Happy Mother's Day to the Worst Mom in the Class

I walk through the door last night at 8:30, and Avery immediately  jumps up and sprints to the kitchen.

No hug. No hi Mommy.

I get it, I was already on my way to Austin when you woke up this morning.

But wait, here she comes running full tilt in my direction with something in her tiny hand. A gift. Perfectly wrapped in tissue paper and twine, with “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy” written on the tag.  

I tell her how beautiful it is as I remove the wrapping to uncover a small carefully handmade recipe book, with Avery’s photo on the cover. Each laminated page presented a different recipe – one from each class member.  A book of the children's favorite recipes, all presented proudly on construction paper….there was only one missing.

Yep.

This is the note that came home on Monday, reminding us (literally for the 10^th time) that the kids needed a copy of their favorite recipe for a secret craft they were working on.  No excuses. We thought about it every night, but by the end of each of the 10 nights, I had resolved to find a recipe online the next day, and to send it by email to the school….

But it didn’t happen, and now I have a Happy Mother’s Day Mommy Recipe Book that excludes my daughter because I am a shitty mother.

SHITTY.

I am in no way excusing the oversight, but you should see the length of my daily to-do lists. Shouldn't I eventually run out of things TO DO?? It is a daily battle to figure out which errands I am going fit into one of my three free zones - before work, at lunch, or on the way home before the 6:30 pick-up. I lie awake at night deciding what will fit where. In this case, the item did not fit anywhere, and I will have this sweet almost perfect little recipe book to forever remind me of what I didn’t have time for.

And yes, I did ask if I was the only one who did not submit a recipe. At least I'm the best at something.  

(That would be sucking at motherhood)

It actually reminds me of my sorority initiation night freshman year, when we were all surprised with letters from our parents congratulating us on our selection. Our big sisters took turns reading them each aloud, until they got to me. I had no letter. I was the only one of 50 girls without a letter. Someone had dropped the ball, both of my parents worked, and you could feel the pity building in the room as my big sister read a cheery letter that she had written in place of my missing family letter....(Are you feeling sorry for me yet?)

Avery probably won’t remember the recipe book incident, but maybe I can get it together and stop the cycle before she goes to college.  Here’s hoping. 

*And no, I didn't take wipes either (as instructed in the note above) . Sue me. 

Progress Day Ten: We had wood paneling?

The painting is complete, and the result is growing on me. The closer I get to normalcy, the more I like it. The painters emptied every bit of our house into boxes which are still sitting in the garage, waiting to be unpacked. Now that I’ve moved the necessities back into their more organized places, I am thinking of leaving the rest of it in the garage. Who knew I was a closet minimalist?

Anyway, here are the final before and after photos of the living room and kitchen. If anyone needs a good painter, let me know. Popcorn is gone, cabinets are painted, walls are revamped. LOVE.  

A gallon of gratitude to our friends Lana and Michelle at By Michelle Lynn, who oversaw the color decisions and my stress management. 

Living room paneling primed, caulked, and painted

I didn't get rid of the husband, just the brick

Kitchen cabinets primed, painted. Walls painted,  ceiling scraped

Surprisingly, yes he DID move while they worked

And finally, the bar area. We left the brick on the fireplace and the entrance to the
kitchen because I couldn't let go of it completely - I love the wine cellar feel! 

Clarabelle Countdown: 4 days behind...I can't stop!

An exciting think happened today. I walked into my office building with one bag. One hand bag. I actually decided NOT to go to the gym at lunch today, so that I could say that I came to work with only one bag. 

This is a big deal. 

I started tapering the pump sessions last Monday, the 26th. From six down to four, and by the time I left for Vegas on Monday, I was still at three. There was only one casino bathroom pump this time. Yes, this was behind schedule, as I was intending to be at zero by Sunday. 

Nonetheless, success is slowly being attained. Yesterday I pumped at 7am and 10pm, and by this weekend I expect to be like Silk. 100% lactose free.

Seven days behind schedule, but Lake Mead couldn't dry up in a day, people. It takes WEEKS of drought. So really, I'm doing pretty dam well. 

(Yes, like Hoover dam).

On the flip side, Liam is doing better than expected transitioning to Almond Milk. He went 100% off breast milk on Monday when I left town, and he began drinking the vanilla flavor. This is part of the transition, in a few weeks, we will move him to the unsweetened (sugar-free) almond milk, but since breast milk is sweet, the vanilla offers a smoother journey between the two.  

P.S. Sugar is the devil. 

But more on that next week. 

Progress Day Four: Color Confusion

We stopped by the house yesterday around noon to pick up clothes for the week. As I walked past the painters in the shiny empty white living room and into my bedroom, I turned around, walked back into the living room to take a second look. The walls were white. Very white. And very shiny.

“Is this primer?”

“No, this is your wall color.”

“No, it’s not.”

The guy looks at me and smiles like he’s waiting for a ‘just kidding.’

No smile. No ‘just kidding.’

So he went to the van and pulled out my detailed instructions where it read, “living room wall paneling color, dining room wall color, piano room wall color, bar wall color: kilim beige.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s right here. my mistake.”

All wall colors were white.

Camouflaging my, now building, nervousness about the entire project and his competence, I say, “but the cabinets and trim look good” and walk back into my bedroom.

Not only were the walls the wrong color, but they were glossy enamel white – I could have tweezed my eyebrows in them.  

I spoke with the painters this morning while they were buying the correct paint color, but wanted to know if enamel was okay, since it would not be completely flat in finish. I had no idea how to answer this question. I panic, put him on speaker while I frantically Google, oil enamel vs. flat paint.

Too slow.

“No, that is fine, since the wood can only hold enamel and the wood was slightly glossy to begin with, that is fine.”

I hung up with a very deep, very real sense of dread.

Clarabelle Countdown: 9 days

I booked a trip to Vegas for a conference the week of April 1st this morning. 

I just realized that I won't have to take the Medela on the flight with me and I won't need to find empty rooms or to find excuses to slip out of meetings every three to four hours over the three days of sessions and dinners and lunches with investors. 

I also just realized that I am kind of sad about it. 

Nine days to go.