Finger Paint

Painting. It's a simple skill. One mastered in Pre-K. Yet somehow I seem to have fallen through the cracks on that one. I can't paint a picture, wall, or even face paint to save my life.

Husby and I had decided to paint both kids rooms prior to moving in. Great. Simple. Cheap way to renovate a room. So he thought.

Let me start by explaining my disastrous beginning. Paint hasn't even been introduced yet. Taping. Who on EARTH made that look easy!?! Apparently you are supposed to keep the blue painters tape (why not pink or purple?) in one continuous line along trim and borders. I did not know this. I did it in strips as long as my tiny T-Rex arms allowed. And what's with the fancy tape that's attached to drop cloth plastic? Way to throw me through a loop!

After three treacherous hours of taping one tiny room, I set about laying the drop cloth. HOLY MAGOO. That &@$! is ridiculous. Imagine a short clumsy girl struggling with life sized Saran Wrap.

I'm sure you are imagining all of the colorful words falling out of my mouth by now. Husby decides to check on me, I believe it has finally hit him that I am past my comfort zone. He sees my feeble attempt at 'dropping cloths' and shakes his head. He is mega worried about the carpet. 'Remember babe, the more protection the better.' Ha. My dear sweet man, if I had you saying that over a year ago, we would be panting one child's room. Not two...

Fast forwarding to paint. After my all to enthusiastic paint job was complete, I stood back to look at my work. Not too shabby. But there's paint on the window. The ceiling. My pants. And on almost every square foot of those blasted drop cloths.

Sweet Husby just shakes his head in a defeated way. (You would think with all his head shaking at me he would have whip lash...) "Summer. You paint like a toddler."

Perhaps on our next home improvement project, he will just let me be the bartender.

Peace. Love. Paint fumes.
Xoxo Summer