happily exhausted
About a week before Mother’s Day I mentioned making some repairs/improvements at Mama’s house. She lit up like a Christmas tree. I figured in for a penny in for a pound. I said I would paint her kitchen and bedroom. I have never been able to ascertain why things always just "happen" in your head but when it comes to actually "making them happen" things go a bit squidgy.
There are a LOT of things that need attention in that house. Some things my daddy planned to do but just never managed to get around to for one reason or another. The kitchen was as it had it been for the last 25 years give or take a few. The bedroom had more recent work but it also held a lot of memories of daddy being so very sick. I wanted her to be able to start fresh.
Mama refused to pick the paint because she claimed she didn’t know what would look nice. I went to Home Depot and looked at paint samples until my eyes bled. Finally I settled on Spring Juniper (a light airy aqua green) for the kitchen and Pale Blush (a soft pink) for the bedroom.
Then I looked at the cabinets and shuddered. I remember when they were new. They are NOT new anymore and they just looked sad. So I decided to paint them as well. Mama was nervous. "What if you put paint on them and they fall slap to pieces?" I patted her on the back and told her if that happened we would have an excuse to shop for new cabinets and I would let her toss a match on the old ones. Mama is very trusting. I held my breath.
I spent a lot of time on a ladder and it blows monkey chunks. The ceiling had more cracks than the desert floor in July. It had NEVER been taped or mudded. The house that I grew up in was intended to be the garage or carriage house but things never got that far as the owner had to sell. The house is very small but every corner is filled to bursting with love and memories.
I repaired the ceiling and painted it a bright white along with the cabinets and molding. Mama bought brushed nickel cabinet pulls. The windows had never been completely painted so they got the full treatment as well. It took two coats of Kilz to cover the faded and stained paneling followed by two coats of the paint.
Mama kept telling me to wear shoes but I refused. I am technically supposed to wear them at all times. My reason for refusing was simple. If I was barefoot then I would know when I had stepped in paint and therefore limit the risk of tracking it all over the house. Mama helped when I would let her. It was her gift after all and I didn’t want her exhausting herself. Mainly she handed me tools and watched the clock making sure I ate at appropriate times.
I spent a lot of time alone though. One afternoon I was up the ladder painting the trim along the ceiling. I stepped down and started to step over to the paint bucket when I realized that my foot was stuck to the plastic sheeting protecting the floor. I thought, "Oh great. I stepped in paint." But when I looked down to wipe it away I saw bloody toe prints. I had cut my toe and never even noticed. I washed my foot in the kitchen sink. Let me tell you something. I am OLD and should never be asked to lift my leg that high without ample financial compensation! Mama came home and washed my foot again because that is what mothers do. She then said she was going to put some NuSkin on the cut. If you have never experienced that particular product I suggest you save it for your sworn enemies. It burns worse than iodine or alcohol. She went to work while I sipped iced tea. Finally I asked her when she was going to put the liquid fire on my toe. She had already done it. This was NOT good news. I didn’t feel the cut or the treatment. Hopefully most of the numbness will reverse itself when my A1C improves.
Mama bought a new refrigerator because hers was not working properly and was in my humble opinion a hunk of junk. She now has a smaller stainless steel beauty that matches her oven. My husband replaced a shelf under the sink that had disintegrated when a pipe burst eons ago. Daddy wanted to repair it but couldn’t figure out how to make it work the way he wanted. Ricky also replaced a piece of the "kick board" under the sink. Then I told him that I wanted a free standing "box" constructed to conceal the water heater. I have always hated that thing. He built it and I painted it.
The kitchen is beautiful. For the time being she has navy blue curtains. We are both looking for just the right ones. The room is beautiful. It took 9 days of me working 12-14 hours to finish it. It was worth ever ache and blister. Mama stood there and said, "Gosh, it is so beautiful. I wish your daddy could have seen it. He always wanted to do so many of these things. He would have loved it." I had to smile because in my mind I could see him standing there, leaning on his crutches. He would shrug his shoulder and grin like a devilish imp and say "It’ll do".
Mama left for a trip with her church group. I wanted everything finished by the time she got home. I had 2 days to start and finish her bedroom. I have come to the conclusion that I am too old to be climbing up and down ladders and I never had any business crawling around on the floor. The ceiling received a fresh coat of bright white paint along with the molding. The louvered closet doors got the same, inside and out. The inside of the closets had never been finished. They were painted the same bright white. I painted the window trim (again they had been installed but never completely finished) and the antique doors that used to hang in my great-grandmother’s house before I was born. They were white before but I wanted everything to be crisp and "fresh". I finished it all up with the pale pink on the walls.
Once the painting was finished people started showing up to ‘help’. Lauren and Ben helped put everything back in place in the bedroom. Ben and Sam moved the old fridge out to the shed. I didn’t want mama coming home to that eye-sore sitting in the middle of her living room. A thorough cleaning followed. I worked until about 3pm the day she was return. Then Lauren and I went to the grocery store for her. I have an aversion to seeing mama’s kitchen cabinets basically empty. I bought mostly snacks and quick fix meals for her. She has started walking over to my house every morning for coffee and breakfast. She also eats supper with us every evening. It works out for all of us. She isn’t alone and doesn’t have to cook if she doesn’t want to. I always make enough to feel a small army and a few extras. This way I don’t have a lot of leftovers cluttering up my fridge.
Needless to say she was shocked to find her house cleaned and the projects complete. I even found a box of silk flowers and made two arrangements for her bedroom. Pink lilies and forget-me-nots in one and ivy and peach and lavender roses in the other. The roses and ivy are on a table at the bottom of the stairs leading upstairs. The lilies and forget-me-nots are beside her bed. She forgot she even had the flowers and couldn’t remember why she bought them.
Whenever she talks about the two rooms she has a smile in her voice. It was so worth it. Next is her bathroom and the upstairs. The bathroom shelves never had trim placed around them. Daddy got sick before he could do it. I want to paint the bathroom the same pink as the bedroom. The shelves will be white. Upstairs we ( I really mean "ME") will scrape the ceiling and paint it white. The tongue and grove boards are really beautiful. We are going to place the same on the walls, only it will be lightweight paneling not the heavy wood. The whole room will be open and cool, like a beach cottage. I haven’t decided on the floor yet but it is on the list. I want mama to be able to walk into any room in her house and just be able to relax and enjoy being there.
There is also the bonus of feeling daddy with me while I worked. He would most definitely have been there, maybe not able to help but he would have been supervising. When I think about it this was a Mother’s Day gift for ME.
Sounds like a real labour of love. Just one thing – people who have diabetes should never go in their bare feet in a situation like that. One thing is that circulation in your extremeties is not up to par and like the cut, you don’t always feel things. The other is that diabetics don’t heal as well. My ex’s brother dropped something on his toe and lost first his foot and eventually his whole leg.You are a good daughter. My husband who was a diabetic had a lot of trouble healing also. *Hugs*
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