One day, I’m going to get an internship at the Behr Paint Factory. I’ll show up for work in jeans and sit in one of those spinning desk chairs that tip back. I’ll prop my feet on the desk and throw Nerf basketballs in the net above the coffee machine. I’ll spend the whole day brainstorming with my jean-clad co-workers about paint names.
I’ll yell out, “Champagne Moon, you know, for that iridescent yellowish quality that a full moon has.”
The gal at the corner desk will say, “Crushed Grass, you know… when you step on grass and it gets that lighter shade of Kelly Green.”
There will be that guy in the office who hits on every female, and he’ll say, “How about Wet Sheets, for….”
And the girl at the corner desk will roll her eyes and cut him off.
In the meantime, I’m glad the three of us were able to agree on the colors for our bathroom remodel.
It’s the small victories that make a life.
As we were rolling Tender Twilight over the walls, I was thinking of how we’ve been in this home for five years. Not sure why it took so long to get around to painting the bathroom.
The kids are enjoying the process. Stick a roller in their hands and suddenly they’re full of confidence.
It’s only paint.
If we screw up, we can paint over it.
How else do they learn unless they’re given a chance to try?
When their dad heard we were undergoing a bathroom remodel, he chimed in with tips. Will nodded his head, smiled through clenched teeth and said, “Thank you.”
Kids were too young to paint when we lived at Mark’s house. I was allowed to try my hand at painting, but when he re-painted my attempts, I lost my confidence.
It takes awhile to silence those critical voices.
It’s only paint.
We aren’t painting the Sistine Chapel here.
When we are done with our project, Mark will ask to see the results. When he tells us what we should have done differently – and he will – the three of us will smile through clenched teeth, and quietly nod our heads.
As Tender Twilight dried to the color of Caribbean waters under an overcast sky, it occurred to me that when we were done, we’d have a white pedestal sink and beige toilet and shower.
Jenny said, “But mom, it’s okay. It brings out our funky.”
But what if we sell the house? Don’t we have to worry that this house will appeal to a new buyer?
And in the middle of my third coat of Snow Fall on the baseboards and trim, I realized that I don’t want to live with a bathroom that I hope someone else will like some day.
I don’t want to go on believing that I can’t do something as simple as paint a bathroom, just because someone once told me that nine years ago.
I am going to Google and learn and try and re-do.
I am going to ask for help if I need it.
I may mess up. I will re-paint if I have to.
I am going to allow my kids the fun of experimenting with texturing walls and painting.
I’m going to show them how to scrub the drops of dried paint off the back of the toilet.
I don’t want to walk into a hardware store believing that I can’t change a light fixture and that I better get a man to help me. I will buy a fixture, read the directions, and try to install it myself. (I did it!!)
I am going to show Will and Jen that it is possible to complete a project with patience and a modicum of swear words.
I am going to teach them that it’s all about the prep, and that the job will turn out as good as the prep work you do in the beginning.
If they don’t see that the lessons they learn in painting a bathroom also apply to life, then I’ll point that out to them, too.
If it ever comes down to selling this house, there will be someone out there who loves the combination of Tender Twilight and Snow Fall in a funky bathroom.
They will hate upper kitchen cabinets as much as I do.
Next project? Ripping out kitchen cabinets.
I’m thinking of going with Chili Red.