Appropriate

It's well known and longstanding that both Kurt and I function best under pressure. Deadlines are essential. We possess no intrinsic fount of urgency. Most of the time this works out okay. Other times it has me painting the same wall four different colors in three days and Kurt affixing lamps to shelves at two in the morning. Either way, exactly one year after our closing date, we endeavored to reclaim our living room.

So the deadline that provided us an eleventh hour? Steve and Linda! Yes, Grampa and Gramma arrived Wednesday to Northern Virginia, and they are a welcome, welcome sight. This afternoon Papi and the folks took in the Smithsonian and the Mall, while the girls and I caught up with them post-nap for some tapas style Mexican dinner (it's a mama, and maybe now a Gramma? favorite) followed by some Dairy Godmother here in the neighborhood (whose featured flavor was chocolate peanut butter cup). It was a good day.

As for the craziness that was pulling together our main floor, Kurt and I are still married. We realized that we had never painted a surface with children present. We got our first dose. The prepping, priming (the "we're putting this house on the market" paint was removable with a baby wipe, so we needed a solid starting surface) and subsequent two coats of painting in our living and dining rooms took 30 hours. Now that's a Kurt-made number, so I'm not sure what all's in there, but we did indeed start Friday night and finish Sunday evening. That number also includes the priming of the stairwell and hallway, but that lucky little area got to see 4 1/2 different coats of color. Indecisive much? Yes. The Tara does not deal well with almost right. Anyway, I'll leave out pics of the worst and worse hues, which were not inherently bad colors (who doesn't love the sound of Old Pickup Blue?), but just weren't working for me or our space.

Painting aside, we acquired big kid furniture! Okay, so maybe an entirely IKEA-sponsored living fails to qualify as grown up, but we own something beyond a futon! And it was delivered to our doorstep! (One bonus of living in a major metropolitan area: frequent debit card shopping at 3% back + 2 IKEAS within 30 minutes = cheap delivery.) With the living room cleared out for painting, the children in bed (6-10pm delivery window? Woowoo!), and the papi at a men's retreat, Mama found herself with the time and space to finally address the little beigey-white specks all over the floor, courtesy of the aforementioned paint job. Razor in hand, systematically scooting across the empty room, with the knowledge that furnishings were imminently arriving, I found the evening delightfully tedious.

So we now have a living room! And it's amazing. No, I do not put myself and my aesthetic choices on a pedestal (though I clamor for friends and family to tell me "Oooh! I love the color and placement of your throw pillows!"), but rather refer to what doubling your living space can do for how you feel about your house. What, having bikes and a toilet in the living room doesn't give you that feeling of "Man we love our space!"? No. Having those items reside in their respective locations has significantly increased the quality of life at the Lewis household. The girls love their new perch in front of the window and frequently flop onto the couch just because they can. And Papi and I have already taken advantage of the love seat to relive the dorm days of head-in-lap hairplay. Don't you have a futon in the basement? I know, but some how it doesn't deliver the same interaction. Maybe that has something to do with the rocking chair next to it... Maybe we'll, I mean I'll, work on that.

In living and dining, Oyster Shell, Mama's tried and true color.

The controversial stairwell, featured finally in Teal
(really, it's not black). We'll see if it takes.



Far from fully utilized shelves and art on the floor,
but recognizably a room!