We have slowly made our way through the piles of boxes in our house, and I'm proud to say that we have NO MORE boxes to go through. Wait, no, that's wrong. We still have the Christmas boxes in the garage. Blast it!
Still, it's been no small feat, especially since Ava has been a little grumpy lately. She's decided that she is just peachy keen as long as someone is holding her. Oh, and naps? What naps? She won't sleep for longer than 30 minutes unless someone is holding her. So all that's made it a little difficult to do much around the house during the day.
Triad #1 and my mom came down this weekend and helped out so, so much. We've been using the dining room as a catch all room for all the crap that we have no idea what to do with, so between all of us, we tackled that this weekend, and we also saw carpet in some rooms for the first time.
Now that most of the boxes are emptied, and things are slowly finding a home, here comes the scary part. New Home Decorating. We've decided that our decor needs an overhaul and so M has told me to basically go for it.
This is the part where I look like a deer in headlights.
Most women would be ecstatic that their husband has basically given them carte blanche. I guess I'm not most women. Don't get me wrong - I'm giddy that we will be redecorating. I just don't want to be the one to do it. I didn't get that gene. At all. I can tell you what I like and what I don't like, but I can't start from scratch and create a room. Hell, it took me 20 minutes to decide how I wanted to hang a wall hanging in Ava's room. Seriously, I beat that horse until it was dead, and then some. I'm not cut out for decorating an entire house. I'm tempted to hire an interior decorator, but that seems so silly and excessive. I mean, it's not like we have a mansion to decorate or anything. Plus, I guess I feel like I SHOULD be able to do this myself, what with having a vagina and all. My husband, he really lucked out in the wife department - I can't decorate and I don't cook. It's a good thing it's not 1957.