I'm getting off my duff and tackling another project. Melissa at The Inspired Room is having a Procrastinator's Party and it is just the push I need to get my armoire done. Nothing like a little blogosphere pressure to get me moving. I have two weeks to finish my project at which time I am to post a picture of the finished piece for all party participants to check out. And you, of course. If you give a rip.

It should be fun. Plus, I am a sucker for before and after pictures. It will be fun to see the transformations posted by all the party participants. You can visit them all through the links on Melissa's blog.

I have mentioned my armoire project before but as a reminder here is the 'before' picture.



My plan? Blue. Shade to be determined but it will be aquaish, or peacockish, and hopefully sufficiently distressed.

Wish me luck. I will need it with three little punks running around looking for trouble. But the shame of not having my 'after' pictures on Oct. 20 will keep me going. I so hate to disappoint.


And this is totally unrelated to anything mentioned above but I just have to share. Yesterday? Tank came running in the house yelling, "help bug. . . .help bug," as he shoved his clinched fist into my face. I instinctively backed away but he would have nothing of it. He grabbed my hand, turned it up and dropped a quartered earthworm into my palm.


I'll be painting in between those sorts of antics. Wish me well!

Tank turned three, or "fwee," last weekend. If he were telling you about his birthday here is what he would say. . .

Fwee. No Two. Chorch. Cake. Hat. Nonnie. Papa. Cake. Fwee. Yaaay. Cake. Pwesent. More Cake. Eat.

Translation: He is now three, not two. He went to church on his birthday and in his class everyone wore hats and ate birthday cupcakes. Monday he went to Nonnie and Papa's and had more cake and opened presents. It was all very fun.

Happy Birthday My Sweet Boy!

At three you are full of energy, curiosity, confidence, determination, affection, enthusiasm, silliness, and humor with a large dose of stubbornness.

At three your communication is succinct. You don't mince words. If you don't want to do something you simply say, "don't like." When you wake in the morning you say, "done bed." Whey you are thirsty you look at me and say, "water." And after you have had a temper tantrum of epic proportions you get up and say, "Timmy all done skweme."

You have become quite independent. In fact, you insist on doing most everything yourself, from opening and closing doors to turning off lights, to putting the laundry in the machine to removing the groceries from the cart and placing them on the checkout counter. By insist I mean if you aren't given the opportunity to do these things you scream and flail about as dramatically as possible. I know you are thinking of me when you do this as you know how much I adore the disdainful and/or pitiful looks of onlookers.

At three you really look up to Spinner. You scream in delight when he comes in from school and beg his attention. With Bean you vacillate between adoration and irritation but you can't go to bed without receiving a hug from him.

You call our back yard the "park." I love that.

Like your brothers, you love a good round of wrestling. It is made even better when dad joins the fun. You love to ride on your dad's back and beg for more when he tires.

At three you have a bashful side. When you meet new people you try with all your might not to make eye contact or let them know you have any interest in them at all. But you do. You cut your eyes to see what's going on while pretending to play elsewhere. You pull your mouth down in an effort to keep the emerging smile from busting forth and betraying your interest and delight until finally you give in and start speaking ever so softly.

You are a fantastic sleeper. As long as you have your special blanket covering your face.

At three you can say the alphabet and recognize each letter in print. You can count to 14 but often leave out six. You know your primary colors and shapes. You have a love of learning just like your brothers.

You also have a love of food. A serious love of food and have inherited your mother's sweet tooth.

At three you still love to snuggle. And I enjoy every minute of it!

Seersucker

A seersucker blazer is, to a southern man, what a string of pearls is to a southern woman.

And don't be afraid, men. Like a nice string of pearls, the seersucker blazer can be paired with any number of items in your wardrobe.

Tank is not afraid of a fashion violation. He's a confident Southern Boy.

We're still working on the 'gentleman' part.

After staring at paint cards for 10 days I finally decided on a color for my 10 drawer dresser.

Apple Green. And once I was sure of the color I put everything else aside and loaded up the boys for a trip to Lowe's. And for fun I allowed Tank to walk while I pushed Bean in the shopping cart. What a great decision that was. Moments after stepping into the paint section Tank opened a jar of antique glaze, which is greasy and black, and started finger painting. I took the jar and put it in the cart to purchase while groveling to the paint lady, who was not amused, for something to help me clean up my disaster of a child. A bit later while talking to Paint Lady about my paint needs, Bean hurled the bottle of antique glaze out of the cart onto the concrete floor. It shattered. And black, greasy goop went everywhere. Within 10 seconds five Lowe's employees descended like a hazmat team with a bag of powder and a large bottle of liquid and they went to work cleaning as they asked me to keep my children away. Sure thing.

Oh, and in the midst of that a stranger approached me to discuss her concerns for Bean's skin. "His legs looks bad." "Don't you use sunscreen on him?" "Is it painful?" My telling her that Bean has sensitive skin and was prone to heat rash did not seem to satisfy her. "Isn't there something you can do about it?" "Poor thing." "And sunscreen really won't help?"

And people wonder why I'm such a homebody.

Once home I set to work sanding, priming and painting.

Once dry I distressed it a bit and then accepted my dresser's thanks for the face lift.

It's December now and I've come back to visit this old post to link up to Funky Junk Interiors, a new fav blogspot of mine, to share my diy dresser. Still loving the green!

Removing one's clothing at every opportunity is number 8 on the "How to know if your toddler is part Redneck" quiz.

Tank got extra points for that one.

Check.

Tank is empathizing with my desire for a little more estrogen around here and trying to find ways to meet that need in my life.

And I am doing a lot of this. . .

because Tank thinks it is hiLARious to lock all the interior doors, over and over and over again. It never gets old for him.

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How is your summer starting out?

It is high time I give you the credit you deserve. Ever since little boys entered my life (and not to single anyone out or anything but especially since a certain 2 year old boy entered my life) you have been there for me in a big way.


When no one else has the answers, when there is no one else to turn to, you are there. And you have the answers. You not only give me the answers but you calm me down and give me step by step instructions to fix what ails me, or my house, as the case may be.


Like the time when I needed to know how to get permanent marker off my kitchen table. You were a wealth of information. You gave me several options to undo the damage my littlest spawn created.


Or like the time when Bean and Tank, led, no doubt, by Tank, tipped over my grandmother's antique pie crust table so many times that it lost almost all of it's "crust." You instructed me, you encouraged me, you taught me about wood glue. Sadly, the tipping continued and the crust came off again. But now I know how to fix it. And I will, when they are grown and out of the house.


Or like the time you gave me tips on getting greasy peanut butter out of the carpet. Tank was very pleased with himself. He was finger painting, you see. Getting the peanut butter off the hardwood floors, door frames, and pantry shelves was a piece of cake. I handled that fine. But the carpet? That was a whole different ball game. But you came to my aid and helped me get the job done.


And then there was today. When moments, and I mean moments, after James and I decided to place our house on the market I wandered into the guest room to find this:

A brand new bottle of Elmer's glue, open, on it's side, and empty, the contents absorbed into the carpet. My first instinct, after I panicked, was to get a wet rag and rub. I should never act on my first instinct. It was a big ole' gloppy mess.

Then, I remembered. My friend the Internet will surely know how to help me. And true to form you were there. You told me not to worry, that it will come up, and gave me only three steps to get the job done.

It took some time. But you did not fail me.

So, thank you dear Internet! Thank you for your consistency and faithfulness and for always being there to keep my home from becoming the disaster it's young residents seem intent on making it.

Wow, it's been a super swell day at the Walden house. And because I don't like my husband to miss out on all the fun, I documented the day to share with him.


This is Tank. Moments after waking. I have Spinner and Bean in the car ready to make the drop off rounds. Tank refuses to comply. With anything. He was angry I removed him from his crib, crying "cwib, cwib, cwib," as I carried him downstairs. He cried for his 'vaffle,' then rejected it the moment he laid eyes on it. I took it back, then he screamed "vaffle, vaffle." And so it went. He refused to walk to the car so I physically wrestled him into his seat in order to avoid tardy slips for his brothers.

In addition to a disdain for being in the car, Bean gets highly upset every single morning when we go straight rather than right at the four way stop outside of our neighborhood. Why? Because going straight does not take us to Papa's and he knows this. And apparently, Papa's is the only place that makes him happy these days.

Once home, Tank sets off playing. While doing so he finds an old sippy cup that went missing weeks ago. He guzzled like he'd had no liquids in a week. Then he projectile vomited the curdled milk he had unwittingly ingested, looking at me like I had betrayed him in the worst way.

Later, while comforting Bean (who would not nap today) in the den, I hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom. I call out to Tank, who is obsessed with brushing his teeth, to turn the water off and come downstairs. I turn back to Bean and moments later find Tank behind me quietly saying, "sour, sour," (shower) while pointing upstairs.

I remove his clothes and deposit him in the den, where I have turned on 'Horton Hears a Who' in an attempt to paralyze his mind so I can clean up his bathroom. He did not, in fact, turn on the shower, but used a cup to pour water from the sink all over himself and the bathroom, amounting to about 1/4 inch of water all over the floor, making its way to the carpeted hall. I used a load's worth of towels to sop it up and returned downstairs.

To find this.

Tank, who did not want his cooked 'vaffle' this morning had retrieved the waffles from the freezer and was eating them from the bag, FROZEN. And he was NAKED. Yes, he removed his diaper. Then urinated on the rug and coffee table. But he was thoughtful and pointed it out to me, saying, "yucky, yucky."

Simultaneously, I was saying "no" to Spinner's request to call friends to come over and play in the rain. This did not make him happy. He let me know.

Then he took a stool onto the front porch to watch out for kids who had nice parents that let them play outside in the rain. Pitiful.

That, was followed by this.

Big tears while discussing the need to get a prescription for eye drops. Seems he has contracted conjunctivitis.

You know what that means. Tank and Bean will be next.

The day has been documented. Not one of them appreciated my bringing out the camera in the midst of their tantrums, but hey, what are mom's for if not to laugh at their kids? Don't worry, I doled out hugs too. I also yelled a little. It was a well balanced day.

And now, weary as I feel, I am laughing and feeling thankful for my spunky, highly spirited boys.

Tank joining Zeb for an afternoon nap. On the patio.

Whoa, where ya going Zeb? Wait, I want to snuggle.

Don't be afraid. Contrary to my mom's nickname for me I can be quite gentle.

But just so you know, if you don't respond to my gentleness, I will use full body force.