We remodeled our kitchen. It’s almost done. We didn’t kill each other.


But that’s where I’ve been.

Such a lie… I’m a lazy and terrible blogger and just between you and me… I’m a little sick of being like “parenting is hard and four year olds are assholes and seriously… what did I used to DO with all the time I wasn’t putting someone in time out?”

Pictures of the kitchen to come, I promise but first, let’s talk about tile and why I can’t lift my arms above my shoulders anymore.

Out of the two of us, in our little world, Patrick is by far the handy one. He can build shit. Whatever I need, he can build it. He knows how to do things like change out sinks (which he did) and convert a can light to a gorgeous pendant light (which he is about to do) and install a garbage disposal (check). He can do wiring and plumbing and carpentry and painting and installing wood floors. He can change the size of a gorgeous built-in entertainment center so that it never stops looking like a gorgeous built-in. He can do all these things and I’m really damn lucky.

But this weekend? We learned that he cannot tile a backsplash. I’m not sure who was more shocked by this revelation. Him, when he realized that there was something seemingly simple that he was just struggling with or me when I put two and two together and came to the conclusion that I was going to tile the backsplash.

Life skills translate in funny ways. Patrick had all the right tools and followed the direction exactly on how to spread that tile glue gunk but it just wasn’t happening. It was clumpy and awkward and he was getting really frustrated… really fast. But the more I looked at it, the more it looked familiar to me and then it dawned on me…

Dude. This shit was just like icing a cake. I took a look at all the tools he’d gathered, laughed my ass off, and dug through the boxes that have become our kitchen over the past couple of weeks and found my favorite icing spatulas. Yup. Offset icing spatulas. You can do Lowe’s and Home Depot all you want baby… my tools of choice? Fucking Wilton.


**Image stolen from www.wilton.com

We managed the project with only one really big fight and nobody broke anything. I only dropped tile mastic on the dog once, we made 5 trips to Lowe’s (I only forgot to change out of my pajama pants for one of them) and had hamburger helper for dinner at 11:30 Saturday night.

You’re jealous. I know you are. Sometimes I can’t believe that nobody has wanted to make a movie out of my super exciting life yet.