Move toward the light

If you've been around long enough, you know the 4th Frog Blog has its roots in Charlie's First Communion and my attempts to makeover the first floor bathroom before the big celebration. (If this is news to you, check it out here. Seriously, click the link.)

Fast forward 4 years. Today is Robbie's First Communion. The bathroom is no longer yellow. But it is still glowing.I was smart enough to hire someone else to paint it. I should have let him pick the color, too.

I think I might frame this picture. I'll call it: "When it's your time to go, move toward the light."

Livin' the day

Wow. Today was a great day. I am dog tired, but in a good way.

It was just one of those mostly ordinary days. I slept until 9am -- that's always a good start. When I got up, I decided to make my grocery list and gather my coupons because it's pretty slim pickin's in our fridge and pantry.

Do you know that it took me almost two hours to get through all the coupon inserts and try to match them up to the sales? By then, it was time to make lunch and then get ready for Charlie's soccer game. So while the kids finished lunch, I ran to Target to get a few must-haves, including dishwasher soap.

It was the first time that I've had a chance to use Mike's Target discount. I saved $5.20. Not riches, but I'll take it. Mike is really enjoying the job. It's not what he wants to do forever, but I think he's happy to be working as part of a team.

Then it was off to Charlie's soccer game. I really love watching soccer. I grew up playing it (bet you wouldn't have guessed that, huh?). Charlie's been playing with the same team for about 2 years. It's technically a travel team, but so far the travel has all been pretty local.

He scored a beautiful goal today. He was standing just in front of right midfield when the ball came to him. He set it up and took an awesome left-footed shot that sailed right through an opening in the defenders and arched to the left into the goal. Just after he made the shot, I wished that I'd had a videotape of it to show it here. But, in truth, I was enjoying just living the day and being present in the moment.

After soccer, we went to the First Communion Mass (which counts as Sunday Mass, so woohoo! Guess who is sleeping in tomorrow?!). All those little girls in pretty white dresses and boys who look like mini versions of their fathers in khakis and navy sport coats, faces clean and hair brushed (for once!).

We were invited to our friends' house to celebrate their son Jack's First Communion. So we finished out the evening sitting around visiting with friends, which is always good.

See? Nothing too special. But definitely a great day. Hope yours was too.

Adventures in Painting, part III

The Intervention

How’s that song go? “I get by with a little help from my friends…”

Though I’m sure I knew it before, this bathroom painting drama has shown me that I have two different types of friends.

First, there are the supportive, let’s-make-the-best-of-it type friends. Like my friend Jane, who willingly risked her retinal health to put two final coats of ultrabright orangey yellow paint on my bathroom walls. That would be coats seven and eight for those of you who are counting (2 coats primer + 6 coats paint).

Jane’s efforts at least evened out the paint job that I’d done (and redone and redone and redone – well you get the picture), though the extra coats just added to the literal glow of the room.

“You know, once you get the mirror up and hang your pictures, it will tone down,” Jane tried to assure me.

Ahh, sweet Jane.

Then there are the equally supportive, tell-it-like-it-is-for-your-own-good type of friends. Like my Friday morning coffee buddies, Beth and Denise. They were well aware of my bathroom redecorating trials and tribulations. So, when I told them that I needed to head back into the bathroom to paint the trim, Denise spoke up.

“Amy, I love to paint. I’ll paint your trim for you.”

Ummmm….hello??? She loves to paint? Why didn’t she speak up five or six coats ago?

Unable to contain my excitement, but also wanting to make sure Denise knew what she was getting into, I brought Denise and Beth to the house to see the bathroom. Now, up to this point, I thought these two were friends of the Jane variety – that is I thought they’d get a little chuckle at the radiance of my bathroom walls, but that they’d pat me on the back and say all would be well.

So, we stood in front of the open bathroom door, I flipped on the light and what did these two church-going friends of my have to say?

“Holy sh!#!” They both put on their sunglasses, followed by a few gasps and exclamations of “I thought you’d been exaggerating.” And, “You really weren’t kidding!”

In about 3 minutes time (they couldn’t stand to look any longer than that), the plan had escalated from Denise painting the trim to an old-fashioned intervention: Beth and Denise would re-paint the entire bathroom.
Before they left the house – once their eyes had re-adjusted to the dim level of daylight – I had a list of supplies they would need, including Kilz primer in white, and yellow paint at least two shades later than the “Sun Ray” shade that I’d already painted.

The plan was that they would return the following Friday, foregoing our usual Friday morning Panera routine. So Thursday night, I returned to Home Depot, supply list in hand. Rather than just moving a few shades down from Sun Ray, I leaped to a whole new palette of yellow, selecting “Lemon Sorbet” after much consideration.

I called Denise on the way home and offered to cover the walls in the Kilz primer before they arrived, if she thought that would help.

“You’ve helped enough,” Denise quickly informed me. “Stay out of the bathroom.”

Now, I have to admit that wasn’t 100% sold on the need to repaint the bathroom. Would Jane’s feeling be hurt when she found out that her efforts had been covered with Kilz? We hadn’t even tried to diffuse the color by hanging the pictures and mirror in the bathroom. Was I jumping the gun by letting Beth and Denise have their way with my bathroom?

I got my answer when I turned on the bathroom light later that evening. Everyone was in bed and I was on my way there. I turned out the lights in the family room and kitchen. As I walked by the bathroom, I flipped on the light to view the bathroom in all its golden splendor once more.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” I swear I heard the “Hallelujah Chorus.” The glow from the bathroom was such that I was almost certain the gates of heaven had been opened and I was being summoned to go toward the light. Except, instead of the warm, peaceful feeling I’ve heard near-death survivors tell of, this feeling was eye piercing and downright painful.

“Ok, I’ll let them paint tomorrow,” I decided.

Friday morning arrived and so did Denise and Beth. After a little coffee and chit chat, they got down to business. In about an hour, eight coats and four days worth of painting were history, covered with two coats of white Kilz primer. Time for the next course…Lemon Sorbet.

“Amy!” Ok, that does not sound good. “You were supposed to go two shades lighter!” This was Beth screeching in disbelief.

There was no point in protesting. Apparently, Lemon Sorbet is to Sun Ray as Cruella DeVille is to the Wicked Witch of the West – different name, no less evil.

Which led to all three of us going BACK to Home Depot for a third paint selection. This time, my job was to whip out the credit card and to get lunch on the way back. I stood quietly while my friends debated the differences between Sun Shower, Citrus and Pale Daffodil. Sun Shower prevailed and went on beautifully in one coat.

All in all, the bathroom that I decided to paint myself to save money took five people (six if you count Robbie), two different primers, three different yellow paints, two weeks, 11 coats and nearly $300.

I think when it’s Robbie’s turn for First Communion, we’ll have his party somewhere besides our house. It’ll be a lot cheaper in the long run.

© Amy Magan, 2008

Adventures in Painting, part I

This past spring, I wrote a series of humorous essays about my experience giving our 1st floor bathroom a makeover. Thought I'd kick off my blog by posting these. Here's the first one:

April 2, 2008


Sometimes it might be easier to be Baptist.

My son Charlie is preparing for his First Holy Communion. Generally, in the second grade, Catholic boys and girls learn about the mystery of Jesus Christ being present in the Eucharist. It is a critical step in the Catholic faith.

At the same time, their parents try to solve mysteries like “what is that melted into the carpet and will it come up before the First Communion party?” They look at their homes with a critical eye, determining what must be attended to before guests will be allowed into the house.

I’ve known this event in Charlie’s life was coming. And I’ve known that the first floor bathroom needed serious attention before the festivities. So, last weekend, in an unexplained burst of energy, I peeled the no-longer pretty picket fence wallpaper border from the walls of the bathroom. I went to the basement, dug out a print that has been in storage since we moved to this house 10 years ago and determined it to be just right to be the focal point of the new bathroom décor. I took down the oversized mirror that I’ve hated for years. And I made the first of two big mistakes in this bathroom re-model.

First, I decided that the walls would go from chambray blue to sunflower yellow. Then – here comes the second big mistake – I decided that I would do the painting myself.

So, I took all the hardware off the walls. No problem. I walked into Home Depot and purchased spackle, painter’s tape, primer, paint and this cool little edger thing that would make getting up to the ceiling and down to the baseboards easier. I even knew to have the primer tinted yellow. Pretty smart, huh?!

I spackled and re-spackled where needed. I sanded the spackle down to a smooth finish. So far, so good. Expertly masked off the baseboards and vanity with painter’s tape and began to wonder why we had wasted so much money hiring people to do our painting for us.

Now it was the time I’d been waiting for. I cracked open the lid of the primer and stirred it with excitement. It was such a good color, maybe I’d only need one coat of primer and one coat of paint.

I used the handy edger tool and filled in the rest with the roller. A few drips on the floor (and a couple of new “blonde” highlights on my dark hair), but not too bad. By this time it was after midnight, so I decided to call it a night. I washed out my paint tools and fell into bed.

In the morning light, I could see that one coat of primer was not going to be enough. So I set up shop to apply a second coat of primer. Two coats of primer, one coat of paint. That might do it.

Annie asked if she could help and quite frankly I was ready for a little break. Since it was just primer, I figured it would be all right to let her try. Besides, it would be good life experience for her. And really, she didn’t do a bad job. Well, except for the tiger stripes that now line her bangs. And the strip of yellow primer running down the white vanity. But all in all, not too bad.

Lunch time brought another painting “time out.” A hearty meal of pigs-in-a-blanket and strawberries strengthened my resolve to get back in the bathroom and put on what I hoped would be the first and final coat of real paint.

Wow! Now, that is YELLOW. Like a school bus. I’m sure by the time we hang the mirror (let’s make it a big one) and the picture that I’d dug out of storage, the impact of the color will be a bit toned down. So I painted on…

On the walls, on my hands, on my feet. My resolve to be a careful painter was beginning to wane. I was frustrated that while the edger did make nice, straight edges, when the paint started to dry, the “frame” created by the tool was quite apparent. I burned my wrist on hot light bulbs while trying to paint around the light fixture.

One coat on. Not enough – by a longshot. Probably will require at least two more coats. Do professional painters give you a sympathy discount to finish the job you’ve foolishly already started?

If it weren’t for First Communion, my bathroom would still be chambray blue and my feet, hands and hair would not be sporting streaks of sunflower yellow. Somedays it seems it might be easier to be Baptist.

For Part II of Adventures in Painting, click here.