Lest I forget (as if i could) what I wanted to come clean about the most, why I even started this blog. It's important for my family, important for my mental health, important for the future of said family. This is a biggie, are you ready? Mkay, pretend (if you will) I am using the same tone as the Tin Woodsman when Dorothy asked him why he was standing there, rusted solid.
Well, a long time ago....my poor, dear mother's roof leaked. Then, of course, her ceiling came crashing in. So she moved in with me and my two small children (my shortest munchkin had yet to be born). I must have wandered thru a field of poppies when I came up with The Big Idea to fix up her house. I thought I could do it in 3 to 6 months. So we left our beautiful exorbitantly rented house during the summer while the kiddies were out of school. We moved into a tipi in the backyard. For real. It was magical, living in a rounded space, we all loved it. Especially Zoe, our beautiful White German Shepherd.
My father, the great and powerful rough framer, (taught me a few tricks of the trade) was by my side as I arched many a square opening, gutted, re-insulated and put up a new lid. A whirlwind tore down walls (good thing I had carpenters to rescue me), even a weight bearing wall. They called me Sister Sledge. We moved out of the tipi and into a one bedroom half a house. Happy and G.( a girl and a boy) not only had to do bunkbeds, they also had to share a room with their Nana. I have since opened up the other part of the house, built my mom a walk-in closet and a few recessed bookshelves, arched, of course. So This is where I come clean: I've been at this for 8 years. And I'm still here. I've run out of steam. Lost my mojo. I wish I could either cast a spell or click my heels together...I still live with my mother. And she's a Great Mother (which gets me just a tiny bit closer to Loserville). Plus, I'm at the part where I need to know about gas lines and plumbing. And perseverance.
So there it is.