Simple Swaps: A Creative Oasis {How to create a space in less than 15 minutes at no cost}

*Congratulations to Stephanie who was randomly selected to win the Scentsy giveaway.* Saturdays around Undercover Mother are getting a little makeover for the fall!

The first Saturday of each month, I'll introduce one Simple Swaps as a way encouraging my friends here to find the time and resources to make simple changes aimed at gaining a healthier, more inspired, intentional lifestyle.



Each swap will:
1. Take 15 minutes or less to accomplish
2. Be free to implement or boast overall, long-haul savings
3. Focus on improving health/eco-friendliness, being good stewards of our resources or fostering a creative and intentional life.

Some weeks, all three will be accomplished in only 15 minutes!

The beautiful and creative Robin from Diet Coke on the Rocks will make the Simple Swap first each month so as to show ease and perhaps sometimes another way to implement a Simple Swap. Check out her September Simple Swap for more ideas!

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Simple Swap for Saturday, September 3, 2011: A Creative Oasis

It had been quite the week around our house -- chaotic with the craze of two weddings in three weekends, a pending bachlorette party {last Saturday night!} planned by yours truly and the insanity that emerges around both boys' birthdays when developmental peaks happen.

Plus, you know, life -- a business and laundry and cooking and cleaning per normal, none of which rests.

Last Friday night after the boys were fast asleep and the house was bathed in quiet, I found myself totally unmotivated and uninspired to take on all of the Martha Stewarting necessary for executing last Saturday's bachlorette party.

Because, really, there is nothing that zaps my desire to create like a house that looks like this:



My brain just cannot get beyond the mess {which is normally cleaned up before the boys go to bed, but holy crabbiness, batman!} and let the creativity flow when I'm knee high in toys and general clutter that's been scattered around the house by the boys.

As time was not a luxury with the party being so close, I decided I needed to make a creative watering well of sorts amid my cluttered, tumbleweeded desert of a home.

I picked one small space last night, gave myself 15 minutes and transformed the dining room into a tidy and inspiring Creative Oasis by focusing on making just a few improvements to the senses for no cost and with little planning in little time: Sights, sounds and smells

1. Sights

-Clear Clutter

After clearing the clutter from my chosen space, I focused on bringing beauty to the space.

- Beautify

I switched out the dirty table cloth, clothed my temporary desk with striped colors and retrieved the bouquet I'd been drying from last weekend's wedding, placing it in a vase as a visually appealing centerpiece.

-Stage Lighting

The dining room light isn't too harsh, but I dimmed the chandelier and instead turned up the tiny lights laced into decoration above the hutch so as to soften the ambiance.

2. Sounds

Though I often crave the quiet only night brings, I know I'm inspired by song and lyric, so I turned to Pandora {free Internet radio in your chosen genre} for the deep lyrical melodies of Mumford and Sons, Death Cab for Cutie and Sufjan Stevens. I opened the window next to the table, too, so as to soak in sounds of the crickets chirping in the late August air.

3. Smells

A fresh lemongrass Thai candle not only enhanced the smell in the air, but it also provided a bit more of soft lighting.

To top it off, I brewed a sweet smelling coconut tea at the table and let the smells waft into the air as I cleared the rest of the clutter from the table and hutch.

After my allotted 15 minutes passed, I looked around {took a few pictures} and breathed in the clarity and beauty of a freshly designed Creative Oasis.

And I'm overjoyed in the works that came from being in that space for a few hours last night



My creations turned out so awesomely, too! Much funkier and loads more playful than the vintage button bracelet I crafted last month.

{My BIG fall project is to create a permanent creativity oasis because I think we should all have some sort of small space, even if it's just a corner, where we can think and feel and let inspiration have room to expand and take shape.}

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OK! It's your turn to Simple Swap and create a Creative Oasis. If you make the Simple Swap, link up a post of your before and after picture below.

One person who links up her Creative Oasis, will be randomly selected to win the Scentsy Nantucket midsized burner and her choice of a scent bar gifted generously by Scentsy rep Natalie.



If after checking out Scentsy and loving the awesomeness of a flameless candle scenting your home, you can use 10 percent discount code for any Scentsy orders placed through September 30 when mentioning September Simple Swaps in your email order: nataliejcline{at}yahoo{dot}com.

The Creativity Oasis linky will be open through next Saturday, September 10.

Bigger Picture Moment: The Kind of Day

We're having the kind of day where

a cuddly almost-two-year-old boy wakes up smiling and cooperative, giving his mama false hope of a peaceful day.

The kind of day where

nurses at the doctors office look at you with a mixture of pity and compassion welling in their eyes as your two year old slides ala a wet noodle onto the floor and begins screaming at the mere sight of the scale.

The type where the big brother screams at his little brother, and then the mother turns and yells at the older one for screaming.

The kind of day where peeling an adventurous toddler off of the dining room chair obstacle course he's created has culminated in more spills and falls and tears and bruises than can be counted on one hand.

And the kind of day where just as the clock clicks over to 4:00 p.m. and mama is about to sigh a breath of relief that her husband will soon be home, a text message flashes onto the phone saying he's running late ...

just as the toddler nose dives straight onto the floor from scaling the chair on which she's sitting on the edge.

One where I -- the mother, the adult here -- throw my hands up in the air, declare I need five minutes to myself, turn on the TV guilt free and all but crawl to the simple retreat that is an empty white page on my computer screen, flowing with the simple lyrics of a Sufjan Stevens song, wrapped int the late afternoon sun streaming through a cracked window that's offering a warm breeze.

I'm having the kind of day that makes me

thankful for song that carries me to calm

thankful for little whispers of creation that speak to my soul

thankful for small escapes

thankful that tomorrow will be birthed brand new by morning sun

and that it carries the hope of being the good kind of day that often comes after the storm rages and then passes.

I'm having the kind of day that makes me grateful that not every day is like this one.

Thank.God.



Have you seen a glimpse of the bigger picture through a simple moment this week? Share it! Link up at Melissa's this week.

Five-Minute Friday: Welcome

There's nothing tidy about this well-lived in space we call home.

It's almost always dusted with little pieces of Earth around the doorways, signs that small feet have shuffled in and out at least a dozen or more times during the morning hours.

Almost always there are toys strewn across the wooden floors, carpeting and stairs alike, little crumb trails from two busy worker ants who've been hard a play all afternoon.

The bathroom vanity bulbs are forever on, shedding light across the scattered toothbrushes and various toothpastes.

At least a small pile of dishes always lines one edge of the counter, glasses branded and marked with small fingerprints.

Tall prairie grasses always line the flower beds, sharing space with bright yellow lillies, trying to disguise the fact they are weeds.

And chairs are never all perfectly placed around the table because two tiny people are constantly rearranging and transforming the furniture into more useful things, like ladders.

I've struggled with all but shutting and locking the doors to the outside world, weary of welcoming anyone into this space where I spend more time living and enjoying than I spend cleaning and organizing.

But as the days pass, and the children grow older, morph and all the dust and dirt stay the same as it's always been, I've pushed myself to invite despite the mess.

Because, I have to imagine, nothing says hello, lays out the welcome mat for acceptance and friendship, quite like simply being who we are.

And, right now, who we are is loud. And laughter-filled. And passionate. And emotional {for better or worse}. And messy.

Everyday Life: Like Free Pizza Coupons

No less than three coupons boasting three free pizzas have become adornments atop the baker's rack in our front hallway.

{Coincidentally, it's the rack you must pass to go almost anywhere in the house.}

We haven't had a free pizza coupon since we moved into our house three years ago, but all of the sudden, right at the end of May, right when I'm serious about shedding the last of my unhealthy pounds, three magically appear in the mailbox.

I'd caught some sort of viral infection from one of the two cutest petry dishes this side of the Mississippi last Wednedsay, and I'm still suffering from some sort of weird fatigue and sore tonsils that can turn me almost instantaneously from quiet and tired mommy into if-you-ask-me-one-more-time-where-we're-going-I'm-going-to-FAREEAK-out-on-you mommy.

You know -- she's some close relative to the mommy who loses it on a preschooler who has yanked the dog's tail for the tenth time in so many minutes SOLEY because she's in a state of irritation from having to redeem a million requests of her when she really has to pee so badly that she doesn't even realize that she has to pee. But she really does.

So - yeah - that mommy.

As I drag my feet through the hallways picking up clothes strewn about like a bunch of naked hippies live here -- oh, and today it's, like, 90 degrees, so we really could be naked hippies-- those pizza coupons screaming Free! Free! Free! seem like they should maybe, maaaaybe, MAYbe be redeemed.

In those moments, of tossed about clothes and sore tonsils throbbing, those free pizza coupons actually seem like a really good idea.

Except for when they don't -- namely the moments that happen after I recall stepping on the scale and realizing through the haze of sickness that I've broken into the the 140s for the first time in my entire adult life.

Or since fifth grade.

But who's counting?

So I pass by those pizza coupons -- not because I cannot have pizza while on the Curves 90-Day Challenge but because I cannot see why I'd make a turn that's in the opposite direction of where I'm trying to go -- and instead I venture into the kitchen almost triumphantly to rinse the fresh-picked, pretty-close-to-locally grown {but not my backyard} green beans.

As if the moment demands some sort of drama, a certain preschooler enters the cooking arena asking for the seventh time in so many minutes whether or not he can go back outside to help daddy.

Deep breath in, swallow the pain in my throat, evaluate if I have to pee -- I do -- venture toward the bathroom and ponder the direction I'm trying to head.

It's this point where it seems so much easier to just stay here in this threat of "if you ask me one more time ..." and so much more work to recalculate and remap.

But, decidedly, due north or south or east or west has got to be better -- any direction that's away from that mommy -- the impatient, irritable one of past five days or so who hasn't been able to keep her cool any better than a popsicle in the sun.

Or a pizza lover on a diet.

But there are green beans in the sink.

And the free pizza coupons are still on the baker's rack.

And to me, today, that spells out hope in the most visible of ways.

Bigger Picture Moment: Don't feed the bears {spaghetti}

After a too-late, pre-bedtime discussion about business finances that left my mind spinning and an entire night of wrestling a nursing, teething toddler, nothing about Wednesday morning seemed appealing except for maybe the prospect of crawling back under the covers to sleep away the general unwell and unrested feeling.

No such luck.

E squirmed out of bed at 6:25 a.m., and I reluctantly followed him, resolving in my mind to start the day in prayer and in the Word.

And that helped until the unwell and unrested feeling began creeping its way back into my tired body and even more tired mind.

Simply, when I've not slept well for a few nights, my mind becomes mush. And then my body follows close behind.

I can't seem to handle excessive noise escaping from the drum set and cymbals or constant questions tumbling from 3-year-old lips or over-tired whining escaping the mouth of my toddler and oh-my-gosh-can-mommy-just-have-FIVE-Minutes-of-SIlencePLEASE!?

We escaped from the grocery story relatively unscathed {read: I prayed and begged God for a huge burst of energy simply to get me through the shopping endeavor so we didn't have to eat pickles for lunch and dinner}.

But by the time we were returning home, I found myself barreling into an enormous afternoon crash and burn alongside my melting-down toddler.

I know, thanks to truthful words from friends, that having a hard day or having a bad day as a stay-at-home mom doesn't mean I DON'T love my life or kids; I know that it doesn't mean I have some kind of fatal character flaw, so I took refuge such a realization that this day, too, would pass. Sleep would come later tonight {hopefully} and tomorrow would be a new {less-hormonal, less-exhausted} day.

And those simple truths gave me hope for tomorrow, yes, but in that meantime, I knew I needed to get through the day without totally entering into epic mommy fail after mommy fail of yelling at the boys and becoming frustrated and battling gigantic battle after gigantic battle of tested patience.

In a rush to get lunch on the table so E could take a much-needed nap and I could take a much-needed break, I did something a Type A personality who is feeling unrested, hormonal and unwell should never do:



I fed the bears spaghetti for lunch.

Feed them apples or grapes or turkey slices, but for the love of your SANITY, woman, make a mental note NOT to feed them bright-orange-red coated noodles while in such a state of sleep-deprived disarray.

Because that is just asking for trouble.

Everyone has bad days, yes, and maybe there's not much that can be done to avoid some.

But perhaps steering clear of the things I know will send me over the edge -- red-sauce-coated toddlers who fling said red sauce onto every square inch of the dining room -- on those bad days should be a high priority, just two steps below praying for Divine intervention and taking a chat break with a lovely friend and one above bathing myself in caffeinated tea.

{Also, yes, I would have a rotten day after posting about how swimmingly our weeks have been going since engaging in our Sabbath Experiment, which goes to show that while taking a day of rest can really enhance life, it's not a cure-all for everything. :) }



Every Thursday, we share the harvest of intentionally living by capturing a glimpse of the bigger picture through a simple moment{s}.

Grab a button {code over on the right-hand side}, link at Sarah's and then go forth and encourage others on this journey in intentional living.

Live. Capture. Share. Encourage.

Bigger Picture Moment: A bag for myself

Welcome to Bigger Picture Moments, a place where we step back and take in life. There are moments where we're so caught up in it all, the hectic mind boggling pace of the day. We encourage you to take this opportunity to take a moment and view the Bigger Picture. Whatever that means to you. A moment where you recognized the role your faith plays in your every day life. A moment where you take note of motherhood and the importance of what you are doing. A moment that made you stop and breathe in the bigness of it all. The hugeness that is life and the small moments adding up to one Bigger Picture.


We hope you'll join us. Take a few moments. Think about your week, and pour however little or much onto a page. Then share. Tell us your moment. Link up below, grab our button, and share your Bigger Picture Moment. And while you're at it, share the love and check out at least one other participant's moment.


Next week, Corinne will be hosting Bigger Picture Moments. Keep an open mind and heart throughout the week and come back to participate again or for the first time! All are welcome!





I'm running late {again}.

I can't find my car keys, my wallet or my phone charger {all necessary for leaving home}.

I've checked everywhere --the baker's rack, the table, the basket and every bag in our house -- and now I'm hot, sticky and flustered. It's not a winning combination for trying to make a smooth exit before the boys get all sniffly about mommy leaving them for a few hours with their {favorite} babysitter.

I smile through the frustration; internally, I'm cursing the fact that we have so many bags. The diaper bag, the camera bag, the toy bag, the Curves bag, 12 canvas grocery bags, laptop bags, a beach/pool bag; normally, I transfer my wallet, keys, phone and charger between all of these bags based on where we're going and what we're doing and what the boys absolutely need to be content and comfortable. It's all an effort to avoid public meltdowns.

Admittedly, it gets a little tiring day after day, switching my personal essentials from bag to bag, hoping to find each one before my heart starts racing as the clock ticks closer to our leave time. And packing something like chap stick? That's nearly unheard of. I never could keep track of something so small, so unessential but at the same time so relevant and comforting.

As I search, I wonder to myself how I can make this tiring song and dance of trying to leave the house feel less like a tango -- all fast-paced and with my heart beating out of my chest -- and more like a samba -- slower and graceful.

Maybe if I had my own bag, one to myself, without diapers or toy cars or snack trappers filled with Hearts and Os and hand wipes ...

I'd given up my own bag when G. was born nearly three years ago. I thought it useless, a frivolous accessory that would weigh us down, a silly extra bag to tote around and take up space. Essentially, I traded in my own hand bag for a diaper bag ... a space of my own for the shared space to house necessities of motherhood.

And then slowly, every bag I adopted thereafter became a bag filled with items for the boys, for work, for the family, for groceries for our family. I began transferring my most basic little necessities from someone's bag to someone else's bag. I tossed aside a few of my favorite but oh-so frivolous takealongs. So long lip gloss, hair tie and tiny tube of hand lotion, while I added more and more stuff to more and more bags for everyone, every one except for me.

And, of course, this hits a nerve. Because it's not really about bags. I could simply go upstairs, rip open the tape on a few boxes and search for some old purses I used to sport on my shoulder. But what it is about? Well, it's about the way I've been viewing myself ... my needs, simple and complex, not being as important as boys' {the big one and the small ones} needs. But they are.

They are important, too.

My husband sees it, my Creator sees it and even my boys see it.

So why don't I?

Tonight, I'm resurrecting my handbag from a cardboard box, dusting it off and tucking my wallet and keys and phone and charger inside its pockets.

And tomorrow, I'll carry my very own handbag. With some lip gloss slipped inside a pocket.