First of all I want to say thank you for all of the concerned comments and e-mails.  I had no idea I was loved this much.  I do need to tell you more though before Jiff has a fucking coronary and Laine punches me in the eye.  I can’t tell you how many worried texts and e-mails I got from people thinking Rob and I were getting divorced because of my previous post.  By the way my husband says SHAME ON YOU for thinking we would break up, and that we would do it at Christmas.  But whooo boy I sure know not to leave you guys hanging like that again huh, you all think the worst…Sorry guys.

All the time I’ve lived alone I’ve never "really" had a place of my own.  Sure I owned a house when I was 18 but it was never really decorated set up to make it feel like MY space.  Since Rob moved in it has gotten worse.  He has always had some kind of space.  When he moved in the guest room was all his, he had a comfy chair and ottoman with his TV and all his game shit.  When Brandon was born we made him a man cave in the garage.  When we moved into the new house he again had his own room.  When Codi was born I allowed him to move all his game and TV shit into our bedroom.  Notice a trend here, I still had no where for me.  When it was time to move into our current house we decided Rob would again get his own room in the second living room.  The main living room would be mine.  But come on, everyone enters and leaves through that room.  You can’t go upstairs with out coming through my living room.  I obviously can’t scrap book or do art in this room, and the one time I tried scrapbooking on the kitchen table all hell broke loose.  The last straw came when the train table entered our house.  There was toys all over my fucking living room, it wasn’t even kind of mine any more and I was angry.  How could I read a book in my pretty comfy girly flower chair when my two asshole kids were fighting over something retarded like a piece of lint on the floor.  

That was it. I was fed up.  I moved the kid shit in Rob’s room (on one side of it, he still has an entire side with all his shit in it) and put my desk in the living room.  Admittedly I can now read a book in peace but I can’t do much more.  One day while stupidly browsing the Pottery Barn Teen website (it’s like crack) I came across this chair.

I showed my mom and said, man if this shit had been around when I was little I so would have wanted it, OR if I had an actual space of my own, a real office, a craft room, any thing, this was the kind of stuff I would want.

A few months back my mom and another girl in the office began purging all of our old files from the shed outside.  I thought nothing of it.  Then she had a window installed.  Still NOTHING.  Christmas morning they let me see my room.  Here are some pictures, it is no where near finished I still need to move ALL of my stuff into it but IT IS MINE.  Mine Mine Mine, not yours but MINE.

As you can see I AM MOVING OUT!  I am taking my shit and running.  No kids allowed.  No husband allowed.  No anyone allowed.  In fact my first response (before I knew what was in the room) was that I was taking my Twilight books and my bean bags and locking myself in!  Anyway, here are some pics of my new room.  I will take some better ones when it is all the way done.

 

When you walk in you see this.  Don’t you love my pretty pretty pink princess paint?  Seriously y’all I love the pink.  It just solidifies the fact that it is MINE NO BOYS ALLOWED.

This is my little sewing area.  I have been dying to learn to sew.  The desk was my moms from when she was little.  It had been in my house for a while but once I moved my big monster desk into my living room my cute little desk was tossed aside. I heart that desk.

This is my craft table.  I am already dreaming of the mess I can make with scrap booking junk.  I will also use this to measure my fabric and create my master pieces (ie…learning to sew in a straight line).

Next you will find my armoire.  This is where I plan to cram all of my junk.  Scrap book paper, scissors, stickers various scrap booking paraphernalia, sewing stuff, fabric, and any other girl thing I can possibly think of.

They also got me a photo printer with pre-cut photo paper.  I printed out my very first 4 x 6 photo right on the spot.  I can even wi-fi print and guess what I get wireless internet so I can take my computer into MY room and watch New Moon and Twilight with NO kids bugging me, and no husband making fun of my love for Edward.

My dad even loved me enough to give me my very own heater.  Phew, by the time we were done bringing stuff in the room I was sweating.

And LOOK LOOK LOOK!!! IT IS THE CHAIR!!!!

Then I realized my mom got me my very own Viking sewing machine.  That machine is smarter then me.  Seriously it took me about 4 hours to figure out how to thread the fucker.  But guess what?  She was smart enough to get me a class so I can figure that shit out.

And finally MY VERY OWN KEY! To MY VERY OWN ROOM.

 

And then since that wasn’t all enough my mom got me a class to finally learn to knit.  I’ve been wanting to learn since my grandma died and guess what I FAIL at teaching myself how.  So, someone is going to teach me and I am guaranteed to make a scarf by the end, so yeah, family you will all be getting scarves next year for Christmas.

Here is the wool yarn she bought me to learn with, it is so damn pretty I want to frame the yarn rather then knit with it.

 

And because I am special my husband finally got my slippers.  Let me tell you a little story about these slippers.  A few years ago my husband asked for some Ugg slippers.  I bought him these.

I thought nothing of them.  I have not owned slippers since Brandon was born.  Seriously I have really not had slippers in four years.  Very slowly in the last year I have found my feet sneaking into my husbands slippers.  They were the slippers of my dreams.  It felt like walking on clouds.  And every night my husband would come home to find his slippers upstairs by my closet instead of downstairs in the laundry room where he takes his shoes off every night.  Often I would get texts from him asking where in the hell his slippers where.  Every time the response would be, near my chair, my couch, my closet or any other place that I WOULD BE.  It drove him bonkers.  I started dropping hints that maybe just MAYBE I should get my own slippers.  Christmas morning when I opened the box with these suckers in them I was thrilled.  I crammed them on my feet and all but wished death on anyone who dared to put their feet in my little fluffy pillows of heaven.  Mine are a much prettier brown.

And because my husband would kill me if I didn’t mention this, I was also given the following by him:

 

And finally to round out the Christmas gifts I received this picture from my parents.

Doesn’t it totally remind you of the Christmas Story movie?