Grandma's creepy wallpaper

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I live in an unusual house. It was built in 1974 by a husband and wife who immigrated from Poland. They built the house around many features they collected from prominent local buildings and homes of the late 1800s that had been demolished for a variety of reasons. We have fireplaces, windows, staircases and more from the bank, the opera house, a doctor's home and other long-gone structures.

Overall, it's a pretty cool and interesting place to live. But there are some bizarre touches here and there, things I've gotten used to for the most part and usually no longer think too hard about them. On most days.

Yesterday was not one of those days. For some reason the wallpaper lining the hallway to the laundry room caught my interest once again and I thought you all might be able to help me solve the mystery surrounding my creepy wallpaper.

From what I understand, the wallpaper is one of the touches from the homeland of the original owners. It appears to be illustrations of cautionary tales, much like Grimm's Fairy Tales, but of a Polish bent. The illustrations are fine and good and understandable when considered as part of an old-time nursery book. We all know fairy tales and such can be, unfortunately, weird ... and violent. Which is exactly what the illustrations on my wall are. But why would such images be taken from the page and placed upon the wall?

Take a look:

Creepy, huh? That is what I see every time I do laundry, every time I use the ironing board, every time I change the litter box.

And every time I show people around my house, I have to explain the creepy wallpaper and why I don't remove it.

I don't remove the paper because it's antique. I think. If nothing else, it's unusual. And like all the other unusual features in my house, there's a story attached to this wallpaper; I just don't know what it is. I'm pretty sure it was put there by the couple from Poland, but that's it.

My biggest question about the wallpaper, though, the real mystery to me, isn't why the builders of our home put it there, but why anyone -- no matter where they lived in the world, no matter what period of time -- would think these pictures might look great on a wall, why they should qualify as print for wallpaper, why that wallpaper was ever manufactured in the first place. Did people in Poland line nursery walls with these images? Were resident children better behaved when they had these constant reminders of a horrible fate that might befall them if they misbehaved? Was such wallpaper used in places other than nurseries? Did anyone and everyone who ever saw it have nightmares?

It's a mystery I'll likely never solve.

Unless, of course, one of my dear readers has knowledge of Polish fairytales, the ones featuring drunks who fall in the lake or drag kids through the forest by their hair. If so, please enlighten me. Give me the "rest of the story" to regale the next group of visitors to my home and provide me with details on why these wacky illustrations figured so prominently in a culture that people adorned their walls with them.

Then maybe -- just maybe -- I can move on to seeking assistance with yet another mystery of my home: the one involving a discoverer of sunken treasure who has seemingly gone missing and I think just might be buried in my front yard.

Like I said, I live in a very unusual house.

Today's question: (If you read this early, yes, it was a different question. I like this one better.)

What's the creepiest feature of your house?

Master plans

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As I recently mentioned a time or two, Andrea turned 25 last week. With that milestone, she swears she's having a "quarter-life crisis."

"I've not accomplished any of the things I planned to accomplish," she cried to me over the phone.

"Luckily you still have plenty of time left to do those things," I told her.

"But I'm TWENTY FIVE! I'm getting old!" she whined.

My response? "Don't give me any of that bull cuss," I roared back at her said in my sweet, understanding-mama voice. "Telling me you're too old to accomplish a few goals is insane. I'm nearly twice your age and I have lots of things I still plan to do, so don't even tell me you're too old to accomplish your goals."

My freakout kind and gentle manner shut her up ... sort of. I think she just figured I'm old and crotchety and don't know what I'm talking about, being at such an advanced age and all. That or she figured she'd caught me on one of those days when that menopause thing was lurking around the corner.

Well, just for the record, I do still have lots of goals.

For starters, here's my list of skills I've learned a teensy bit about and plan to improve immensely upon in the next 50 or so years (don't want to put too tight of a deadline on it, of course):

  • picture-book writing and publishing
  • photography
  • swimming
  • Photoshop
  • piano playing
  • gardening
  • bird identification
  • pizza dough spinning

I've dabbled a bit in all of the above. My plan is to master each and every one of those, not just check the "tried this" or "done that" box next to each.

But that's not all. No, no, no. As I reach the likely mid-point of my life, I plan to give a few new pursuits a spin as well, things I want to learn simply for my own edification -- and to dazzle the diapers and denims off all my grandchildren to come! Here's just a small sampling from that list:

  • juggling
  • bird calls
  • skipping stones across the lake (This one will require regular access to water -- a scarce commodity up here in the mountains -- but I'll figure that part out.)
  • grow a Venus fly trap ... and watch it eat a snack
  • peel an apple in one continuous peel
  • fold nifty origami animals from dollar bills and regularly leave them as tips for restaurant waitstaff

See? I have plans, baby! Master plans!

Now I just need to master a few time-management skills. That or maybe I'll simply learn to write a picture book about juggling apples as I peel them before tossing the continuous peels to my Venus fly trap in order to free up my hands for skipping stones on the lake I just swam across while identifying birds and mimicking their calls on the piano that stands in my garden filled with peonies and origami woodland animals, all of which I will photograph and perfect with Photoshop for publication in a picture book.

Then I'll nix the dough-spinning goal and just go out for pizza. Sometimes a gal -- even an old gal like myself -- must admit her limitations.

Today's question:

What skills do you plan to master in upcoming years?

Three cheers for my third child

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Today my baby is 25 years old. Get that? TWENTY-FIVE! My baby! Who's no longer a baby! (And who wishes I'd get that through my thick head!)

Andrea was born 25 years ago today, forever changing the makeup of our family, the makeup of my heart. She's my wild child -- and readily admits it! -- my child who dares to be different and manages to make different look so good.

Not long ago I wrote a post for the soon-to-be-defunct Rocky Mountain Moms Blog about the challenges -- and charms -- of the third child. In honor of my Andie, this is that post:

Three's a charm ... and a challenge

A friend recently had her second child and when I went to meet the little guy, one of the topics of conversation was how integrating the new baby into the family hasn't been as difficult as she thought it might be. No, the second baby isn't all that hard, I told her. It's the third child that completely upsets the family balance.

I've told many people this throughout the years. As a mother of three girls, all born in relatively quick succession, I learned 24 years ago when baby No. 3 arrived on the scene that going from one to two babies, while initially a juggling act, was doable without any major trauma or drama, but the transition from two babies to three was -- and continues to be -- one of my greatest challenges as a mom.

"But you already had two," people marvel. "How could it be that much more difficult to add one more to the fold?"

It's a matter of logistics, I counter. Mom has two hands, which is one short when there are three babies. In a home with two parents, there are exactly that: two parents. If all kids are in need of attention, who gets left out? Mom can take care of one, Dad can take care of another, and the third has to hold that thought and wait until Mom or Dad is free and ready to offer belated comfort.

Dinner tables are best suited to an even number of chairs, most typically four. When baby No. 3 comes along, a bigger table needs to be purchased, a table that seats five. But tables aren't made for an odd number, so a table for six is required.

Same goes for the family vehicle. Two kids work just fine in the backseat of nearly any car. But transporting three kids requires a larger vehicle.

And don't even get me started on visiting play areas or, in the later years, amusement parks. Rides at amusement parks are typically made for two; Mom can sit with one child, Dad with another. Which leaves one kiddo -- or one parent -- riding alone or watching from the gate.

Travel by plane presents a similar problem.

So yeah, having the third child requires a bit more thought, planning, and cost.

But the payoff makes up for that.

Siblings argue, that's all there is to it. Having a third kiddo in the group means that if two are arguing, there's always another playmate waiting in the wings.

Another advantage of three kids: easy lessons in the democratic process. Majority rules and an uneven number in the group makes it very clear early on that every vote counts and can change the outcome of family votes, be it for vacation places, what to watch on television or what to have for dessert.

But one of the best things about having three children? The realization that three truly is a crowd -- which makes for the absolute best-ever group hugs, as six arms squeezing one Mommy are so much better than four.

When it comes to kids, yes, three's a challenge. But more importantly, three is forever a charm.

  ~ Originally posted on Rocky Mountain Moms Blog March 21, 2010

Yep, Andrea was the third, the challenge, the good luck charm. She remains all three.

She continues to be the one to raise eyebrows, to rock boats, to make me laugh the loudest, cry the hardest, worry the most.

She and I -- so very much alike in so many ways, so very much Cancers -- butt heads ferociously ... yet love each other fiercely.

She's my favorite third child, my sweet baby Andie, my strong, independent woman.

She's my friend. She's my birthday girl. She's the one for whom I wish the very, very happiest of birthdays ever!