By the time you got used to our beige town-house on 85th Street and mentioned our blue Austin house less and less, we moved again. This time to our own home. It's what they call a fixer-upper, though so far it's been mostly a fixer. We knew what we were getting into, or so we thought, but for the neighborhood, and the lake nearby, we decided that it was worth it.
We packed everything in boxes, a scene you have witnessed many times since birth, and on July 8, we moved. The house did not preserve the historic charm of its 1923 origin, and the lost was not replaced by any modern charm. The place has been under construction since we moved in, and all cleaning efforts were short lived due to dirt and dust generated by constant work. You called it a dirty house, and were not happy. So I told you that the house was a baby that kept pooping on itself, and that we needed to help it grow. You enjoyed the analogy, and played along with it with a much more positive attitude. When you saw a messy corner because we were patching a hole on the wall or the closet rack collapsed, and with it all the clothes, you'd say "the house pooped on itself again."
We were determined to fix your room fast, and before anything else. We discussed the color for your walls, but when you said you wanted a rainbow, I painted all sky blue, to replace the depressing dark blue original. In the pictures below, you can see the prep work, where ceiling and moldings are protected with blue tape and your furniture with plastic.
By the time I was done with two layers of primer and two coats of paint, and million other repairs, I was getting discouraged by the magnitude of the task I put myself into. And the happy little you, already told your teachers and friends at daycare, that mama was going to paint a rainbow in your new room, with butterflies, born out of it's colors, flying up into the sky, as you heard me describe the plan to you and papa. There was no turning back, so forward we charged, with paints, brushes stencils, and the vision of your happiness.
I made a "swing" shelf with birds that match your furniture color scheme. Papa carefully hung the hooks that hold up the branch.
You love wish berries, though most people call them dandelions.
"Mommy! You made my room just like I wanted!" I was going for your happiness, but your gratitude made the experience sublime.
For a while, your room was the only place we gathered as a family for dinner. "Picnic dinner" we called it, as we spread a blanket and ate on your carpet - always a home cooked meal, I'd like to add.
In the mean time, papa built your closet, so we removed your little girl's armoire and used the space for a big girl's desk and chair, something you've been wanting, ever since you heard papa and I talk about it. It's stocked with new crayons, markers and coloring books, for your enjoyment. I wonder what would occupy my mind instead, if I haven't had you.
The house is getting less and less poopy every day. We even have grass in the yard, and are building a patio. One night you and I will camp there.
Love Mommy.
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