A Long Meandering Tale of Home Decor, Hormones, Zombies, the Color Green and Girls Nite Out

Today I'm going to discuss a few things not often discussed here at Stuck in Frump.

Things like home decor, girls-night-out, testosterone, Zombies and the color green.

No, you have not stumbled upon a strange episode of Sesame Street.

And yes, I'm sure you are wondering what a self-professed Frumpmama would be writing about such things for, and how they could possibly ever even remotely relate to each other.

I suppose I should start by informing you that while it may not seem like it to you, my bloggy peeps, deep in the heart of this Frumpmama is an interior decorator waiting to burst forth.

To be set free. Loosed!

To decorate with abandon as I have longed to do for years and years.

I do not kid you.

I was an art major in college. At one time, I planned on becoming a graphic designer, creating world-famous logos.

Then we became parents, and all that changed.

My focus shifted to the more important matters of custom birth announcements, scrapbooking...and the creme De la creme: interior decorating.

Settling on the all-important theme for our baby's nursery (which in Jericho's case was the brightly colored Paddington Bear in case you were wondering...because no son of Jeff's was going to have a nursery in pastels of any color, thankyouverymuch) was of utmost importance.

Sadly, despite all my best efforts, my home's decor has suffered terribly, becoming the biggest casualty of my condition.

For the past 15 years, I've suffered from a condition known as RID.

Otherwise known as Repressed Inner-Decorator.

I blame this condition largely on the fact that we've rented for so long and have had to suffer with 'rental' white (and in one case, a very sad shade of 1970's 'Navajo White' which was not white at all, but a very drab tan) and some wood-look paneling, which worked together to suck all the brightness from the living room of our home...in spite of even the bright halogen torchere (sp.?) lamps we had in those days.

It was a very trying time for me, but I persevered.

Under the constraints of those drab rental walls, I usually managed to decorate our home in a pleasing manner, employing artwork of my own design (though always longing for the day when I could finally slather the walls with color and could place things on the walls and hang select objects from the ceilings wherever I wanted to).

Recently, as I've begun to reassess my home decor choices from years past (and plan out completely different colors for our new home), I've noticed something remarkable.

Somehow in recent years and quite without my notice, our home decor has evolved into an abode that virtually screams 'boys live here'. Though that could be due in part to all the Matchbox cars littering the floors.

In spite of all my efforts to steer clear of sports related themes, never giving in to the desire (however brief) to decorate in "Lodge" theme, the color scheme of our home still gravitated towards masculinity, leaving not a vestige of femininity in the home.

How could this travesty have occurred with a girly-girl (albeit frumpmama) in the house, you ask?

I blame it all on the color green.

Forest green, specifically.

Now I love the color forest green. Always have, and probably always will. Probably because I used to wear a lot of it.

The long, forest green wool winter coat I used to wear over my work clothes during Minnesota winters was what I happened to be wearing when my husband first took notice of me.

My love of forest green, however, became all-consuming, and led to a serious decor dilemma, and one that I tell you about because it must be nipped in the bud right away so one doesn't fall prey to it.

You see, I loved the color SO much, that the very first furniture that we ever bought new was a two-sofa set from This End Up...honey pine finish with upholstery of forest green.

We still have these sofas today, all. these. years. later.

Aside from a couple of stubborn grease spots still remaining from the "Molly McButter" incident of Jericho's toddlerhood, they still look pretty decent.

Yes, thanks to ScotchGuard and the high-quality foam and upholstery fabrics they were made of, the pieces are virtually indestructible. And still comfortable. Just sadly in need of a better color.

Cutesy "Country" style furnishings were in when we bought those sofas.

Navy and burgundy were also used (along with forest green) in profusion around our home.

For years and years. And years.

Because I did not realize the gravity of the situation early enough to correct it, most of my living room decor choices over the years have (out of necessity) had to match those forest green sofas. One can't ignore those elephants in the room.

And as a result of that, my family became accustomed to this abundance of masculine colors permeating our home decor.

In fact, I believe the men in my life have come to correlate hearth and "home" with these colors, and have firmly resisted change. Jeff has turned up his nose at all of my forays into incorporating "Shabby Chic" or "Victorian" or "Romantic" look in our home, because, well, we raise boys here.

Anything pink, lacy or including the term 'doily' is pretty much out of the question.

Which limits me considerably.

I'm just not into the sleek modern or minimalist looks.

Even as a FrumpMama, non-fashionista type, I still desire to have a beautiful, functional and cozy home with decor that includes those special feminine touches that truly make a house a home.


I suppose I could deal with the whole 'masculine' decor issue well enough if I hadn't become inundated by another wave of testosterone around here lately.

Yes, as if decor colors weighing heavily on the side of testosterone weren't enough...every which way I turn in this house I've been subjected to ongoing testosterone-filled discussions about sports, superheroes (who can 'take' whom), race cars, weaponry, Thomas the Train, the TV series Smallville, anything and everything Star Wars, and more recently, Zombies.

"Zombies?" you ask.

Yes, Zombies. As in Dawn of the Dead zombies.

In recent months, my husband and oldest son have become rather obsessed with Zombies.

Ever since they first heard about the book World War Z.

They even have a contingency plan.

Wherever we go as a family, be it an amusement park or a museum, the grocery store or Lowe's...at some point during that trip it is a given that the topic will arise, wherein they will discuss the merits or failings of such a place being a 'fortress' to defend themselves were "Zombies" to ever attack.

Because, as you all know, there is a very real and imminent danger of Zombies attacking, and we should be fortified and heavily armed 'just in case'.

It's at times like these that a mom just wants to throw her hands in the air and cry out, "Why did I not have any daughters, Lord?"

Rarely do I get the opportunity to use, much less bestow upon a daughter my vast array of girly knowledge...things like French-braiding hair, sewing, applying makeup, teaching a girl to crochet or quilt or cook or decorate cakes, the fine arts of making deviled eggs, cooking Thanksgiving turkeys or decorating elaborate Christmas cookies...(not to mention someone to bequeath my expansive 5th grade sticker and doll collections to one day).

At times like these, I sometimes mourn all those girlhood plans I'd made to one day throw wonderful girl birthday parties and make beautiful cakes for my daughters...because, well, those plans went out the window when I had sons.

Because in our forest green manly house, boys cakes with icing roses would never fly.

Instead, I was forced to come up with things like Pirate cakes and parties.

But that's a blog for another day.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I love doing fun stuff for my boys.

It's just that all these girly talents within me have gone largely untapped.

I've even begun to think in boy.

Instead of pointing out pretty hairstyles or beautiful flower gardens to a daughter, or maybe marveling over a new color of lipstick or nail polish or a beautiful new dress together...I find myself pointing out lizards and bugs along the sidewalk. Or listening to long discussions on Star Wars or the latest episodes of Smallville, or long diatribes on superheroes and kung fu movies.

And if that weren't bad enough, I have even found myself occasionally slipping my two-cents into the family Zombie discussions.

**hangs head in shame**

As you can see, due to all these factors, it was apparent that I was long overdue for a girls night out.

Because a girl (especially the mother of two sons) needs an outlet every now and again, you know?

Time to get in touch with her inner-chick.

Thankfully, my good friend Chrissy and her sister-in-law Lisa rescued me from my distress.

They whisked myself and three other women away for a Christian women's arena event called Women of Faith.

We even booked a fancy hotel suite.

It was a refreshing, estrogen-filled weekend getaway. A slumber party of sorts.

And you truly haven't lived until you've heard Anita Renfroe, Patsy Clairmont, Luci Swindoll, Sheila Walsh, Nicole Johnson, Sandi Patty, Nicole C. Mullen, Steve Arterburn, Natalie Grant, Luci Swindoll, Mary Graham and others talk or perform live on stage all in one weekend.

And you really haven't lived until (courtesy the deal-finding skillz of Lisa's husband) you've scored arena floor seats about 7 rows behind "the porch", where all these ladies all sit while the others are on stage.

And you really, really haven't lived until Sandi Patty walks down the aisle past you after singing one of your old Sandi Patty favorites and speaking on stage, and you smile at her, and as she's passing by she warmly pats you on the shoulder.



Sandi was one of my favorite Christian singers as a girl.

That sistuh can saaang!

Hers was one of my very first cassette tapes ever, purchased by my mother the Christmas I received my very first Ghetto Blaster.

And Sandi Patty patted my shoulder.

That was huge, peeps.

Being that the only other celebrity I've ever seen up close was Don King the boxing promoter...for me, this was like running into royalty.

I'm pretty sure I still have fairy dust on my shoulder. Sandy, Michael W. and Amy were my childhood heroes.

And now, she and I are like this: **crosses fingers**

We're practically best buds, lol.

Yes, all things combined, it was a touching and wonderfully refreshing chick-weekend!