Monday, January 05, 2009

Now where were we?

Throw together a trip home to PA for American Thanksgiving, a sick baby and emergency room visits, baby's first birthday celebrations, a whirlwind trip from long-lost friends, snowstorms, a terrible cold for me, Christmas, a visit from my parents, and utter exhaustion from the first trimester and you get this: desertion of a blog.
Oh boy. There of course is more to tell, those are just from the highlights reel. Like what happens when you ask Home Depot to match paint from Lowe's and what you do with the can of paint as soon as you are in your driveway, er parking spot.
Oh yes, friends, I have stories, stories of what happens when five year-olds develop routines that they are faithful to follow no matter when they wake up.
So let's dive in, shall we?
Firstly, I am expecting again. We are of course thrilled right after we forget how I am utterly exhausted the first three months of any pregnancy. But still no complaining, the Bible is against it and friends who have terrible morning sickness don't like to hear it either. The due date is set for the 6th of August known to be hot and humid but thankfully usually no threats of massive snowstorms keeping your husband from visiting you and your new daughter in the hospital. The months of July and August are quiet months for us after we finishing celebrating the births of two nations within three days of each other. So here's hoping and praying for a safe and smooth delivery. Baby K's was a middle of the road experience as far as labor stories go, so this one could either top it or sink way to the bottom of life experiences you'd be willing to do again.
Secretly I've already told my husband in a quiet fit of exhaustion that this is my last pregnancy. Of course worse has been said in the delivery room so we have that to look forward to!
Secondly, my husband took a day off from work during the holiday season and got to work painting our kitchen. I lounged on the couch and called out encouraging comments like, "Are you sure we have enough paint?" and "How about primer?"
What was I thinking? If the man wants to paint on his vacation, stop being the wet blanket and just unload the pantry that he has to lug away from the wall. The sanding and primer go on without a hitch and "we're" making quick progress. Then it's time to use up the last of the Lowe's paint "Belgian Waffle" while we debate whether we feel like making the 45 minute cross-border trip to the Lowe's in New York or just get the Home Depot 15 minutes away to match it with their spectrometer thingy. Since we have many errands to run we decide to stick close to home and try Home Depot's paint department. Everything costs more here but the Canadian dollar has slumped in recent months and it costs us about the same right now. Plus my husband has Home Depot gift cards to use. Bonus.
After a quick check with the paint technicians(is that their official title?)my husband runs out to the car to get the now empty Belgian Waffle can. They scan the color inside the can, derive a match, set the computer to add the colors and then throw the can in the mixing machine. The technician shows me the pinky-sized dab on the lid's sticker and it looks the same as our breakfast flavored paint. We make a final stop at the grocery store and pull into the condo parking lot. My husband, the strong man takes the baby in and an armload of groceries. I undo our son from his car seat and send him over to fetch our empty recycling bin a few yards from the car. I go to the back of the car, open the hatch and begin to load up the remaining items including a package of diapers, the empty paint can, and the other two bags of groceries. I rest the newly purchased can of paint on the back bumper while I re-adjust my packages and keep an eye on our son. All of sudden, I hear a soft thud and look down to see paint spilling everywhere on the snowy parking lot. I am in shock. My boot is covered and my jeans are splashed and paint is spreading. I set down the stuff in my hands, dropping the old can in the process so that it rolls under the rear tire out of sight and make an attempt to right the now nearly empty can of paint. I. cannot. believe. that. just. happened.

Multiple thoughts are racing through my head: wasted money, wasted paint, my husband's reaction as my son has returned just in time to gape at the disaster and say "What happened, Mommy?" I state the obvious which he is notorious for asking and tell him to start walking to the house with the recycling bin. He balks. I get angry. I tell him again raising my voice. He senses my unpleasant reaction and balks again. I raise my clean boot and give him a little kick on his snow-pant covered rear end and tell him to get going. He complains about the kick and I threaten more trouble if he does not comply. He does. My husband returns from the house to the parking lot and I gesture helplessly to the ground, "Look!" I say to him. It doesn't register. So I say with more panic in my voice, "LOOK!". He zones in on the snowy mess and immediately he is as disgusted with the whole thing as I am. I point out my boots and pants so he knows that I am suffering too and not just a troublemaker. Together we grab the rest of the stuff and walk silently to the house. I get in the door, take off my boots and rush them downstairs to the laundry room washsink. My husband then becomes my hero for the next hour or so. He cleans up the dripping paint can, mops up the spots on our entryway and then heads out to the parking lot with a bucket and a our son's snow shovel. He returns 10 minutes later and takes the whole mess to the laundry room and spends the next 15 minutes scrubbing my boot, the snow shovel and all the drippy mess. I of course had a baby to feed so I sat on the couch feeling horribly clumsy and guilty. I apologize to my husband who responds with a shrug that it was an accident. Later we hug as we assess how much paint we have left. He puts on his paint clothes and begins to paint. We eat supper and wait for the new paint to dry. A little while later, my husband makes the correct prediction that the new color isn't going to dry the same, it's darker.
And so it is and we like the Belgian Waffle color better. As you can see in the picture, the paint around the pantry is light and the new stuff is definitely darker. Exhale.
Now I don't know what to think. Did it matter that I spilled most of the paint since it doesn't match? Not only is the color off, the sheen is different. We were using eggshell for the Lowe's paint, but I think they must have grabbed an enamel for the base which I don't like either. So I think we'll be heading to Lowe's in the next little while to get the real waffle paint and get the whole kitchen back to one color scheme. At least we don't have to unload and move the pantry again.
Major lessons learned...back bumpers are sloped and will send anything resting on it to its demise, silently and quickly. And don't try to match paint from other stores just go with the tried and true.


  1. My dear friend!!!!!... what a day!!!... I did ot know if laugh or cry with you... it sounds kind of funny when you tell the story though... but know how it feels... next time, just eat the belgian waffles!. They are messy butnot that much. You see... you should have come to visit us instead! lol.

  2. Anonymous8:21 PM

    oh my heavens...i'm exhausted just reading that story!!

    but...congratulations!! what joy to have a new life in the house. i am smiling and rejoicing with you.

    hope you are feeling better and resting lots.

    btw, i saw your comment at susan's blog about the geography of oregon. i think you are in ontario? i was there this summer and marveled at all the rolling farmland and the beautiful countryside so different in ways from my own oregon landscape. it's so wonderful to get to see other parts of the world.

    bless you.


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