So many thoughts …


So we’re renovating our kitchen. It’s an thrilling prospect and I feel beyond blessed to have the opportunity at all. That being said it’s also entirely overwhelming. I’ll get all excited about making it this dream kitchen, this “me” kitchen, this stylish kitchen and then I’ll get all befuddled about what that even means. I’m drawn to sophisticated polished kitchens. Dramatic kitchens with white and black. But I’m also very drawn to rustic kitchens, with raw wood, and cast iron. But I’m also really drawn to bright happy kitchen with lots of color. So what do I choose? Sometimes I think I should just go for the white kitchen that I can splatter with colorful accents, other times I thing- UGH! too much white. So I consider dark countertops, mmmm that rich contrast and sophistication, then I worry, yikes- too dark? I live in a forever shadow. So I’ll go back to the drawing board, again and again and again. Our goal is for me to go into IKEA and choose our cabinets on Saturday. The deadline excites me, I need to just have an end to ideas, but it frightens me what if I do it all wrong? Then I’ll think, I don’t even care, it’s just a kitchen. Just do what is mainstream, white cabs, white subway tile, and granite countertop. . . but I LOVE the look of soapstone, and I prefer the look of the lower cabs a different color. . . back to the drawing board. Am I wearing you out? I’m trying to. This is my nightly routine.
There have been a lot of “episodes” today. Like when I went outside to find Scotland completely drenching his brother in ice cold hose water. It was only 50 degrees out. Or when I step into the restroom to take care of business, and hear Anders wailing 30 seconds later- for the duration of my stay. The repeated not-run-by-Anders, but run into Anders. He’s getting sassy (After I requested his help holding a measuring tape he said “Sorry Mom, I’m busy.. . you don’t always get what you want!”) He’s getting rude. Perhaps this is the “They’ll be happy when you’re gone, but they’ll make you pay when you get back” in action. Scotland was by and large terrific on our two month whirlwind, but the return to “normal” life has not been so smooth. I guess I need to take a deep breath and realize he’s missing his cousins that he can rough and tumble with. He’s begrudging the return of chores and structure. I’m trying SO hard to talk him through it, be understanding, and turn the other cheek. But what is the godly, saintly response to your 4 year old son laying on top of his 1 year old brother after you asked him kindly three times to remove himself? How do you handle it when he smacks you in the face as you carry him calmly to his room? There have been a lot of episodes lately. . .
I watched this documentary  today and I want to find my own voice, my true voice, untainted by the desires and opinions of others.
I missed my daffodils blooming, and now all I’m left with his TONS and TONS of greens. I’m severely tempted to yank them all. I have more patience when I’ve savored their blooms for weeks. With out that, they seem like a real pain.
The return to “real life” has been refreshing. Though I’ll admit to being rather really uptight. So much to do. . . so little time.


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