Life is a Beach. Art can be, too.

It’s so funny to see how nurseries transform over time – I know that I put so much time into designating a home for every baby item, thinking where it would be easiest to reach, what I would need immediately.  (ha! foolish)   Some mother’s will walk into an expecting nursery & cluck their tongue, knowing that the new mother will inevitably move things around in that perfectly-organized & labeled closet, just to make grabbing a burp cloth .2 seconds faster.   But I will say that with the exception of the lamp, which had to be moved across the room, Harrison’s nursery layout has stayed the same.  (oh, & now we always leave a stack of blankets on the blue dresser to grab at a moment’s notice, versus putting them away.)

Nurseries = paint, organization, & decoration.  Pretty much the Top Three Nursery To-Do’s.

After the paint settled in Harrison’s nursery, Nate’s job was complete but mine had only begun – DECORATION.  I lovingly picked out my Pottery Barn Kids bedding.  Painted a dresser.  Scoured for nautical-inspired things like weathered framed with rope stitching.  A sailboat mobile, hanging over the glider.

But when it came to his dresser/changing table, I was just plain burnt out.

Blog 1024x682 Life is a Beach.  Art can be, too.

It stayed blank for MONTHS.  Finally, only a few weeks before his arrival, I slapped up an (unpainted, mind you) “H” onto the wall & cut construction paper into a sailboat picture.  No, really.  That’s what I did.  Unoriginal, boring, & I hated it.

I never knew what I wanted for that space.  I had ZERO inspiration.  Until JessaZG contacted me, I sent her a few pictures, & she whipped up this with her typical flair & talent:

dresser3 Life is a Beach.  Art can be, too. Yep.  That’s Harrison!

It’s Harrison.  & a nautical/beach theme.  It ties in the teals & dark blues & yellows in his nursery.

In short?  It’s PERFECT.

When I opened the package up last week I literally gasped.  Jessa had sent me proofs but to be honest, I never though I would love it as much as I do.  I never thought I was a “silhouette” person.  Or a “modern art” girl.  But sometimes, we have to step outside our box to find something perfect.

dresser2 Life is a Beach.  Art can be, too.

& that’s what Jessa, as an artist, made this uncreative girl do.

& it’s what she’s going to do for someone else.  Y’all know me…I hate complicated giveaways.  So follow JessaZG on Twitter & Tweet this bad boy to enter:

Pick me!  Print giveaway @thejessazg #modsilhouetes

Bam.  Done.  & then Jessa will select a winner in 3 days!

But the meat of this post – I’m most interested…how has your nursery evolved?  Or childrens rooms?  Or any rooms in your home?  I started thinking about this during the Twitter Home Tour & realized how often our homes & rooms shift to accommodate our lives.  (including putting together a bookcase at 11pm because you cannot take the look that a baby hurricane blew through your loft one more moment or you’ll scream)

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Life is a Beach.  Art can be, too.

Family, Part 3.

Soon, the Middle left for college.  & I was alone.

But I grew into the stereotypical American teenager – cheerleading, honor student, choir, friends, with the strong desire to blast Britney Spears from my hand-me-down car’s stereo.

car 729x1024 Family, Part 3.

yep, that’s me at 16.  in my ‘stang.

I was a good student.  A decent athlete.  I didn’t use the F-dash-dash-dash word quite as often as I do now.

& I hated my sister.

In all fairness, she hated me just as equally.  Polar opposite girls, thrust into the same family from different backgrounds, personalities, & a wide gap in age.  I hated her because my parents missed me cheering at Homecoming because she had therapy.  I hated her because they missed Prom picture-taking because of her bedtime routine.  I hated her because of the chaos she created by her attitude – & when I locked my keys in my car (like a typical new driver), I was shaking to make the phone call to my parents for help, knowing it would create more chaos.  I hated her because she made me feel pressured to be perfect.

IMG 0003 691x1024 Family, Part 3.

At sixteen, I felt her mere existence was an injustice to me.  Looking back, the injustice belongs only to her.  A young, lost girl thrown into an already established family with one hell of an entitled brat for an “older sister.”  A “perfect” sister that held the bar way too high for her to reach.   & she hated me for it.

You know those fun, silly romantic comedies where everyone says the wrong thing & in the end, ends up laughing together & hugging with really upbeat music?  It was like that.  Minus the laughing, hugging, & sweeping score.  I would try to reach out to her, & she would pull back claiming she wanted to be nothing like me.  OUCH.  So I’d shrink back & shrug her off.  & so we continued that painful dance for years as we both grew up.

& when I got married, she was not a bridesmaid:

bridesmaids pn Family, Part 3.

Much to the anger of my entire family.  But we DID NOT FEEL LIKE SISTERS.  We did not act like sisters.  We barely spoke.  So while she managed the guest book, the girls who were my “sisters” stood beside me in the worst shade of green known to mankind.

Three years passed.  Three years of awkward conversations, silent resentment, & misunderstandings.

Until a little blonde miracle occurred…

p.s.  this is the last sad part of the story.  the rest is really amazing.
Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance