Space Mama

I am taking up space- it feels crazy, risky, necessary. The recently vacant downstairs apartment was up in the air. Rent? Bed and b'kfast? Playroom? Studio? Office? I won't bore you with the details, the cons, the pros, the what ifs. All those of you reading who are making hard decisions on your own, you know the territory I've covered solo the last few weeks.

Then the wise friends chimed in; your boys need to run around. You need a place to write that is yours. You need a place for friends and family to sleep..

It has a long way to go, but Lamoine's Lowdown Lounge, is in the making! The main room is furniture free. Just balls, nets, hoops, trucks, did I mention balls? The once bedroom, off of the main room is storage and the DRUMS. And the room you go through to get to Mecca is the guest room/office, writers room.

Uncle is going to help me get the free standing hoop out of my living room and into the lounge.

I am going to have an almost TOY FREE living room. (exception-train table and trains, and books remain upstairs as they are quiet activities).

I have gone from feeling like an urban mama in a cave, to a queen in her sprawling mansion. The heavy lifting has been extreme, the cleaning tiresome, and the paint job that Sam requests is going to be FUN. He wants each wall to be a different color. We have enough paint to make that happen.

And today, because the IRS loves the single mama, I ordered a giant mural of a space man in full regalia for one wall--because Sam says he wants to be an astronaut, or a hunter. I won't be ordering any deers with targets painted on the side for the other wall of this I can assure you.