Sunday, April 26, 2015

Bye For Now

If you're reading this, you've probably noticed that I haven't posted in months and months.  I think its time to officially call it quits (for now) on Bored Housewife Syndrome.

I have started an interior design business which is as busy as I can handle, and although I still think of funny blogging topics all the time, I just don't seem to have the time or creative energy to write it all down.  All of my juices are going into the business, which has been going very, very well.  Seems I have a little knack for this decorating thing, and my business experience is a good match.  I heard someone say the other night that to start a decorating business you need arrogance and ignorance: Check and Check!!

Its really a shame to because I've got a teenager now, and that girl is rife with material for me.  The scowls, the surliness, the hormones, the pimples.  What a treasure trove.

Also, I seem to be having a little mid life thing that has prompted me to alter the way I do housewifery; I've gone from being a poor housewife, to still a poor housewife, but for different reasons.  I'm no longer a Bored Housewife, I'm a Busy Housewife, so I don't have time for this shit.  So things are just as messy as they used to be, and we still don't have anything for dinner, only now I have a good reason. It doesn't seem to matter to the hungry people in my house, but we're working on that.

My friends have suggested I write a decorating blog, but, even though decorating is fun, its not funny. I can't really be snarky about it.  And if I can't be snarky, then what's the point?  So though I don't promise that I will never write here again, count me out for a while.

If you want to check out the decorating stuff, you can find me at and under M Interiors on Houzz. My three current projects are not done and photographed yet, but they are real winners!

Take care of yourselves out there in cyber land!  You never know, I might be back!

Love, BH

Monday, October 6, 2014

The Flip Side

So here's the nice thing Rob did for me.

I have been opining for years about the roundness of lip balm.  There are few things more annoying than your burt's bees lip balm rolling off your night stand and under your bed, especially when you are already snug in your bed and you have to lean over the side of the bed and sift through all the under-bed dust bunnies with your hands to find your lip balm because your lips are just so dry and they're getting dryer by the second because your lip balm is out of reach.  My million dollar idea was to make lip balms in triangular shapes so they can't roll.  Rather than twisting them up, you would push them up.  I've been kvetching about this for years.  I know I'm far too lazy to actually make something like that happen, but why is no one else thinking of this?  Its an outrage.

So Rob texts me from work:

Someone solved my problem, with an oblong rather than a triangle, but still!  Genius!
Somehow, my desire for a non rolling lip balm did not send me out of the house immediately to go buy one.  Law and Order must have been on.

The next day, I get a call from Rob who had walked half a mile on his lunch hour to buy me this lip balm.  He called me to review the flavors and bought me two of them: Vanilla camomile for bed time, and grapefruit for morning time.  Wasn't that nice of him?  The company that makes it is called Hurraw, in case you're like me and hate rolling lip balms. And don't start telling me about the Eos lip balm; I'm not interested.  Lip balms should be long and thin, not spherical.  That's just wrong.

So, except that Law and Order is never on when I want it to be, I have nothing left to complain about.

(just kidding.  I can always find something to complain about)

Thursday, October 2, 2014

My Shit List

Its been almost two months since I posted here.  Sorry.  I'm trying to start a business, and it takes time.  And I'm in school, learning the history of furniture.  That's not a joke.  And there's all that TV to watch.  I've switched from Law and Order SVU to regular Law and Order.  Even though there are, like, 5000 episodes of Law and Order, you'd be shocked how many episodes I've seen already, even though I've only watched 10 or so episodes.  Also, when I didn't watch Law and Order, it was on every channel all day long; now that I'm looking for it? Can't find it.  Damn that NCIS.  What about my needs?

My printer is broken.  I hate problems like this.  Little persnickety things that have to come to resolution and they cost money and take time away from Law and Order.  Uncool.  So far, I'm not buying a new printer, although that may end up being the cheaper option.  I'm getting the old one fixed.  Hopefully.  I don't want to spend $65 to find out I have to spend $100 on a new one.

You know what Rob did?  He made cookies for his work team last night, and he cleaned up after himself, but did not do any of the other dishes that were sitting there from dinner.  Its like he worked around them on purpose to make some kind of point about how much time I spend watching Law and Order and not doing dishes!  I see how it is.  I know the grannies out there are going to scold me for scolding him for only doing most of the dishes and not all of the dishes, because I'm so lucky I have a husband that will do any dish at all, but screw that.  His arms aren't broken, he can put two plates in the dishwasher.

Next time I'll tell you about the lovely thing he did for me last week, but for today, he's on my shitlist.  I'm gonna leave those dishes there all day to make my own point: I can work around dirty dishes just as well as the next guy.  He probably wont enter the kitchen, or notice the dishes if he does happen to pass them while getting himself a beer, and I'm the one who will be staring at the dishes all day, but my point is still valid!

Tuesday, August 12, 2014


So you all know that Robin Williams committed suicide yesterday.  Its impossible to avoid the news.  I have taken this very hard, like, Newtown hard, and I've figured out why.  I read an article this morning that talked why the whole nation is taking this loss so hard:

 "when someone who publicly advocates for a disease that you're intimately familiar with decides the pain is too much to bear - even with every resource available to him - what hope is there for the rest of us who battle this disease on a daily basis?"

I have told you all about my own problem with depression, and all I could think about today was that as low as I got, and as much pain as I was in, it can still get worse.  I was never suicidal, but knowing that the bottom of my abyss was nowhere near the actual bottom is both tragic and terrifying.

Another good quote I read recently, and if I remember correctly it was from an excerpt from Rob Lowe's book (but I'm sure he wouldn't take credit for it) is Never judge someone's insides by their outsides. 

If you are out there and feeling low like I am, IT WILL GET BETTER, I PROMISE.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

He Does't Know

She's at camp.  She's at camp, she's at camp, she's at camp.

Rob thinks I'm mean when I wipe my brow with relief that she's gone for a week, but HE DOESN'T KNOW.  He is not the one who has to go ten rounds with her about putting her dish in the dishwasher, or about turning off the TV, or not being so snotty.  He's not the one who gets texted at 11 p.m. with messages that she can't sleep and is afraid of something she saw on Parks and Recreation.  He doesn't get yelled at, and defied at every turn, and she never rolls her eyes at him.  And do you know why?  Because he is Daddy Good Times!  He gets home, and they high five 16 times and hug and do puzzles and make fun of mom.  They both apparently believe that I should have infinite patience and be calm and kind 24/7.  HAVE THEY MET ME??

I miss her a little.  She is kinda cool.  I'm mostly thinking about which activities she is doing right now, and hoping she made some friends in her cabin, and I'm checking the whether in those mountains every hour.  I tried to find some small things to send in a care package, but could only find large plastic crap, and the camp doesn't allow food to be sent.  If I could send a batch of cookies up there, I would.  I just sent her a card.  See? I have a little bit of a heart.

Leila's fish is swimming around in his bowl next to me.  I moved him out of her room so I don't forget to feed him and end up killing him while she's gone.  He really darts around in there.  Where is he trying to go?  Even if he successfully got out, and were able to breathe air, he would just get eaten by a crow or run over by a car.  Doesn't he know he is safer in his bowl?  He looks like he's trying to tell my something with his little fish mouth:  HELP ME! YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM!

Ok, that's it for today.  Adios.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Experiment Ends in Complete Failure

I've been informed that the Russians are missing me, so I'm back!

Leila is leaving for camp in a few days and I am SO READY.  I just hurt my foot twice trying to maneuver around her rat's nest of a room, and declared that I was going to throw everything away while she is at camp unless it is spotless by the time she leaves.  The experiment to see how long it would take her to clean her room if left up to her own devices is over.  The conclusion we can draw is that she will never clean her room, and will be happy to live in her own filth forever as long as she can play minecraft on her ipod touch.  She was like this as a baby too; never cried when she had a poo diaper.  She was perfectly content to slosh around in it.

I'm over it.  She can live in her own filth when she's a grown up all she wants.  Her roommates will just love her.  Wait until they find out that she wont pick up a dirty dish and put it in the dishwasher because its "disgusting" even if its the dish she just ate from.  And just wait until she uses their towels and they end up all nasty.   And when she uses all the glasses in the house for a few gulps of water and leaves them by the sink?  They'll throw her a freakin' party.

I realize with all the hormones and tears and puberty that maybe not making her clean her room sounds like a good idea, and I've been pretty self righteous about it, like I'm such a cool mom eliminating that battle from our repertoire, but my coolness supply just ran out and I'm gonna start making her clean that hell hole like every other mom out there.  You know what else? I'm gonna get her a good old fashioned alarm clock so that I can take her stupid ipod touch away at night and she can't use waking up as an excuse.  ENOUGH!

Of course, I wont actually have an opportunity to put all this tough love into practice because she's practically not going to be here for the next month.  But when school starts?  Put on your seat belts, its gonna get bumpy!

In other news, I'm in summer school learning drafting, both hand drafting and CAD drafting.  You know what?  I think I have a knack!  Not sure I want to be a draftsperson, but it made me lament my terrible math education.  I should have been a geometrist.  And if that's not a career, I should have invented it.

UPDATE!  Leila just came out of her room with some cable and you know what?  I THINK SHE'S CLEANING UP!

See? It pays to lose your temper and throw in a well placed "God Damn it!!"  She knows when I say God damn it that I mean business.

So GOD DAMN IT! someone comment on this post so that I know your'e still out there!

Love you.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Perfection, You're an Asshole

You know how the universe speaks to you?  Well, the universe was hitting me over the head with a shovel yesterday.  Okay, I get it, universe, you can stop shoveling me!

It started when Rob sent me this article about perfectionism and how many problems it causes us.  Then I was cruising facebook and read this article Anne Lamott wrote about... Perfectionism.  Then I was channel surfing in the afternoon and Katie Couric had on a dame that wrote a book about the perils of... Perfectionism.  All of these things were unrelated, not like when you see the same actor on every talk show in the same week pimping the same movie.  And I didn't go looking for any of them (or did I?)

So I asked myself, after the second run in with perfectionist dogma, why is this coming into my life today?  What am I supposed to take from this besides the obvious?

I do not consider myself a perfectionist.  I'm an eye baller, not a measurer.  I don't beat myself up over failures, I'm more of an "oh well." type.  However, I do take pleasure when I get things perfect.  My own measurement of perfection, not anyone else's.  I like things to be just so, and I have to talk myself down a little bit when they're not.  I like rules and parameters and un-ambiguous answers.  In class recently, we've done a color theory section and we had to mix paints and make a color wheel.  I hated it.  I like 2 + 2 to equal 4, and that's not the way it works in color mixing.  It was crazy making.  This is why I like baking better than cooking: Cooking uses a recipe as a guide, and then you "salt to taste."  I am paralyzed by salting to taste.  Or, you're supposed to go to your local farmers market and buy what's fresh and in season and make it work.  This does not work for me.   I like the recipe to be the gospel, and I never deviate from it.  That's baking.  

I think my daughter suffers from perfectionism.  She has a history of being good at everything at the first try, and when she isn't, she gives up in less than a minute.  Then she beats herself up because she can't do stuff, or she's not perfect at it.  This causes a lot of anxiety.  I've been wondering what, besides hormones, is causing her anxiety, and I think the universe was trying to speed up the process of discovery yesterday.  Thanks, universe.

Have I made her a perfectionist?  I mostly brag about what a total loser I am, so it doesn't seem like I have, but I probably have, what with my baking and my math.  But why doesn't she focus on the things I'm terrible at?  Like planning what's for dinner and cleaning the grout in the bathroom? And eating a healthy diet and exercising?  I'm a complete failure at those things! I am the most mediocre gardener in the world, and I almost let a baby fall down the stairs one minute in to a babysitting gig the other day.  Brick stairs, not carpeted.

Parenting is hard.  And I don't want to hear anyone bragging about how they are a perfectionist.  Its a DISEASE!  Read the articles, and tell me you don't see yourself or your kid in there.  I dare you.