Guidry's Prosaic Adventures

Designs to Inspire

2011-11-07T16:09:00.000-08:00

"Decorate your home. It gives the illusion that your life is more interesting than it really is." ~Charles M. Schultz

I'd like our home to look interesting not for some pretentiousness or posing as if I'm not the busy mother that I am with toddlers griming up glass windows, baby apparatuses spanning the floors of nearly every room and most decorative items out-of-sight due to their fragile nature. No, my need for a decorated home stems from the mere fact that I'm a stay-at-home mom and see these walls all day, every day; I run errands not only because of their necessity, but so that I may surround myself with a different environment and decor. Therefore, in looking for inspiration so that on the off chance there are extra funds available to put toward a home-decorating makeover, I'll be ready. Awhile ago, I came across the most splendid website! Bungalow takes my strange desire to live in India, and brings it into the home through textiles! Only problem is, all of their stores exist in European countries, so I'll have to make whatever order online.

Favorite item worth noting:
a quilt and sham combination

In most recent history, Lauren Liess just launched her Pure Style Home Shop and her textile designs are beautiful... all of them!

One of my favorites:

The Magnolia in China Blue [via] gives the feeling that we're a little more wild and adventurous than our life with three small children allows us to be.

This lovely setting has the mystique of a little Southern charm and the edginess of a jungle hut. Jacqui Getty's home was showcased here, and this particular room caught my eye:

I would love this to be my sitting room for pondering my latest novel... not that I'm an author, but I'd like to be if this room were in my home!What I've noticed about my taste in the many hours I've spent reading blogs, searching on Pinterest and rummaging through catalogues specifically within the last few months: there's a recurring theme of my love of blues and whites.

Perhaps my life would feel more interesting had I a dinner party in this room. For now, I'll settle for the status quo, but let it be known, there's a lot I plan to do with our home once the children are old enough to let the vase alone, keep their shoes off the nice rugs, appreciate rare artwork, and know where to eat their snacks and that's not on a white couch.

Adapt and Overcome

2010-05-23T22:57:00.000-07:00

There's a military saying, "Adapt and Overcome," that we military wives tend to live out just by default. Since there is the potential for much upheaval in daily life, we have to be ready to adjust to anything and everything. Though I was prepared to move regularly, and on short notice, when I married my husband, that was because at the time he was active duty USAF. I guess in the Reserves, we got comfortable and didn't really expect to get to relocate because of a new civilian job. I write "get" with joy because not only is a newly-acquired job fantastic considering the last two years of looking for secure work, but the obvious and dubious state of our nation's economy has left many in need, so we count ourselves among the blessed to get to move for a new position. Therefore, it's been long enough since I last had the opportunity to blog and here I am at 11:30 on a Sunday night, desperate to put to 'font' my thoughts on relocating, adjusting, and Arizona ... adapting to desert life.

Moving is a bear of an ordeal for anyone, and I'm positive it's more of a trial for homeowners, but let that not belittle my experiences. We had three weeks to find a place to live in Arizona, figure out how we'd finance a move after my husband had been out of work for awhile, pack up the entire apartment with two children under two in tow, and say 'good-byes' to as many family members and friends as we had time to see. Keep in mind also, that my husband had to visit the Phoenix area and make all work and new home arrangements while I stayed at home to pack and care for our kids --- yes, it was stressful. Preemptively, in my praying that God would give us the opportunity to move, about a month before we were informed of this new job, I started taking photographs of my most beloved locations, venues and drives.

Taqueria Salsa, I'll be back for Las Mulas!

Downtown, you throw a mean Rivertown Jamboree!

Most Holy Rosary Parish, I'll miss your daily Masses.

Oh Delta, thank you for the tranquil moments of reflection.

Black Diamond Mines, this tired mama will miss her half hour of quiet, coffee and consideration while cruising your scenic roads.

So, of course, I will not only miss those places I frequented -- I will miss the people who graced us with their presence. Wish we'd been given more time to prepare and make this move, because I would have gathered as many loved ones as possible to party with us, as they know we love to entertain and serve up some good cookin'! As tokens of appreciation for a few "lights of my life," I gifted these votive candle and match box sets.

I most definitely cannot claim the idea; it's my take on a DIY gift idea I got from EZ's blog, Creature Comforts. You'll have to check out the original project and free printables. (A favorite blog of mine, for sure!)

I'm thinking this blog will have to be Part One of a series of "Adapt and Overcome" blogs, for I am incredibly exhausted regardless of my drive to complete this account tonight. Part Two will be in the works...

Communication Arts

2010-03-13T18:26:00.000-08:00

Lately I've felt a certain inadequacy with regard to my speech. Perhaps this is why I've come back to blogging: where once my writing lay dormant, so there lies my phone calls instead. Considering that for most of my thirty+ years I've viewed myself as unabashedly fearless in my communication with a healthy love for discussion, this has been quite a struggle for me. I have often thought, "either people will love me for my honesty and forthrightness, or they will abhor it, in which case, it's their choosing 'ignorance is bliss' over 'honesty is the best policy.'" Though feeling a little discouraged that honesty is the best policy, since it can be abrasive and complex at times, even unintentionally, I continue to strive for the betterment of my communication skills, but I'm not so sure I'm making much progress. Seems I was better-loved when my words came capriciously and without inhibition; now, I second guess nearly every word that bounds from my lips.

St. Paul says, "What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate" (Romans 7:15). I concur that the same could be said for any of us, but what does a woman do when instead of emulating her heroine and kindred personality type, Emma Woodhouse, she is afraid others view her as Mrs. Elton! Understanding that only "people-pleasers" are notorious for caring a great deal about how others view them, I still care and don't mind the label. I have found that not only could this be connected to my rocky relationship with my parents, but that, in general, many discourage true, honest communication for the sake of keeping up appearances or a supposed peace.

Being a wife and mother, there seems to be an unsaid expectation for me to say more of what others want to hear, rather than what should be said. Not trying to be mean or callous with my honesty, I still feel that either some people have taken more offense to what I've spoken these last two and a half years, or they just weren't courageous or caring enough to tell me what they thought previously. Difficult to know one way or the other. See, I care about the ramifications of my words, especially upon my family and it's good name. I have quieted myself so as to not emulate Mrs. Elton, but rather the Blessed Mother as she "kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart" and spent more time in contemplation. However, "mommy brain" affects the frequency of contemplation; afterall, I have to remember it to ponder it!

So, where is the balance between knowing when to speak candidly and when to just follow the status quo and appease? I guess, like me, this was the lesson learned by Emma only after she married her complement: the man who would not only hold her accountable for her words, but challenge her to communicate honestly with compassionate reserve.

“It’s Time to Get Your Ears Lowered, Son.”

2010-03-12T02:57:00.000-08:00

I am well aware that by twenty months old, most children have had a few substantial haircuts. However, in the curious case of our eldest son whose head adorned the “Charlie Brown” look for quite some time, this next haircut will only be his second official, professional haircut. Realizing that many mothers will ask why I don’t just pick up the clippers myself, I can reference my hubby’s words: “I would rather pay to have it done right the first time”; to which I reply, “I do believe someone else is more fitting to place the fear of God in our son so that he sits still as he gets a trim.” Okay, more accurately it’s an apprehension due to the first two trims resulting in failed attempts, and out of embarrassment, I will not include photos of his white walls and Gene Wilder wispy comb-over. There is documentation of his “bad haircuts,” but those will resurface later in life when he brings that special lady to the house to meet us.

It was a tender moment as I watched on while my baby moved into “toddler” status:

The momentous 1st haircut – actin’ like such a big kid! Take note of the look of terror; there’s no way I could’ve ever produced that reaction… not that I’m going for that effect.

Babies haven't any hair;
Old men's heads are just as bare;
From the cradle to the grave
Lies a haircut and a shave.
~Samuel Goodman Hoffenstein

The Entertainer

2010-03-07T15:12:00.000-08:00

“All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,…”
~ William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Had to put blogging on hiatus for a bit in order to learn the multitasking techniques of a “clown comedienne,” “wizard of wonder” and “master of distraction,” but I’m back and attempting to keep at this for a good stint.

My husband and boys truly are my life’s labor of love. There is within me, yes, the natural desires to nurture them and sacrifice my own needs, but those are more or less expected. Who expects the woman of the home to also be “The Entertainer” of sorts?! Now, my husband, Chris, has a great part in this performance that is daily life, and this stage that is our home – heck, he’s got the leading male role. However, when it comes to distracting a fussy infant as I do dishes, or getting a toddler to try a new food, or teaching the mundane tasks such as putting the toys back in the toy box, … you better believe that I’ve taken notes from The Pied Piper of Hamelin! There is a song, a little ditty, for nearly every task, type of food, and description to one son why his brother is so cranky. A little jig, a rhyme, a simple beat all the time! My sons giggle the most when their mama is in the heart of syncopation … a sample of my work:

“He needs to go to bed / He needs to rest his head / He needs to go ni-night and sleep so tight (Repeat 2x) / Go ni-night, Go ni-night, Go! (Repeat 3x) / Go! Go! Go!”

Think Ting Tings’ staccato with Yo Gabba Gabba “Dancey Dance” and you’ve got a fairly solid idea of what I am attempting. I’ve gotta say, being a mother is the perfect outlet for my always wanting to be a recorded vocalist, a Broadway actress, and dance-punk mover n’groover; I’ve got the BEST audience! Oh, and let me just tell you, they are not at all harsh critics, nor are they picky about what I pull out’a the hat!

The kitchen, in particular, is my stage, but I’ll save that for another blog with photos and videos to boot!

Life and Death

2009-08-15T16:08:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, Chris and I took our boys with us to a funeral for a friend's father. After arriving, we took note that our little ones were two of the only three children there. No wonder all the Assyrian women were goo-gooing and gaaing over our sons. One doesn't really expect their month-old infant and thirteen-month old to behave well at such a somber event, but we did hope... and sat in the back for an easy-access escape if one of them were to lose their cool.
As the memorial proceeded, I noticed that Ben (the elder) went through a cycle of alert calmness to the situation and wanting to be out of Daddy's arms and mobile, but that for the most part, with the exception of only a handful of jibberish words, Ben was silent. I wondered how this could be that such a little one instinctively knew he needed to follow suit and remain quiet.
When Chris and I get in the procession to pay our respects to the deceased and walk by the open coffin, we noticed that Ben started staring and paying close attention. Though very young, he had a weird sort of curiosity about the situation.
So why is it that people shelter young ones from the reality of death? Why, though they are too young to understand what's going on, is it expected that people wouldn't bring their children to honor the dead? To be quite honest, we really brought our sons because we didn't think to ask someone to babysit for us; it was just expected we would bring our whole family with us.

I became aware that, to many, the beginning of new life is not to be met with the passing of a life because no one wants to connect the young to death.