Bad Blogger...

Yup, that's me. I am a bad phone call returner, a bad emailer and now, a bad blogger. Sigh. It's been a busy week in the 45 Degrees household. Shall I just give you a recap?

Saturday: sometime in the middle of Ethan's nap with Husband, I hatched the idea that his room HAD to be painted blue. For some reason it hit me like a pregnancy craving--it could not be denied. It was like a 2am NEED for chocolate cake in the second trimester. Unstoppable. So when Husband woke up from said nap, I presented this plan with a healthy mix of enthusiasm and "yes, I know I'm crazy, but don't look at me like that. You knew I was a loon when you married me, so really this is all your fault."

In all fairness, I think my need to paint the room came from a very authentic place. When Ethan's nursery was painted, it was my parents and Husband who did the work; I was sitting in bed, one room over, grateful but lamenting that people who weren't pregnant with the baby were doing all the nesting for me. I didn't really get a chance to decorate his nursery until he was already here and months old, and even then, it was hang a picture this day, get a rug that day. While it was gorgeous when it was done, I never got that sense of true accomplishment. And thanks to the housing market being the lovely pit of hell that it is, we are going to be here for awhile. This means that baby #2 is going to be bunking with mom and dad for the duration, as we only have the two bedrooms. That means no nursery to decorate for that little one, either. Therefore, I think it makes perfect sense, from a psychological standpoint, that I would feel a strong need to have the experience of painting my child's room for him. Right? That's what the psych degree I got at the bottom of that Cracker Jacks box said, anyway.

This brings us to mid-afternoon Saturday. Husband and I settle on "Hundred Acre Blue" from the Disney collection at Home Depot. I take color swatch and proceed to stand in line at the paint kiosk for....20 minutes. Just to drop off the order. Just to say, "One gallon of this please, in whatever finish is easiest to clean." That's it.

Best of all is that I got to stand in line in front of that lady. You know the one. The lady with the running commentary about the line and how slow it is. The woman who has lost all sense of internal monologue and appropriate social filters. "This is the line? Really? This?" I gave her a withering smile to show that, yes, this was indeed the line, and I was in fact equally disgusted by it but I wasn't going to engage her in "I hate this line" banter. Ten seconds pass, "You think they'd have more people working the counter, (heavy sigh)." I give an "mmmm" of agreement, hoping it's enough to satisfy her back into silence and so much that she thinks its an opening to start an actual conversation of the horror that is the line.

Long story short (hardly likely), I escaped crazy line lady, got the paint, rollers, plastic tarp, and edger for the room. By the time we got home, the shine was coming off of this plan, I have to admit.

Sunday morning: It's hard to move a bunch of furniture around a room that's roughly the size of my fingernail. But we did; bed to the middle of the room, chair onto the bed. Various toys and piles of this and that found their way into our bedroom (and are still there). Then I painted. The theme of Ethan's room is supposed to be a Hawaiian, tropical theme, hence the obsession with the blue walls--sage green and butter yellow don't exactly scream tropics, right?

Well, after several hours of dripping paint in my hair and grazing both the woodwork and the ceiling with blue paint, I decided that Ethan only needed THREE blue walls and that one of them could definitely stay yellow and still accomplish the tropical feel. I mean, you've got blue sky, blue ocean and yellow sun, no? Tres artistique! Meh, more like tres lazy, but shhhhhhh.

After my fit of self-expression, Husband decided to put together an IKEA storage unit for Ethan's room. Ethan tried to help out; he's really good with tiny screws and dowels. Oh, is that bad?

Anyway, here it is...a nursery retrospective and a look at the current room.

Pretty nursery...

cute baby...

Mommy, mommy, there's too much stuff in my room!!!

I *heart* IKEA

blue room, big boy bed...it's like a whole other world in there now...

Daddy, I'm going to pull the IKEA building instructions out of my ear....

What the hell are you people doing to my room? Seriously.

Would you like to hire me to paint something for you? No? Really? Why?


Sigh. That was just two days of this week. There was much more, but you know what? I'm beat. I'll leave you with this: the title for my next entry will be identical to the new book I bought for Ethan this week, Hands Are Not for Hitting....