Ooh, that’s Pinterest…ing!

One goal of my life  this holiday is to cut some of the household clutter and get a little more organised.  And what would an organisation attempt be without a trip to IKEA? I’m heading there on Tuesday with a BIG wishlist and Anne from Domesblissity to help push the trolley 😉

I’ve been devouring the catalogue for inspiration but also have been having a little squizz at Pinterest for some IKEA ideas.  I would love it if my trip resulted in the following transformation of my humble home:

A bright and airy entry spacePinned Image

Love this kitchen

Pinned Image

A beautiful feminine bedroom

Pinned Image

How much would the boys LOVE this playroom!

Pinned Image

What I really need is the IKEA design team to come and do a little renovation rescue!  

What is likely to happen, despite my big plans, is that I will walk away with a spice rack, some wine glasses and a couple of storage tubs.  Perhaps I will just camp out in the displays for a couple of hours and play pretend. 

Do you love IKEA as much as I do?

Linking up with Tina Gray {dot} me

Tina Gray {dot} Me

Grateful for… my humble home

Lately I have been feeling quite negative about my home, my neighbourhood, my suburb.

It’s been a feeling that has been growing for a few years but has really escalated with the saga of getting our little boy into school.  You see, we live on the outskirts of a suburb that has a very mixed demographic.   When we moved here 10 years ago our little cottage was the last house in our sleepy street. Our big block is at the top of a hill. We had a wonderful view, a neighbouring farm and an environmental park across the street.  We had lovely neighbours whose kids would play cricket outside our house, scaring away the wallabies who would come to eat our grass. It was bliss.

But our neighbours have moved, the farm is now a development and the wallabies have found a new home. Things have changed immeasurably.  Our plan was to move before our first child went to school. Enter the GFC and its devastating effect on the building industry. My husband’s industry.  Enter anxiety about money, weeks without work, plans put on hold.

We are far from destitute (fortunately as being frugal is not my strong point) but committing to a large mortgage when our financial future is uncertain is not a situation we want to be in.

So here we are today. Not in the catchment area of the school we want. Anxious about the prospect of sending our baby to a school with a somewhat questionable reputation. (But perhaps I’m a school snob? Possibly a concept that needs to be explored in another post).

All my emotions – confusion, resentment, anxiety, disappointment – have been directed at our house. If only it was 2km down the road!  We can’t sell. We can’t buy. Trapped.

But then I took the time to look, really look, around our house, our home. 

Every significant event in my life in the last 10 years has a memory associated with this house.  I remember when we first joked about the idea of getting married in Fiji, sitting in the dining room of this home. I can tell you the exact spot I was standing in the hallway when my doctor phoned to say was I pregnant with Will. The living room is the backdrop of a vivid recollection of sitting, heavily pregnant, sobbing as my mum told us my grandfather was gone. 

And most importantly, all of my boys firsts – rolls, steps, words, all happened here. In our home.  A place that echoes daily with their cheeky laughter, mischievous play and raucous rough-housing.  

Yes, there’s the daggy kitchen, total lack of storage (think golf clubs living in the laundry) and of course the horrid retro red and black bathroom that I can never get 100% mold free.  But there is also the magnificent bottle tree, the pool and of course the brick fireplace that I fell in love with the moment I walked in the door.

How can I resent such a special place?  This house is our first family home.  It is a place my boys will remember and treasure their whole lives.

I can’t resent a place like that. I can only be so very, very grateful.

Don’t forget to visit Maxabella loves…for more thankful thoughts.