So, we bought this charming old house, built in 1912. The house was actually purchased last year, but we allowed the current tenants to hang out for a bit. So, come this summer, they moved out and the renovation began.
One full month of work: paint, floors, lighting, bathrooms. We’re so happy with the results–it’s amazing what just a little facelift can do.
Living Room: Before & After
Dining Area: Before & After
Kitchen: Before & After (the kitchen had been updated not too long ago, so luckily we didn’t have too much work to do here).
Upstairs Hallway: Before & After
Playroom: Before & After
Kids’ Room: Before & After
Kids’ Bathroom: Before & After
Master Suite: Before & After
Here are some of my most favorite rooms:
The Kids’ Playroom! The second floor of the house has three rooms all dedicated to the kids. Because they’re sharing a room (for now), we have room for a playroom and family room that’s all theirs.
The Kids’ Bedroom!
The Kitchen! We added the faux-tin backsplash and light fixtures as an easy pick-me-up. The little figurines on the cabinets are old liquor decanters painted by my Great Grandma.
We even had time for a little DIY project in the few weeks since we’ve moved in. Funny story: I felt like the protruding wall in the living room was just begging for a faux fireplace mantel. A friend pointed out that there’s most likely an actual fireplace behind the wall–sure enough, there’s a chimney there! I’m not really into doing any more demo right now, so this faux fireplace will have to do in the meantime:
We have a friend painting a chalkboard hearth for us to go inside–I can’t wait to post the final results!
We absolutely love living Downtown. We take a walk every night, we visit playgrounds, ride our bikes on the Rail Trail, walk to Downtown shops and restaurants, flag down the ice cream truck, check out local historical buildings, play Pokemon-Go and talk to our neighbors. I’ll share more as we continue to settle in!
Holden, Holden, Holden. My little (not so little?) ham, performer, comedian, fashionista, artist, American Ninja Warrior, feminist, kitchen helper, dawdler, (sometimes) sweetie. You are four years old today.
Holden, my dear, you are something else. When I asked you two weeks ago what you wanted to do for your birthday you said, “punch someone in the face.”
(I should add that you did later request a hug from your mom and a kiss from your brother for your birthday. You’re sweet like that sometimes. You also said you wanted your Duke to give you soda for your birthday. Here’s hoping your requests will always be this easy.)
For the record, your presents this year are a pink baseball glove and a pink bike helmet. We’re all going to a York Revolution baseball game tomorrow night to celebrate.
Someone once described you as “living life out loud.” Mind you, you were only two at the time so your strong personality has shown from the very beginning (I’d even say from the months you spent kicking me before barreling into this world a week early). Everything about you–minus your tiny little body–is big.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
Big hazel eyes. Big joyful smile. Big messy perpetual bedhead. Big, bold fashion choices. Big singing and dancing performances (any time and anywhere). Big strangling hugs around your brother’s neck. Big displays of affection. Big, explosive meltdown tantrums.
You see, I’ve come to believe that you feel stronger than other people. You have really big emotions, kid. And that’s okay. We’re learning how to work with them. I’m learning how to work with them.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
Four is the magic number I had hoped for the past two years would flip a switch and immediately imbue you with the ability to self-soothe, reason and empathize. I’m wondering if the last two weeks in particular have been your body fighting to get the last of the threes out of you. It’s been rough.
“Threenager” is a term I thought was invented by mommy bloggers for Facebook Likes. I’m here to tell you that the threenager is real. I have seen into our future this past year and I’m frightened. But luckily we have nine years to get our shit together, buddy.
It’s been quite a year. You started at York Day Nursery in the fall and it’s been wonderful. Your teachers are Miss Catie and Miss Nikki. You love to make art and every day you come home with at least six pieces of construction paper with various scribbles and random things glued to them. Every day, I throw most of these papers away. I’m sorry, dude. I promise that I keep the really good ones or the ones that have your hand or footprints on them, but this house would look like an episode of Hoarders if I kept all of your art.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
You love to climb and play outside. You really are an exceptional climber, mastering the monkey bars before you were even three. I still legitimately want to find you some Parkour classes.
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You took ballet classes this year on Thursday mornings at the Strand-Capitol. Your recital is this weekend and you’re dancing to an absolutely terrible song called “I Can Sing a Rainbow.” You seem to enjoy it but we won’t be returning after your non-dance-mom mom was chastised for providing you with the wrong shade of pink ballet slippers and not watching the required YouTube video to twist the pre-approved bun for you.
This seems like a good time to insert a plea to remember that I’m always trying my best for you and your brother. Even if that means you show up late to dress rehearsal with a messy bun and dirty tights while eating a cheeseburger because mom had to leave work early to rush you across town.
Speaking of hot dogs, they are one of the foods you will currently eat. Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, “peanut jelly sandwiches”–basically anything you can eat with your hands. I’ve been getting away with “charcuterie” and veggie “trays” lately. You also still of course love pancakes and eating breakfast for dinner. You could eat your weight in berries. You love carbs and pastries. When I asked what you wanted for your birthday dinner, you said “cheeseburgers, cake and marshmallows.” So that’s what we’ll be having.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
So the eating is still a struggle for us. And don’t even get me started on the sleeping.
About five months ago, we moved GB’s crib over to your room to ease some of your bedtime worries. I debated over doing it because GB was such an excellent sleeper, but I remembered having trouble sleeping myself and the times I would drag my brother over to my bed in the middle of the night, so I decided to give it a shot.
It, surprisingly, has not been that bad. Bedtime itself is a little crazier, but for the most part, the sleeping through the night has gone smoothly. You do try every trick in the book to avoid going to bed–needing water, needing chapstick, being afraid of the dark, having to pee. I gave you a mini flashlight to sleep with and a dreamcatcher above your bed and every night, I tell you a story about the good dreams you will have that night.
By the way, you literally sleep with two bags of junk in bed with you and freak out if I try to put them on the floor.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
About your roommate: GB. That kid adores you. Literally one of his first words was “Holdy.” He said your name a good several months before he said mine. Before you shared a room, the first thing he would ask when he woke up was “Where’s Holdy?”
Please don’t abuse that power, buddy. I hope you’ll always be his idol and that you take that seriously and strive to be a good example for him. You guys are partners in crime. You rile each other up. You’re pretty good at sharing with him, but he’s better at sharing with you. He likes to get his toenails painted so he can be like you.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
You continue to set trends with your outfit choices. We still use your hashtag #whatholdywore to share some of your best work with your adoring Internet fans, though like everything else (this blog included), I lapse a bit in updating it regularly.
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You are four years old today. I could marvel at that fact and lament, “where has the time gone?” but I am daily reminded of the saying “the years are short but the days are long.” It’s all true. It gets rough sometimes (almost daily), but I’m glad you’re mine.
Happy Birthday, Punk. You are the best, most-challenging, most-joyful, most-infuriating thing that has ever happened to me. I love you very much. I will not let you punch me in the face today, though.
POSTED: 10/26/2011 02:34:19 PM MDT| UPDATED: 5 YEARS AGO
Evelyn Snouffer had a thing for ladybugs.When she’d see one outside, she’d pick it up and hold it, hoping its good luck would rub off on her. Whenever she went to Atlantic City, she’d take her talisman, a stone ladybug that she believed brought her luck in her quest to wrest a few dollars from the casinos.
There may be something to it, if you believe in such things. Nearly every culture on Earth believes ladybugs bring good luck, probably because they eat harmful pest – aphids, mostly. In some countries, ladybugs are said to omens of good crops. Some believe they can grant wishes. The French believe that if a lady bug lands on you and flies away, it carries all of your ailments with it.
Evelyn didn’t go that far. She did believe they were good luck and she was crazy about them. She had ladybug pins and earrings. And, of course, her good luck token.
But don’t let that lead you to believe that she was some woman doting over ladybugs. Her grandchildren all called her “Nanny,” conjuring images of a kind of Norman Rockwell grandma, sitting in her rocking chair or baking cookies. That wasn’t her style.
She was kind of a free spirit. One of her daughters, Linda Hess, described her as her BFF, that she was a good friend and a mother. One of her granddaughters, Meagan Hess Feeser, described her as “badass.”
She and her granddaughter would try to outdo each other when it came to stringing together colorful chains of expletives, holding contests to see who could be more obscene, who could stretch the envelope further. Evelyn won a lot. Her favorite expression was “damn good.” Ask her how she was doing, or how her sandwich was, or how her cup of coffee tasted, and she’d say, “Damn good.”
For her 69th birthday, her granddaughter threw her an adult-themed party. She enjoyed it.
When she’d get together with her daughters and granddaughters, she was just one of the girls, going shopping or taking weekend trips to Cape May, a place she loved like no other. And she relished beating her daughter at cards – 500 rummy – something she did frequently.
Her daughter said she was always fun to be around. She knew how to have a good time and never passed up the opportunity to do so.
She first got sick in the summer of 2010. She started getting headaches and wound up at the doctor’s office. Some tests later, she got the bad news – she had a brain tumor. She didn’t make a huge deal about it. Even after the diagnosis, she still mowed her own lawn and took care of herself. She wasn’t one to mope.
She had surgery in October 2010 to have the tumor removed. She was recovering from that when she got sick again, this time, cancer. In the spring, as the ladybugs were returning, she had hospice care in her home. Her family took care of her, round-the-clock for 18 days, right up the end.
She died April 28. She was 74.
Her granddaughter Meagan wanted to memorialize her with ink. She’s a marketing professional in Owings Mill, Md. – she commutes from York – and is not heavily into tattoos. She does have another, the Hess family crest, which she shares with her mother and father.
Her initial thought was to have the words “Damn Good” inked on her body. She mentioned getting a tattoo to memorialize Nanny to her aunts and cousins and they were all for it. But some of them balked at having “Damn Good” permanently affixed to their bodies.
Someone suggested a ladybug.
It was perfect.
So during a Mother’s Day weekend trip to Cape May, the women, six of them altogether, spent eight hours that Saturday in a tattoo parlor, getting ladybug ink. The toughest sell was Linda Hess’ sister, Donna Wolfgang. She has no other tattoos and wasn’t crazy about getting one. But since everybody else was doing it, and mostly because of Nanny, she went ahead with it.
The next day, Mother’s Day, they gathered on the beach and spread Nanny’s ashes.
And not long ago, another of Nanny’s daughters, missing her family, moved back to York County from Florida. Her family had a party on the deck at Linda’s house to welcome her home.
Someone noticed that a ladybug had crawled onto one of the benches and stayed there. It sat there all night, as if it were hanging out at the party, as if it were taking everything in.
“It was like Nanny was there with us,” Meagan said.
Mike Argento’s column appears Mondays and Fridays in Living and Sundays in Viewpoints. Reach him at mike@ydr.com or 771-2046. Read more Argento columns at www.ydr.com/mike or visit his blog at www.mikeargento.com. Or follow him on Twitter at FnMikeArgento.
We took the kiddos (one six-year-old, two three-year-olds and a two-year-old) to the sold-out LEGO KidsFest last night at the Farm Show Complex in Harrisburg.
I saw the event advertised earlier in January and my desire to go was solidified after I watched the LEGO documentary Beyond the Brick: a LEGO Brickumentary. Holdy has been showing interest in LEGOs after playing with them at her dad’s house so I thought it would make a fun outing.
Despite the event being sold out for all three days, it wasn’t quite the madhouse you might expect. There were a ton of activities to do that were appropriate for all ages and skill levels, from straight-up coloring, to DUPLO blocks to advanced builds and competitions. Everything was nicely spread out so you didn’t feel like you were on top of each other. AND everyone attending, volunteering and working the event was super nice, so it was a great experience.
The kids loved building and displaying their own LEGO creations.
There were tons of LEGO characters to pose with, from Disney to Star Wars and super heroes.
We actually had to stop the kids from building a few times so we could move onto the next thing. LEGOS are amazing, man.
And of course, there was a HUGE LEGO pile in the middle of the arena for kids to (literally) dive in. Some kids were even making LEGO angels (of course, Holdy was one of them).
Parking is in the North Lot, as well as the offsite Elmerton Ave. lot and is $10 (cash).
The entrance to LEGO KidsFest is on Cameron Street, so it’s a bit of a walk. Though you can exit the event into the North Lot when you’ve finished.
There is a coat rack at the entrance.
There is a “Lost Parents Zone” to the right once you enter the event. You can fill out a card with your contact info and put it in your kid’s pocket, just in case.
There is a “Dad Changing Area” near the DUPLO section so dads can get in on the diaper action too.
Rather than waiting in the super long lines at the concession window, grab a pizza from the smaller pizza table set up near the bathrooms. The line is shorter and the pizza is better.
Get a Farm Show milkshake!
If the line is too long to purchase anything in the retail store, talk to one of the employees and they’ll give you a “free shipping” card so you can order online.
Exit through the North Lot exit to be closer to your car (don’t forget to go back and get your coat if you checked it).
I have to confess that we actually own zero LEGOs because GB has only recently exited the put-every-thing-in-his-mouth phase. This morning I did just order a LEGO Starter Kit from Amazon ($7 cheaper than at the show)!
Gatsby/GB/Geebo/Gilbert/Goose (that last nickname is a new one I’m trying out)–
You’re two years old today. What a big little man you are. I was rereading last year’s letter, which was all about how sweet and gentle you are and I just had to laugh. You’re still super sweet and lovey, of course, but you are now a full-fledged… toddler.
You get into everything. You started walking not long after your first birthday and have been on the move ever since. You’re like a ferret–you steal things and hoard them in various places. We once went three days without a TV remote until we found where you had put it.
You have yourself quite a temper, though for some reason I still don’t find it as difficult as Holdy’s. When you get mad, you throw whatever is in your hand–your bottle, your Nuk, your toy, your shoe. Sometimes you’ll put your hand up to hit and when I tell you “no hit,” you look me dead in the eyes, walk over to the nearest wall and hit it, as if to say, “I’m wishing this was your face.”
We’ve been trying Time Outs, but when I sit you down to talk about your behavior, you always make a silly face at me by opening your mouth wide to diffuse the mood. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” is a phrase I say often.
You love paper products for some reason–paper towels, napkins, toilet paper, baby wipes. You’re fascinated by toothbrushes, so much so that I bought you two as your Valentine’s Day present. You are absolutely obsessed with vehicles–“hucks” (trucks)–and you point out every one you see. Every jeep, van, truck, car, or tractor, which makes for interesting car rides. You get the biggest thrill by sitting on a tractor; maybe we’ll go to Home Depot today for your birthday, haha.
Your vocabulary has grown tremendously. You ask, “what’s that?” all the time and repeat words and phrases so well that sometimes we have to laugh about it. You enjoy learning and seem to take it very seriously. One of your very first words was “Holdy,” and it’s still the first word you say every morning, asking her whereabouts. That’s followed immediately by “ballal” (bottle), which you request multiple times a day. Your newest phrase–much to my dismay–is, “I farted.” I blame your Duke for that one.
You’re still a great sleeper, even after we moved your crib into your sister’s room a few weeks ago. I was hoping your presence would make sleeping through the night less stressful for her and that it would also bring the two of you closer. We have to contend with some silliness at bedtime, but so far, you’ve both been sleeping pretty well through the night with no issues.
You call me, “Baba,” and you’re my little buddy. Sometimes you surprise me by coming up out of nowhere and hugging my leg.
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You’re very close with your Duke, who you spend every day with. You love to go on walks with him in the jogging stroller. I suspect Duke sneaks you sips of soda like he did your sister. Next month, you’ll be going to school with Holdy and I know Duke will miss his pal. I’m hoping that means Duke will be up for some nighttime babysitting to make up for it.
You love to dance, preferring the Riverdance-style. We’ll be literally anywhere and you’ll hear a few strains of music and your hands are instantly in the air.
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You’re sweet and silly and loving and curious. You start out tentative around other people but warm to them quickly (unless they’re the doctor). You are soft spoken (when you aren’t yelling and screeching with your sister).
Your best friend remains your Holdy. You guys are two peas in a pod and pretty much inseparable, although you are starting to exert your independence more. You feed off of each other, which means our evenings at home are often crazy.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
I’m so glad that you guys have each other and I hope you stay just as close as you grow, even though I predict there will be a lot of conspiring against me in our futures.
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
They say the years are short and the days are long and that’s the absolute truth. One minute I was rocking my tiny little baby to sleep and I blinked and now he’s climbing on top of the coffee table (again. Stop doing that please.).
You’re growing into such a fantastic little boy and bring so much joy to our days. I can’t wait to see how you blossom at school. I know Holdy will take good care of you and introduce you to everyone as “My GB.”
Happy, Happy Birthday, GB.
I’m sorry I still haven’t made you a Shutterfly book.
We have a problem in the oh bother house. A big problem. A bedtime problem.
It started a few months ago, but we’ve now reached Desperation Point, peaking during the week we were snowed in (god, I hate snow).
Bedtime has become a nightly battle with Holden. She doesn’t want to go to bed. She doesn’t want to brush her teeth. She wants me to tell her one more story. She wants to tell me a story. She wants me to rub her back.
Once her door is closed, she immediately comes out five more times because a) she wants some water, b) the dog moved to the foot of the bed, c) one of her drawers is open, d) I didn’t turn out all the lights and close all the doors on the second floor, e) she just wants to see my face.
She gets up in the middle of the night because: a) she has to pee, b) the dog moved to the foot of the bed, c) she can’t find her flashlight that she insists on sleeping with, d) she had a bad dream, e) she doesn’t know.
During the snowstorm, she started wetting the bed at night, after having been Pull-Up free for months. After three straight nights of washing all of her bed linens, I gave up and went back to Pull-Ups. Her Pull-Up is now wet every morning.
It’s to the point now that we both fear bedtime. I’ve been trying various tactics to improve things.
I bought her a nightlight (that she refuses to use).
We practice deep breathing and talking about the good dreams she’s going to have.
When I was little, I remember I used to have trouble sleeping too. I’d make my mom leave the hall light on and my door open “just a crack.” I’d lie awake for hours. Sometimes I’d sneak over to my little brother’s room and pull him over to my bed with me.
Because of my experience, I’ve always thought I want the kids to share a room at some point in their lives. Maybe that point is now.
The problem is (or… it’s not really a problem so much…) that GB is an excellent sleeper. The kid essentially requests to go to bed and never fights it. He’s never climbed out of his crib once. Do I really want to mess with that?
Probably not. Not yet anyway… but I did find a super cute bunk bed for when the time comes.
In the meantime, I guess we just power through and hope this phase ends soon.
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Only to come back in after about 10 minutes.
Holdy and I had a spa day while GB napped.
But then come afternoon, the restlessness set in and the horror started. The whining. The requests. The crying. The dog crapping on the floor in protest. The fighting. The throwing the little brother down the stairs.
Day Two has only gotten worse.
As in diarrhea and vomiting worse.
Poor GB’s diet is about 85% whole milk. So you can imagine the consistency. And smell.
Amidst multiple loads of laundry and steam cleaning the carpet about four times, I also had to find time to help out with the shoveling so the neighbors didn’t think I was a huge jerk.
Fortunately, “Pukey” went down for a nice long nap so I could shovel while Holdy literally played in the street. Unfortunately, my right shoulder is slightly dislocated so shoveling is absolutely miserable. Thank god for neighbors with snow blowers.
Now we’re all camped out on the couch watching “Iron Giant.” The plows finally came down our street and there’s only about four hours until bedtime. I think we can do this.
Fingers crossed that Holdy’s school is open tomorrow. It’s not looking good.
The kids have been up for one hour and 48 minutes and I’m already questioning whether we’re going to make it through the weekend. Here in southern PA, we’re right smack dab in the middle of Jonas’s wrath. It’s been coming down hard since last evening with no sign of stopping.
You know you’re a parent of young kids when your first thought when you hear about a snow storm is, “oh crap, I’m going to be stuck inside with those jerks for several days.”
I’ve already made pancakes from scratch and had to explain the difference between “blizzard” and “lizard” at least twelve times. We’re on our third episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Oh, and GB is being super clingy today, so I’m literally doing everything with one arm.
Like I even had to pee with him sitting on my lap.
I’ll let you know of our progress. How are you faring?
I love that I have my followers and friends so well-trained now that when they ask me, “How was your Christmas?” they know to immediately follow up with, “Crazy, right?”
Truthfully, nothing amazingly catastrophic occurred. The kids were a bit overwhelmed by all the family and activity and that led to some hyperactivity and tantrums (Holden) and some clinging and shyness (GB). There was also some last-minute Christmas magic involved.
Let’s recap.
All season long, Holden has been telling me/Santa that she wants “ballet shoes, ballet socks, ballet dress, ballet coat.” So “Santa” went ahead and obliged… as well as signing up for dance lessons in 2016.
Tuesday night, Holden came home from school with this:
A photo posted by ohbotherblog (@nomiddlenamemeg) on
I was super excited for the Bell Charm Necklace I found on Etsy. Who remembers these from the 80’s? Holden wore it to school this week and has already broken two charms.
And, of course, the ballet stuff made an appearance. She hasn’t touched any of it since.
But the rainbow was the star of the show:
GB did not know what to make of the whole “Christmas thing” so I have lots of photos of him looking confused:
But he got a lot of “hucks” (trucks), his current favorite thing, so that elicited some smiles.
I’ve been trying to breed Star Wars fandom, so I was pleased when the kids stole someone else’s Light Saber gift for some Christmas morning fun. Surprisingly, GB was the one who turned immediately to the Dark Side.
Hi, I'm Meg, working mom in a Pinterest world. I’m a DIYer wannabe and creative design appreciator, but I usually find myself falling a bit short in the execution. You’ll see.
