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Boys

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Yes, we took our beautiful sweet time on the boys’ bedroom refresh, but this week we finished the details and I’m eager to show you the final result. As a reminder, here is the Inspiration Board I designed to keep us on track in this space. Repeatedly, I find myself returning to Inspiration Boards to ground my choices and keep my creative distractions on task. Maybe you can relate? Here is our finished product. We stuck pretty closely to the plan. Fireman outdid himself designing and welding the bunkbeds. (I’ve begged him to write out the building plans as so many have requested, but he’s been swamped with life projects and being a daddy to more children than he knows what to do with; I’m just not sure plans will ever happen. But if it does, you’ll be the first to know!) For those who like this kind of detail…

After typing this post title, I googled the definition of “hack” and found everything from “an untalented professional” to “a cough” to “an unlicensed taxicab driver.”  And of course the more obvious: “A rough cut or blow.”  Finally, after scrolling way, way down (that’s for you Shelli :)) I found what I was looking for: “To change colour by painting or to make it do something other than its intended purpose. Normally with home decorations to suit your decor. Or to make things more useful.” So that’s what this happy post is about.  I hacked some bookshelves.  If you’re new here, you may not know hacking furniture is a thing with me. This particular hack involved a pair of cheap bookshelves, gray paint, peel-n-stick wallpaper, 1/4″ plywood backing, and a few nails. And a Fireman because he’s brave, kinda cute, and very handy. Haven’t we all, at one point or…

Two weeks ago I knew I needed to write this post.  For one, I’ve been wanting to show photos of our oldest son’s recent room refresh, and Two, I know I’m not the only one nurturing and training up a child who doesn’t quite fit “the mold.”  As our oldest son’s high school graduation draws near, I’m revisiting emotions and old assumptions which at times have fit uncomfortably like insecurity, ashamedly like comparison, enough so that I’m ripping open raw places once healed in an effort to re-establish a firm foundation of assurance, hope and trust.  I suspect there are other parents out there who wrestle with the same types of things, recognizing differences in their children, wondering at them, continually worrying while simultaneously celebrating unique skills and gifts not quite measurable, hoping beyond hope for bright futures while fearing they may look different from “success” we’ve seen before. I…