My Review of Peel-And-Stick Vinyl Tile Squares

Originally submitted at Brylane Home

The quick and easy way to transform dingy cement, wood, linoleum and vinyl floors, adding rich texture and color.  Twenty 12" square tiles cover 20 sq. ft.; trim to fit. Spot clean and vacuum.
Vinyl Tile Squares - High-gloss, no-wax finish for years of carefree service...

Peel-And-Stick Vinyl Tile Squares

WONDERFUL

By Get it done while baby naps from Tampa, FL on 11/17/2011

 

5out of 5

Pros: Dries Quickly, Easy To Clean, Great Material, Attractive Design, Easy to Install, Wonderful Value

Best Uses: Bathroom

Describe Yourself: Beginner

I was SO very nervous to order this product. It was the most inexpensive one I could find anywhere (online and around town) but I took a chance on it... WONDERFUL. I "installed" it in my hall bathroom in one afternoon while my son took a nap(1hour) The material was a good weight and is the perfect thickness..easy to work with, cuts with a good pair of scissors. I placed these peel and stick tiles on top of our terrazzo bathroom floors. Looks GREAT feels GREAT! Went from NERVOUS BEGINNER to HAPPY DO IT YOURSELF MOM!!! Great deal.

Tags: Picture of Product, Made with Product, Using Product

(legalese)

Life 101 - A refresher course

Jamie & I playing around.

hile I stay home on weekdays with Jamie... some weekends Michael and I switch. He stays home with our son and I pick up a couple shifts back at my old job at a meat market.

Originally I went back to work in August as to stash away some extra cash for the upcoming holidays and to spend sometime out of the house...but I discovered that working part time out of the house has done quite a bit for my husband and I.

 Going back to work was not a decision I took lightly. Michael is the oldest of eight and when we came home for the hospital with our son, he knew more about baby care then I did. He is wonderful with our son. But if you have a child, you know... leaving them, even with your spouse can be stressful, at first.

Secondly, this was the job I had worked while in college. It was a fun job, I worked with fun people and enjoyed the diversity of simple activities there was to do... but like any simple, redundant job kids do during their summers away from school... its all fun and games and then you think to yourself at the end of a 50 hour work week on your feet..."I HAVE TO finish college, I couldn't stand to do this EVERYDAY forEVER!" Not to mention "how will I ever survive on this pay?!".

Yes, working throughout college had a much stronger "intrinsic" value to me.

Thirdly, and this was the big one.... I have finished college.... as I like to say, I have finished college twice. After earning a Bachelors Degree and then a Masters and having worked in my career field... then to have a baby and go back to my college summer job was at first... VERY humbling.

While a majority of the customers I serve at work are friendly, personable or civil... I, like anyone in the field of customer service, meet a batch of "rotten-egg" customers. Personally, I don't mind the customers who aren't chatting or don't smile... its this other brand of people I have discovered. The "elitist".

There have only been a few and many "seem" to have "good" intentions....but when I encounter one, its a little life reminder for me; to not take myself so seriously, to remember how unattractive it to be so full of pride, narcissistic and judgmental towards others. And to remember to not catalog people so easily.

While these few customers are difficult to listen to...recently, I have come to enjoy them in my own strange way. I find a sense of humor in watching a man's face morph from pompous to shame when he stands at the counter lecturing me on how a woman like me "should be in school, improving and educating herself", reminding me to "get married before I 'bake one in my oven'", "to use condoms to avoid mistakes" and "to travel the world, not just get married and get tied down all to quick".

The transition a man's face makes between pompous to confusion to shame is remarkable to witness.

And it happens as I say (ever so politely and without a hint of sarcasm) that I have been married for 2 years and I have a 8 month old son, I have visited over 20 countries and when I find I doctorate program I like perhaps I will consider furthering my education and that I don't believe any child is  a mistake.... (insert smile)... "Have a great weekend, sir!".

After a long day ... sometimes the house comes last. lol

Working part time has also provided me with with another perspective, to truly appreciate how hard my husband works for our family. If you are a stay at home mom you can relate to feeling of "nothing is ever done"; the dishes, the laundry, paying the bills, making bottles, the feedings, the burp-ings, the cleaning, the budgeting..... it can feel like its never-ending... because it is never ending!

I enjoy clocking out at work, leaving a clean store, everything I needed to get done today... accomplished!

But coming home after a long day to a husband has been in the house all day with a laundry basket full of clothes he never got the chance to fold, a baby in the high chair to distracted to eat his dinner and floor covered in "baby puff snacks" can be a little overwhelming at times. Instead of it causing arguments and annoyances, surprisingly, it has helped Michael and I respect each other's roles by providing us with the other person's perspective.

When the baby is finally asleep and the house is straightened up we sit on the porch and talk about our day.Michael, who works the weekdays, usually is bummed he missed out on baby time...but on weekend nights he is excited the baby is asleep peacefully in his crib and apologizes he forgot to cook dinner. Since I stay home with Jamie full time usually my porch conversation is a relay of Jamie's day and how I wish the baby had been a better mood so I could have gotten my shopping done and finished the laundry but instead I apologize that I'm home later than I thought I would be and vent about weird customers.

My little mess making machine!

Of course, we miss having all our weekends together to spend as a family, but for now I feel as if we are killing two birds with one stone. It was difficult for me to walk away from teaching to stay home full time. I liked teaching, but I knew I would feel regret later if I didn't take advantage of the opportunity to stay home, raise our son, get us settled in our new home. I also knew that while I had such a young child at home I would not be able to be the teacher, the wife, the mother, the friend or the person I wanted to be if I attempted to do it all.

I believe women can do it all. Millions of women around the world prove this everyday! But I don't believe women should feel forced to do it all. If my family needed to me to go back to work full time, I would. But while this opportunity for me to stay home exists I want to try to take advantage of it. And more importantly I want to appreciate it and enjoy it.

I never would have imagined that working 10-18hrs on a weekend would provide so much insight for me.

It seems as if the idea of women staying home to raise their children is a thing of the past, something I thought I would be able to do without any hesitation or resistance but it is work!!! Work that doesn't pay bills, there is no manager to ask for direct instructions for a difficult task, there is no number to call in to as to request the day off or to report that you will running late, work that NEVER ends, work that there are no sick days or vacation days and work that no one is around you all day to see that you are accomplishing everything that you are. It is truly a job that you as the parent have to believe is best for your family. And it is MUCH easier said then done.

GTG, baby is up!

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I'm a "Grown Up"... drop the quotations.

I have been experiencing a rude awakening lately. Or maybe I should call it a reality check, a harsh reality check. I feel I am coming to term with my age. Currently I am only twenty-six years old and it's not that I'm feeling "old" but I have begun to not feel so "young".

When I was in second grade, I would admire the thirteen-year-old eighth graders and think to myself... "when I'm in 8th grade, I'll be a grown up." Once I entered 8th grade I realized how foolish  that was and I would adjust my thinking ... "when I graduate high school, thats when I'll be 'grown up'." At the end of high school I, again found myself laughing at myself, I adjusted my thinking again... "when I finish college."

Needless to say this "I'm a grown-up cut off date" has been rewritten numerous time since then. It has come to include "when I finished grad school, when I'm married, when I get out of Steubenville, when I get a real job..etc" And I have to say I have finally hit the marker.

Baby Jamie

"When I have a baby."

That's the one.

When Jamie was born I knew it. There was no more pushing the "grown up" milestone back. Not because I didn't want to, but because the feeling I had been waiting for had finally hit. There was no mistaking it. Of course this all probably sounds pretty foolish but whether or not you have ever thought about the end of your childhood I have to admit a certain amount of mourning and reflection takes place.

For me... this year, so far, has caused me to reflect on my childhood in so many ways.

Strangely enough I didn't put any thought into the subject when I first had Jamie. Probably because I was so exhausted from the move across country, the new job, nine months of pregnancy, 48 hours in labor, 5 days in NICU and the three months of midnight and early morning feedings. It was this summer when it all hit me... and the trigger... oddly enough, was the release of the last Harry Potter movie.

Ok, ok, I know what you are thinking. Really?!!? Harry Potter?!

"Grown Up" Harry and Ginny Potter

I started reading Harry Potter when I was fourteen. Not that I am by any means an avid reader, but Harry Potter  was the first book I really got excited about reading everyday, the first book I would choose to stay up and read rather than sleeping (and if you know me at all... you know I LOVE sleeping). If it wasn't for the horrendously funny portrayal of Harry and cast dressed to be in their 40's as the last scene, I'm sure I would have sobbed rather than laughed uncontrollably.


Then came September 11th. The 10th Anniversary of September 11th. I watched 9/11 happen from my high school sophomore classroom. At the time concerned for the people killed and their families, worried for my country, my friends considering enlistment after high school and the war that was to most likely to follow these attacks. I remember thinking "my friends will be fighting this war."

Welcome Home Party for my cousin
whom spent a year deployed in the Middle East.
He was only 12-years-old on 9/11/01.

This September, ten years later, I watched the news' memorial service and felt a very different level of...well...sadness. I thought of all those who have sacrificed their lives, sacrificed their husbands, sons, daughters, wives, mothers, fathers and friends. People who sacrificed years of their lives, their mental well being and time with their families to protect us. I thought of my husband, who is in the National Guard, my son and what the future holds for him.

I thought of the other side... the mothers in the Middle East watching this all unfold first hand while they raised their children. I remember being overwhelmed, turning off the TV and looking at Jamie in my lap sucking down his afternoon bottle before nap time and thinking "there is a woman over there feeding her son who does not have the luxury of turning off the violence with the click of a button."

Papa and I - December 2008

This month my 85 year old grandfather is in the hospital. He has been diagnosed with congenital heart failure. While his body has aged significantly, mentally he is still very sharp. When I visit him he is talkative, reactive and very familiar. Just like when I was a child he shares stories of growing up in New York City in the 1930's. The navy boats he toured in the harbor, the planes he would see fly over head. He talks about what life was like as an orphan during the depression.
 He describes the places he traveled to around Europe during World War II. He rarely ever tells us anything about the conflicts he participated in, even though we know there were many. He attempts to get us interested in all the Navy ships he has studied, the planes, jets and air craft carriers he's seen and when we can't relate he shares stories about working at the JFK airport as a Port Authority      
                                                                                      officer.

He has been sharing stories of his life with me ever since I can remember and while I know he leaves out a great deal of experiences I still have yet to hear a re-run. A life time of stories, a life time a events, experiences, encounters, moments, thoughts and discoveries. He only married once and has six children, eleven grandchildren and two great grandsons. Such a full life.

Three Generations. Baby James, Poppa & Great Papa

My husband stayed home from work so I could avoid taking Jamie to the hospital to see Papa. After talking with an 85-year-old man for 3 hours to come home and see my 7 month old son... it was overwhelming. I kept repeating it over and over again in my mind... "They are 85 years apart!"

Between spending time with the two of them...time... seems to take on a whole new meaning. Life seems to take on a whole new meaning, as well.

Dear Cousin, sister in law & FUS Freshmen,

I wanted to write you, to warn you. I want to warn you that you are about to meet some REALLY weird people. You are about to hear people say some REALLY weird shit. You are about to see some REALLY weird things.

I wanted to warn you that you are about to experience the most amazing 4 years of your life.

If your scared. You should be. But NOT for the reasons listed below.

FUS "The Circle"

In my first month at FUS I was always in a horrible mood. Maybe it was because my roommate woke up at 4am, turned on all the lights to read "the God-given scripture". As if that justified her scheduling the crack of dawn 3 hours before God intended.

While in mass, I had someone repeatedly hit me in the back of the head, as she was praising God so hard with her palms up and out, and worse over, she was so engulfed in her praising I couldn't get her attention to make her stop.

Numerous times, I heard people exchange stories about them "speaking in tongues" and some claiming that after a serious prayer session they had levitated.

Hanging out in Tommy

I also remember girls approaching me at random saying "Remember not to show off the four B's."  At the time I had NO idea what the were talking about.

The two dates I had been brave enough to go on my first semester, both ending up asking me the questions, "how many children would be interested in having, what are your political views and do you want to go pray with me outside the abortion clinic in Pittsburgh on Saturday?"

I called my mom repeatedly... "I am not Catholic!"

Karaoke Night

I truly felt that way. There was no relating to these people. I didn't do the things they did and at the time I did not want to be associated with them or any of it. Therefore, I was NOT Catholic!

Sure I attempted to make friends. For the most part it seemed a bit hopeless. I had come from a small private school, where things like drinking and snorting coke was many people's idea of a good time, so when a girl from down the hall invited me to go out with her for a "good time"... I was surprised.
 Friday night came and she led me to the tennis courts beside the dorms..... and explained to me what frisbee-golf was.

I thought she was joking.

Not that I was ever interested in doing drugs... but really? I was 19. I remember thinking..."I'm too old for this crap!"

FL girl - First time in the snow

About three months in my fall semester I met a group of girls that made it all tolerable. We acted as each other's support. For me it was perfect. It still didn't shield me from all of it but when I was overwhelmed by it all I could take a break with one of them. Even though it was a sorority, it was NOT your typical sorority. Sure we went out drinking, dancing and for karaoke. But a majority of our time was spent in similar ways as the majority of people on campus doing simple things. Not frisbee-golf but...

In my first couple semesters at FUS I attempted to play guitar, piano and the harmonica. A friend taught me how to crochet a scarf, make a snow man and make your own cigarettes to save money. As a group we attended campus events and even held some of our own. I taught girls how to braid hair and cook.

I had no idea that it would be this small group of girls and that school that would mold me so much.

And I'm sure none of us did it on purpose. For a while I thought maybe it happened because the school is in a small town, but I know other schools that are in small towns that are just party schools. Eventually I decided that it had to happen at FUS and for me, it had to happen with this sorority.

Dancing in the Trevie Fountain in Rome, Italy '05

My first semester at FUS, I was so disappointed. I had spent one year at a "real college" and while I didn't have the time, the money or the balls to go out and get drunk or stoned, it "felt" like college... which in turn made me feel like I had "grown up". Now I was at this school where campus parties were full of bibles, youth group guitar music and even people playing tag or frisbee all the time.

I felt like I went from college to Christian Summer camp.

I would explain this frustration to my senior sorority sisters and they would say "I know what you mean, but trust me... it gets better." Secretly, I figured they were crazy people as well. lol

When in Rome.

It wasn't until my second year at FUS that it all began to make sense. I attended the European Study Aboard Program with 120 fellow students. I won't give you every detail but, at some point I just let go. I sat in the 400 year old chapel on campus and prayed and then....I stopped fighting them.

I just let them have it. I didn't question them, try to explain, rationalize it and even try to understand them. I knew some of them HAD to be that religious or they would fall apart, but others were just that into God and the Church and they were just that happy!

It was those people I began to form a curiosity with... and eventually even friendships.

Volunteering @ LAMP with the Bishop of Steubenville

I showed them that people who liked to drink, smoke and even used the occasional profanity in common conversation weren't demons. They in turn showed me that people who started their mornings with Mass, prayed before every meal and ended their evenings with adoration, weren't praying to God to keep them on the straight and narrow or to keep themselves on a pedestal away from the everyday person, but were doing it out of love.


I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew what worship was. I thought I knew God. They showed me there was more. And while I never truly advanced my faith in the ways they did, I began to experience it in my own time and in my own ways letting God and the Church lead. Slowly.

My View from my '08 Graduation

As an adult today, double alumni of FUS (BA and MS degree), wife,mother, home owner, homemaker, part time employee and Catholic... I look back and thank FUS and its students and faculty.

Firstly, for putting up with my stubbornness and impatience. But more so, for reminding me that at 19 I wasn't "grown up". Sure I was an adult by legal standards, but I was far from being done with "growing".

Looking back, I find myself as any adults see the younger version of themselves ...foolish. I laugh about it now. Sure I remember the amazing classes, lectures and presentations that I attended to earn my degrees... but what is more vivid and memorable are the lessons on love.

Love for my peers and love for God. And if any of you are lucky enough to experience the Austrian Study Program you will SURELY learn how to love life in all its forms. I learned that love is a choice and if you don't know love that way, stay at FUS and you will.

As you begin your college journey at FUS. I can't help but find myself envious. I'm not saying it is going to be easy. But as college courses will soon demonstrate...REAL learning is NEVER easy.

June2009, My FUS friends and me... On my wedding day

Hopefully, you won't be as stubborn, impatient or as judgmental as I was. But, even if you are... you will notice what I did, that the love that dominates over FUS' campus will not cease. Another lesson in itself, I suppose.

My advice... be patient. Don't give up on people but take your time. Remember to pray, even if you do it in private (as to avoid being beaten in Mass) and smile, even if its just a little smile every now and then.

Many people find love to be scary and overwhelming. I never really considered myself one of those people, but perhaps I was.

And.... enjoy! Your life is going to be completely flipped upside down whether you like it or not. But that is just the nature of life... it is always changing. As an adult you have the responsibility and opportunity to decide how you would like your life altered, for better or worse.

My husband, also an FUS alum and I

This University is going to teach you something in a couple years that many people spend their whole lives trying to figure out. Its a big, hard, complicated lesson... the sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be.

"What is Love?"

I will end with a quote from St. Catherine of Siena. It sums up what college life, FUS life and life is general is about. Not to mention she was a tight buddy of St Francis and the patron Saint of my sorority.

"Nothing great is ever achieved without much enduring" - St. Catherine of Siena.

Decide how you want to endure.

Congratulations on your first day of Orientation... FUS Class of 2015.

PS> The phrase "remember not to show your Four-B's" means... "remember not show off your Back, Belly, Boobs or Butt."

Whats cooking in my kitchen?

I think cooking shows are RIDICULOUS, as well as many cook books. Realistically, I'm not willing to spend the $$$ on a bunch of strange, specialty items from 3 different stores. Nor am I willing to pull out a thousand appliances, spoons, pots and pans to cook anything short of a Thanksgiving dinner.

To me... a winning recipe is one in which the ingredients are familiar and available for purchase at a local grocery for a reasonable price and no more than 4 dishes need to utilized to prepare it.

This Summer (2011) I began attempting a new style of cooking. A healthier style of cooking. Focusing on more vegetarian, vegan, low salt, low fat ... but high flavor meals!!!

It was a challenge at first but recently I've really grown to like it. Let me know what you think.

Click the Recipe tab above to check out whats cooking in my kitchen.

Establishing a Homebase

I walked around nervous. I didn't know if people could tell. Could they tell by the way sat, stood or even walked? I was always so very careful. We needed me to have this job and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it a secret.

It was late-September when I pulled into the drive way, followed shortly after by my mother. She was rambling on and on about how she found another one and we just had to go see it. My husband, Mike, came out from the house. We had been staying with my parents ever since we finished school in Ohio.

My mom must have really liked this one, as she still hadn't put the car in park and was shouting out the window to Mike to grab a pair of shoes and explaining to me what a "flat roof" was. 

We had been shopping for a house now for 4 months. Even with the housing market crash, pickings were still limited, considering our budget. 

As my mother explained this house's location, I caught myself only half listening. I wasn't sure if it was because I was so overwhelmed by it all; the house hunting, the new job, the constant worrying, living with my parents while being married... so much was happening I had not planned on, or ever dreamed would happen.

This flat roof home was walking distance from the church where I was baptized 26 years ago and where I said "I do" to my husband 16 months ago. 

"Yikes! Its only been one year," I think it so hard... I say it out loud. 

I must have interrupted  my mother, she passes a confused look my way and then continues on. 

She has been so wonderfully supportive. Patient, kind, motivating.... its amazing, when your 16 you think your mother is so evil, so power crazy or controlling.. as an adult, its so refreshing to sit in a room with a woman you've known your whole life. When your a child, a band-aid and your mother's kiss goes so far to soothe your worries/pain... as an adult its her smile and a cup of hot tea.

I must have let my mind wonder off again because its not until we pull into this tiny house's drive way that I can actually hear the words  my mother is saying... "see the flat roof there guys?"

The yard is beautiful, roses, crape myrtles, hanging plants, a bird bath and ornate bird feeder and even my favorite... a garden gnome by the front door. I can hardly focus on anything now as she rings the door bell and we walk inside. 

The smell of decades of cooking is lingering in the house. Regardless that its current resident has been smoking in doors I can smell the garlic, the onion and even a hint of something sweet, like.... cake. Although, lately I can smell everything. I could tell you what the lunch ladies are cooking for the students by 9am, I can determine which kid in class farted, whose parents smoke at home and what someone had for breakfast that morning by the smell on their breathe. Surprisingly, many 12 year-olds seem to eat pop-tarts, soda and gummy bears for breakfast. 

Mike's stare snaps me back in reality and I stop daydreaming about gummy bears. My mom seems to be waiting for the man to give us a tour of the house but considering its so small, it almost seems pointless. He makes a gesture for us to roam down the hallway. To the left a small bathroom, ahead the master bedroom, although we come to learn later its not the largest bedroom in the house. As the hallway turns right we pop our heads into the other two bed rooms, small with large turn and crank windows from the 60's.

My mother keeps the resident busy with questions... I can hear her ramble on, "So when was the house built? And has the roof been replaced recently?". 

Thank goodness she asks him something, I have no idea what to say. As I look down to eye the carpet I realize I didn't know I was wearing sandals today. I could have sworn I put on sneakers. I think to myself, "I should wear sneakers more often, soon I won't be able to bend over so easily. Soon I won't be able to see my feet!"

"Hey, love! Are you okay?"  It seems like Mike asks me this ten times a day. 

Normally it could be viewed as annoying, but recently its his way of bringing me back around to focus. I let out a frustrated sigh as I follow him the four feet down the hall into the "master bed room". He gives me a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. I am always so amazed how calm and patient Mike is, so unlike me. I apologize again for being so "zoned-out" and he smiles. 

The hug becomes uncomfortable and I try to wiggle out of it without Mike worrying about me again. I look around the room and think to myself how small it is. I try picturing myself sleeping in a bed in this room, coming out of the shower, opening the closet, getting up two to six times in the middle of the night.. "Will I walk into that door?" I wonder. 

I start picturing it all and I mean it all. 

I hear my mother perfectly clear at the other side of the house, less then 20 ft away. "So, the house is how big? Eight-hundred and forty square feet? Ok."

I'm starting to feel queezy again... a mixture of nauseous, nerves and panic. I start running numbers through my head, our income versus the asking price and the interest with the loan, thinking over our credit reports and when the student loans will be due. I feel my stomach turn and that's when I am reminded yet again. That's not me, that's not my stomach turning over. 

It's our baby.

"Thidbideoux" (tid-bid-do) as Mike calls him/her. Even though I'm five months we've opted out of knowing the gender of the baby. Every time I am reminded I am pregnant I get the jitters. Yea, I'm excited to be pregnant and have a baby with my amazing husband but I'm terrified. Two weeks after graduation, I discovered we were expecting. Mike had only been at his new job for two days when I told him, he was going to be a father.

Will I be able to get up a million times a night? Will Mike and I get along with a crying baby around? Will we ever go on a date again? Will I like being a mother? Am I capable of caring, paying for, nurturing, providing for and loving a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, a young adult? 

Whoa! 

I can feel my mind wondering off again... flashes of pacifers, dirty diapers, teenagers with head phones in, missing children on news reports, doctors bills, medicine, permanent marker on the walls... a big, hot mess haired me climbing out of bed at 4am to feed a baby. 

I try focusing on Mike. Its no use. I feel like the walls are closing in or maybe I think the room is just that small?

Another rush is coming on... flashes of a baby on my hip while trying to check out at Walmart, a fussing toddler throwing a temper tantrum, chicken pox, throw-up that misses the toilet.

"So, do you want to make on offer?"

Mike's voice seems to clear away the crazy woman voices in my head. 

"Uhh.." I try to take a minute and focus, be objective, focus... come on focus. I can't.

I glance at the open door way from the bed room into the hall. And I swear I see it. 

Just for a moment. I see a   baby, tall like when Mike was a baby and lean, like when I was a baby, pitter-pattering down the hall around the corner, giggling the whole way.  

The image catches me off guard. I have no idea where it came from. I walk into the hall and look back into the room and then it happens. I see it all. 

Our First Home

I see a bed in the room with a thick, comfy blanket, pictures on the wall and two very small night stands. I smell baby powder and spaghetti sauce cooking. For a moment the worries faded. 

"Yes! I see us here Mike."

We moved in 2 months later, 3 weeks before Christmas.