Family

One of those Days

~ farmhousedecordreaming ~ Leave a comment

oneofthosedays

We had to wake up far earlier than I had liked. We had a leak detection worker come at 7:30 and I needed to get things done, specifically fix my backwards bra issues (not comfy, FYI) and, mostly, get enough coffee drank to make me remotely pleasant to deal with. Some of us aren’t born with the happy-to-be-awake gene.IMG_0219

(Too early and, yet, so happy)

And then there are those who wake you up through out the night, get up at the crack of dawn, refuse to nap, refuse to go to sleep and repeat the cycle every day. Yes, I am looking at you Tintin. I think he hides Redbull behind the couch cushions. It’s the only explanation. Plus, he’s always hiding behind the couch cushions.

Speaking of hiding, have I ever mentioned how much I hate complete and total strangers exploring every inch of my house? Things that went through my mind as the gentleman said “I need to see your water heater. Let me look in your backyard. What’s in that room?”:

  • No, you can not go in the garage. Why would you want to do that?
  • The BACKYARD?!? BUT THE LEAK IS NOT FROM THE FRUIT TREES!
  • That room is the room of requirement. I don’t recommend going in there.

I, of course, said none of these things. I spent most of my time trying to hide from him. My husband acted like the adult in this situation while I jumped from room to room avoiding him like the plague. Or dysentery.

dog hiding in flowers

(Fairly certain I looked like this, only not as cute)

This whole process of figuring out where the leak in our house is coming from has become so stressful and incredibly invasive. So, if you need me, I’ll be in the flowers.

 

Time for a Facelift

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facelift

It happens to the best of us. Time passes, life changes, things sag… This is not a personal problem. The Freeway Farmhouse feels it too. Poor lass.

We moved in four years ago and, besides seeing what was behind the red brick wall- note, it wasn’t OZ, we never bothered messing with the front yard. We talked about it, I pinned an innumerable amount of adorable pictures on Pinterest (come on and join the fun on Pinterest!  And this concludes Farmhouse Dreaming’s shameless plug for the evening) we never did anything. Until now.

Armed with my oh-so-chic overalls from 1996, my favorite wellies, too many cups of coffee, and a gaggle of farmhouse minions we set to work! How hard could it be? It’s just a little nip-and-tuck.IMG_0199

(I told you, tres chic)

We pulled out our trusty green waste bin and started getting all the leaves picked up. We have an oversized, under pruned, behemoth of a tree in our front yard. It’s like a fat man in a little jacket, but a fat tree in a little yard.

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(Peanut head doing some grunt work.)

One of our favorite neighbors, Mr. Mike, decided to pop in and then so graciously brought over all of his bins and helped us do some major work. Seriously, Mr. Mike is one of the best people we know!

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(Like that garage door? Sixty-year-old garage doors don’t hold up well when you ram them with your oversized SUV. Or so I’ve heard. Ahem.)

We, we being the minions, stopped every time they we came across a critter. Let’s be honest here, I don’t like the creepy crawlers. They can keep their lives as long as they are sure to stay away from me. My children, however? Let’s just say I can’t recount how many jars full of spiders, fistfuls of worms, and lizards have been traipsed into my house and shoved into my face. Moment of silence for my sanity.

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(The Salamander named Lizzie. Lawdhamercy.)

As it turns out, facelifts are harder than I had imagined. Don’t get me wrong, we nipped, we tucked, but somehow the left side of the house looks like Giselle and the right side more closely resembles Mick Jagger. Sorry, right side. We’ll get to you…

Someday.

 

Confessions of a Terrible Wife

~ farmhousedecordreaming ~ 2 Comments

 

confessions

Today was crazy. We are in a transition at the Freeway Farmhouse that could lead to exciting things! Or leave us with almost every wall in our house removed and us standing there clueless. We have excitement tempered by nauseating fear. Good times to be had by all.

We had a celebratory dinner of fondue tonight. The farmhouse minions love to poke those fondue forks into the food and devour. It’s when they start the sword fighting at the table that I remember why we shouldn’t allow a bunch minions to have pseudo weapons.

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(yes, I broke out the finest of china)

Why did we have a celebratory dinner with all the farmhouse minions?

Friends, I have a confession to make.

I forgot.

I forgot our wedding anniversary AGAIN! Seven years of wedded bliss and I forgot.

I’ll let that sink in. Got it? Ok, good. I don’t know how I forget it, almost every year, but I do! It’s the same date year in and year out, but I never see it coming! I get so preoccupied by my two eldest boy’s birthdays and the preparations for Easter that I just plumb forget.

And that, my friends, is why I am a terrible wife.

But hey, at least I kept everyone alive today. I call that a win. And I have wine. That is also a win.

So, to my husband, happy seven years of marriage! Aren’t you just the luckiest man to be married to me? That’s rhetorical, please don’t answer.