I like to think that by regularly sharing reports of the various disasters and events in my life I can in some small way allow you to avoid such incidents.
Well, I can safely say I’ve taken one for the team this month! Eldest child (boy – 14 – grumpy – know all) decided he would like to redecorate his bedroom. Being the cool calm mother that I am I decided to allow him his independence and do it himself. We discussed which wall would be black and which wall would be dedicated to his gaming posters and, cleverly, managed to avoid both.
Off I trotted an hour later for paint, brushes and rollers. Trip one resulted in 3 match pots of shades of grey and purple. Squares were dobbed on the wall and Goose Down and Sorbet Surprise were the chosen ones Trip two and at great expense two huge tins were placed on the dust sheets ready for action when younger child (girl – 12 – explainer of the obvious) pointed out that one was matt and one was gloss. My inner voice tried to convince me that the effect would be chic and retro whilst my conscience told me not to be so bloody lazy and get back in the car.
Trip three completed and two tins of the correct colour and the correct finish were stirred into action. At this point I turned into Lawrence Llewelyn Homebase and proceeded to give a master class on how to decorate – I mean how hard can it be? Three minutes in and the kids stopped listening – it was my time to leave. The next three hours were a mixture of horrified gasps and stifled giggles, and none of them from me. I had metaphorically and physically washed my hands.
When the newly crowned heroes emerged from the room to clean brushes and trays I stole a glance. Yes, there was paint on the walls. And not too bad a job really, but the ceiling, skirting boards, window blind, radiator, light switch, speaker, and window sill had fared less well. Then, when all caution had been thrown to the wind, they had turned on each other. Eldest (boy – purple) had taken great pleasure in painting his sibling (girl – grey) and she had returned the favour.
Then into focus came the trail. No Sherlock Holmes needed here. From the bedroom to the kitchen sink to the garden was a small but definite smattering of greyish/pink evidence that the paint had not stayed in the bedroom. A week on I am still walking about with sponge scourer and whilst the children are back to normal colour the dogs are still sporting some unusual markings.
So, dear friend, I urge you – should you feel the need to allow artistic independence to reign think of me and my multi coloured house/family/garden/pets and reach immediately for the nearest directory of qualified, experienced decorators.