On being different.

Almost 20 years ago, I moved from my home state to Washington, DC where I found that I was a bit "different" from most of the people I met. I already knew I was different. It had been driven home to me time and again from childhood. My family didn't vacation the same way others in my community vacationed. We didn't play the way others in my community played. Heck, I didn't even color the way other kids colored (Mama gave us any art supply we asked to have but we NEVER, never had a coloring book). But coming to Washington, DC drove my differences home more solidly than ever before.
My father was a history buff, and particularly loved 18th Century history. I think his love of the Lone Ranger and Tonto morphed into a genuine passion for learning about Native American culture, and that dovetailed into stories of "frontier life" in the 1700s. Our region was rife with history from this era. Our home was the frontier, the battles happened virtually in our back yard.

When I was about six years old, Daddy became involved in a project to rebuild an 18th Century refuge fort, called Prickett's Fort. Mama made us period appropriate costumes. Daddy spent 400+ hours making a historically accurate muzzle loader, and started practicing his knife and tomahawk (not to be confused with an axe) throwing. We started going to rendezvous, where others dressed in 18th Century garb, camped in authentic campsites, and competed in shooting, as well as knife and tomahawk throwing. The days would end with campfires and singing of historically appropriate music playing historically appropriate instruments.

I would imagine there are very few people who think it "normal" to regularly dress in 18th Century costume, there is probably a more select group who learned to weave "linsey" on a 200 year old barn loom, spin wool on a 150 year old walking wheel, and cook in a fireplace with a cast iron pot. I doubt many spent their summers listening to the beat of a tomahawk repeatedly hitting a target, even fewer who'd been taught how to throw tomahawks as a child, and I may be the only person I know who had an ex-boyfriend chased off the property with a tomahawk. But this was my family's normal.

While other of my classmates were heading to the beach or an amusement park, my family was heading to another fort, historical site or rendezvous. While other families went hunting for venison, my Dad begged the skins of the deer to make buckskin britches. While other fathers were winning sales awards, my Dad was named State Champion in knife and tomahawk throwing. And Mama and I spent many an hour looking for red fox pelts to make Daddy's fox hat (instead of the oft seen coonskin cap).






My high school science project was on the effects the pot had as a mordant in natural dying (copper pots made the prettiest dyes). While other girls were dressed in 80s neon, I was graduating from shift and mob cap to English bodice and lace cap. And one of the most enjoyable parties I threw in law school involved showing a group of friends how to hold and throw a tomahawk - in the Nation's capitol, just off one of the main thoroughfares.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, my family had taught me an important lesson: embrace who you are. As I grew older, it became easier to be okay with the fact that we were just different, and that there were many other people out there who were also different - in a different way, but still different. Eventually, I found those different people, embraced those different people, and called them friend.

Today, I live in Alexandria, near Mount Vernon, where it is assumed if I'm in 18th Century costume, I'm probably giving a tour nearby. I have a son who's already outgrown his first 18th Century costume - the one he wore with his (proud) Grandfather to a rendezvous at 18 months.

One of the larger challenges I have facing me as a parent is to encourage my child's different self in a way that will encourage him to embrace who he is with confidence. I don't think it will be easy because I know conformity is a much easier path. But what I CAN do, is point to those people I've called friends - some of whom I can claim almost a lifetime of friendship - and say, "See? THIS is what makes you rich. THIS is what makes life good. THESE are the people who will celebrate life with you." And I will thank my "different" friends for embracing the different in me, while I celebrate their different with them. All the while I will know: my life will always be richer for embracing the different.

Stairwell Update: The big reveal

As promised, after two days of painting and wallpapering, here's the big reveal for my Stairwell Update.

The walls and ceiling are now the same color. The shelves are uniform and I added storage I had around the house to keep together like items - dog stuff with dog stuff, diaper stuff with diaper stuff, cleaning stuff with cleaning stuff. Things finally have a place!
  
From the basement, things look clean. I'm thinking about adding some hooks under the bottom shelf t,m,; o hold things like the diaper bag, the backpacks and other things that can hang here rather than clutter up the living room. 

 Despite having to freehand the black paint here on the stairs, they look better than the dirty grey - and little feet apparently approve. All said and done, this project cost about $100, including painting supplies. Had I been able to get only a quart of porch paint, I'd have been able to drive that cost down. The most difficult part was waiting the three days to walk on the stairs!

Stairwell Update: Wallpapering

After painting, I still had that terrible strip of paneling that showed through the paint. In past renovation projects, when you don't want to drywall and you really can't patch a wall, we've put up wallpaper. I'd decided not to use my paintable wallpaper on the front of the stairs, and this became a perfect solution for covering up that nasty paneling place.

I carefully measured my wall space, leaving a little extra for cutoff at the top and bottom. I then measured out my wallpaper, cut it in a straight line at the end, and rolled it up so the pre-pasted side was facing out rather than in (as it comes on the roll). I then filled my son's baby tub with water, dipped my roll in so that as I unrolled the pre-pasted side faced out and got a little wet. I folded my paper in half with the pre-pasted sides facing each other. This allows the paste to activate and allows for even wetness. I had to be very careful not to let the wallpaper tear as it was very fragile in the non-design parts.

After allowing that to set for a few minutes, I unfolded the wallpaper and positioned it on the wall. Start at the top and work your way down the wall. If you need to re-position the paper, just pull it up and start down the wall again. Work from the vertical center of the paper, feathering out your wallpaper brush or a wet rag to work out your bubbles and to smooth the edges down to make sure they stick. Then take a straight edge and boxcutter and trim off the top and bottom of your paper along the wall and floor or trim.

Please note: old houses are notorious for not being square - i.e., you can't count on a wall or ceiling being straight. Because I was only putting up one strip, I eyeballed the distance from the wall to position my pieces. Ideally, you should take a level and draw a vertical line (pencil or chalk) on the wall as a starting place to ensure you start with a straight line.

Because it looked weird to have one wall papered and the other wall plain, I papered the mirroring wall in the same manner. I decided to leave it unpainted because I like the contrast of stark white to the Antique White of the paint. The good thing is that I have the option to paint it in the future if I decide to do so!

Stay tuned for the big reveal!

Stairwell Update: Painting

When painting, it's important to prep your area before you begin. Paint will not stick to a surface with dirt on it, so cleaning your surface before painting is important. I used a scrub brush and rag dipped in a Lysol/water mix on the stairs to get them ready to paint after I'd used that same mix and rag to wipe down the ceiling, walls, shelves and other trim.

While my clean surfaces dried, I gathered my painting supplies. I prefer to use a 4" roller because it doesn't suck up as much paint and doesn't get as heavy as you continue to paint. I think the ease of use makes up for the smaller surface area with each stroke. I also used a small, plastic paint tray. Normally, I'd have used a larger paint tray that could be cleaned up and used again, but having a 1 year old has severely limited my time. I needed a quick, easy clean up, which also meant a cheap brush to do my trim work.

Please note, because I used a cheap brush on the trim for the white, I had to buy a new brush to use on the black - the first brush was a mess and there was no way I was going to get an edge on the stairs with that blown brush. Moral of the story? Use a good brush from the beginning.

I began by painting the Antique White. I worked in small sections, painting the trim and corners first, and then filling in with the roller. Working in small spaces helps with blending between paint brush strokes and paint roller marks. It makes for a cleaner finish if you transition from the brush marks on the trim to the roller while the paint is still wet. Because I was painting the ceiling the same color as the walls, I didn't have to tape off the ceiling. Keeping the paint color the same from walls to ceiling helps make a space look bigger.

After 24 hours, I started taping off my space to start the black paint. I had decided earlier that I was only going to paint part of the riser black along with the tops of the stairs. Because the white was freshly painted, I was careful of the type of tape I used. I tried the FrogTape(R) for delicate surfaces because it is made for newly-painted ares. I found, however, that it wasn't sticking well because my surface was uneven - 60 years of use will do that I guess.

I ended up free handing the black paint along the edges because the paint wasn't working as well as just carefully using the brush. Again, I had to use a new, more expensive brush for this trim work to help keep the lines straight. I was also able to keep a good line with my roller as long as I didn't have a ton of paint on the roller. By just adding pressure to the outside, I was able to keep the line straight. I then feathered that in with a brush and used the roller to fill in the center.

As I painted the stairs, I painted every other stair so I wouldn't get caught in the basement. I allowed the paint to dry for the prescribed 3 hours (check your paint can for a repaint time) and then finished the job with the remaining stairs.

Stay tuned for the wallpaper finish!

Stairway Update: Choosing Paint

My family and I started renovating my home in 2006, and finished most of the renovations in 2007. There was one space, however, that had not been touched in that time. It's a utilitarian space - used to get to the basement, but also to store some of my extras - like formula and household goods I need to keep away from the baby.

The steps were a dirty grey - who knows when they were painted last. The handrail was pretty, but looked like it had 60 years of dirt embedded in it. The walls were an amalgamation of cream, peach, unpainted drywall and paneling that had been patched together. My first thought was that if we could just get it all one color, it would look 100% better.

After doing some extensive Pinterest research, I decided to do an antique white and black combo. I initially bought some paintable wallpaper that looked like a tin ceiling to put on the riser part of the stairway, but when it got down and dirty, I realized it wouldn't look right given each of the risers has what looks like a framed area on them.

I chose Antique White from Behr's Premium Plus in Antique White, and decided on a semi-gloss finish for the walls. The paint store will usually steer you away from this finish, saying the shine will show blemishes in the wall. But this is a hallway that will get hand prints going up and down, and the only light is at the base of the stairs. I wasn't worried about blemishes showing. And a semi-gloss finish is really easy to clean.

For the stairs, I wanted a paint that could stand up to wear and tear as well as one that was easily cleanable. I went with Behr's Porch and Patio Floor Paint in Belugah I knew I'd probably only use a quart of this, but Home Depot only sells this in the gallon size.

Stay tuned for painting and wallpapering steps!

Easy Recipe: Quick, Healthy Pasta Sauce

I don't know about you, but by the time I get home from work I'm pretty fried. I'm always looking for quick dinner ideas. Tonight I'm throwing together a quick pasta sauce. Here's what you'll need:
1 large onion
1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes
1 pound lean ground beef (I use 92% fat free)
1 14 oz. can mushrooms
1 package frozen spinach
1/2 tsp. Italian Seasonings
1 tsp. Garlic Salt
Pasta
 Salt
1 tsp. Olive oil
(Optional Parmesan/Romano Cheese)

When I say easy, I mean easy. Chop the onion into large slices and throw it into a large skillet with the ground beef to brown. After breaking the ground beef into smaller pieces, I put a lid on my skillet to help it cook faster. Tonight, I took that time to get my 1 year old settled and check the mail.

When that's brown, turn down the heat to medium and throw in your spinach, mushrooms, and tomatoes and sprinkle on your Italian Seasonings and Garlic Salt. Cover it and let that simmer until your spinach is unfrozen and warm - about 5 minutes - while you start your pasta water.

Put water, the oil and a generous dash of salt into a saucepan for your pasta. Once that boils, throw in enough pasta for your family to have a meal. I used angel hair - also called cappellini. Allow the angel hair pasta to cook for 6-8 minutes to taste. The longer you cook the pasta, the softer it will get. Mama's trick for knowing whether it was done was to throw it against the fridge - when it sticks, it's done (and it really works).

While your angel hair is simmering, stir your sauce and let that simmer another 3-4 minutes. Stir in about 1/4 cup of your pasta water into the sauce before you drain your pasta. Layer the sauce over your angel hair (add cheese if you like) and voila! Meal in about 20 minutes.

Boston.

The TV is blaring the news. Stories of tragedy. Stories of heroism. Stories of things we don't want to think can happen in the world.

A year and a half ago, it wouldn't have affected me the same way. We live near the President. We're always a target. It's a risk we're willing to take for ourselves to do what we do - to live the way we do.

But today I hold my baby boy in my arms. His breath is warming my shoulder. His strong little limbs - limbs that are just now taking wobbly steps - are quiet in his sleep. I feel the softness of his skin, his little body heavy in my arms. I feel differently.

I think of a mother who once held her little boy just like I am today, his weight heavy in her arms. I can imagine her smelling his head, breathing in his baby smell. I can imagine her pride as he took his first steps, and her joy as his personality formed. I can imagine her heart swelling at his sweetness, his kindness, watching him march for peace - asking for "no more hurting people." I imagine her watching her boy watch the runners, and the horror that must have followed the explosion.

I think of her loss today, as she recovers in the hospital. How she has to teach her little girl to live without a brother, and to live without legs. Who told her he is gone? Does she even know the extent of the loss?

We think of IEDs as an instrument of war, far away, not in our cities, not on American soil. We think of strong soldiers, fighting for our freedom, who face these deadly devices in a sun scorched desert across the world. It's not supposed to happen here. But war has, once again, come to our shores.

Today we have a choice. We can hide our son away, never taking him to the many historical sites just down the road, never taking him to the many festivals or activities on our doorstep. We can live in fear and try to protect him, praying he never has to know these things happen in the world, constantly vigilant. Or we can put our trust in His creator, and believe that there's a purpose for his little life,  pray that life is long,  and that this kind of tragedy is the exception, not the rule. We can tell him the stories of people who rushed to help the injured. We can teach him about those who dedicate their lives to protecting his - whether first responder, soldier, IT specialist, doctor or just a neighbor or friend. We can teach him to be a helper, to be courageous, to be kind.

As I filter for my grief for that mother, tears rolling down my face, stories flitting over the screen, I have a choice. And today, I choose faith. I choose trust. I choose to believe there's more good in this world than bad. I choose to continue to live, and try to live without fear. And I continue to pray for those parents who can no longer hold their child's firm little body, who have to learn to live with their injuries, and who somehow have to find the strength to trust again.