I’m back from paradise, tanned (or ever so slightly less pasty) and relaxed (or perhaps at least vaguely less stressed out). Due to another crappy doctor’s report the day before we were scheduled to fly out we really weren’t sure we’d be able to go, but after much conferencing we hopped on a plane and I’m happy to report that the whole family survived the trip unscathed, even the fetus. My mom got married, we spent a lot of time by the pool, and everyone drank their weight in vodka. Except for me. Boo hiss.

I’m having some issues re acclimating to the time zone, by which I mean that I would prefer to spend the entire day lazing in bed and catching up on tv, so don’t expect any fabulous decor related news today (although I have been changing some stuff up, so expect many pleas for help later in the week). Mostly I just wanted to drop in and say, Hey — I’m ok.

And also to point out that Ike is angling to become captain of the croquet world.

Fun times were had by all.

See you dudes tomorrow!

Last week I flipped the thrift switch, and now I’m an unstoppable bargain buying machine. Vintage ikat and paisley tablecloths, overgrown 70′s floral needlepoints, a crazy musical cakeplate, and 5000 ceramic pieces later, I show no signs of slowing down — which is handy since Round Top is tomorrow. (Will Karly buy another coffee table, or won’t she? Tune in next week to find out…) My latest find has left me with a bit of buyer’s remorse, not unlike the time I bought this.

Let’s see what y’all think of my latest purchase:

A vintage Milo Baughman brass based barrel chair in lipstick red. Homegirl still has her Thayer Coggin manufacturer labels intact. And she swivels and rocks. Tease.

But what the hell am I going to do with this thing? Although I love the color — despite pledging my allegiance to the black and white stars and stripes forever — the upholstery has seen better days and probably needs to be redone. And wouldn’t it look amazing in this?

But since this fabric is $150/yd, I’m thinking no. Dammit.

Of course what I really wish I could do is upholster it in a vintage Jack Lenor Larsen fabric.

Did I say I was afraid of color? Well, If someone gave me a bolt of Larsen fabric, I wouldn’t bat a lash — I swear I would redecorate my entire house around one of his crazy psychedelic prints.

But back to the real world, and the most pressing question: do I keep this chair for which I have no available space and no real need, this chair which needs a $400-500 upholstery job, or do I sell it and make a little cash for… more thrift purchases (duh).

Sleepy eyes sure likes it.

In fact, since I brought little miss hot stuff home, Ike and the cat have fought for space on her bountiful seat — sometimes to deleterious effect. Ike and the chair are a little worse for wear. The cat, however, is doing just fine.

Keep or sell, people? Help me out.

Finally finally finally, despite many obstacles and a complete lack of sleep, I managed to photograph Ike’s new nursery/playroom and today is the day I’m sharing it with you — my fellow members of perpetual renovators anonymous. If you recall, we wanted to get rid of the queen sized bed in Ike’s nursery, because who wants to play sleepover party with a snoring toddler in the room? Plus, Ike desperately needed some space to store his growing toy collection. Ok, I desperately needed to get the toys out of the living room, and for the most part we have succeeded. Triumph!

So, without further ado:

Hooray! We’re so glad it’s done, and it’s become an infinitely more pleasant place to spend time.

And a view of the facing wall where we have the changing station, plus a peek at me shooting the room. I really hope I was wearing a bra that day…

Since I’m sure you’re dying to know, here’s the skinny on how this whole plan came together. The first item at hand was stuffing our giant queen sized mattress in Ike’s closet (I can’t believe it fit). Then we headed out to Ikea and bought some Expedit shelves and a kid’s Kritter table and chair set, for a total cost of about $120.

I have to say the white stuff wasn’t my first choice, but finding good vintage funiture for kids is HARD. And expensive. I looked everywhere for kid’s furniture, but Ikea really had the best, cheapest selection. And look at all that delicious toy storage.

Now that we had a jumbled mass of mahogany and stark white furniture, the paint drama descended on me like late stage ADHD, or maybe like early onset Alzheimers, or something else really really bad… after mixing up approximately 876 samples, Sanders cut me off and chose Pratt and Lambert’s Wolf. I LOVE IT. Have I mentioned lately that Sanders is a genius? He is. Go see him, or email us with your painting conundrums. He can fix them up lickety split.

After solving the paint problem, I scored the antique Heriz rug on craigslist for $160. It’s old and has taken a beating, which made it perfect for a kid’s room. Plus I’ve been dying for a Persian rug forever, since way before I wrote this post. Double plus this sucker is ginormous and triple plus it has been recently cleaned, which is HUGE deal for vintage Persian rugs, especially if you’re a lazy mom like me and you love to lay on the floor. You can’t just steam clean a Persian rug, and professional cleaning is crazy expensive — it cost the previous owner $600! But if you want one for yourself (and you know you do), Naomi over at Design Manifest wrote an excellet primer on how to snag your own.

It was of the utmost importance that we spend as little as possible on this project, so every single other thing in this room is something we already had: I got the Italian hot air balloon chandelier at Round Top over a year ago and Karly told me to paint it black (that Karly is one smart lady — smart enough to design a beautiful nursery right the first time around, as in without a giant unnecessary bed). The drummer boy painting was also a Round Top score. I’ve had the fabulous Klein blue velvet rocker since we moved into this house over three years ago, I scored the rocking horse at a thrift store before Christmas, the stuffed giraffe was something stupid like $3 at the thrift store, I’ve been toting around the vintage 50s sailboat painting over Ike’s crib since May 2005 (the thrift store sticker is still on the back), the mahogany furniture is early Phyllis Morris that we bought in California years ago, and the other toys and artwork were gifts from very generous friends and family — many of them made by hand.

I did get a few great 20×200 prints for Christmas that I put in here, including two by Jenny Odell and this one by William Wegman. Also, I traded Karly some plates for the coolest sconce in the world, which you can barely make out in the second picture. It’s a hand holding a lightbulb and it makes me gigglesnort every time I switch it on.

In case all you parents out there were wondering, yes — we do have more toys than these. There are two giant scooters parked in the closet (just for the pictures), and although we definitely reduced the amount of toys in the living room, there are still a lot of toys out in the living room. Kids like toys. Go figure.

That’s it for my tour, except for the most important part:

Ike loves his new room, just like any king loves his castle. And it’s a good thing, because I am not repainting it again.

At least not anytime soon.

Despite my oft recounted holidayphobia, I actually put up a tiny tree this year. There are even Christmas lights securely stapled to the front of our house. Thoughtful (I hope) gifts have already been wrapped in pretty paper and mailed off to our beloved recipients — days in advance, I might add.

I’m sure you’re thinking, what the bleep has gotten into you, Erin?

Friends, it’s not what got into me. It’s what came out of me. Behold the reason for the season.

And would you look at that? Like mother, like son.

I’m a pretty lazy photographer, but I try to capture the milestone moments of my handsome little dude’s life. This time, though, I think I may have gone overboard. A little.

It’s been a long, beautiful year, but all good things must come to an end. And so, Ike and I wish you a very Merry Chrismukkah and a fabulously Happy New Year. The annual DC holiday blogcation is officially in effect, but not to fear. We’ll be back next year with more! Of everything! Including Karly!!! Hooray!

So mark your calendars for Monday, January 3. Sure, I may stumble into work a little hungover, but I’ll be here.

I hope you’ll be here, too.

Because I know you aren’t at all busy with your mountainous holiday to-do lists, please please please look at these kid’s chairs and tell me which one is the cutest, comfiest, and best suited for my little prince’s sweet cheeks (I’m rolling my own eyes at that, don’t worry).

#1: The Panton Junior Chair, $99 including shipping.

This one certainly looks cool, and apparently it’s springloaded.

#2. The Ikea ROFYLLD (I feel like that must be short for something…?) kid’s rocking chair, $39.99 + a torture trip to Ikea.

#3. The vintage Hitchcock kid’s rocker, $50 + all the fun and adventure that goes with Craigslist.

Sorry the picture is so dingy, but you’ve seen this sucker before so you know what it looks like.

Now take an egg nog break and vote for numero uno, dos, or (wtf is Spanish for “or”?) tres.

Muchas Gracias!

UPDATE!

I just found another one. I promise I’m going to lay off the martinis and speed soon… well, as soon as Christmas is over. Anyway, may I present:

#4. Wicker kid’s chair, $40 shipped via Ebay.

Will this be impossible for a toddler to climb into? I don’t know, but it’s cute.

I’m still undecided. Help. I promise I won’t throw any more wrenches into the process, so vote with confidence. Or abandon. I’m ok either way.

Sweet Baby Ike would like to wish a Happy Halloween to all y’all cowpokes out there:

Just remember that too much candy can turn even the happiest cowboy into a

sad little jacked up sugar junkie.

Happy Halloween!

Dear sweet baby Ike,

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since your tiny baby body finally made a break for it. For nine (actually 10) long months, you slept and grew… and grew. And GREW. I was more than a little afraid I might be carrying a baby elephant.

But out you came — just an average sized baby human. And of course you came at 3 am, because you really know how to make an entrance. As the nurses cooed over your eyelashes and wee baby face, I laid there dumbfounded.

Stage One of The Plan was over, and Stage Two was ready for implementation. Uh, what exactly did Stage Two entail again…?

Turns out stage two was a hallucinatory exercise in sleep deprivation. The first month was one long run on sentence of baby eatsleeppoop, oh — and let’s not forget a fumbling midnight trip to the emergency room on Day 5. Good times!

But you know what? I wouldn’t trade that experience for all the sleep in the word. At the end of an epic, year long journey fraught with many twists and turns, I can tiredly but proudly proclaim that you are mine.

If I’m honest with myself, I know that you’re only mine for a little while longer, because I am already beginning to understand the magical, mystical phenomenon that is parental time dilation: if there are two people and only one is a parent, at the end of 18 years the parent will have aged 100 years, but feel like only seconds have passed. Oh, and the non parent will still be young, carefree, and have good skin with no under eye bags, but that is a different story.

I know that someday soon — sooner than I can possibly comprehend — you’ll be a grown man. Hopefully you won’t live at our house anymore, and even though I might psycho dial you (just “checking in!”) I’ll be happy that you are an independent human, capable of living your own life.

Like any parent, I have my own dreams for your future, but I also recognize that it’s your future, not mine. So I’ll back off on the specifics, but could I maybe just mention that you seem to enjoy (torturing) cats. A lot. So, I’m thinking vet, perhaps?

Sorry. You know I couldn’t help myself.

Ok, just be happy. And know that I love you and your little gigglesnorts more than these feeble words could express –

Mama

Every once in a while a little tidbit this way comes that has both of us rubbing our hands in glee. This is such a bit. Courtesy of our friend Andrea, check out these Babies With Laser Eyes.

Yep. That’s a baby with laser eyes.

Now, I know that DC is ultimately a design blog. We present you with hard hitting entertainicles on the best paint colors and furnishing trends, with a healthy dose of hip artwork and graphic design to round out the awesomeness. Do laser babies fit into any of these categories? I don’t know. Blow one of these bad boys up into a poster and stick it on your wall. Your mom will love it.

Who knew that babies could be raised on a steady diet of magic mushroom milk and Pink Floyd? The baby instruction manuals I read completely glossed over this important information.

I’m pretty sure The Hunny is going to want a T-shirt of this one.

Angry laser baby bad!

This little dude is going to haunt my dreams, for reals.

Can you say hot tub?

Let’s just pretend for one minute that you don’t like babies. Well, first of all that would be ridiculous. But whatever, we can’t all be obsessed with chubby cheeks and giggles and precious bodily fluids. But if you don’t like baby animals with lasers, then you are going to have to go somewhere else. Psycho.

Awww, sweet double headed laser kitty. I want one so bad.

Little laser puppehs.

Undomesticated laser crossing.

How could this post be complete without featuring some of our own laser babies? First up is Andrea’s brand new little man, Ozzy:

And Ozzy’s crime fighting friend, Ike. These kids are going to get into so much trouble together.

I did make his lasers green, but The Hunny informed me that Superman’s special eye lasers are red. Duh.

For more lasertastic photos, and to learn how to add lasers to, well, anything, go here.

Just imagine the possibilities…

Yep, it’s that time of year again. SXSW has taken over Austin, so yesterday we took Ike out and had a lovely afternoon. First we hit Emo’s to see The Magic Kids, and at least 15 people asked to take pictures of Ike in his Peltor headphones within a span of 30 minutes. Then we headed out to the French Legation (which is a super fabulous and totally under utilized venue) to catch The Antlers, Sharon Van Etten and Julianna Barwick, who were all both pretty good.

Tomorrow, if the stupid weather cooperates (thunderstorms, say what???!) I’m going out to partay sans Baby Ike, which marks the first night out on the town mama will fly solo in, oh, I don’t know… EIGHT MONTHS. I’m hoping to catch all kinds of awesome acts, including Rye Rye, Broken Bells and The Black Keys, plus lots of sweet new discoveries. But most importantly, I want to get into Perez Hilton’s closing bash so I can hang with Snoop Dogg. I’m sure Snoop will serenade me with the version of Sensual Seduction I rewrote for him, but not if we can’t get in. So Perez, please send me some passes and I will broadcast your pink shenanigans for the world for thousands to see on Monday morning. Otherwise I will be forced to party like a Momstar again with Ike at the French Legation.

Actually, that don’t sound half bad.

Have a good weekend, homies!

Hey homies, are you still sleeping off last night’s hangover and wishing you hadn’t indulged in that 11th vodka tonic? There’s something about dressing up as someone else that diminishes one’s inhibitions.

Well, I hope you knocked back a few extra drinks for me, because I was busy parenting baby Ike at the fabulous Jennifer Perkins‘ baby Halloween extravaganza. Guess what? Unless you’re Britney Spears, babies plus boatloads of alcohol don’t really mix. Anyway, it was a lovely party, and a good time was had by all.

Although I have to admit that Ikesaurus was not as excited as Momma to get out of the house…

But he did his bestest to stay awake so I could eat some cupcakes and engage in a bit of adult speak. The spit bubbles were a very special holiday present. Delightful!