How to Remove Liquid Foundation From Your Clothes

How to remove liquid foundation from clothes
Accidents happen but this trick will help you get the worst makeup stain out of your favorite top.

Last month my sister messagedme asking me if I could get the half stick of butter she spilled on her dress out – you can read all about it and the results here.  This month she had a new challenge for me.  Could I get her liquid foundation out of her white shirt?

how to remove liquid foundation from your clothesI like a challenge so, I told her I’d be willing to try.  Having no clue where to start I thought about makeup remover – how the best ones seem to be the 2 layer liquids.  That lead me to conclude the foundation must be some sort of oil like base.  So I googled what is liquid foundation composed of and discovered that most have a pig oil base, among other things.

Now armed with this knowledge, I decided to have a go at the stain using some WD-40, baking soda, dish soap (I used a generic dawn because it is what I had handy), and a toothbrush.

Y’all, it worked like a stinking charm.

how to remove liquid foundation from clothes

So here is how I banished the foundation from my sister’s white shirt:

  • Placed a piece of cardboard between the layers of the shirt – try to find just plain brown cardboard, I originally used the printed side of a waffle box and it added a nice bright yellow to the stain.  I just made sure to fold it in half with the plain sides out.  And don’t skip the cardboard because it will just cause the oil to soak through the shirt to the back side.
  • Spray the spot with WD-40.  The idea is that the oil will dissolve the oil base of the foundation (like dissolves like) making it possible to absorb off the shirt.
  • Speaking of absorbing – I coved the now fresh oil with baking soda and got to work scrubbing with my toothbrush.  Because I wanted to be sure I removed all the oil I did this a few times.
  • I next brushed of the baking soda into my sink and applied a little dish soap to the shirt – dish soap is designed to cut grease so I figured it had to help.  I also added a little water and dish soap to the baking soda in the sink to make a paste.  I used the paste to suds up the shirt.
  • Finally I rinsed my work and threw the shirt into the was with a laundry pod. 

After and wash and dry the shirt was like new.  Now if only I could figure out how to easily get my dingy grey socks to be white again!

after

If you attempt this laundry trick, I recommend using a small test spot first to see how your garment will react.

Posts on C’est La B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

 

Dear Sir

My mom worries about me.

She is my mom after all.

She thinks I am ‘unsettled’, that I have never come to grips or made peace with our ‘estrangement’.

Most of the time I am annoyed that we are having the conversation at all. Which is one of the points on my long list of many to support that I am fine. I prefer to ignore your existence in the world 90% of the time. I have a house to maintain, a husband and two children to care for, and my own dreams to chase. In my day-to-day life you are just a really deeply hidden dark shadow that (thankfully) allowed my life to begin.

And then I pull into the Starbucks parking lot. And I see him, a man smoking a cigarette holding a coffee (I don’t know if you drink coffee or if you even like Starbucks but I do know you smoke – or at least did once upon a time). And of course, he vaguely looks as I would imagine you to look now. Maybe thinner – maybe you have taken up going to the gym or that ketogenic diet I hear so much about. And I immediately start wondering if you are in my neck of the woods. Are you checking up on me?

It is a ridiculous thought really. You have your own life to tend to just like I have mine – and yet when this happens my body immediately reacts with a fight or flight response.

Again, ridiculous – my memories of you aren’t particularly traumatic and as far as I can remember I loved you exactly as a daughter is to love her father, you lived on a pedestal. But my memories in those early years are littered with disappointment, unpredictability and absentness.

As I got older I began to worry.

My mom and dad met and married. We were a family. I became a big sister.  We had family holidays, events, and traditions – but you were still looming in the background.

You didn’t really come around often, but when you did I often felt conflicted or  ambushed – sometimes both.  Like the time I had spent the day shopping with your mom and you ‘just happened’ to call while I was at her home.

I know it was planned.

I was embarrassed and ashamed to be sitting on her balcony crying uncontrollably. I don’t know how long it had been since we had spoke at that point but I know I was caught off guard, I was frustrated, angry, and confused.

I also knew that as my legal father you could show up in my life and make demands. Not ones that my parents necessarily had to follow, but ones that could result in a legal dispute and ones that could ultimately change the course of my life if it ever got to court and they ruled in your favor.

Memory is a precious and tricky thing.  We can form ‘false’ memories, we can romanticize our recollections, and of course we can forget things.  I struggled for a long time with this – were things really as I remembered them?  Was your understanding different?  But ultimately I realized it doesn’t matter.  Perception shapes our reality and reconciling different perceptions is what we most struggle to overcome in relationships.

I don’t think you know much about me – I am not sure how you would.  So I will tell you I have been accused of being a bit of a control freak. Anything outside of my control makes me anxious and makes my life hard.

So naturally this wide open gap in my life that was your legal right as my parent of record was an issue.  It left me feeling unsafe and insecure.

We waited until I was 14 and could be sworn into court – so I had a voice, a say that day.

My parents filed for adoption.

You had no case.

I felt bad for you.

I was still waiting with baited breathe for you to step up and be the man you needed to be. I was still waiting for you to fight for me.

You asked me to call you and tell you in my own words that this is what I wanted – despite the letters I had written in years pass that all I wanted for Christmas was for you to sign over your rights. You said you would sign once you got to talk to me.  I thought this was it – this was either my chance to say my peace or the point when you were going to fight to be better for me.

I shakingly picked up the phone and made the call on the day and time our lawyer specified.

A woman answered.

I asked for you.

She was rude.

You weren’t home.

I hung up and cried.

You didn’t know this but I used to have recurring nightmares of you taking me from my family – sometimes they were right there but couldn’t see or hear me, sometimes they weren’t there.  But I could never get to away from you.

If you want to know the truth, that phone call is where the final break down occurred. The final straw; the point where I had no more time for you. Until that night I still held hope – you would never be my dad, not like my dad was.

By then you had already missed so much.  You weren’t there to dry my tears, to explain the stress I experienced when I fought with friends was the cause of my headache, to push me to try (and stick to) things I didn’t think I’d like, to teach me to finish what I start, to teach me how to give everything I have, to beam with pride when I got something right or the endless list of all the other ‘dad duties’ that occur in a woman’s childhood.

But I still held hope that we could have a strong healthy relationship – if somewhat unorthodox.

Turns out I never had to place that call.

You signed the papers before the specified days and times you gave our lawyers to call. I know you dispute the times given to me. I know you say that the time I called wasn’t one you had given. I don’t care. Wires get crossed, maybe it wasn’t the time you specified – maybe it was and you decided against talking to me to spare me. Whatever the reason, the result was painful.

And to learn you gave up on me before I gave up on you – frankly that is the most painful part of this entire situation.  Potentially the most telling too.  At 13 and after all the let downs, I still believed in you.  I guess that is what they call child like faith, or maybe just a testament to my desire to see the best in people.

We celebrated my 14th birthday and of course Christmas and then a few short days later, my legal entry into my family.

Adoption day came and went.

I want to say that it was a great day – full of joy and happiness.

And it was.

I was the last adoption of the year for the judge, we celebrated with a wonderful dinner. But to me it was just the day that the law finally recognized my reality. The day I finally felt safe and protected. The day I no longer worried you would just suddenly pop back up and demand some part of my life.

… until I got closer and closer to 18 …

You never did show up.

But a girl claiming to be your daughter eventually did.

I wish I had words to explain what that day did to me.

I wish I could empress upon you how deeply hurt I had been by our relationship over the years and how deeply that bonded me to my dad.

I am a daddy’s girl through and through.

He and I don’t agree on everything. He thinks I am too trusting and forgiving, I think he is a little stuck in his ways. But he has held me when I cried over my first heartbreak, and bit his tongue when mr. first heartbreak and I got back together, broke up again and of course did so again, he fearfully watched me take my first international mission trip, experienced what I can only imagine is a joyful, fearful knowing when he was introduced to my now husband, he held back tears when we announced our engagement, and he has held, loved, teased, and taught my babies.

He isn’t perfect but he is all the things a great dad should be.  Most importantly, he has never given up on me no matter how dark the moment, no matter how hard I dug in my feet – I have never worried he wouldn’t be there.

I have always worried that any interaction with you or your family would hurt my relationship with my dad. He has seen the conflict and pain I have gone through. No parent wants to see their child hurt – and what kind of thanks is it to him for having gotten me through some terrible times if I build a relationship with the man who abandoned me.

But when I was 20 something, there you were, through the power of a young girl and Facebook.

I cried … A LOT.

I threw my phone … A LOT.

I worried … A LOT.

And then somehow you were sort of gone again.

But you were back – to make sure I knew how unhappy you were at missing an invite to my wedding.

A man I hadn’t seen at that point for 17 years.

Honestly, how could you be mad? How could you have any feeling that you had been wronged or jilted by a lack of invitation?  How could you think you had a right to be there? And how would I have introduced you? And would you have been upset that you didn’t get to walk me down the aisle?

To be honest, I revoked that privilege from your future long before I met my dad.

Before I was 7 years old, one time when you had let me down, I remember telling my mom you wouldn’t be walking me down the aisle. Frankly I would have rather had my mom, my grandpa, a stranger, hell, I’d have even done it myself before letting you get that honor.

My mom has been like a loyal defender for you.

I don’t understand – I am 30 and she still goes to bat for you. Like she is afraid that if I think poorly of you, I will in turn think poorly of myself. She tells me all the time she knows you loved me.  I guess if I try to step in her shoes I would do the same for my kids.  I wouldn’t want hurt or hatred take root in their hearts, I would want them to feel as if they were loved and worthy.

But I have learned, since becoming a mom, that love is a verb – its something you do – not a construct of an emotion to be felt and said.

Frankly, I have yet to see you do anything that feels like it is out of love for me.

With the impending birth of my daughter I kept saying you were running out of time. That I didn’t understand you and your choices already and that I was sure once I was a parent myself I would understand you even less.

I was right.

The thing that confuses me even more is that your own father was less than present in your life … at least to your own account. If that was true, how could you possibly treat your own child in a similar fashion?

I am still a second chance kind of person and I still occasionally have thoughts of trying to reconcile – but then I think about my own children. They have a papa who loves them, who plays on the floor with them, who teases them, and who asks after them.

Would you even be satisfied having some small alternate part in our lives or would you (like with my wedding) be mad because you aren’t ‘grandpa’?

The thing is, in some ways my mom is right.

I think the interactions we have had in my adulthood have actually ensured that complete peace is nearly impossible.

You have demonstrated a lot of things I can’t respect.

You blame others for your choices, for your actions, and for your shortcomings.

You pointed the finger at my parents.  Don’t worry, I know they aren’t perfect and I can even entertain the idea that they created barriers for you in order to give you the benefit of the doubt.  But the thing is, even when I do that I see all the ways you should have tried harder.  Maybe that is unfair, but if someone was creating barriers to keep me from my kids, the narrative would read much different than yours.

You refuse to accept that regardless of the reason for the choices you made and the part you played it resulted in pain and hurt for me.

I wouldn’t say I am bitter.

I am disappointed.

I am disappointed that I will never truly know my genetic family. I am disappointed that when you disappeared from my life so too did my relationship with cousins and aunts and uncles … and eventually your mother.

Maybe more upsetting is the relationship I would have had with siblings also disappeared. I love being a big sister. It is a HUGE part of my identity, and I am missing out on that with your son. I know you claim I could be in his life and not yours, but I don’t see how that is possible.

I see you when I look in the mirror – usually more than I see my mom.

I wish I didn’t – but I do.

I don’t wish to erase the past. I don’t wish for things to have been different.

You shaped me as much as my mom and dad did by your inconsistent presence in my life and eventual estrangement.

I grew up fast.

I avoided things that I probably otherwise would have tried because I didn’t want to be you. I hope that doesn’t sound mean – I learned from you.

I never smoked, even though I was curious – because I remember you doing it, I never liked that about you so I never even tried.

I didn’t drink underage because I wanted to be a different kind of person – I wanted to finish school and achieve.

My choices and my peer interactions were always informed by who I wanted to be. A maturity you helped foster from our rocky relationship.

I am a planner, a big picture thinker that takes in all the little details. I believe the butterfly effect is a real and powerful thing.

I like who I am over all – I like when I am not being the person I want to be I usually have the confidence and ability to seek out change to be the person I want to be.

I don’t want to change that and so I don’t want to change you or our history.

30 has been a big year for me. Frankly I can see time slipping away – not in like a morbid way but in a logical I have lived 3 decades and its time to stop waiting for my life to start so I can start living and achieving sort of way.

You’ll be 50 soon.

Tomorrow isn’t promised.

To be honest, I think I am sadder for you than for myself.

I have a rich and wonderful father daughter relationship in my life.

Don’t get me wrong; you weren’t replaced – just like my dad could never be replaced. There are still things I wish I knew about my family history and heritage – things I am no longer connected to since my great-grandparents passed. They were my last  tangible lifeline to the familial element I have been missing.

But you don’t have that relationship – that strong bond to your first-born. Maybe you don’t need that – maybe I am overly sentimental. But you have and continue to miss out on so much. Like watching me become a mom, making some really hard choices about my future, and becoming my own person.

My oldest is  about to be 5 and I could never imagine missing a single minute of this messy crazy life.

I know I am hard, I don’t have the cleanest vocabulary, and I have high expectations for myself and the people in my life. I know that even those closest to me sometime struggle to relate, and often tell me I ‘think too much’.  I know that when I have a passion for something, I can become blind to all other things. I know I call things as I see them, I am unlikely to let things slide, and I have been harsh with you.

I have been called intimidating.

But I am fun, loving, giving, thoughtful, creative, a thinker, a planner and so very much more.

I am not really hurting any more but sometimes I get caught up in the what ifs. What if we were able to work through the past? What if I was able to add another rich and fulfilling relationship to my family?

But what if I am let down and disappointed again? What if it puts stress on my relationship with my dad? What if you want more than I am willing to give?

I have always thought the day would come that I would meet you face to face. That I would deliver the letters I had written to you over the years, and that I would ‘say my peace’.

I no longer think about that day. I no longer feel as if it is an eventuality of life.

The last time we communicated I left the ball in your court, I told you if you are ever willing to put the hard work in I will meet you half way.

Nothing has changed.

Somehow, today, I needed to say a little peace.

Mostly because I am caught off guard when these moments pop up.

My sincerest hope is that my genetics come from a man who is always striving to do better, to be better. A man that looks to the future and learns from the past. A man that I might not ever fully understand but may someday be able to respect.

On that note:

Live well and be happy.

 

 

Beer Labels For Dad – Free Printable

This year for father’s day we went on a total DIY adventure – read about the dresser to kitchen island upcycle we did here – and the results were pretty great.

Free beer label printable pin

It all started when I saw this awesome wood bottle carrier in the one spot at Target.  It had a built in bottle opener to boot.  The price was totally great (I picked it up for like $7) and decided this had to be part of our father’s day gift.

I thought it would be really great to give my dad a gift he’d enjoy but would regularly get himself – so some ‘fancier’ beers sounded like they would fit the bill.  And because I love to personalize basically everything, I set to work on 6 different beer bottle stickers.

Our family teases a lot so of course the labels were a great opportunity to both tease and appreciate our dad.  The printables I am sharing here (free!) are less specific (not everyone has a squirrel capturing hobby) but still super fun.

We are lucky to have a local liquor store that is independently owned and has the most helpful staff.  I went in and one of the guys helped me pick 6 beers that are bottles my dad wouldn’t normally buy himself but is likely to enjoy based on his typical purchases.

I got the bottles home and used a hair dryer to mostly remove whichever labels I wanted to preserve to show my dad what the beer was and then threw the bottles into my sink filled with hot water (that is important) 1/2 cup of baking soda and 2 cups of vinegar.

I let them sit for a while and then I used a hand crocheted scrubbie to wash away the labels.  Most of them came right off but there were 2 bottles that were a little more stubborn.  For those I used a little acetone.  I applied it to the stubborn residue with a cotton ball for one and just poured it over the bottle for the other.  Put the bottles back in the water for another soak and scrubbed again.  About 10 minutes later I had 6 clean beer bottles.

Next was to print the labels.  I used these ones that I ordered off of Amazon and my home printer.  Since becoming a stay at home mom of 2 very independent kids (at least when we are out shopping or in other inconvenient places for them to want to walk themselves) I have fallen more and more in love with Amazon … but I digress.

Be sure to check the directions on the labels – sounds silly, I know, but I didn’t read first and just printed like a normal sheet of paper.  They turned out fine but by fingers were a mess and the top layer of ink could be rubbed off … not ideal.  Turns out I should have (duh) set my printer to photo printing because of the shiny surface of the labels.  Lesson learned!  I was still able to use the labels so not all was lost.

Next I cut and apply the labels to the bottles.  And it was ready to go.  Easy as that.

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It was a really fun and easy gift to give and for the dad who enjoys trying our a new brew or doesn’t often treat himself to more premium brands, it makes a great gift for father’s day, holidays, birthdays, or really any gift giving opportunity.

If you are looking for wine labels, I offer wedding themed ones in my shop.

What are your favorite gift giving items?  Let me know in the comments.  I am always on the hunt for new creative ideas.

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Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

Dresser turned kitchen island – father’s day DIY

Before we get to the DYI – I just need a little space to share our morning.

The morning was rough.

I mean the kind of rough that makes you consider running away to a secluded tropical island where the only people you have to talk to are the bartender, the cook, and the masseuse/esthetician/manicurist/spirt guide … whatever really makes you happy.

But I think unexpectedly ditching my husband with no warning for an extended period of time with the children is a check my marriage can’t cash … so for his sake and the kids, I stay put.

Noon hadn’t even hit yet and I had a very clingy little boy. He finally gave me 10 minutes of peace for me to use to get ready to get moving and get ready to leave our home.

That is when he walked into my room with a thick glistening covering his chin and his hands.

I went to the dinning room to investigate … there was syrup all over the table and my laptop.

As I was cleaning that he was reaching for a small glass ‘aquarium’ my daughter made at preschool. It slipped out of his chubby little hands and shattered right next to my feet.

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Both of the kids that that was a good time to come investigate the mess. Here I am panicked about them cutting themselves on glass, getting the mess cleaned, and getting the kitchen island done for our dad for father’s day.

So after we finally managed to get out of the house and over to my mom and dad’s house, my sister and I got to work on one of the two gifts we gave my dad for father’s day.

My parents have this old dresser from my grandma that has been sitting in the garage that they have been wanting to turn into a kitchen island. They have a kitchen that is really good size but not eat-in style – so there was this large empty space in the middle that was under utilized. While we all have memories dancing in the kitchen and I love watching my kids dance with papa in the kitchen these days, it doesn’t help the function/flow of their kitchen at all.

So enter the island.

We started with this dresser.  The drawers were already removed for sanding.

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My dad did most of the sanding work. So we set to work on the paint.  We used Behr Marquee.  We choose this particular brand and variation because it was the most stain resistant, easiest to clean, and least likely to pick up and hold unpleasant smells … all good things when it is in your kitchen.  It also was the most expensive but because it is a 1 coat to cover paint and it had the primer already in it we only needed a quarter of a gallon and only used about half of it.

One piece of advice – get paint rollers.  We liked the smaller ones.  The rollers help the paint go on more smoothly and don’t leave brush strokes in the finish.

I have never done a kitchen counter top but we selected some wood, used some construction adhesive and added to the top. I selected some beautiful douglas fir for the top.

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This was an 8 foot 2 x 12 board.  It was just enough for what we needed.

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We attached it with construction adhesive.

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After adding it to the dresser (now island) I covered it in a satin finish poly.  We used a different poly that we picked up from our local hardware store but all the same features. And again we didn’t use a ton we only used about half – maybe less – on the tiny can we bought.

We changed out the knobs.  My dad had some in the garage very similar to this – I think they really modernized the island.  Although my vote was to keep the original ‘crystal’ like knobs, it turned out really nice.

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And the finishing touch was changing out one of the top drawers for a little basket – I found the basket at savers for about 3 bucks. It is a small change but I think the basket really moves it from being a painted dresser in the middle of the kitchen to being a kitchen island.

Over all I think we spent about $60 on this project. We already had the dresser and the new knobs and there is one drawer we still want to reenforce – but over all the island is already in use.

We initially added it to the kitchen and started using it basically right away – but noticed we needed to do something about the space between the tops of the two boards. So I used a clear bathroom and kitchen sealant to fill in the crack a bit and limit food from getting stuck in there.  Check out the side by side before and after!

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This is an amazing piece – and for my first attempt at making a counter top, I am pretty impressed. And it is on wheels so we don’t even loose the memories yet to be made dancing in the kitchen.

Stay tuned – later this week we will talk about those beer bottles on top and the fantastic labels I made to put on them.

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Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

 

What I learned from ‘bad’ pictures

So here is the deal – yesterday I wanted to write about my day working on yard games with my sister as promised Monday , however, the reality of the day was such that the games didn’t get 100% finished … not a single one of them … and that I felt miserable by days end.  It was hot, it was humid, and it was an all day event of trying to figure out how to navigate world that was very new to us.

I was still ambitious, if exhausted, but when I sat down to start a post I saw the pictures I asked my sister to take of us working.  I was so disheartened by what I saw.

I picked apart the pictures in about 30 seconds or less and felt horrible about myself.  I try to follow the ‘body positive’ movement we have going on, I try to remember I am my own worst critic, and I absolutely try to remember how badly I don’t want to pass my own harsh self judgement tendencies to my kids.

But here is the thing – all of those messages about how I am supposed to feel and how I should see myself make the whole thing that much worse.

What?  The positive, love who you are, your kids only see you not your ‘imperfections’ messaging makes things worse?

Yes, that’s right.

Hear me out.  I look at the photos and I see my less than straight posture, my ‘extra’ in the middle, my ‘extra’ on my back, the heaviness that has sunk into my arms and I immediately feel guilty and worried about those thoughts.  I think as a culture we swing from one extreme to the next and avoid giving individuals permission to feel and be and think as they do.

So after beating myself up about how poorly I have taken care of myself in the past years (I used to have a gym habit and completed 2 marathons – now I have a ‘sugar’ habit and chase kids) I am also beating myself up for not seeing how strong and magical my mom body is, I mean growing 2 small humans is no small feat.  Holding them when they are sick and sad is a blessing all its own, and of course gardening, playing tag, and making homemade treats with them are special memories that I am blessed to have made.

And yet in the moment of seeing myself on camera – arguably the most objective way I am able to see my body in action – I am struck by this inability to take it in, feel organically, and evaluate those feelings.

Here is the cold hard truth – I will never be a size … whatever that desirable number is these days … and I will likely have some loose/saggy whatever body part chooses not to jump in line.  And even if I was the ‘perfect’ size, I would see those imperfections.

But I also need to do better.

I don’t exercise like I used to/should.  I have never had a diet that is admired by any health food expert.

I need to do better.

But in this body positive culture we have grown (which by the way is an amazing thing) we have gotten so intense in the attitude of all sizes are beautiful and you are perfect as you are, that I have noticed I feel guilty any time I feel less than okay anytime I have thoughts to the contrary … but without those thoughts of ‘I need to do better’, I can’t recognize a change is needed.

Yesterday I also saw a video about a woman talking about her ‘mom-bod’ struggle.  She talked about how hard it was to adopt and accept and to feel good in her new self.  She also talked about all the wondrous and amazing things she has done in this new body/phase of her life.

Most days I am in her camp – I wouldn’t trade a single minute of motherhood to erase the scares it’s left behind.  And yesterday after beating myself up for the poor modeling I am doing for my kids in the exercise and diet department – I looked at a collage of my pictures of the day.

Here is what I saw:

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  • I am strong, independent, silly, and hard working.
  • My son and daughter went to the hardware store with their mom and auntie to buy wood for projects – that they then watched us work on.
  • I am fearless – well okay fearless is an overstatement but my sister and I managed to set up a work area and I am a master at that chop saw and I didn’t do too bad with that circular saw either.
  • My kids got to experience new materials in their world and explore how to use them … they had a blast
  • And possibly most importantly – neither my kids nor myself had any thought or care about how I looked while we were working … it didn’t matter.  It didn’t define my ability to do any of these things and it doesn’t define me in my daily life … until I slow down and think about it.

In our quest to support woman and change the body shaming of people who are not model material, it almost seems we have gone to shaming anyone who is less than in love with what they see.

Here is the thing – until we stop worrying about size, regardless of the message attached – and start focusing on being healthy, we are never going to be in a place of support, love, and understanding.

So today we are going to go to the park, we are going to play, we are going to have a lunch of fruits, veggies, and cheese, and we are going to play in the sand, run around, and make memories.

And in my daily mom habits – I am not going to give my less than ideal body a second thought.  Instead I am going to make healthier choices – I may never run another marathon, but I can show my kids how to be determined, accomplished, confident, and maybe most importantly, how to take stock and strive for better.

PS. I promise an update on our yard games once they are done.

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Yard Yahtzee Score Card – Free Printable

Yard Yahtzee Score Card - Free Printable

 

Giant versions of popular table top games are all the rage right now.  I mean who hasn’t seen the pins on Pinterest and the $80 sets in stores?  My sister and I thought a few of these classic games would be a great addition to her grad party.  So ahead of our constructing day later this week, I thought I would make a giant score card for the yard Yahtzee set we are planning to make.

I am going to print this sheet as a 20 x 16 poster and I plan to find a suitable fancy frame at a thrift store to put it in.  The glass and some dry erase markers should do the trick to make this a reusable score card.  Instead of having multiple games on one card for one player, I modified the card to have multiple players on one card for one game.

Check back later in the week to see if we were successful in our endeavor to construct a yard Yahtzee, a lawn ker-plunk and a yard Jenga set!  Fingers crossed this goes well!

If you have your own Yahtzee set but need a score card – I am making this one available to you free here.

 

Last day of preschool teacher gifts – gift cards and water bottles

I don’t know where the time has gone.  Four short years ago I was holding the most precious baby and today I saw her off to her last day of preschool – a very concrete milestone to the passing time.  Of course in the last month or so she has made it all that much harder by her never ending conversation about how soon she will be ‘this many’ (as she holds up all the fingers on one of her sweet little hands) and she excitedly discusses kindergarten despite the year of pre-k she is going to complete first.  
But with the passing of this milestone we had to address the teacher gift question for the first time (what do you get, how much do you spend, which teachers do you get for?)  With my daughter’s help we managed to settle on gift cards and personalized water bottles filled with M&Ms. 
I think they turned out awesome!
To get started, we gathered the following supplies:
I used the cricut and sophisticated cartridge to cut out the first letter of each of my daughter’s teachers names – just make sure you follow the directions for your machine and your vinyl.  I had heat transfer vinyl on hand so that’s what I used and then let my daughter do mod podge over the letter to give it extra sticking power and make it dishwasher safe in 28 days time.  

We filled each water bottle with M&Ms – apparently a favorite as a stash for the preschool teachers – and added a gift card for Starbucks, Target, and Redbox codes to the free printables.

I punched some holes into the cards and used the ribbon to secure it all to the bottle. 

I am pretty confident that not only was this a gift they can use but also a gift they won’t get a ton of from the other students.  

One year down … many years to go.  Share your best go to teacher gifts in the comments.  Bonus if you are a teacher and can give insight into useful gifts you love to receive. 
Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

How to Remove a Set Butter Stain From Clothing

No matter how hard you try there are some clothing stains that are just too hard to get out of clothes right?  The thing is I like to think that if I just try hard enough I can basically do just about anything – so when my sister asked if I could try and get this butter stain out of her dress, I had to try.
For stains like this, pinterest is my go to source – and I was not disappointed.  I found this pin for removing oil stains from clothes.  She suggests using WD-40 and despite my knowledge of chemistry and the rule of like dissolves like, I was terrified that spraying WD-40 on this dress would make it even worse … then again what did I really have to loose here, no one was wearing the dress as it was now.  The dress with the offending stain is 97% polyester and 3% spandex – the tutorial I used said she used this technique on cotton but not yet any other fabric, so I proceeded with skepticism.
The first step is to spray the stain with WD-40.  You’ll notice that the before picture is darker than the after … this is in part due to lighting and in part due to the fact that my husband had thrown the dress in with our wash and I had taken the wet dress out of the dryer – so this stain was well set.  The WD-40 (or really any sort of oil would probably work just fine) is meant to dissolve the set oil so that the next step will be able to capture that oil – but it sure seems counter intuitive.

At this point I was freaking out just a little … I mean what the heck did I just do?!?!?!  But there is no turning back now.  So I sprinkled on a TON of baking soda on the spot and scrubbed it in with a toothbrush – I used a ton of baking soda and brushed off the excess into the sink.

Next I used some Palmolive with Oxy and dawn dish soap and used a paste of baking soda and water to ‘suds up’ the soap.  I rinsed it off before dropping it into the washer just to limit the amount of sudsing agent that gets into the washer.  I dropped it in with a seventh generation laundry pod.

I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out – you’d never know it had been there in the first place.  
When I pulled this out of the wash I did a little happy dance – BEST. LAUNDRY. DAY. EVER.
Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

Summer Weddings – Free Printable

Summer is such a wonderful time of year – for us Minnesotans it means we can finally enjoy the outdoors sans parka.  And subsequently we have beautiful outdoor weddings to attend.

I hate giving the same old boring wedding gift – something predictable and impersonal so about a year ago I made my own wine tags, cut them out and tied them to bottles.  There were a series of bottles for different ‘year of firsts’ events one may expect in a marriage.

Those are so fun (you can find them in my etsy shop) but I recently have been thinking about how wonderful the sentiment of age fine wine getting better with time being what we all strive for in our long term relationships and a new set of labels was born.

I started with just 4 labels in black and white that I am offering free here, and I am working on expanding to a set of 6 and a series of different colors.
I love the simplicity of these labels.  They are clean and the hand lettering is romantic.  The labels count the days, hours, minutes, seconds since you said ‘I do’ and allows a gift that lasts 20 years.  They are intended to be printed on sticker paper like this  and used to replace the original labels on the bottles.  
I love these labels so much and can’t wait until I can offer the full assortment!
What are your go to wedding gifts? 

Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.

Old stairs – New garden box

I love having a vegetable in my yard.  Partially I love having fresh food – especially cucumbers – free from the wax and other preservation methods you find on store bought produce.  Partially because I grew up watching my grandparents garden.  It allows me to feel close to my grandfather again and it gives me something to talk about and show off to my grandma and I like to think I am helping make those memories for my own kids now.

There are a few things I plant every year – cucumbers, tomatoes, and strawberries.  And every year I add some new things – this year we are adding blueberries and rhubarb to our yard and I went a little overboard with the onions so I ran out of room in the garden for my lettuce and my new strawberry plants needed a suitable home (I somehow mange to kill all of mine off every winter).

Enter my in-laws recently replaced deck.

My husband decided to take all of the material from their and put it in our garage – I thought he was crazy until we decided to use the stairs flipped on their side for a strawberry planter.

The stairs had these little legs on the back that made a perfect support – my husband cut them down to be the right height and I got to work.

Here are the materials I used:

The stairs (obviously)
This Stanley Sharpshooter staple gun
Staples
Chicken wire
Weed fabric
A wire cutter
scissors

I stapled the chicken wire to the back of the stairs as a support for the weed fabric.  This holds the dirts to make each stair it’s own little planter.

I then lined these newly formed ‘cubbies’ with the weed fabric and stapled those into place too.  I suggest over doing it on the staples because more support is better in the long run right?

Once I finished those steps it was just a matter of flipping the structure back ‘up right’ and filling the newly formed plant boxes with soil and plants.  I finished it just as it was starting to rain so the plants have perked up a bit.

One thing I both like and am a bit worried about it the drainage from the boxes.  It is going to be nearly impossible to over water these plants but I worry that it will be easy to deprive them a bit.  I also am a little less than happy that the plants are less protected than in my fenced in raised garden bed … but if others can grow strawberries in unprotected rain gutters this should be fine!

In this new planter I have managed to reclaim 20+ year old deck stairs, planted 5 romaine lettuce plants, 3 already fruit bearing strawberry plants and about a dozen strawberry plant bulbs – those have been hanging around for a year so I am not sure they will work but it can’t hurt.

Share your favorite gardening and reclaimed projects below.

Until next time,

Posts on At Home With Momma B may contain affiliate links which result in a very small amount of revenue earned when a purchase is made using the link. Unless otherwise noted all opinions provided about a product are my own and I have not received compensation for them.