How To Discover Your Style With Pinterest

So, it may sound silly to hear that you need help with finding your style. You may say to yourself. "I know what I like, how could I not know what my own style is?" And you may be right. But if you're anything like me it's hard to see what you like all together and see if it works. Or some people struggle with knowing what is truly their style versus what is trendy right now.  Trust me, if left to my own devices my house would like a furniture catalog threw up in my living room, or I wouldn't do anything and it would look like a frat house, with a mattress on the floor.

There is a trick that professional designers use to help them know what your decorating personality is. They'll have you pick out, say, five pieces of furniture from a store or magazine. And they can usually catch a trend emerging and come up with a design plan based on it.

But I can't afford a designer. And I'm assuming you can't either. So, we are going to use Pinterest.

First off create a board for the room you are trying to decorate. I actually have a board for every room, including the laundry room and outside. And then start pinning. The most important thing is to not edit yourself. Obviously I am not going to be getting a wrap around porch or a spiral staircase at my house anytime soon, but I still pin them. Because I adore the idea of them. So just pin whatever catches your eye.

Then, after a while of pinning you will start to see patterns emerge. You'll notice you always pick a certain color, or pattern, or style. There may be a few anomalies like a giant fuzzy purple armchair a la Prince, but for the most part it will all start making sense. For example according to my bedroom board I should be living in Genie's bottle. Lots of jewel tones, soft pillows and draping fabrics.I haven't asked my husband how he feels about it, but too bad for him.

Now you are ready to decorate. Using Pinterest you can give yourself a guide to what you will really love and be more confident in your decision making.  I'm sure we won't be redecorating once a year,so choosing a style that really works for you is important.

And of course while your pinning, you can look up new recipes to cook in your new kitchen, or DIY projects for your new sewing room. I have to warn you, as awesome as it is, Pinterest can definitely be a time suck. But a thoroughly enjoyable one at least. And when your family asks what you've done all day, you can say "Redecorating. Obviously!"

What do you use Pinterest for? You can follow me here.

This Is Not True, I Promise-PYHO

This story is not real. It does not have any truth in reality. No matter how closely it resembles my life, it is all fiction. I swear, and you will never get me to say otherwise. 

Say there's a kid. Let's call her.....Walnut. She has had a difficult life. Her mother (remember this is totally fictional) is more interested in men or being depressed with a bottle of wine then hanging out with Walnut. She doesn't realize that the window of time where kids love their parents unconditionally is rapidly closing and she is running out of time. She has told her ex-husband. "When do I come first? It's always about Walnut."

Because of this neglect at home, Walnuts social skills aren't as good as most kids her age. She has a huge problem with negative attention seeking. When asked about these problems, her mom just shrugs, wide eyed and acts like she has no idea what's wrong. There have been whispers of autism and aspergers. But her dad and step mom know that a lot of it is her home life. 

Walnut is failing because her mom doesn't help her with her homework or check to make sure it's done. I should mention that Walnut is only eight. The only time her homework gets done is when she is at her dad's. 

Walnut is made fun of a lot. See above, about the lack of social skills.  Despite that she is sent to school with too small of clothes on, two different pairs of shoes, and/or dirty hair. One day when it was finally cold in the fictitious town of Austinoia. Walnut was sent to school in shorts, a giant parka jacket, and sneakers with no socks.  Like she is being set up as a target.

So her Dad does what he can to combat it, documenting and talking to her teachers. Whether it's his weekend or not, he takes her home. Where they try and catch up on her homework and she gets to soak up, Daddy, step-mommy and sisterly love as much as she can handle.  We, I mean, this fictional family try to combat the negative influence of her mother. And hope that it is enough, for now.

What's a story that you need to tell?

Trick Or Treat-RemembeRED

His voice muffled by a skull mask Christopher says the requisite "Trick or Treat."  The people at the door ways coo and aww at him and his sister dressed as a princess. He adds one more thing. "Can I have more for my cousin? She doesn't know how to trick or treat."  He holds out his bag expectantly.   Frowning, they start to say no. Their incredulous face clearly saying "Who does this greedy kid think he's fooling?"  Until they see the tiny spider toddling up the sidewalk. Her spider arms flapping from her side as she struggles to catch up to her cousins.  Distracted by the shiny lights, she had veered off and was wandering around aimlessy in the yard. Finally she was herded back on to the sidewalk so her cousin could make sure she got some candy too. 

The next year she had it down pat. Holding out her bag and shouting the words. Her bag bulged with all kinds of candy. This time she didn't need any ones help. "Trick or treat" would be followed by the thunk of small chocolates, lollipops and one lame house who handed out raisins with religious flyers taped to it. Mommy ate the raisins. Without being prompted a quick "Thank you." was uttered after every handful.  Manners were so important to her that she would wait, arms akimbo for the candy dropper to say "You're welcome." Some people would oblige and remark on her cuteness. When she didn't hear a you're welcome she would complain loudly as we ushered her onto the next house. "Mommy! They're supposed to say You're Welcome!" 

"I know baby, but maybe the next house will. Can I steal one of your snickers?"

What are your favorite Halloween memories?

Food For Thought Needs A New Name.

I'm excited about my new look. Still working on some tweaks here and there. Like what should I call this? Something owly or nighty? Any suggestions? 

We went and got Halloween costumes today. We have a pikachu, a fuzzy unicorn and a puppy. Please make sure you stock the good candy, no apples or granola bars Thankyouverymuch. 

I am working on my health. Eating better, working out more (or just moving more) and drinking lots of water. I have to pee every five minutes. 

My week has been good, how was yours?

You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.

— Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator

This trailer looks awesome and creepy.

For all you people freaking out about the little facebook stream in your sidebar and posted for people to click the little grey box because you "don't want other people seeing what you post." I have news for you, not matter how private you make it, if you put it on the Internet, someone will be able to see it. And even when you log out of facebook your movements are still being recorded. So deal with it or get off line.

Advice for young girls, or old girls like me.

He asked for Photoshop help and to be fair, he got some.

No no no no. So much cuteness.

 This is basically what I hear when Rick Perry talks.

This is about what constitutes blogging success..money? followers? comments? But really I think it pertains to success and goals in general.

Ah-freaking-dorable Star Wars tote bag.

What Harry Potter taught us. The Lily and James one got me all teary eyed.

If you don't hear the glaring sarcasm in this video, then you're kind of an asshat.

Join the pledge to Stop Bullying.

I have always wondered why Columbus Day is a national holiday, but there isn't a day for Hispanics or indigenous people. Check this out and reconsider Columbus Day.

October is OCD awareness, read my friend Kelli's post about her friend who struggles with OCD everyday.

The Miss Representation trailer. I want to watch his with my girls.

Adorable Halloween costumes. Ewok and Sad but still adorable Bunny!

What have you guys seen or written this week? Share it in the comments please.

Moxie. Do You Have it?

Can you handle the unbelievable cuteness of  MadeByMoxie? I didn't think so.

What's the cutest thing you've seen lately?

The Two Scariest Texts-Red Writing Hood

"I've met someone else and it made me realize I never really loved you. I was fooling myself for the sake of the kids. Already moved my stuff out while you were at work. Divorce papers are on the kitchen table. Just sign them."

"At the ER. She fell and now she's not responding. Doctor's say things look bad. They say you should hurry up and get here to say goodbye."

Welcome to my anxiety dreams.

What's the scariest text you have ever received?

Step-mothers Get A Bad Rap-PYHO

Step mothers get a bad rap. We're evil, wicked, vain and hugely threatened by young pretty princesses. But I maintain that people just don't understand the step mother.  It's a harder job then people realize. I think stepmother's don't get enough credit. Note: I am not condoning poisoned apples or convincing my husband to leave them in the woods because they eat too much. Unless they are really bad. You understand.

I've been a step mom for five years. It's a constant balancing act of being a parent but not stepping on any toes. It's being a part of her life, but not having any control over her life. It's loving her fiercely, wiping her tears, cleaning her snotty nose, praising her efforts and making her laugh. In short all the things a parent does for their children. But not being the parent. I have no legal right to her. If Robert should die, I could never see her again. On a lesser dire note, if I don't think she should do something like stay at home alone at eight years old. I don't get to make that decision and have no leg to stand on.

I can only be here for her when she is in my home. Try and make sure she has a good female role model, that she's getting the love and attention and discipline that she needs. I can send her back to school and to her other home and hope that our lessons here have stuck. And that she doesn't forget that this is her home too. 

I never refer to Peanut as my stepdaughter because I feel like it makes her less somehow.  As though she is extra, "just" my stepdaughter. I refer to her as my daughter. Not because I am trying to replace her mom, but because she is part of our family and a daughter I am raising, just like my other two.   I prefer to think of it as she gets more love, more motherly love then the average kid. She gets two of us. 

I hope as she gets older she sees it that way and never resents me. But I am holding my breath for the day that I hear "You can't tell me what to do! You're not even my mom!" But I will treat it just like when my other daughters say a different version of that. Express sympathy, explain why I have these rules and then ground the heck out of them. All three of them.

Which fairy tale step-mother do you think is scariest? 

Early Mornings-RemembeRED

Counting my footsteps as they pound across the pavement.

Remembering to land flat footed, not heel first.

Deep gulps of cold air burn my throat. 

Breathing out, the air is visible.

Laughing, because pretend smoking in the cold never gets old.

Urging myself to go faster, because I am so close to the end.

Running against the wind, makes my ears heart and my nose run.

Feeling the heat of exertion, a layer under the fall winds.

The sun will burn all this away by noon.

The weather will only be a memory and it will be summer again in Texas.

Running early mornings brings me hope that soon Autumn will be here.

As brief as it is, Autumn soothes me and gives me that undefinable sense of home and contentment.

What is your favorite season?

Breath Has Been Taken

A Permanent Reminder-Write on Edge

I don't believe in tattoo removal. I think that a tattoo is a part of your story. It tells what kind of person you were at that moment in your life. It reminds you of good times and sometimes not so good times.  You may be a different person now, but you were the person who got that tattoo at one time too. Erasing the ink doesn't change the past. 

Say you loved someone so deeply that you wanted their name tattooed on your rear end, but then you broke up. As awkward as the conversation might be with your next mate,that doesn't change the love you had for someone. You can't forget that kind of love. Maybe it will remind you not to be so rash in the future, or to be careful who you give your heart too.  That's an important part of why you are you today. By the way I highly discourage name tattoos, unless they are your children or dead relatives.

Say you were eighteen, a silly young girl and got a butterfly with a tribal design on your lower back. While wholly unoriginal, it is still yours. You at one time were a silly 18 year old girl and who wouldn't want to remember the fun of that?

I have a tattoo that is supposed to say "human" in arabic. I thought the concept of us all being human sounded super deep. And I liked the lettering. But it turns out that the tattoo artist was an idiot and traced it backwards, so now I have arabic gibberish on my leg. I actually had a stranger who spoke arabic laugh himself silly at my expense.  But I won't change it. It reminds me of being married the first time and all the many mistakes that came with that. It reminds me of living in Virginia. It reminds me not to spend money you don't have on things like tattoos. It also reminds me to only get tattoos from someone you trust.

Permanent lessons learned with permanent reminders. I have five tattoos and plan on many more. If we had more money, my husband and I would be covered. It's funny, I was so scared to tell my dad about my first one, and now it's rare if someone doesn't have any. I imagine that our children will go in the opposite direction and claim that our body art is embarrassing and ask us to wear long sleeves. But I won't because I am proud of my decisions, even the bad ones.  They have shaped me.  Not to mention,  it's my right as a parent to embarrass my children.

So don't remove it. You will still have a scar, wouldn't you rather have an inked one?

Do you have any tattoos? What is the meaning behind them?

When I Grow Up, I Want to Be A Ballerina

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The Some Days-PYHO

I have a serious case of the Some Days today. 

Not the some days, as in "Some day I will be rich, or Some day I will be thin."

But the Some Days as in:

Some Days I just don't give a shit

Some Days I can't seem to wake up.

Some Days I don't want to clean or do laundry.

Some Days I really don't want to exercise.

Some Days I can't imagine thinking of anything to write at all, much less something people want to read. 

Some Days I want to lay on the couch and watch Law and Order all day.

Some Days  I want my food groups to consist of fat, sugar and red food dye.

Some Days suck. They're not as bad as the Mean Reds. I'm not sad or unhappy. I just don't want to do anything. Except nap, eat ding dongs and wear out our Netflix subscription. 

I had the Some Days yesterday too. Hopefully this doesn't turn into Some Weeks. 

How do you get out of the Some Days funk?

Fear of Failure

With a foggy brain and a time limit I open a new post document. Wrapping my hands around the warm cup, I attempt to wrap my mind around what I should be writing. Hoping I can think of something before I hear the first muffled sounds of the baby waking up. I type, I erase. I have writer's block. Blogger's block.  It can be easily traced to one thing. Fear. I fear letting my emotions out on the page, I fear the opinions of others, most of all I fear my own opinion. I am my harshest critic. 

I admit only to myself, my dreams. To be a writer. I know that I write, but am I a writer? I am not published, I write about myself and I write on just a blog. Should I even take myself seriously?

I have no idea what I am going to write. I do know that I have to write. Not because it's a blog and I have a schedule. Not because today is the day of the link up. But because I have to. If I don't, all the words in my head make me crazy. What I write may not be good, it may not be funny or poignant. Still, I have to put pen to paper. Tips of fingers to the keys. Hopefully something worth while will come out of it.

Stephen King said  “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”  I am tired of being in the scariest moment. The hesitant moment before you give yourself completely to something. I am stepping over. I am beginning. I am a writer. And now,  so says King, things should get better.

Why are you scared to start?

Dog Eared and Broken Spines

Have you seen the Kindle "Friends" Ads. The one where the guy convinces the book snobby girl to switch to a Kindle. All her arguments refuted?  Damn those commercials are convincing. I am that book snobby girl. I carry around a giant purse just for books. And I was totally against e-readers. At first.

Books and reading have been a focal point of my life. I learned to read at an early age. Some of my very fondest memories are my Grandma reading me the same story over and over again. It was about a kid who had a raccoon as a pet. I would get in trouble for reading in school, when the other students had to be bribed just to finish a page. I am known for how very quickly I can consume a book. My husband knows not to talk to me when I am reading because I won't hear him at all.

In short, books are ingrained in me and always will be. My dream job would be a librarian. I love the smell of new bookstores and used book stores. There used to be a Half Price in town that was a maze of books, towers that threatened to topple over you if you breathed too hard on it. You couldn't find anything, but I loved it. I love when someone has left something in a used book, a ticket stub bookmark, post card or notes in the margin. It gives the book history. I am not allowed to go into a bookstore with a debit card, because I will walk out wondering how we will pay the mortgage this month. I just really love books. 

E-readers don't smell musty, and I probably won't find any ticket stubs inside my kindle. But I still want one. I feel like a betrayer. I am terrified that they are going to make publishing books obsolete. I can't imagine a world without dog eared pages and broken spines.

I'm not saying I won't ever buy one. But I'll never give up my books or stop buying them. I want floor to cieling book shelves to house them all. I look back and realize that my ex-husband and his family, didn't own any books. I should have known then and run away.

So while there are still bookstores, I will be in them. Even if I have to keep them alive by sheer force of will.  I will be curled up in the corner soaking up the smell and the stories. And I may or may not have an e-reader tucked away somewhere. 

What do you think of the e-readers?

The Quiet At 3AM

Only once the music stops do I realize how loud it was. The silence is soothing, broken by the occasional request from a sleepy child and the clack of the keyboard. The light is bright to keep the darkness and sleepiness at bay.

I glance at the clock seeing that it is 3am. I do my mental countdown, I have six more hours. 

The wind buffets at the door, and if I have forgotten to lock it, it will push it open, the soft snick of it behind me and the beep of the alarm never fail to make me yelp and clutch my chest. I hold my breath  and look around embarrassed although I know no one was there to see me. Sprinklers click on and rhythmically spray the windows next to me, drumming loudly on each pass over.

I wrap a borrowed ragged blanket around me and wish for the hundredth time that I hadn't forgotten my sweater. When the sprinklers are off I will go stand outside to warm up and to wake up. I start the coffee to prepare myself for the 5AM lethargy attack. Sometimes just the smell of the beans and hiss of the steam are enough to perk me up. Sometimes I can't drink enough caffeine to keep me alert and I sit dazed staring blankly at the buzzing computer screen. The silence pressing in, not oppressive, just there and oddly loud. I start the music again and choose something dancy and poppish. I need to wake up.

How would you keep yourself awake all night?

Who's The Boss. You Decide.

I need your help. I have been having a pretty much daily argument. The outcome of which could change the entire dynamic of our household. Not to mention my basic sense of self. No pressure, but this is a big fucking deal. You have to help us decide because we are at an impasse. 

The argument raging through our house is about who is the boss. Who is really in charge around here? There's tears and screaming and sometimes hitting. I'm not going to lie, but I am really worried. I think I might just have to give up soon. 

I don't want to name any names, I'd like an unbiased opinion from you guys without being influenced by who is who.  

First person contends that they are bigger, pay more bills, and sacrificed a lot, physically and mentally, to make sure this person is even alive now. Good points right? This sounds like a stable base to side with. But try not to make a decision until you hear the second person's well thought out counter points.

The second person responds with a high pitched scream that can seem endless. They contend in no uncertain terms, "No!" and "Mine!" When all this fails, they resort to pathetically crying and looking as sad and miserable as possible, as thought the first person has ended the entire world for them.

How can you argue with that? I do have to point out that the second person loses points by hitting the first person and that's when the argument usually ends. But we never come to any conclusions. And for that I need your judgments.

Who do you think is the boss?

I Could Be Angry-PYHO

I am so tired of being angry. It's not doing me any good. It's not only causing me stress mentally, but physically. It strains my most important relationships, my husband and my daughters. 

So I've decided to stop being angry. 

There are a lot of people in my life I could be angry at. I can name five or six people off the top of my head I could call and let them have it. But what good would it do?

There's a woman who I can not get out of my life, who is sad and pathetic. That's not what makes me angry, it's her carelessness with the one person who loves her unconditionally. Her kid. I am angry about it, I can't just stop. I can make sure that we are giving this kid the love and attention they deserve as much as possible, and counteract the neglect they receive at their mother's hands. That's better then being angry. 

There's another one, who has repeatedly said hateful, unfounded things about me to my husband. And although he has told her to stop and she has (mostly) I am still angry that she thought it was okay to spew that vile about me when she barely knows me.  We have spent maybe an hour together all told. When I do see her she acts like we are the best of friends and it is so hard for me not to punch her. To say "You think my husband didn't let me read what you wrote about me? You think I don't know?"  What I've chosen to do is act polite and civil. Because I am a grown up who knows better and I am the example I set for my children.

There are others. Trust me. I would love a good rant about every single one, but I'd rather just let it go. The anger is corrosive and I want it out. I don't want to tuck it away in the dark to rise up again, when someone hurts me. Instead I am reminding myself that I am tired of being angry about the same things that I can't control. I can control whether they affect me or not. Although, I can't get rid of all my anger, because I may need it for extreme mother bear situations. 

But I will control it. And maybe sneakily hope for some bad karma to come their way. Because I am still human. 

What do you do when you're angry?

Come Tell Me What You Think

Let me be clear. I am over the cupcake theme. I am not over eating cupcakes. I am always happy to eat cupcakes.  Just don't want there to be any confusion about that. I love eating cupcakes.

But the theme, not so much. I decided to re-make the blog. The inspiration is from me working nights and that is usually when I am able to blog. So I present you "Sweetbutterbliss, the night owl mommy."

I did everything myself using Picnik and a website called "Makin' Cute Blogs" Please go visit her because she rocks my socks off.

Also open up me up out of your reader. Give me some feedback. I still have a few tweaks so any critique would be welcome. Thank you in advance.

So what do you think?

Food For Thought-Lots of Youtube, Cosplay and Vinegar Soaked Cotton Balls.

This week. Sweet Pea went to a friend's birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese and absolutely refused to go near the stage with the giant robots or near the guy in the rat costume. I honestly can't blame her, that shit is creepy. I met some moms and didn't offend them or find them incredibly annoying. Yet. Peanut joined the Marathon Kids, a program designed to have them "run" a marathon over the course of a couple of months. She's super duper excited about it. Bliss has started saying "Mommy." She thinks it's synonymous with "give me." She points at stuff and says "Mommy? Mommy?" What does this say about my parenting? It's cooling down here. Thank god. I discovered that I suffer from anxiety. I always knew this, just didn't know it's name. I also get strange stress pains due to it. Good times. Hopefully you'll like all the links I gathered, or you might stress me out and give me a heart attack. You wouldn't want that on your hands now would you?

But how was your week? 

Don’t be too precious or attached to anything you write. Let things be malleable. For sketch writers, remember they’re called sketches for a reason. They’re not called oil paintings. Some of them are going to stink. You have to let them stink. -Tina Fey

Pregnancy crisis centers are terrible, shady places. Read how easy and traumatizing it is to confuse them with an abortion center.

Calming the baby beast. So cute!

Where the hell is Matt? This is kind of old. But it still makes me furiously happy.

I wish I was this graceful. He's like water flowing.

Teachers can punish your special needs child by making them hold vinegar soaked cotton balls in their mouth. And it's not illegal!

Seriously you should go ahead and follow these guys already.

 This cosplay one made me laugh. And this cosplay with zombies and roller coasters made me jealous, I want to be a zombie. 


What have you guys seen this week? Leave it in the comments.

The Business of A Birth Plan

Recently I watched The Business Of Being Born. It's a documentary (streaming on Netflix) from Ricki Lake. It's purpose is to expose the birthing industry and their questionable practices. It contends that hospitals and doctors are in the business of making money. Hospitals want you in and out as fast as possible and doctors want to make the most money with the least work. 

The producers paint the obstetrician industry in a very unfavorable light. Their goal, it seems, is for you to have your baby medication free and preferably at home. It goes into a lot of fascinating detail about what drugs do to you and how you are being manipulated into choosing the path the doctors want you too. It's an eye opener and I recommend anyone with children or wanting to have them watch it with their significant other.

It got me thinking about my pregnancies. I felt very bullied during my first one. The doctor treated me like an idiot and was very rude. When we found out my blood pressure was high, he broke the news by saying "Your baby might die." I had chosen a vaginal delivery with pain killers. I have no interest in pushing a person out of my vagina without pain killers. I am in awe of the woman who do choose that path. They are warrior woman. But it's just not for me. I ended up needing an emergency c-section due to my blood pressure, diabetes and her umbilical cord not feeding her properly. 

My second time I chose a c-section. (Judge Away.) I was given a bill for the birth and paid it. After I had Bliss they sent me another bill saying the bill I paid before was for a vaginal delivery and the c-sections cost more. Why wasn't I charged this up front, when they knew I had chosen a c-section? I felt like they deliberately blindsided me. I had a myriad of doctors, the majority of which again treated me like I was stupid. I felt like a small child and dreaded my appointments. I had to bring my husband because they wouldn't be as rude to me when he was there.

I don't plan on getting pregnant again, but if I did I would put my foot down more often and demand to get my way. After all I am paying them for a service. I should get what I need and want from them. Being high risk I'd still have to go the hospital route and being a whiny baby I would still go the pain killers route as well. But what I got from the documentary was that you are in control and there are a number of options to choose from. Do your research and decided on your ideal birth plan. You can't rebirth your kid, so speak up and make sure you get what you want right then. Don't forget that a birth plan can be blown out the window sometimes due to unforeseen circumstances. But don't let anyone bully you into doing something different just because that's what they want. 

If you have kids, how did your birth plan go? If you don't, how do you plan on having kids?