Rants, reality and learning to embrace the little things.

Thursday, October 27, 2011


Today Nolan is 11 years old. That means that 11 years ago today I was a terrified 17 year old, in ugly maternity clothes, delivering a child with a massive head while my equally terrified, 19 year old, baby daddy looked on wide eyed, attempting to at least  feign support but really focusing on whether or not he should burst into tears and run out of the room and down the hall screaming like a kid who just had a bad dream.

Yes, that is the only significance of today. No other reason. I am certainly NOT in awe of how fast the time has flown by or what an amazing little boy my eldest son is. I mean, that would completely take the focus off of me!

Who am I kidding? I'm busting at the seams with pride! Oh Nolan, what a ride it has been!

Now back to me...

This past weekend, I ripped up my living room carpet. All of it. By myself. No one helped me.

Fine. Baby Daddy helped me. But ONLY because he would rather do dirty, nasty, physical labor than attend a party with a bunch of screaming children, running around and hurling themselves from a trampoline....in the dark. I mean, who would want to miss out on that? I LOVE having glow sticks thrown at my head. It's even more fun when one lands in the bonfire you are warming your hands over and explodes....

Alright, maybe that last part didn't really happen. Well, in my head it did, but not in real life. However, I DID dodge a few flaming marshmallows!

Why do kids think if a marshmallow catches on fire the best thing to do is fling the stick around? Baffling....just like Baby Daddy wanting to miss that party.

Anyway, post party, I returned to my carpets gone. Well, not gone. They were on my front porch....because that is the best place to put them. Not in the back....or even the garage, but the front. Right next to the pumpkins.

I gleefully thanked Baby Daddy and gave him a beer for his efforts. I sent him home and the childrens off to the grandparents house to sleep so they would not injure themselves with hammers and exposed splinters. My TV was also unplugged so I had no babysitter. KIDDING!

That night, I stood in the silence of my home and stared at my bare floors happy that the carpet was out, but fearing I had gotten in over my head.

*Side note, the house was not really silent but that sounded better than, "That night, as my dog tap danced across the floor, giddy that his paws now made sounds...."

My fear soon turned to determination. I was tackling a project that several people had tried to talk me out of. I was going to PAINT my plywood sub-floors and they were going to look GOOD!

So, I spent this past weekend inhaling saw dust (thanks to the electric sander  Baby Daddy so graciously purchased), covering myself and the floors in wood filler, primer, paint and polyurethane and getting high on the fumes of spray paint...inadvertently of course...because spray painting in the house with all the doors and windows closed is a great idea. Just like the carpet on the front porch.

After several Ibuprofen, some beer, and a side trip to the Haunted Woods, my living room floors are done! And guess what? I LOVE them. ME! Not my mother, not Baby Daddy, not the neighbors. ME. No more decorating the way other people might like. I am doing things the way Brandi likes!!

I have some pictures of the floor that I will show you soon. I'm also excited to share a few other projects I am attempting to tackle. The transformation of my home has only just begun. (And maybe, eventually, the colors of my blog. I'm not loving it.)

OH! And, I bought a reciprocating saw. It was on sale. I cannot promise there will not be holes cut randomly into my walls should anyone visit. I have no control over my creative actions. I don't really know why I even needed the saw...but I wanted it and right now, that is all that matters.