Last Wednesday I treated myself to a three hour long photography class. It was fabulous. As I know absolutely nothing about the subject and have a camera that some professionals use, I thought I'd better get on it. So for 120 minutes I learned about all of my settings, ISO speeds, F stops, aperture, white balance, etc.

Then it seemed the whole blog world was abuzz with photog tutorials. Does that ever happen to you? You have a babe that won't sleep and suddenly every other mommy blogger is blogging about the same topic? Anyways, PW just posted a fab tutorial and hopefully between that and my class I have the confidence to move from fully automatic and into the settings I have control over- full on manual may be a bit off however. 

So with all of this information I'm hoping my 'could have been a great picture' pictures (like the one below with terrible white balance- mmm, yellow skin! Who knew I just needed to change the dial to incandescent lighting!) turn out fabulous...here's to hoping!

A dog puke free floor, that's what.

Apparently public shaming has an up side.

Of course, there are a few exceptions.

Like, mowing the lawn and taking out the trash- those jobs are in Brian's category. 

Or dishes. Brian's job. 

All things dog? Brian's job.

This is how women get the label of 'nags.'

Men agree to do something and then never do it.

We remind them (over and over) and then somehow we're the bad people for them dropping the ball.

The thing is, as soon as I start cleaning dog puke, then I'll probably have to start giving the dog baths too. 

Then it will be the dishes and the trash.

Tonight, we're reading "If You Give A Mouse a Cookie."

I'm hoping Brian will see the parallels. 

How long have I been promising pictures of this? 

It's been done for months. 

I suppose I had a few things going on...

This dresser was made in 1903. Found in my mother's basement. You should have seen the 'before.'

I used grosgrain ribbon for pulls- cream with grey pickstitch. It makes it feel more casual. I love them.

(No. Those are not pictures of Brian giving me a piggy back ride. Although the thought of that makes me laugh. I have not put pictures in the frames yet.)

 I wanted a really washed out room. Lots of pale blues and dovetail grays. 

I had to mix some of my own colors to get the effect (and paint the horizontal stripes twice).

This picture turned out terrible- the walls are not this dark.

Hello, Ellie.

A room full of my favorite animal.

This is a custom wall graphic from somewhere on Etsy.

I found these elephant hooks in the clearance bin at the Maxx. They were three dollars for the set.

When I bought them they were a terrible shade of pink.

Proof positive that anything can be made awesome with a coat of paint.

Second case in point. This dresser. Found on Craigslist (another early 1900s piece) for $60.

I was originally planning on purchasing Athro glass knobs but decided on a whim to check out the hardware at Lowe's.
Same exact knobs for a third of the price.

I love it. But maybe it will be too much? What if I paint it white?

All in all things turned out well. If I had it all to do over again I would have custom made the slipcover on the chair and ottoman. I don't love it. It's a weird cream color and I would have preferred white (Don't worry, the lone silver picture over the chair will one day be part of a grouping. I just have to find other silver frames to match.). I also would have changed the drapes. I've never done a patterned curtain before, and now I know why. I would have done a gray dupioni silk instead. More formal and more grown up but I think I would have liked them a lot more. I would also have loved to do a white chandelier (in my personal opinion every single room in your house should have a chandelier- even the hallways. They make me happy.) but because we live in a story and a half we have some serious heating and cooling issues. So, unfortunately a god awful ceiling fan is a necessity. Next time.

We have been knee deep in preschool visits and applications for the past few months. Every time I sit down to write this post I'm so overwhelmed by all the goings on of school that I don't know where to begin. We are blessed that we live in a city with sooo many choices. It is also a terrible downfall of St. Louis- too many choices! We've visited private, parochial, independent, Montessori, Reggio Emilia schools, schools that have preschool and grade schools and some with just stand alone preschools. Over the last three or four months we have taken a list of over THIRTY schools and narrowed it down to two- a standard run of the mill preschool and an independent school that uses the Reggio Emilia approach.

In the beginning of this search I was convinced that I wanted the babes to attend a Montessori school. I did. My brother did. I love the child directed nature of the approach and with twins this is really important. Because we have no plans to separate the children until (at least) after kindergarten and each child has their own strengths and weaknesses, we wanted a program that will capitalize on each and truly treat them as independent individuals. For example, Parker can recognize every letter of the alphabet on paper and count into the teens. A standard preschool might not push him further which, I feel, will frustrate him and he may act out because of boredom. Montessori solved this problem, or so I thought. We visited four Montessori preschools and weren't thrilled with any of them. We just didn't feel at home. If we are to pay a second mortgage every month in preschool tuition we want it to be a perfect fit.

Then we found it. The most amazing school we've ever walked into. It uses the early childhood approach of Reggio Emilia (similar to Montessori except there is more of an emphasis on nature) and continues on through middle school. Preschoolers grow organic gardens in the greenhouse, kindergarteners go on overnight field trips, third graders write research papers, sixth graders go on a two week long science trip to South Carolina and the Smoky Mountains during the school year. The ratio is one to six. ONE. TO. SIX. Preschoolers have drama, art, music, and gym every. single. day. Amazing. We were totally blown away. As cheesy as it is to say, there is a real focus on learning for the sake of learning rather than for the test (which some classrooms don't even give). I left with tears in my eyes. I knew this was the perfect place for our children. Perfect.

The problem is the birthday cutoff. A date that every state has and one that ours strictly enforces. July 31. The babes must be three by July 31. We miss the cutoff by two weeks. The administrators at the school were willing to accept the children into the 3/4s room if they went part time (three half days) and if they stayed in the same room for two years rather than one. This was a tough decision. Would it be more difficult to attend one school for a year and then switch or to stay in the same room while all of their friends moved on to the 4/5s room? The majority of the preschoolers in the 3/4s room have attended some type of school program before, our twins haven't. Is it worth it to pay more for part-time preschool than for our house every month?

So we found another school we would be ok sending our children to.  Like it, don't love it. A standard private preschool. Attached to a church but not religiously affiliated. The focus here is on play. Everything is learned through play. There are daily goals and lessons, however, not taught in the standard method but rather through games, songs, outdoor activities, etc. We could send the babes here for one year (for about 70% less in monthly tuition) and then switch them when they are of age for the 3/4 room at the other school. This seems the most logical thing to do, however, what if we move in two years for a fellowship? Fellowships are only one year long so there is a real possibility that our children will have been to four schools in as many years. Oh, the decisions. And the applications. Did I mention the applications. Some of these suckers are down right philosophical. Harder essays than what I wrote to get into University of Michigan- and more expensive application fees too! The standard is $150 which we've already paid to two different schools and are about to pay to one more. Outrageous. And we don't even live in a city like San Francisco or New York where the wait lists begin before conception...like I said, this is all so overwhelming. We want the best education possible for our children and are willing to do just about anything to get it but it is not an easy decision to make. Not at all what I had anticipated when I started doing my research back in October. If preschool is this bad, I'm already dreading the high school application process...yikes!

Ok. Here's the deal. I am officially four weeks post partum and completely sick of all pants with an elasticized-up-to-my-bra-waistband. The problem is that I still can't get my humongous body into my old jeans. Like, not. even. close. Even with a little wiggle and lots of these-pants-are-a-little-tight-lunges.

Deep breath.

I have a problem with accountability. And justification. Bad day? Then eating out of the ice cream container is totally acceptable. Walking upstairs during what is supposed to be naptime only to find poop smeared all over the bathroom? Go ahead, you totally deserve to raid the potty candy stash. See what I mean?

So starting today, and every single Wednesday thereafter, we're playing a game called Let's Get Brooke Back Into Her Skinny Jeans. Won't that be fun? See, this is the accountability part of my problem. And because, other than my mother and father and every once and awhile my husband, I really have no idea who reads this little blog (nor do I care to- it makes me nervous to know. Hence no blog comments. The last thing I want is comments on my life please.) So if I blabber on about my recent purchase of a SIZE TEN pants (size ten people!) I don't know who's out there but I do know you're out there. Scary, huh? I'm officially accountable to the people in the clouds...

The history of my fat: When I moved to Indianapolis I was about three sizes smaller than what I am right this second. That size (4) for me takes a lot  of work (think multiple hour workouts every day of the week) and a ton of deprivation. Then I moved in with Brian and, ooops, I gained ten pounds. Not a terrible thing to be a size 6. It's really my perfect size. The one where you can eat pretty much anything and work out a moderate amount and maintain it easily. The size my body is happiest being. Oh, but then my two favorite little people came along and, bam, SEVENTY FIVE POUNDS later I was pregnant with twins. When I became pregnant with Harry I still had 10-15 of those pounds to lose. Add to that the 45 pounds of weight I gained with him, minus the thirty pounds I've lost the past three weeks and we come to the positively awesome number of 38 pounds to lose. THIRTY FREAKIN' EIGHT POUNDS.

Obama should read that last paragraph for a lesson on transparency.

Three of my goals this year were to lose this weight (one), become a more conscientious food consumer (two), and put myself together every morning (three). This little weekly weigh-in of mine is one step closer to goals one and two and when they are accomplished a step in the direction of number three. You see, I cannot get pretty every morning when my wardrobe consists of maternity underwear, velour no-nos, and and spandex pants- which, yes, I totally wear even when I have not and have no plans to workout. Because I am just that large right now. This is me justifying yoga apparel is A-ok to wear when not in a yoga studio. Which, if you've seen rear ends like mine walking around in their shiny Nike pants, you know is completely non-justifiable. I'm the person people whisper about..."spandex isn't for everyone," they say.

Goal number two has been pseudo accomplished. Until the babes were about 15 months old we were totally on the organic bandwagon. Then it dawned on me that my husband was a resident and I was a stay at home mom, and paying our mortgage was more important than shopping at Whole Paycheck (as Whole Foods is known around these parts). Since, Baby was born, however, we've returned to the better for us philosophy. It's not so much about organic as it is about knowing what's inside our food. This means eating only foods with ingredients we can pronounce, avoiding genetically modified foods, eliminating HFCS from our diets completely, shopping locally, etc. We've found some incredible local dairies, and while the two CSAs in our area have year-long waitlists we've been buying all our produce at the farmer's market (which we are super lucky to have year-round).

Sooo, better for me food combined with three days a week at the gym (helloooo Tyler), yoga on Thursdays, and The Shred every afternoon during naps, those thirty eight won't be that hard to lose. Right? Stay tuned to find out...

Harrison (or 'baby' as he's commonly referred to) is officially four weeks old today, what a fast four weeks it has been. I am so lucky to have had twins before having a singleton- this past month has been a total piece of cake. We've pretty much kept up our crazy busy schedule with Baby just along for the ride...

Last night he slept from 10pm to 3:30am and then woke for the morning at 7am- a schedule I am A-OK with!

At four weeks old baby measures 23.5" long and 11 pounds 10 ounces, placing him in the 90% for height and the 95% for weight (this is the first time that any of my children have been in a higher percentile for weight than height). Another really big boy. So big, in fact, that we have put away all the newborn, and 0-3 month clothes. We're now wearing 3-6 months and size 1-2 diapers. At this pace, Harry might just end up bigger than Parker- a feat in and of itself!

I'm surprised I wasn't born in an ice rink. Growing up, I practically lived in one. My father helped to found the largest club hockey program in the city. He has coached more hockey teams in my lifetime than I have fingers and toes. My little brother was in skates at three and hasn't taken them off since. He played at Indiana University and I'm pretty sure will die of old age still skating for a men's league. My dad didn't stop playing until he was over fifty- he too played in college. Although I was never really good at it, I started figure skating in grade school and continued all through high school. Some days I would wake before the sun came up to be on the ice. My first job was at an ice rink. The smell of ice continues to be one of my favorite things...

We've been waiting until the babes' feet were big enough for skates. The time is here. If I may brag a little, they are both quite good. Naturals. Lessons start in March. We're getting a head start by going to open skate every Friday...

I can't wait to see this little one in white skates and sparkly skirts...

Or this one, chasing the puck around the ice in head to toe gear...