Lady Lazarus

Hi. A lot of people have written me wondering where the hell I went. I'm not dead yet, but lately anything beyond merest survival has eluded my grasp. In any given day juggling a newborn and a three year old leaves me about five spare seconds to rub together, and I'm just wondering if it's worth it to come back to blogging.

My kids need me. My husband needs me. My laundry piles need me.

But decorating is a disease, you know? I can't stop fantasizing about kitchen and bathroom renovations, pasting wide swaths of wallpaper over anything that will stand still, and of course... repainting.

Because who would I be if I didn't redo everything I've already done? I live in an experimental lab, and someday soon I hope that people will hire me to experiment on effortlessly redecorate their homes, too.

Also, it appears I am hosting a HUGE Thanksgiving party at our house... PANIC MODE!!!

Really who would I be if I weren't a complete and utter basketcase? I know a lot of you are concerned about this aspect of my personality, but I kind of get off on pressure.

(Cue Queen and David Bowie)

So I suppose my endless, self indulgent stress is something worth blogging about. Maybe.

Anyway, let's take a look at what I need to do before the masses arrive for dinner.

#1. Figure out how to seat 20 people. Or at least eight in the dinette area.

Our replacement marble table may or may not arrive in November, so we could be stuck with a rickety piece of vintage pecan shit. Hopefully it won't collapse under the weight of an 800 pound turkey and enough casseroles to initiate myocardial meltdown. I think we may have to get rid of some furniture...

#2. Renovate entire kitchen.

Yeah, I never got around to painting our hideous cabinets before the baby came. Surprise!

I'd rather just rip everything out anyway. Should I go traditional?

Euro - nouveau?

Or somewhere in between?

Who am I kidding?  I have even less money than time. But just maybe I can figure out a way to paint those god forsaken cabinets.

#3. Redo office/guest bedroom.

This will be the third time I paint that room... don't tell Ben. Not yet, anyway.

I'm thinking dark sexy green. I'm sure the office/guest room will look EXACTLY like this.

Or this.

Somehow I managed to cobble together a moodboard for this redo (moodboards mean I am for serious). Do you want to see it, or do mood boards just piss you off?

#4. Wallpaper the damn hallway, already.

Oh, how I wish I could afford Zuber.

Or for David Hick to reanimate himself and come visit me.

Or Cole and Son's Nuvole, which I have been obsessing about 4EVR (I must have ebola, because I can't believe I just typed that).

I do, however, have three rolls of Neisha Crosland's Zebra, and if I can ever paste it up it will be RAD.

Can I start a collection plate to save Erin's brain? Thanks.

#5. Tweak the kid rooms.

They are almost done... just need a few accessories and then I can shoot them.

Or you know, I could start over and make Ike's room look more like this.

Or this. HOW COOL IS THIS ROOM?!

And the baby's room should probably look more like this. I must have that bed.

That is all. Basically I am unhappy with everything I've "made," but don't feel sorry for me (or, more likely, be disgusted by me). Dissatisfaction is just my normative state of being. I'll be happy when things are perfect.

Ok, maybe you should feel a little bit sorry for me. I am obviously insane.

Also, am I insane for still blogging? This post took me all day to write... and if you haven't read this post by Jenny then you should, because then you will know I am not alone in the to-blog-or-not-to-blog conundrum. Writing a quality post (which this may or may not be) is a lot of work.

I have so many post ideas about art and fabrics and trends and my house (duh), but my time is very very precious.

Yeah, that is kind of a sad little plea for feedback.

What would you like to read about here?

Ok, gotta clean the baby puke out of my bra and make sure Ike isn't playing with knives...

Good to proverbially see you guys again. I've missed you.

Toodles.

[pictures via my pinterest, because I be tired]

A World Without Children

It must look something like this:

Kind of heavenly. Pristine. Not in the least defiled by poop or vomit.

I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to pull off anywhere near this much white ever again.

And yet... I might be ridiculously happy. I might feel like my heart will burst every time I look at my handsome boys.

I might have the most awesome life ever right now.

I'm working my way back into blogging but it may be slow going for a bit, distracted as I am by googly eyes and tiny toes.

I should probably admit that I am also distracted by constant cleaning of the aforementioned poop and vomit.

Tiny babies aren't easy, but damn if they aren't adorable x infinity.

Anyhow, I hope you all have a magical long weekend filled with lake parties, sunburns, and hangovers.

Know that I am with you in spirit.

Happy Labor Day!

Push the Little Baby and Make it Come Out

Sorry for kind of dropping off the face of the earth for a while, but if you haven't already figured it out, I had a baby. This post is going to be a bit wordy, so feel free to skip to the pictures if you want. They are pretty cute. Can't say that I would blame you.

For those of you who enjoy Baby Story on TLC, here's what happened: Wee Baby X was born on August 3 at 9:24 pm, which is a far more civilized hour than his big brother Ike chose (3am -- thanks, bud!). Everything went swimmingly in the labor department, because apparently I shoot babies out like a potato gun. Everything did not go so swimmingly in the naming department, because as we all know I have commitment issues and choosing a name for a person to use his entire life is a little more stressful than choosing drapes (barely). And so Baby X remained nameless until the very last minute...

The minute at 2am when a random doctor woke us up and took our baby to another hospital's NICU.

Not to be all melodramaculus, but watching a bunch of people wheel my baby away in one of those plexiglass boxes filled with IVs and tubes was possibly the worst moment of my life. And to top it off, they weren't exactly sure what was wrong but suspected he would need major intestinal surgery.

We decided we better name the baby, and so he became Luke O'Connor Roy.

Now, I had this in mind when we chose his name:

Cool Hand Luke will beat the shit out of any obstacle that stands in his way. Also he can eat 50 eggs. Also also, he is very hot.

Meanwhile, I think Ben had this in mind when we named the baby:

Hmmmmm.

Anyway, to make a long, sleep deprived and tear stained story short, after many crappy tests and poking and prodding my days old baby, they decided he had pyloric stenosis and required laproscopic surgery. By this point we were just glad to know what the problem was. They scheduled surgery immediately and a few days later Luke came home with us.

And then this happened:

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww. My hormones are working overtime and I want another one already.

(Not going to happen)

We're all happy and healthy now, and Ike is adjusting to the new situation fairly well... except that he keeps commanding Luke to start walking and talking.

I'm going to take a few more weeks off before returning to the blog, at which time you may find that an alarming number of posts about chocolate cake have replaced decorating decisions

Nursing makes you hungry.

If you've sent me an email lately and I haven't replied, I apologize. But know that I have soaked up each and every one of your well wishes like a virgin pancake soaks up maple syrup.

Hungry.

Love you all and see you soon!

XO,

E