I don't know why I've been stressed. (Besides the whole- we moved to Cozumel in December and sunk our first boat EVER to own in April).

Some people eat when they get stressed. Some people exercise. I usually bang on my keyboard, write a couple of songs that relate to absolutely NOTHING even remotely resembling my thought process, have a girls night, and blog out anything I forgot to vent. THEN I move on with my life.

This little Mexico think put me in quite the dilemma. My keyboard is in Mississippi. And I can't write songs without my keyboard. Okay. I can. But I like to bang on my keyboard for good measure prior to writing a song. But, like the good little girl scout I am, I improvised.

I turned into the craft version of Martha Stewart.  I went PINTEREST crazy and started as many projects as my brain could conjure without stopping until the boat was safely on land and my husband came home before midnight.  

I gave Starling fair warning that I was going to paint an ocean mural in the kids room, I was going to write a novel, and write my series of kid books. I told him I was going to make sea glass decor to go over the whole house. I was going to paint ALL the ugly yellow in our house white. I was going to label every object in our house with its Spanish name and our entire family was only going to speak in Spanish. I was going to paint a sunset mural in OUR bedroom and get rid of the beautiful ORANGE and YELLOW walls (which is a shame because it matches the pinkish gray tile SO 

well...). I'm sure I'm leaving out some of my projects, but you get the point. Like he always does, he smiled and nodded, assuming I'd move onto something more simple like eating ice cream. 

As if Starling's life wasn't stressful enough (figuring out how to move a boat over 50 foot long off of a BEACH), the kids eagerly surprised him with "Mommy's coloring on the wall!" It was past midnight. Yes, we were all up.

He tried not to choke on his, um... excitement, when he walked into the kids' room and saw pencil drawings ALL over their wall. (Oddly enough... pencil doesn't erase off of a concrete wall..).. Don't worry. I had drawn out a lovely- round about IDEA- of what I hoped to accomplish on PAPER before I started. It took me all of about 10 minutes on paper. Perhaps it was a bit VAGUE. It was going to be magnificent. I even researched how to do it! (Since I've painted all of about 4 times in my life. All during some moment of duress). I figured if my husband can watch a youtube video and remodel a house, watch another one and fix an engine, learn masonry, learn how to fiberglass... I could learn to paint a dang mural.

The video was very informative. It said to start with the background. Well here's the thing. After a little while of drawing I couldn't really tell what was what. And I tried to wash off the mess ups, but the pencil didn't even SMUDGE. So I tried to rub it off with my flip flop. (That seemed like sound logic at the time, since shoes can remove scuff marks off of floors). Nothing happened to the wall. My flip flop, however, looked like it had encountered a swarm of piranhas. (When I think about it... the video never even said to use a pencil to draw the picture first).

So the youtube video went out the window and Wing it Wendi took the stage. (I'm beginning to see a pattern here. I think this is why I can't cook. Patience isn't really a characteristic God saw fit to give me). I just started outlining crap in black paint. A dolphin here, an octopus there, a turtle up yonder... The kids yelled out things for me to paint, and I tried to include them. (Until Bry asked for an ANGLER fish. I looked that up and I'll have you know -bc if you do know you are weird-in a smart/good way of course-it is that possessed fish thing that lured Nemo's dad and Dori to the bottom of the ocean with its tail hanging out its forehead). To paint a shark or THAT monstrous demon fish, would be succumbing to the fact that my children will NEVER sleep in their room. (Not that I hold some massive amount of hope that they will, since they can't even sleep alone in the bed BESIDE my bed).  -(Another story for ANOTHER day). Brighton screams, "It's too scary! Turn it off!" when the T-Rex fights the mom at the beginning of Land Before Time. And Boeing doesn't want to get into the ocean if the little boat with a shark painted on it is anywhere in sight.

The mural was supposed to be realistic. But, really? How realistic is a mural where all the fish have to be smiling? (Which was, not surprisingly, a MUST).

"Don't worry, Starling! I know what I'm doing! It'll be fine..." I pride myself on NOT lying. That claim...reaching into the very depths of my justification pool... was warranted due to the fact I know how to hold a paintbrush and make paint appear on a wall. When I looked at my mural the first day, it looked like a coloring page. An incomplete black and white coloring page.

So I started painting in my sea creatures. My dilapidated excuse for a turtle made little improvement, and my octopus turned into a purple grape.

Oh yeah. I was supposed to buy like 40 different paint brushes? I bought one. And I had a few plastic ones that the kids use during art to paint their legs instead of paper. The concrete wall crew cut my paint brush after two seconds, and those little plastic kid brushes were like trying to drive a car without power steering. (And I can't drive a car WITH power steering, so you can imagine how that went down).

I could have waited until morning, sure. I could have done a little more research, bought some different paint brushes. But do I wait to do anything? NO. Why would I wait and do something RIGHT when I could go ahead and screw everything up immediately? (Serious flashbacks going on of every hair cut I've given myself, because no one could see me until 'later in the week.' Or my sudden urge to have bangs. Oh gosh. And the perm I got at the Wal Mart salon because they were the only ones that could do it THAT NIGHT. And it HAD to be then, because I decided THAT afternoon I wanted curly hair).

Well. I lost interest in painting a WALL with a paintbrush thinner than my pinky. SO. I improvised AGAIN.

My authentic painting, turn cartoon characters, turn coloring sheet, has now turned into FINGER PAINTING!

And my novel? Started. And my kid books? Started. And my sea glass? I have a whole ice cream bucket full.

But my stress level has resumed a relatively normal state (which is still higher than most, reflecting the daily experiences with my two year old) so today we did school and walked to the beach.

I'm hoping that all the "little stressors" in my life keep me motivated long enough to AT LEAST finish the stupid "mural." (And don't worry. I'll post pics so you can relish in the fact that you keep your crazy hidden better than mine).

I have mild motivation. During this whole boat thing our van's timing chain broke, our washing machine caught the 50/50 ( it only works 50% of the times), and today my kitchen sink stopped draining completely.

The van is in the shop so Starling has been driving the jeep and scooter. (I can drive neither). I have been walking everywhere, which I like. I have found out how to get all over town. It's AMAZING how much Cozumel makes sense when you can go backwards down one- way streets. (Plus I haven't wrecked once).  

LAUNDRY, on the other hand? You see all of my pics on fb? My kids don't wear clothes. So, please explain to me HOW my dirty clothes pile can practically touch the ceiling. I didn't want to cause a scene with the neighbors, so I didn't beat my washing machine into metal bits with the machete Starling bought to cut up our coconuts. I just heaved ALL of my laundry UP the stairs INTO the bathroom and WASHED THEM BY HAND IN MY BATHTUB. Oh that's right. It turned out great. Boeing heard water and belly flopped into my laundry suds. We got to bond over laundry. And after he stood up and PEED on my clean laundry, we got to bond AGAIN.

After washing and rinsing, my clothes spelled phenomenal. (Maybe I overestimated the amount of fabric softener). But were they clean? Who knows. I hung them out to dry. (That's right! Little Mrs. Domestic). I don't wring the clothes out enough to put them in my dryer. I do a "load" a day. Sometimes I wash too many clothes and have to get creative with places to hang them. Then I look like the freak that dresses up her plants in t-shirts and underwear. Of course, I'm already the freak that thought my windows were tinted on the OUTSIDE, not just the INSIDE. My poor neighbors. Why do glass doors even exist? You can't hang curtains over a DOOR. (Although I might try. It'd be a lot easier than trying to remember to wear clothes everyday). Our bedroom door is also glass. Seriously. I wonder if I should PAINT the glass. I'll ask Starling.