It's Such a Perfect Day

After weeks of pontificating, I decided maybe I should post something personal instead of just telling everyone what to do. Problem is, I'm so good at being the boss... of other people. When it comes to my own life, I feel messy and disorganized and indecisive. Case in point: I've been planning to present an updated home tour for months now, but realistically my house is only clean for one hour after the housekeeper leaves. And in that one hour I just want to sit down, knock back a martini, and bask in the zen of an orderly life. Ok, it may be more like two martinis and 15 minutes but you get the idea. I've realized that it's never going to be perfect around here and it is what it is... so have a look around. Just try not to delete me from your blog feed. Or fire me.

austin interior designer

Every (bleary) morning when I wake up in this room I think about how I need to take pictures. But I never make the bed, and there is still a baby bassinet in the corner where I change Luke's diapers, and the window seat always has a laundry basket full of clean clothes that need to be put away.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

There is usually a pile of paintings around here. This giant 52" tall lady just came home with me. I imagine her in a smoky plum room with lots of walnut and gold and black Italian lighting. Who's with me?

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

I can't believe the boys haven't broken my heads yet... it's only a matter of time.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

73 degrees! Springtime in Austin (all three days of it) is magical.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

Zombie cat confuses Luke, who often pets and meows at her. She does a good job of covering my wacked out wallpapered outlet so we'll keep her.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

The teal room is the repository of all my treasured possessions. I remember playing with this at my grandmother's house when I was Ike's age.

grandma and grandpa

My aforementioned grandparents. My mother drew these portraits decades ago and my brother and I are sharing joint custody of them. I hope he knows how much I love him for sharing.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

It's also feeling rather hunt clubby in the teal room. Streaky glass adds that extra special touch that really says home.

ERIN WILLIAMSON | DESIGN CRISIS

 I caught a fair amount of flak for repainting my one room challenge dinette, but I really like the new art and wall color combo. It's still WAY peppy, but it's livable. The dining area is visible from much of the house so that's kind of important. I want to live.

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Oh, Ike. Next year he starts kindergarten and while part of me has been looking forward to having a few free minutes to myself, most of me is preparing for the blubbery sobfest that is sure to take place on the first day of school. I'm going to miss my little cowpoke.

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Aaaaaaand this is what the living room looks like at the end of a long day spent juggling kids and work and cooking and obviously not cleaning. It hurts me to post this, but I believe in honesty. I didn't try to dress this up (hahaha). I didn't even turn off the gross recessed lighting. This depresses me in so many ways... I hate messes for one thing. I also spend so much time making other people's spaces look good that I wonder why I can't just snap my fingers and make it happen for myself.

Sure, budget is one reason. I gots to get some new seating, and that will be quite expensive.

Indecision is another reason. Do I want a black leather sofa? Or maybe something in a slipcovered fabric? Sectional or sofa and chairs? I debate the pros and cons of these choices (and their budgetary repercussions) endlessly as I stare out across the sea of toys.

Kids are probably the biggest reason. What I have now is virtually kid proof, and it's old so I won't be (too) angry if they destroy it. Also I am busy. And tired.

And incredibly grateful. I'm so grateful to be busy and tired in a room full of busted up chex mix and noisy plastic toys, working on amazing projects with my two little helpers in tow. I couldn't ask for anything more, and I never want it to end.

So for now I will probably keep things this way, messes and all.

I'm Featured in Bungalow Magazine!

Big news, friends. My house is featured in Bungalow Magazine! Bungalow is a new Texas shelter mag and you can read all about me and my house HERE, including some secret redecorating I've been undertaking. I'm planning to do a full post next week all about the shoot and interview because it was a really interesting experience, but I am currently bouncing a cranky baby, making 800 client mockups, and managing my social media "empire" (ha). So for now please be satisfied with a few of my favorite shots. Then get yourself over to Bungalow and check it.

erin williamson design

erin williamson design

erin williamson design

Come back next Tuesday for the full scoop! You know you want to hear all about the seedy underbelly of magazine styling and photography.

Anything could happen.

Instacap

I guess it's obvious that my new year's resolution is not to be a better blogger. It's been so long since I last posted that it's hard to dust away the cobwebs and decide how best to condense the last couple of months... We need to get up to speed, people. Sorry if you've already seen this on my Instagram, but for everyone else it's recap time. In my last post long ago, way back in the Jurassic period when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I was more than a little chagrined at my art and decor garage stash. I have enough stuff to flood Ebay and Etsy and 1st Dibs, but somehow I can't stop buying things "for clients." Ahem.

erin williamson

Hot on the heels of my hoarder post, I saw this gorgeous rug and I told myself not to buy it because I already have 500 rugs. I should have bought that rug. The time to buy vintage and antiques is when you see them.

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$300 richer than I might have been, we headed to ye olde Texarkana to visit with family and enjoy a Thanksgiving feast. Boys in ties make my mama heart melt. Three minutes later they were covered in chocolate pie.

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I spent a lot of time with Sanders picking colors so I could repaint my house AGAIN. Paint is like crack. I like to huff the low VOC fumes. I paint my house more often than I paint my nails (that's not saying much).

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Pretty much as soon as the paint dried, this happened. Look! Someone besides me is shooting my house... who can it be? Look for hot news and details very soon.

erin williamson

Two days after the shoot, we flew to Hawaii where I got my annual pedicure. Then the boys proceeded to get very very sick and puke all over the plane on the way home.

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After that I got the flu and Ben had to wrap all the Christmas presents, which turned into an epic feat of measuring and crisp folding. My gift wrapping experiments always look like a rabid beaver got hold of them. It's hard to be married to an overachiever.

karly hand erin williamson

And then something real bad happened -- worse than 103 fever and diarrhea flu, worse than puking children, worse than no sleep for weeks while redecorating the entire house, worse than my gift wrapping skills: Karly moved to Portland. There are no words for how sad and lonely this makes me feel. Without Karly Hand, this blog would not exist. Dammit, this is making me cry. No words.

erin williamson

New Years eve. Fire. Enough said.

erin williamson

Three days later we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary, which is kind of silly since we're coming up on our 19th dateiversary. Sorry Ben, I had to pick the picture where I looked least annoyed to be photographed. You lose.

erin williamson

And that brings us back to present day. I'm feeling more than a bit of nostalgia for the past year, but I'm also pretty excited for things to come. I have big news, lots of renovations coming up, client work to share, cute kid antics a plenty, and of course more insane hoarder shopping to inflict upon you. It's already a busy busy year for me, but I am resolved to slow it down at least a little. By the end of 2013 I felt like I was burning the candle at both ends, then I broke the candle in half to make more ends... it was too much.

I must remember to pace myself. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

But I do so love to haul ass, and I've never been one to jog casual like with my hands all floppy at the waist. I'm not the tortoise, but no one roots for the fist pumping, hot dogging hare.

I need some balance. 2014: Year of the Level.

Not exactly the most exciting, but there you have it. Hope you'll stick around to watch me fall off the wagon once or twice.

Cheers to a new year!