Et, Voila!!

Take a moment, if you haven't already, to look at the photos that run the side of the blog. These were the "during." My home was baby blue and pink before the grand transformation. I will do some more before and after shots in the next post, but HERE IT IS!



The funny thing, of course, is that I have to move all the furniture back out again so they can do the final coat on the floor, but I was going to have Thanksgiving in this house! And NOT in the basement. So, after 17 people were stuffed to the gills with turkey last night, I was one very happy and THANKFUL person.

Sooooo close

This remodel is in the final, you-can-taste-it, stages. The appliances are all sitting up there. The paint is on the walls, the windows are in and stained. The mudroom has cubbies but no hooks. The bathroom has a toilet and sink, but no medicine cabinet or working lights. The floors are just waiting to be re-revealed from under all the protective cardboard that was placed over it weeks ago.

We have been living in the basement since early June. Why is it that the first 5 months were no biggie, but the last 2 weeks are eternal. It might have something to do with Thanksgiving in 6 days, but even without that, I WANT MY HOUSE BACK!

After being literally and figuratively on top of each other for months, I really look forward to having no idea where Leo is again.

And the winner is...

... not us.

But that was not unexpected. Omar and I headed to Palm Springs this last weekend for the national Ernst and Young Enterpreneur of the Year award, having won the regional competition in June. But we had sun (i.e. NOT 8 inches of snow), rest, exercise and some quiet for a few days.

The guy who won our category is a man you may have heard of, Jack Link. Enjoy some jerkey if you would like to congratulate him. Other non-winners included CorePower Yoga, Sierra Nevada Brewing company, Sunny Delight, eHarmony, Noodles and Co, and, believe it or not, Magic Johnson.

So the way we look at it, we tied Magic Johnson. Who can say that?

becca

The kids are all right

Kids have a way of pushing your buttons. Some are better at it than others. Anyone who knows this family knows which kiddo is the one who really knows how to get to Omar and I. The one that we worry about and hope that in the big picture is "going to be OK."

So when the kindergarten teacher asked at conferences "How do you think it's going?" my response was "More importantly, how do YOU think it's going??"

And you know what? She had no concerns. None.

No spacy, spazzy behavior. No alienating other kids with jibberish or nonsensical wackiness. No meltdowns or refusal to maintain an upright body position.

He's just plain ol' normal.

Have you ever heard anything better?

Not a total ogre

The last time Tomkin and Julie came over, they brought ice cream sundae makings. This resulted in Redi-whip shooters for the kids, solidly locking Tomkin and Julie as some of the best ever friends we have.

Last night, in a reprisal of the same idea, looked a little something like this...

Spencer first, Leo captivated

Calvin next

Max more than happy to be third

And Leo wasn't about to be left out.

And yes, my kids refuse to wear PJ tops.

One lego

We are at an age when having MORE children in the house actually makes things easier. The crew that 5 minutes prior was so bored is now filled with invention, imagination and joy once the friends arrive. They happily skitter upstairs with sounds of great happiness filling the previously whine-filled air. So there was great hope for the evening last night when our neighbors with 3 kids came over for dinner.

All was going well, the kids were upstairs playing with toys that had previously been collecting dust. Objects of disdain were now ripe with new-found interest. Legos became fantastic again for one shining moment. We had at least 21 minutes of relative peace.

Then came "the blaster."

Now let me be clear. We have one kerchillion legos. All boys can build for hours (in theory) without trouble. That is, unless two of my sons want the same piece. The same piece in a pile of endless possibilities, shapes forms and sizes.

The blaster was needed by all. Compromise was not a possibility. Tears were shed. Body tone was lost. Time outs were had. Parents teeth were gnashed. Adult fists were raised to the heavens.

Just another night in paradise.

Stitches are in the hiz-ouse!

I have been a mother of boys for 8 years now. The fact that I had not previously had to deal with a single stitch is rather unbelievable (that's if you don't count the stitches Max probably should have had but now has a large scalp scar instead).

So, of course, we were out of town when Spence went head-long into the coffee table. I asked the babysitter to text me a picture of his forehead... that sucker wasn't even borderline. There was NO question that he needed stitches (7 of them, in the end). Omar's poor mother inherited the duty of taking this bleeding child to the hospital and holding his hand. Second ER visit for the little chap in the past 2 months.

And the grim reality of my momma-guilt for not being there? I have absolutely on doubt that Spencer did better WITHOUT me. He was, apparently, a complete champ. No freaking, screaming, crying or melting down.

Huh?

That is one way to mess with my head.