started folding them when something dropped on my foot. I thought it was a shoe. But oh no. Life is more exciting than that. It was a lovely round brown surprise for me. How many people can say that has happened to them? And why am I not getting hazard pay? So there you have it. You know you're a mom when poo drops on your foot.

Evan when he is not leaving surprises for his mom.

Ode to the Pacific Northwest

Oh Pacific Northwest
Where I am not;
I must stay in Texas
And it is quite hot.

How I miss your rain and vivid green
Farewell farewell
Oh beautiful dream.

As you can see, poetry is not quite my thing. But this picture was so pretty that I felt the urge to write an ode about it. Oh and I'm not really sure that the picture was taken in the Pacific Northwest. It just looks like how I remember Oregon looking. But for all I know, it was taken in Bastrop.

Disclaimer: I am not dissing on Texas. I like Texas. My husband, who I love, likes Texas. And so I am very happy to be here in Texas.

Can You Teach an Old Dog New Tricks?

I really don't think you can teach an old dog new tricks. Old dog, being me. The ideal Kasey is this: wakes up every morning at 5:30 a.m. to run 5 miles, does yoga, has meaningful personal scripture study, showers, puts makeup on, does her hair, and then is ready to have family scripture reading with family while serving them a nutritious breakfast. Ideal Kasey also still weighs 115 pounds because she runs 5 miles every day and doesn't binge on carbohydrates, namely cookies and ice cream.

Yeah, right. Real Kasey sets her alarm for 6 every morning only to hit the snooze button constantly until her kids come to her bed around 8ish saying, "Mom, I'm hungry. I want to eat breakfast." Real Kasey then stumbles out of bed. She may get to the gym that morning and may shower, put some makeup on, but there are no guarantees about hair because hey, you can just pull it back in a ponytail and it will be fine. Right? Real Kasey thinks about reading her scriptures but does not always get to it. And real Kasey has never weighed 115 pounds since her junior year in high school.

Anyway, this is the recurring theme of my life. So when I suggested to Michael that I was just going to accept that I am not a morning person, he decided to become the bedtime nazi and enforce a 10 p.m.!! bedtime so I will be able to start waking up on time. Well, the first thing he said was that the Dalai Llama says to be honest with yourself...which led to some sort of suggestion that perhaps I'm just lazy. No maybe it was "we're just lazy." When that did not go over very well--as you may imagine--he then backtracked with," Well, actually I really just think you don't get any REM at night because you're such a light sleeper and always have to go to the bathroom."

Now you're probably saying, thanks, Kasey, for sharing. Please dont' share anymore. Ok, I'm wrapping it up.

We'll see how the bedtime enforcement goes but I'm just in a glass-is-half-empty mood. Maybe I will never be a morning person and maybe it's ok to have a little bit more of me to love than I would love.