De makkelijkste room make-over

Gooi een tapijt neer. 

Nee echt waar, zo simpel is het! Wij zijn al jaren aan het renoveren en soms voelt een kamer nooit af, hoe vaak je er ook in werkt er ontbreekt “iets”. Ik heb ons “iets” gevonden : tapijten van Volero!

Een tapijt kleurt een kamer of brengt het interieur samen tot 1 geheel of is net de eyecatcher die ontbreekt. In ons geval was ik al maanden aan het scrollen waarbij ik veel te dure tapijten in mijn mandje gooide om dan uiteindelijk toch maar weg te schrikken van het totaalbedrag en mijn browser afsloot. Bij Volero ging mijn mandje vol en zat ik 10 minuten later al ongeduldig te wachten tot mijn bestelling er zou zijn. Budgetvriendelijk en zó mooi. 

Het eerste tapijt dat we kochten was deze beauty :

Processed with VSCO with a4 preset

Een heel basic tapijt, maar het zal je verbazen hoe lang ik heb moeten zoeken naar een betaalbare variant! Hij ligt nu al 3 jaar en is nog steeds prachtig dus kwalitatief moet het zeker niet onderdoen. Trouwens de meest gestelde vraag op mijn social media : ” van waar komt jouw tapijt? “. Wel, bij deze!

Twee jaar later was het tijd om mijn dochter te voorzien van een grote meiden kamer, weer knaagde het ” het is niet af “-gevoel wanneer de kamer “af” was. Gelukkig wist ik nu meteen wat te doen en bezocht Volero weer, en vond uiteraard weer een beauty die meteen in huis mocht!

Het werd deze :

https://www.volero.nl/hoogpolig-vloerkleed-grand-diamond-weave-creme-zwa.html

Gelijkaardig aan het tapijt in onze woonkamer maar toch anders, een beetje speelser wat wel mag op een kamer van een jonge dame van 3. 

Zo, het klinkt misschien heel simpel – en dat is het ook- maar ik ben zo enorm blij met onze tapijten en het gevoel ze geven aan onze woning!

De redder in nood

Als mijn huis ooit in brand zou staan dan haal ik eerst mijn dochter, vriend en beesten buiten maar zal ik ook mijn Black and Decker 36V 4IN1 PowerSeries Extreme PET Steelstofzuiger onder de arm hebben. Wat een lifesaver, aangezien ik meer haar verlies dan een golden retriever en de rest van mijn gezinsleden niet onder doen kan ik echt niet meer zonder.

Deze steelstofzuiger doet niet wat je verwacht van een steelstofzuiger, want meestal denk je dan aan amper zuigkracht, vervelende batterij, niet krachtig genoeg: nope, deze niet. Wat een kracht, de eerste keer ik er een toertje door het huis mee deed schrok ik mij een bult, de viezigheid die ik uit het opvangbakje plukte deed mij omver vallen, ik stofzuigde toch elke dag, hoe kan dit?! Deze steelstofzuiger is zoveel krachtiger dan ik ooit had durven dromen.

DIY met Black and Decker

Als er iets is dat ik goed kan dan is het zotte plannen maken voor DIY’s die ik dan uiteindelijk links laat liggen omdat ze te moeilijk zijn of ik het materiaal er niet voor heb.

Maar dan komt Black and Decker in the picture, een handheld cirkelzaag die zelfs de zotste DIY’s een fluitje van een cent maakt.

Ik wil al een hele tijd een sierschouw rond onze niet functionele houtkachel en zag mijn kans. Met een paar planken en goede moed ging ik aan de slag…en lukte het mij nog ook!

Ik gebruikte enkel materiaal van Black and Decker, omdat deze in mijn ogen het meest gebruikvriendelijk zijn!

Room refresh

It’s really hard to keep my room feeling “mine” since I am still sharing my room with a stuffed animal obsessed two-year-old.

I can’t leave books or pretty things out, my jewelery has to stay hidden or I hear ” oooo-lala” in the middle of the night. I admit, she’s probably the cutest thief you’ll ever see, but still.

The easiest way to make my room feel mine again is by changing the sheets. Investing in a set of sheets that look and feel luxurious is an instant moodchanger for me.

When Collishop offered to give me a fresh, beautiful set of Beddinghouse bedsheets, I almost squeeled.

It instantly changed the vibe of the entire room, it’s so calm and pretty. And that’s exactly how it feels when I go to bed and tuck myself in. It ‘feels pretty’ if that makes sense.

They did send us some extra stuff to make Charlie’s part of our room special too, you can’t go wrong with some fun pillows and a cute light. Yes, the cactus is a lamp!

She’s happy, I’m happy.

Now if only she’d sleep…

Kidproof cooking

I’m pretty lucky with Charlie when it comes to food ( and, well pretty much everything else, that kid is my life). She loves everything I give her, as long as it’s homemade – there’s the catch-.

So over the past 2 years I’ve improved my easy cooking skills, I know hundreds of easy, fast, tasty recipes by head and this one is one of our favs.

Breadpudding. Sounds gross, looks gross, tastes AMAZING. And it’s so so so easy.

You know how you’re always left with about half a loaf of bread that’s gone stale after three days? You can easily turn it into a treat for you and your little ones. All you need is :

  • 350 grams of stale bread
  • 3 eggs
  • 500 ml milk
  • 70 grams of brown sugar
  • 2 apples, we used Marlene Apples for the best taste
  • a teaspoon of vanilla
  • a teaspoon of cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Shred the bread in small pieces in a big bowl. Use another bowl to whisk eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla and cinnamon. Pour mixture over the bread and stir, let the bread soak up the mixture and wait for a few minutes until no milk is left at the bottom of the bowl.

Cut the apples in small-ish pieces and add them to the bread-mixture. Mix it up a bit with a spoon and pour into a buttered cake pan.

Into the oven for 45 minutes and enjoy that smell -I usually add a little more cinnamon than needed just to make it more fragrant when it’s in the oven- . You can even add raisins, cranberries,…whatever to the mix and change it up every time. Apples are my must add for this recipe because it gives it that sweet kick that I love.

Enjoy!

Story of Charlie

I don’t know why it took me two whole years to write this. Maybe because I’ve been thrown from one place to the next, one of those places being rock bottom. Maybe because I enjoy living in the now, or am too lazy to write. Who knows, but here it goes.

Birthing is where I’ve been the most me I’ve ever was. No thinking, no ” what’s next?”, no ” is my hair okay, how do I look? ” or “I feel watched, judged and fat”. No, there’s just me and my body, doing whatever it’s supposed to do.

You hear voices, people guiding you – doctor’s and nurses, no crazy no-no-voices, real people trying to help you- but it’s distant. Like hearing them talk in slowmotion, in the next room maybe. There’s you and your baby and the overwhelming urge to do this thing right, to meet them and become a mother. I remember every smell, every motion I made, how many pushes it took – 7 including one that made my head turn purple ( think Willy Wonka’s Violet )- but I can’t remember doctors or their words. I’m glad they were there, super thankful to have such a skilled group guiding me, but it did not seem to matter at that time.

I wish I could say it did not hurt, or I can’t remember the pain. I can, still am reminded every sneeze or accidental pee, which can 100 percent be blamed on me and my lack of interest in pelvic floor training, but it’s worth it. It all is. The cliché is true, once you hold that tiny human, that smudged little bundle of person, the pain is gone. In that moment. Everything is gone. Except you, and her.

The truth is I didn’t even see her face for the first half hour, I felt her, I held her, in my heart, on my heart. I just sat there catching my breath, looking up. I knew she was perfect and nothing else mattered.

The details

Not too many, obviously. Like I’m not going to add in a picture of my placenta ( which is WAY more gross irl anyways).

I went in for a routine check-up on april 6th and they decided I had to be induced, as you could have read in my previous birth story post.

After my cheeseburger stop, I got to the hospital and had a little tour of the birthing area. My room was huge, so so so many options for labour and delivery. I had a tub -spoiler, did not use it – and everything ready for me. I got into my pj’s and then they started me on some meds to get things going. I was in my zone, laughing, having a great time. My parents were there, my brother and ofcourse Nicky was there. They stayed for a while but my contractions where coming on slow and it didn’t seem like it was going to happen that day or night.

Weeks before delivery I already decided that I wanted Nicky and my mom both present at Charlie’s birth so my mom stayed overnight, just in case. Right before bedtime my hungry, pregnant-ass self decided to get one last use out of my ” I’m pregnant so you HAVE to feed me ANYTIME “-card and Nicky went and got me some pizza. I remember the heat of the box soothing my belly contractions. Pretty neat.

I did not get much sleep. The laughing stopped, my body was shaking, and the pain slowly creeped up on me. This went on all through the night. When they checked me in the morning I was only 3 cm’s, things were moving, but slow. After a few more hours they decided to speed things up by breaking my water, which was not as bad as I always thought it would be. Kinda like peeing your pants after a drunk night out ( bet we’ve all been there at some point, ladies ).

Epidural followed soon after. Holy cowbells. Those contractions took control of me, I was shaking and crying, I couldn’t control my words and I turned see-through, ghostly pale. The epidural was…well. Not pleasant. It’s more fear than pain, but those 10 minutes of not moving AT ALL made me go crazy. You know that feeling when you’re driving your car and think ‘ man if I sneeze now, I might die ‘, that, times a million. I did manage to get in a few minutes of sleep afterwards. Contractions are still there but it takes away the edge just enough for your exhausted body to get some rest.

Hours passed, hours and hours. 32 to be exact. And then a painfully familiar feeling came rushing through my back, belly and legs. In full force. Tears streamed down my face as I called for a nurse. They kept telling me ‘ I wasn’t there yet’ and ‘ the epidural is still working ‘. I was, and the epidural wasn’t. The little pump fueling my much needed happymeds was empty, they had to call an anesthesiologist and by the time he arrived and got everything set up again.

My body took over.

” I need to push “, pain meds not working, my body harder than ever. They told me I was at 8 cm’s last time they checked and I couldn’t be ready to give birth yet. I repeated myself 3 times, each time louder than the last. They must have known I wasn’t joking by the growling noises following my words, because they quickly double checked and they now- ironically- told me “you need to push”.

Everyone was rushed out of the room, Nicky drinking coffee in the hallway was pulled by his collar into the room, walked in to a full frontal view of a baby crowning and went into total cheerleader-mode. My mom tried to film but ended up joining the cheersquad and leaving me with nothing but video of her feet dancing around to the sounds of my screams.

Heartbeats dropped, mine almost stopped, nasty cuts were made where no knife should ever go ( my mom lovingly described it as ‘ a chicken being de-boned ‘, weeks after my full recovery ofcourse ) and my life changed forever.

” reach down, you feel her ? Grab her shoulders, you got this, gentle push and pull her up mama! ” – I have goosebumps writing this, my favorite moment in my life so far –

I pulled her on me, felt so powerful. I fell in love with my body, I fell in love with what it could do. I fell in love with who it has made. I became a mama.

” SHE’S HERE, SHE’S PERFECT “

DIY doll hospital with Lilliputiens

Pretend play is a big deal in toddler world, Charlie is a chef one second and a nurse the next. I feel that it’s important as a parent to stimulate this. By playing with them and providing them with toys or even getting creative and making your own kitchen, dollbed or whatever you can think off out of cardboard you open up a world of fantasy for your little one to explore as they please!

When Lilliputiens reached out to us and asked if we would like to work with them, I jumped at the opportunity! Lilliputiens is a Belgian brand founded by two creative moms who felt the need to give children a world to explore through soft, colourful toys. Their toys are extremely well made and look beautiful ( which is a big plus if you are trying to keep your house visually appealing to grown-ups aswell and not just a glorified toy store )

We chose the Doctor’s ambulance play set which comes in a handy bag, as pictured above, which makes it easy to take along on sleepovers at grandma’s house or even to the hospital. If you’ve been following along with our journey, you’ll know that Charlie spends a fair amount of time hospitalized, she knows what doctors are and, sadly, even gets a little scared when she sees them. I thought that maybe turning the roles around and having HER be the nurse/doctor for once would help her get over her fear a bit.


The Doctor’s ambulance play set contains : A red ambulance bag, a bunny ( patient ), stethoscope, thermometer, syringe, multiple bandaids that can be applied with velcro, a doctor’s coat, a bandage and a little doctor’s notebook ( that Charlie wouldn’t let go of at the time of this picture so it’s not included in the picture )

I think she had a great time patching up her little patient and putting him to bed with a little kiss. This play set was a big hit with our little nurse, and mama had a great time too!

I made her a little doll hospital bed to complete the experience, which was honestly super easy to do. All I used was a clementine crate, white spraypaint and a red permanent marker!

You can find more information about this set, retailers and the brand Lilliputiens over at https://www.lilliputiens.be/be/nl/ .

Thank you Lilliputiens and Puur PR !

Kicked off cloud nine

This is something I’ve wrote down in my head a million times and now don’t have words for. Typical.

I should probably add a trigger warning to anyone pregnant, anxious or not in the mood for wordvomit.

If you ever want to know what it’s like to be a young mom, compare it to a 6-year-old getting a puppy. Nobody feels like it’s a good idea and everyone has an opinion. Often one that ends up with failure. When I got pregnant at 23, everyone and their mom had their say about it. There were a few ‘congratulations’ thrown in between the rain of ‘ is it planned ‘ -like questions and looks of concern. This was step one in my descend from my little cloud of joy. (Little did they know I battled with 2 years of hearing a baby was not in the books for me, hormones, crying and intense pain. Which is another story alltogether. )

“Yes, this baby is planned. Yes, I’m very excited.”

Step two started with growth scans that always showed a teenie-tiny wiggle worm that measured just above 10th percentile. I got scared, terrified, and my head raced towards worst case scenario. I kept this to myself – and my direct family – because I did not want to add more oil to the fire and give anyone another reason to shake their heads and pretend this was my fault. -It wasn’t, in case anyone from the boo-crowd is reading along.-

Fast forward to 23 weeks and a world of pain, we’ll call this the crash, not step, from two to three. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t keep still. Every doctor I saw in the five ( yes five ) hospitals I went to talked to me as if I was said 6-year-old and my concerns were nothing. ” What did you expect, pregnancy was not going to hurt ?” followed by ” take a nap, it’s growth pains “. Until one doctor decided to double check. I owe my life to this man, I owe hers to him. A hernia had formed in my abdomen and my bowels got stuck, if they had burst, you wouldn’t be wasting your time on reading this. It took exactly 5 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing from me and my boyfriend to get me prepped and wheeled off into surgery with my 23-week-old child, depending on me, still growing inside of me. If you have been pregnant, you know 23 weeks is not a good time to have such a surgery, as 24 weeks is the age of viability. It hit me that I could lose this baby, I could lose my daughter. This was the first time loss seemed like an actual option and it broke something inside of me, but NOT the will to fight for this baby. The last thing I said to my surgeon was ‘ her, not me, if you have to’ , knowing well enough that they would never do this. It was my way of saying” take care of her”, “make sure she’s here when I wake up.”

She was, and I could breathe again.

Since then, my brain could not wrap around her being fine. My concern went in overdrive and every small hickup – sometimes literally- sent me off to the ER. Sometimes to ease my mind and hear that little heartbeat race only to calm mine, sometimes for valid reason. Pre-term contractions, shortened cervix, you name it, I probably had it. At around 36 weeks my mind eased a bit, we had some good weeks, I got some rest. I stayed away from google ( yeah; guilty ). We had weekly check-ups at this point and, although she was still small, she was perfect.

Queu step four. 37 weeks and 3 days, I had a cheeseburger and fries before my checkup and was feeling a-okay, a fed pregnant woman is usually a happy one ( once the acid reflux packs it’s bags and leaves). Saw my girl, saw my doctor’s face and felt my lunch turn around and make it’s way up. ” Just going to run this by my colleague ” and long story short :

32 sweet hours of pain before I could see her face.

I know this was a heavy one, the post, the pregnancy, whatever. But I needed to write this off. Give it a place, not in my head yet, but here, in my own words. Before I forget and swallow them again.

For now this is all my heart can handle, but it felt GOOD to write this down. I will add her birthstory, after two years of procrastinating, soon-ish.

Thank you if you’ve gotten this far, supported me through any of this or just think nice thoughts about anyone because you never know the full story ( until they write a long boring blog post about )

Liz

I did it

for real this time.

After numerous polls on my stories about anyone being interested in whatever my brain is willing to pour out, I’ve done it. I’ve created my little space on the internet where anyone – or nobody at all – can find me. 

This would be me, for once pictured without a toddler on my hip.

It’s an old picture, as you can tell by the make-up on my face and the lack of extreme under-eye baggage. What this means is that I spend most of my life living for my daughter, and that’s what this whole little space will most likely be about. If that’s not for you, great, fine, this will be an hello and a goodbye all in one. If you’re here for the baby vom and poop talks, welcome to what I’m sure is your life too. No other sane person would ever read this. Mothers, slightly insane and all game for the dirt and realness, are my crowd. I’m looking at the three mama’s that consistently like my instagram pictures, here’s to you girls.

This post has no real value other than to test out whatever features this blogging thing has, and to have a small section of this, soon to be baby space, dedicated to me. The one that had to sit on an ice pack for a week after giving her life.

I hope my words find their way to some of you who might need a relatable story to read when googling the shit out of why parenthood is such a mess or those who simply want a laugh. At my face, constant grammar errors or what a joke my life is sometimes. Whatever works for you.

Oh and my name is Liz.