Rosette Rosary

You may recall that I made this fabric rosette bib necklace for my mother for Christmas. Unfortunately, the mesh ribbon I used for the actual necklace part was too “itchy”. Note to self: use satin or chain link. This is important to remember in the event that you ever decide to make your own. Needless to say, this necklace has sat on my craft table for 6 months now awaiting a new chain. Saturday is Mom’s birthday. So what’s the gift that keeps on giving? You guessed it…a new and improved fabric bib rosette necklace!

I went shopping in my jewelry box for some ribbon or a strand that could serve as a new chain. The good news is, I uncovered the perfect solution. The bad news is, my selection just so happened to be a strand of rosary beads.

I am not now nor have I ever been Catholic, therefore, how a set of rosary beads ended up in my jewelry box is a complete mystery. I even considered not using them for fear that it was somehow sacrilegious, but they just…worked. If you are Catholic, I sincerely hope you’re not offended. If you are, well… I hope you’ll forgive for me.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

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Baby Love Bouquet

I’m throwing a baby shower this Saturday, so I’m in full fledged party mode. My friend Ginny is the only person I know who is passionate about latte art, so a coffee-themed baby shower is only fitting. Now, of course, I’m doing this on a budget {more like a non-existent budget} and as my husband always says, “necessity is the mother of invention.”

So, here is one of my “inventions”.

Here’s what you’ll need to make these Baby Love Bouquets for your coffee-themed baby shower:

2 large Mason jars

Satin ribbon

A bag of coffee beans

Large white coffee filters

Decorative cupcake wrappers

Embellishments {I ripped these off some old gift bags. I have nearly every bridal, baby, and Christmas gift bag I ever received saved for a need for creative inspiration such as this. It’s about time I put them to good use don’t you think?}

Skewer sticks {As flower “stems}

Double sided tape

Now here’s the clincher. If you’re letters or embellishments don’t lie flat within the filter, you can use sewing pins. I used a set of bent nose pliers to bend the pin and sandwich it in between the two coffee filters. Two words: Trial. Error. I did prick my thumb at one point and bleed all over the lower case “b”, but I survived and I now have these coffee filter bouquets to show for it.

I’ll be sure to post some other baby shower goodies as the inspiration hits me. Until then, I hope you are enjoying a wonderful Memorial Day holiday!

Mums the Word

My in-laws are due to arrive in town tonight. So I thought, “what better time to give Salem a hair cut.” Now if anyone can pull off the sheepdog look, it’s Salem, but I figured he might actually like to see his Mimi upon her arrival and not through the mop that currently rests on the top of his head. Two and half hours and many tears {on my end} later, this was the end result.

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I know when to admit defeat. So in the pouring rain, Salem and I had to practically canoe ourselves to the Supercuts. We are now making faces at each other in one of the full length mirrors. When we first walked in, I could hear one of the hair stylists snickering. She probably thinks he got hold of the scissors and tried to cut his own hair.

Salem just got called to the chair, and wouldn’t you know, the first words out of Ms. Supercuts was, “look who tried to cut their own hair.”

I’m not saying a WORD!!!!!

People Watching

Its moms morning out, I’m in the mall waiting on an Apple repair when a kiosk mercenary asks if she can play with my hair. No sooner do I notice a rather large Latino man, his red lipstick kiss mark tattoo bearing thru his wife beater T walking alongside a 3rd trimester preggie sporting 5″ espadrilles. I’m battling the temptation to indulge myself in a $5 bubble tea from Teavana, so I park myself on a nearby leather bench in hopes that the aroma might satisfy. There’s a silver-haired woman with a cane wearing sneakers and red-rimmed coke bottle glasses sitting across from me. She’s talking with her hands {no doubt about Mr. Kiss Mark} and I wonder how long she and the man in the black beret and knee high socks sitting next to her have been married. Perhaps they’re just lovers. Perhaps he has kiss mark tattoos on his chest. Or does she?

This is the only time in a week I’m afforded an uninterrupted thought and this is how I indulge myself? People watching?!

Ugh… Another kiosk assassin.

On second thought…. I’ll have a large Pear Luna bubble tea…

Thrifty with a Cause

What does this bright orange pillow…

these vintage blue vases…

this pair of candle holders…

these ornate wall sconces…

and these magazine flag markers all have in common?

They were all purchased at a yard sale!

Now, I’m not an avid yard sale-r. In fact, the only reason why I stumbled on these finds was because the yard in which this particular sale took place just so happened to be my own. Some friends of mine are adopting a little boy from Africa and I volunteered for them to hold a bazaar in my front yard. {Thankfully, what our rental house lacks in curb appeal, it makes up for in acreage.} I literally sat on my front porch until something struck my fancy as my neighbors crowded my lawn like ants at a picnic. It was the best {and easiest $14 I’ve spent all year}. Now every time I walk past my wall sconces, I think about a little orphan boy in Africa that I look forward to meeting in the coming months. To read more about why this particular yard sale literally moved me to tears, check out The Sound of Center City Blog.

Mothers Speak: PDA

In this case, PDA stands for “Public Discipline Anxiety”.

Let’s just say, hypothetically of course, that you get a hankering for a cheeseburger. You call up a few friends for a spontaneous lunch at a favorite neighborhood burger joint and upon arrival the waitress seats you right smack dab in the middle of the dining room. You strategically position yourself on a corner end of the table so that both of your high-chaired babies are safely within reach. You hit up the waiter for a couple of straws per kid to serve as make shift drum sticks, and just as you begin settle in to peruse the lunch specials to satisfy your serious red meat craving, the inevitable happens. Here it comes. The meltdown of all meltdowns. Whether he lost his drumstick or his shoe fell off or you ordered cranberry juice when what he really wanted was milk…. whatever the infraction, your toddler begins to throw the epic fit of the century. Tear streaming, straw throwing, broken record demanding… you can tell this one is going to be a chart topper. You immediately feel the eyes of the other patrons beginning to bore a hole through you head who are not doubt thinking one thing: ” Can’t you shut that kid up?!” You quickly assess that your mommy instincts are somewhat lacking in the crisis of the moment. Do you:

a.) give into whatever he demands so to spare yourself and those around you from having a regrettable mealtime experience?

b.) ignore your child’s fit and therefore send the message to everyone within a 10 foot radius that they darn well better just deal with it?

c.) throw a fit yourself and mutter something about payback for all the times you gave other helpless parents that look in all your days of blissful pre-child ignorance?

d.) remove the fitting child from the scene, take him into the public bathroom or out to the parking lot and put the fear of God in him with that classic mommy line, “if you cry like that again, I’ll give you something to cry about”?

e.) stay home

Now I know this has never happened to you. But imagine with me that it did. Which option would you choose? Or better yet, what do you have in your mommy bag of tricks that you can pass along to the rest of us? Oh please…. do tell!

Classy with Cash part 2

When I was a kid, there were few things I looked forward to more than the first day of school. New clothes… new backpack…. new school supplies… I know. I always have been a bit of a nerd. Well, apparently not much has changed. When Clark and I started Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University last week, I got inspired to make my own cash budget envelopes.

I began by rummaging through my scrap book paper stash.

I followed this tutorial to make my own envelopes and voila!

Not only does pretty paper inspire me, but now I can keep my subdivided cash and my checks all in one place!

I had so much fun mixing and matching different paper patterns. After completing my envelopes, I bound them all together with ribbon.

I made sure my holes were big enough for an embroidery needle to fit through and I simply whip stitched the envelopes together.  I would have made my life a whole lot easier if I would have had a Crop-A-Dile  to punch my binder holes.

I was sure to attach an extra piece of card stock to the top of the stack to slip inside the front cover of the check book.

I bought these bridal magazine flag markers at a yard sale for a dime. I simply re-labeled them and used them as embellishments for my cash envelope system.

Now the only thing missing is the cash!!

Now or Never

Isn’t this greeting card hilarious?!

I  have this quote magnet on my fridge. Which reminds me. Monday marks a new dawn for me {quite literally since I’ll be at it before the sun comes up}. I am going to start running again. I said that I would get back to it when I wasn’t pregnant, when I wasn’t nursing, when the weather cleared next leap year of the lunar eclipse twice removed… you get my point. Tis now or never. I figure if I announce it here, I’ll actually do it. So wish me luck!

I hope your weekend is smokin’!

Yearbook Yourself

I realize that this has been floating around the social media cyber-sphere for sometime already, but I just couldn’t resist. After today, we can pretend like it never happened. Have you “yearbooked” yourself  yet? You should seriously try it. It is mindless fun for hours.

Yours truly circa 1982

We will resume our regularly scheduled programming once I stop cracking myself up with time-sucking websites.

Have a fabulous Wednesday!

Mother’s Speak: You are what they eat!

It has been an eventful week in the Beasley house. Not only did Amelia officially start to crawl on Monday, but she also nursed for the last time. I wanted so much to breast feed her for a year, but the last 6 weeks or so have been quite the struggle. She has mistaken me for not only one of her teething toys {ouch!} on more than one occasion, but lately she’s taken to using me more as “finger food”, if you know what I mean. She will un-latch after 3 minutes or so {if we’re lucky}, curiously play with me like I’m a piece of bubble wrap, and then look at me with that gummy smile as if to say, “Thanks for the new toy, Mom.” I’m no nursing expert, but that combined with the occasional grimace face and the arching of the back in utter refusal, something tells me that this child is ready to wean.

Last week when I introduced “Mother’s Speak”, I addressed the “guilt” mill. Most mommies I know are on it for one reason or another. If I’m honest, I’ve struggled with guilt with both of my babies when it comes to feeding. Breast is best, right? Therefore bottle {formula} is….. not? Let’s consider the breast pump for a moment. Every time I’m hooked up to the milking apparatus, Clark gives me a pitiful look as thought I’m subjecting myself to cruel and unusual punishment. I’ve dared him to try it, but he flat refuses on the grounds of it being a form of medieval torture. He says he’s scared that if he does actually try it, something might actually come out! Men are hilarious, aren’t they?

Let’s be honest for a moment. Is there any part of you, even the smallest part like me, that opts for breast or bottle out of guilt or comparison to other super hero mommies who nurse until somewhere around the child’s first day at Kindergarten? Bear with the exaggeration, but I think you get my point. I loved my nursing experience with Mia, and there is a part of me that is sad knowing that season is over. But at the same time, I had to ask myself if continuing to nurse was best for me or for her. She’s soaking up the world around her at such a wondrous pace. Every time we would stop to nurse her, she would look at me like, “Aw, Mom, do I have to do this again?” and then…. play time with bubble wrap.

So, I ask you… Breast? Bottle? Both?

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