been inundated with a plethora of floor painting pins.
Thus, the next step in Eva's room makeover...
Painting the Floors.
Painting the Floors.
Which, as any project around here does, has taken over my every waking moment, while the rest of the house goes to shambles.
Case in point, here's a convo I had with my oldest son, Greyson,
This morning about 15 minutes before the bus was due:
"Mom, where are the shorts that were in the wash?"
Me: "Did you have shorts in the wash?"
Me: "Then they're in the dryer."
He goes, looks, comes back: "No, they're not."
Him: "No." And I get the age-old teenage look of "Why do you have to be my mother?"
Me: "Are you sure they're not in the dryer?"
Him (Exasperated): "Yes, mother."
I go look in the dryer... No shorts, but I did find a basketball practice jersey.
Him: "Yes I did, Mother." (Long suffering tone of a teenager.)
Me: "Well, obviously you didn't because they're not in the dirty clothes, they're not in the washing machine, and they're not in the dryer."
Him: Exasperated sigh and look of sheer disgust that he's stuck with such an unorganized person as his mother.
Me: "What did you need them for?"
Him: "They're my game shorts."
Me: "Oh. Well, can you use another pair?"
Him: Another look that he seems to have perfected since turning 13 last year.
Five minutes later....
Me: "Did you find another pair of shorts that will work?"
Him: "Oh, yeah. I remembered I didn't bring them home. They're in my gym locker."
Me: "Hmmm... Imagine that. Well, that's good then."
Me: "Apology for thinking you have the most stupid mom on the planet?"
Him: "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Mom."
Slight smile of victory... "Have a great day at school. See you at the game."
And off he went.
Just another morning at Our Prairie Home.
At least when there's a project in the making.
That's proof that I am not organized and
when I do work on something big like a room makeover,
everything else goes to pot.
Keeping It Real #8.
If I hadn't had a ginormous mound of clothes to fold in the living room,
I would have been able to say definitely that
I hadn't done something with his shorts.
But it was very possible that the growing mountain
of wrinkled cotton could have taken his shorts as hostage
and then eaten them.
Story of my life.
Can't do it all - and do it well.
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Yesterday, Scott rolled on the 2nd coat of wall paint,
while I started with the first coat of trim paint.
I admit I was moving slow and
didn't accomplish as much as I had intended.
Today, I'll finished up painting the trim and doors.
Tomorrow, I'll begin prepping the floors for paint.
Can't say I'm looking forward to it.
I see sore knees in my future.
One thing you won't hear people talk about with
old hardwood floors, is they trap dirt.
All those wonderful gaps that show they were cut and laid by hand,
trap every bit of dirt you can imagine...
along with small beads and God knows what else.
So, we talked about caulking the gaps.
But I really, really like the looks of the gaps in a painted floor.
We haven't decided what we're going to do yet.
Does that surprise you?
And while I would love to be artistic and patient enough
to recreate some of the wonderful floors I've pictured above,
I know I am not...
Patient enough, that is.
I think I'll just be satisfied with the fact that her floors
no longer look like someone was violently ill on them.
Or who knows?
Maybe I'll surprise myself and do something fun.
The thing about me is, I never know what I'm going to do!
I can always...