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This takes me back to my middle school days of reenacting Phantom in my bedroom with my sister. We were pretty awesome kids. This is written by James’ cousin’s wife, who I don’t know super well, but now know is hilarious. And so totally on point with her synopsis.

Picture Meat Loaf’s music video for “I’d Do Anything for Love,” complete with a mannequin in a wedding gown, and this is basically the entire scene.

______________________

It’s worth following along this stream of articles prompted by Ashley Judd’s op-ed in the Daily Beast:

That women are joining in the ongoing disassembling of my appearance is salient. Patriarchy is not men. Patriarchy is a system in which both women and men participate. It privileges, inter alia, the interests of boys and men over the bodily integrity, autonomy, and dignity of girls and women. It is subtle, insidious, and never more dangerous than when women passionately deny that they themselves are engaging in it.

I’m along this line of thinking:

I didn’t take the article as Judd “defending her face” like the headline suggests. I took it as a heart-fluttery victory that a mainstream actress in a mainstream publication spoke intelligently about the patriarchy and about feminism. Sometimes I forget, because I spend so much time on the Internet and because I frequent feminist blogs and corners of the web where these phrases and thoughts are widely-accepted, that feminism and problems within the patriarchy aren’t commonly discussed, and that there is still a massive majority who are either willfully or sadly ignorant.

While I appreciate this viewpoint, the tone is completely off putting and I think it’s unrealistic to think that everyone has already identified the problems discussed in Judd’s piece. Call me cynical but I don’t think that patriarchy is a system often discussed or in the minds of the general public. These comments resonate though. Big time.

Let’s ignore for a second that if this was 1998 and Us Weekly was talking about how pretty she was — and back then, they totally were — Ms. Judd would likely not be spending time penning diatribes against modern standards of beauty and the media’s unrelenting dissection of them. Let’s disregard the fact that when she was on the sweeter side of the mainstream validation of superficial, youth-worshipping measures of a woman’s worth, she didn’t seem to have such a big issue with it. Let’s suppose that the problem with Judd’s knocking of the tradition of criticizing women’s physical appearances, and the societal underpinnings that fuel it, is not just an overblown excuse for her defending her recent “puffy face” because she was feeling defensive. We can ignore all of that for the purposes of our discussion, because her rant and people’s reaction to it raise much more pressing issues.

Currently Gawking

My heart is swelling x infinity. If you haven’t taken the time to watch this yet, do it. With a tissue in hand. Fills your heart with hope and the ooey gooey stuff.

Allison

This amazing woman is my mama.

And today she turns 60.

I don’t think she’d be at all embarrassed or upset by my sharing this fact with the whole wide Interwebs, given all the beauty that she’s managed to create in those sixty years of life.

To know my mother is to know me. She’s given me my sensitivity. My passion. My crazy. My relentless will to champion and cheerlead for others. She is my fiercest ally and advocate. She has taught me to play the strong Mama Bear role, and well. Don’t you dare cross our cubs or you will have a tough and unrelenting enemy. One with a booming voice and tendency to speak loudly, passionately and boldly without fear or self-doubt.

She’s instilled in me a sense of self and self worth.

I don’t know if there is a more important thing a mother can do for her daughter.

I can only hope to do the same for my girls.

Oh, and these dudes are pretty darn lucky to have her around, too.

Happy Birthday, Momar. Our wardrobes, our homes, our gardens, our parties, our tables, and most importantly, our daily lives would be at a loss without you.

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Dragon Baby Shower: Supplies

Here’s a quick run down of where I sourced the “supplies” that helped make the baby shower such a festive affair.

Color Blocked Bamboo Utensils created using this tutorial
Stripey straws from Shop Sweet Lulu
Year of the Dragon Wooden Block by bysimple

Stork Dragon Note cards by Chloe Marty
Envelopes created using this tutorial
Custom Baby Dragon Watercolor by Feather Wrum

This was our “activity” for the shower. I’m not big on games, so I opted for this note card table instead. I laid out blank cards with instructions for guests to write Geraldine a note to read during her first year of motherhood. Envelopes were labeled with when G should open the card, i.e. Day 1, Week 8, Month 3. She now has a stack to read after baby arrives!

The sign read: “WRITE A NOTE FOR THE MAMA-TO-BE! 1. Write Geraldine a note to read during her first year of motherhood, re: happy thoughts, inspiration, advice, encouragement… your call! 2. Stick your note in an envelope. 3. Label the envelope with the day you want Geraldine to open the note, re: Day 1, Week 12, Month 6”

Stork Dragon Cake by Sara Miller Cakes
Design inspired by Chloe Marty’s invitation
Year of the Dragon Wooden Block by bysimple

I tried not to go overboard with the dragon theme and just have touches of dragons mixed with playful pops of color and accents. Success, yes?

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart

Currently Playing

Darlingside‘s first animated music video. Duh.

How I love these dudes.

South Carolina

It was a relaxing trip. Just what we needed. We stayed with James’ family at a home that his parents masterminded from scratch. It’s a miraculous place, to say the least. When we visited in October, it was not yet complete. This weekend we got the full effect. Needless to say, we look forward to years of our girls roaming those grounds and growing up basking in this view.

To be honest, we spent the majority of our time by the pool. Kaki kicking it in her floatie. Sunny daring to swim across the expanse free from the clutches of mommy and daddy, her lifey as assistance. Reading The Hunger Games in one sitting. Making a much anticipated beaded wrap bracelet. Drinking pitchers of beer in the hot tub…

Courtland sure can put ’em away.

We explored the new diggs.

The bunk room and bar proved to be favorites.

I oogled at the repurposed light fixtures and decor.

There were Easter crafts and hunts.

And most memorable of all was our run in with a Hog Nose Snake. Below it’s doing its best to look like a badass cobra.

Alas, a cobra it is not. Which means that we had no problem interacting and holding this little fella.

Of course we held it!

My father-in-law has his very own “Critter Room” for crying out loud. This is a man who delights in wildlife. Who rescues turtles and snakes from their fate as road kill. He has taught me to not be so screamish and skiddish about the creepy, crawly creatures among us. He’s the man who responded with utter joy rather than fear when I and his eldest granddaughter had our first run in with a Timber Rattlesnake.

I could feel the childlike enthusiasm emanating through the phone when James called his dad from the road to tell him that we’d just spotted a snake pretending to be a cobra. (Apparently cobra don’t live in North America, so no dice, snake, no dice).

Ben, too excited to even put on shoes, appeared by our sides within seconds. He grabbed the snake, ignoring the waterfall of poop that the snake reigned down in an effort to stimy Ben’s embrace, and taught us all about this particular critter.

They make great pets! Boom!

If you know my father-in-law, then you’ll understand when I say that this image is the embodiment of all things Ben.

My in-laws have mixed feelings about this blog so I tend to shy away from writing about James’ family, but I want to take this opportunity to say that it is an unbelievable pleasure to experience Ben sharing this passion of his with my daughters. Sunny has been telling anyone that will ask that she touched a Hog Nose Snake. And did you know that they eat toads? And they can’t bite! But they look like THIS to try and scare you… and then she does her best dang impression of a pig nose, her mouth hanging wide open like the snake’s… and it is nothing short of amazing.

So South Carolina, I look forward to seeing you again soon. With all of your squiggly, wriggly critters.

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart

Katelyn Mooney

Inspiration for future Style posts of the girls? You bet! I am awed. And inspired. And dreaming of a photo studio in the new house… swoon!

LINK: KATELYN MOONEY

“Hard Boiled” Jell-O Eggs

We’re home! Man did it feel good to check out for nearly a week. The batteries are charged and we’re ready to dive back into renovating some of the new diggs and moving. We’ve got tree removal and fencing on deck! Watch out! Oh and that pesky floor and wall and toilet (womp womp) to reinstall.

I’ll have some pictures from our time in South Carolina, even a snake or two to show for the adventure, later today. In the meantime, here is a quick recap of one of the projects I did for Sunday’s Easter festivities. You can give it a try next year, eh? Or perhaps for April Fools?

I missed writing here. So expect a number of tutorials, pictures, and farm and baby shower related postings later this week. Oh! And lil Miss Whaley has her 8 month birthday tomorrow. So that, too.

“HARD BOILED” JELL-O EGGS

Materials:
Eggs
Jell-O

Instructions:
1. Using a spoon, crack the back of the eggs and dump out the contents. I put them to use as Easter morning quiches later that weekend.

2. Immediately submerge the emptied eggs in hot, soapy water. Once each of the egg shells is prepped, rinse them thoroughly and allow to dry.

3. Dump Jell-O powder in glass measuring cup.

4. Add 1/2 c. boiling water to the powder. Stir. Then add a 1/4 c. of cool water to the mixture. The Jell-O needs to be more concentrated so that the egg keeps it’s shape when you peel the shell. This mixture will fill 3 eggs.

5. Dump Jell-O mixture into emptied and cleaned egg shells.

6. Chill in the refrigerator to set the Jell-O.

7. Pull out and display in opaque egg cups so as not to reveal the cracked bottom shell of the egg.

7. Give a crack and begin to peel away the surprise just as you would a real hard boiled egg.

“Hard Boiled” Jell-O Eggs, ta da!

That’s one impressed, happy preschooler.

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart

Adventures in Public Restrooms

We’re in South Carolina.

What better way to avoid the inevitable move and all the packing that entails than to physically remove ourselves?

It’s called “avoidance.”

And we’re openly embracing it with a big, sweaty, open mouthed kiss induced by all the glorious warmth and humidity down south.

We spent all yesterday traveling and the kids were remarkably good. Very little to report save these two interactions James and I experienced with Sunny during separate bathroom tours of duty during our layover in Charlotte.

Episode #1: While in the female restroom during attempt number two to go number 2

Her: MAMA! I’M TRYING TO PUSH A BIG POOP OUT!!!
Me: Good job, sweetie… There’s no need to yell.
Her: LOOK! A REALLY BIG POOP! I PUSHED IT OUT! SEE?!?

She’s saying it loud and proud, folks.

Episode #2: In the men’s restroom with James, going number 2, again. Apparently she was so overcome with pride the first time, she got distracted and hadn’t fully emptied her bowels.

Her: Daddy, YOU HAVE A PEANUT!
Him: Yes, kiddo. Why don’t you focus on pooping, okay?
Her: Does everyone in here have peanuts except for Sunny?!?
Him: Yep. Let’s keep it down, please.
Her: I DON’T HAVE ANY PEANUTS!
Him: That’s true. Now focus on the poop.

I’m sure all the gentlemen in the bathroom were thrilled to have their genitalia referred to as “peanuts.”

Also? Observation: The “Family Bathroom” is apparently code for “Place Grown Men Poop.”

Neither James nor I could gain entry into this single bathroom as there was always a trail of dudes waiting their turn at a private movement. Seriously guys?!? You have to co-opt the bathroom intended for adults laden with demanding dependents?!

Oy vey.

Anyway, now we’re here and I’ll be posting up a storm on Instagram (IGalaCart). Go follow along there for more of this…

Life on the Farm (I)

We’ve had the keys to the house less than a week and already a floor is missing. And a wall.

Thank goodness we don’t actually move in until April 30th, eh?

See, the thing is, we hadn’t intended to remove said wall. Or floor. But it appears that James and I lack impulse control, so when left unattended with this home, this home that is now ours to control and destroy, walls and floors go missing.

This weekend, James and my dad intended to merely remove one shelf in order to outfit our home with a refrigerator. But after the shelf removal, the fridge still didn’t fit, so they decided to remove all the cabinets.

I suppose James figured he’d taken it that far, why not just replace all the dry wall and build some custom cabinets.

Of course, last night, after said wall removal, he was overheard mumbling to the computer, “Well this is far more daunting than expected…”

Why do I feel as though this is the ongoing narrative of home ownership?

He is currently at the farm, claiming that the wall will be reinstalled by morning.

What a sweet, optimistic lad. Let’s not kill the enthusiasm. Lord knows the project will do that on its own.

And then today, during lunch, I went to the house solo to apply some paint swatches to get a move on freshening up the walls before the house is covered in all our worldly possessions and I… well… got distracted? Was overcome by a startling case of ADD? Channeled my inner James Cart? Question mark?

You see,  instead of painting, I spent my afternoon tearing chunks of tile from the floor in the bathroom.

I hadn’t realized how badly cracked the tile was in the room prior to owning the house.  And today, while christening the porcelian throne, I became fixated on all the cracks and breaks on that floor. So I reached down and tugged, and when I experienced how readily the tile was bending at my will, I couldn’t help myself. Half the tile was up within 10 minutes and there I was, seated among a heap of broken ceramic and dust.

I reluctantly called James and announced that I would be installing a new bathroom floor prior to move in. Oh, and could he please bring over a chisel and sledge hammer when he came over so I could tackle the persnickety corner pieces?

He questioned whether I had worn gloves? Or protective eye gear? Or a face mask? during this little impulse project.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ha.

Um, no. Who does he think he’s dealing with? The Queen of Instant Gratification, that’s who. But I promise, next time…

This evening, I went back with the girls while James was at Home Depot stocking up for his project.

While I ventured back into the bathroom, Sunny and Kaki entertained themselves right outside the door with a pile of toys and a box of Cheddar Bunnies.

I’m not going to pretend for a second like I didn’t feel like a total badass, demolishing a tile floor while my two little girls sat outside the doorway watching their mama demonstrate that girls can kick butt at this stuff too.

So what if I plan to replace the floor with hot pink carpeting?

Not kidding.

To be continued…