Polyvore is amazing. I have ridiculously expensive taste. It’s not that I choose things deliberately because they are expensive; it just happens that way. While brainstorming and dreaming and wasting insane amounts of time on Polyvore, I’m also inspired and quite well aware that although so much of what they offer is expensive, it doesn’t have to be. Below is one of the ways I imagine our schoolroom. I homeschool our oldest boy, with his brother to follow next year and then the baby. I envision a cozy space, separate from the living areas because of the mess which, by necessity, homeschooling generates. I want something cozy and masculine, full of fun and vintage touches, with some of the comforts that more modern options (read: sofa’s!) provide. Ideally this would also contain most of their toys and be a getaway place – the place where they can gather with their friends and play a board game as well as a place where they can hang out together and watch a movie or cozy up with a blanket, tea and a good book. I firmly believe in making your home cozy and comfortable, without too many of those precious touches we mother’s so often love. If I don’t create a space my kids enjoy being in, and are proud to bring their friends to, then they’ll find that somewhere else, thus largely defeating a major purpose of homeschooling. So I dream, and I plan and I design and decorate…because I love it and it’s good to dream.
- Best news EVER to a Steelers Fan…Unless it’s winning a 7th Super Bowl.
- My husband and I watch this every year before the first game. Coolest. Video. Ever.
- Excellent take on eating healthfully and why “cheat days” are a bad, bad idea.
- My husband says I have a problem with storage containers. Oh, how I love these.
- Another reason why I never go into this store. Gorgeous.
- AND it’s in the most gorgeous shade of blue.
- If we are ever blessed with a little girl, she will have this.
- A play on a classic Fair Isle Sweater. In bedding. Enough said.
- We don’t so much get fall here. But maybe for a hurricane? Fashion still applies, even in horrid weather.
- A dream coat.
- This gluten-free pear tart. Oh my!
- I don’t do Halloween but for these treats I might make an exception.
- And because Steelers football starts tomorrow FOR REAL, a final video. Black and Yellow.
- My husband has the Michigan-Notre Dame game on. ECH. There is no happy ending.
Oh, my heart. My precious little boy. I came in to check on the boys and this is what I found. My treasure. A picture for the ages, to hold and cry over and treasure. A sharp reminder of the blessings of my Father in Heaven. My sweet son, my first-born.
Our wonderful little men. They’ve just bathed. They have brushed teeth and combed hair. They have worked on their Bible verses and cleaned up their toys. They smell fresh and clean, of baby and innocence. They are such precious gifts from God. They love each other. They ADORE each other. They are each others absolute best friends. There they are, standing on Sagan’s bed together, enjoying the ducks swimming on the lake. Oh, how I love them. At the end of a long day, when I’m so excited for bedtime and long for my couch and a good book, I still marvel that God has lent them to be – has entrusted these three special, beautiful little souls to me. And I am so very thankful.
So. I have a million little boys. A million little boys and all their paraphernalia. That means CARS, trucks, fire trucks, dump trucks, crane trucks. It means trains. Three train sets, to be exact. It means Lego’s. Like six sets of Lego’s. It means books about trucks, from Tons of Trucks to Little Blue Truck and Little Blue Truck Leads the Way to an ancient book about fire trucks that belonged to Daddy. It means that Mommy’s antique Paddington Bear – a purchase by my precious parents before they had children – gets ignored. His boots get taken off and chucked into their closet. It means that little boys think the greatest part of their day – aside from when Daddy gets home – is lining their cars up in neat little rows, then screaming at each other when a brother DARES to touch it. It means I have at least three scars on one foot from matchbox cars and their deadly car-parts. It means that we have all slipped and fallen and gotten great gross purple bruises. It means that when one of the boys gets blessed (read – Mommy groans) with yet another car-themed gift from excited Grandparents (because our parents taught us well and toys-purchasing is an indulgence around here; apparently that doesn’t apply to Grandparents) like Sammy the Sea Patrol, they pour over the included page of additional toys provided by the brilliant toymaker we could buy (read – they KNOW what suckers we parents are) for hours saying well, I want this one, and this one and that one and this one … etc etc etc. A conversation with Sagan the other day went thus:
-Sagan (sneaking out of quiet time in the afternoon) GOOD MORNING MOMMY! (Don’t ask. I have no idea. I’ve tried to fix it but he is convinced you say Good Morning every time you exit a bedroom)
-Mommy (eh, quiet time is almost over regardless and I could use some cuddle-time with my Little Man) Yes, Sagan Michael?
-Sagan: Mommy! Quiet time is all done. Can you please read me this? (holds up giant flier with pictures of toys he believes to be in his future)
-Mommy: Um … (Brain says – this is a bad, bad, bad idea Dia) Ok, love. But we’re just looking and imagining, ok? We don’t need any of these toys.
-Sagan: Ok. Thanks!
-Sagan: I want this one, and this one, and this one, and uh – not that one! It’s a girl color! Oh, but yeah -Mommy, I want this one, too. I really do. You can buy it for me if you like. (I am not kidding. He really did say that)
-Mommy: (Sigh) Sagan Michael, we don’t need any of those toys. You have more than enough and you need to be thankful for what you already have.
-Sagan: Oh. Ok, Mommy. Then CADEN can have this one, and this one and this one and this one and that one and this one. And Baby ALAN can have that one and this one and this one and maybe this one, too.
-Mommy: (Lord, what do I do???? This is too cute but I know this is a lesson I need to jump on.)
-Sagan: (VICTORY!) So. What do you think, Mommy?
-Mommy: Sagan Michael, we’re not going to get any of these right now. How about you pick one for Caden, Baby Alan and yourself to ask for Christmas?
-Sagan: (VICTORY) (In Ridiculously-Loud-Voice-That-Made-Me-Spill-My-Tea-(GRAVITY)-And-I-Am-Convinced-Woke-My-Long-Suffering-Baby) OH! THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, MOMMY! Then I want this one, and this one and this one. And Caden can have this one, and this one and this one. And Baby Alan, well, he can have this one, and this one and this one.
-Mommy: Keep dreaming, kiddo.
-Sagan: Beams. He is proud. He thinks he has won.
-Mommy: I need more tea. (Tea – British style, of course – is this mama’s wine)
Boys = cars.