Butt Prints in my Tub

29 Dec 2011 6 Comments

by Natalie in Failed Housewife Tags: , , ,

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I have been thinking of writing a series on my blog for a while now titled “Stupid Things I Thought I Could Do.” After refinishing my bathtub I couldn’t resist.

For some reason, Google searches and YouTube “easy” how-to videos have led me to a false belief that I can do or make anything. I have tried a series of Internet-inspired projects this year. Some turned out — like refinishing the back of my ripped love seat — others didn’t — like making corn-starched-based sidewalk chalk paint.

Earlier this year my bathroom was driving me nuts. The paint was peeling off the walls. The baseboards were splintering. The toilet seat was rusting. The sink was nasty.  I hated to go in there.

So I decided I would enlist the help of my husband, my girlfriend and my grandma.

It started out really nice. In October I peeled the wallpaper off, removed the patches of chipping paint, ripped off the baseboards with a crowbar, took out the old-school medicine cabinet and unhinged several cabinet doors. Next, my friend Heidi and I primed every inch of the place.

A few days later she came over again and we slapped some joint compound on the walls and textured the entire room. My grandma came down next and helped me paint the walls a bluish-grey color. Then I painted the cabinet doors and ceiling white. Things were looking so good!

We had a little trouble getting the plumbing to fit right with the new sink, but nothing would prepare me for what would happen next.

It had been about one month since I started the remodel. I thought that was pretty good for only being able to work on the room sporadically.

The second week in November my husband was going out of town for work and would be gone all week. That’s when I chose to refinish the tub. That’s when everything went wrong.

I bought a cheap epoxy-paint tub refinishing kit from the hardware store. I read the instructions that came with the kit several times. I had to scrub the tub with a major cleaner, rub it down with steel wool and rinse it all out three separate times before beginning to pain the stuff on.

I decided to start on a Monday night at about 8 p.m. Nearly 5 hours later I was done.

It was literally the hardest thing I have ever painted in my life. The gooey paint went on thick and unevenly. I had to massage the brush over the surface again and again in order to get it to smooth out. After one coat the tub looked terrible. I could still see the old white peering through the uneven brush strokes. The manual said that I needed to put in on very thin and it would take at least two coats.

The second coat was a lot harder to paint because I couldn’t lean on the tub anywhere. I had to arch upside down and sideways to get every inch covered.

I never was able to get the edges of the thing to coat. We had recently caulked the sides of the tub and apparently the epoxy-paint didn’t want to adhere to the silicone. By 1 a.m. I wanted to scream. I was tired and stressed. I went to bed hoping to get some sleep.

Luckily things looked better in the morning. There were a few brush strokes on the side of the tub that I couldn’t get smooth, but other than that, it was a major transformation.

My tub before was old. It had scratches and water stains streaking its sides. This new creamy white looked good in comparison.

One of the instructions in the kit stated that you had to keep the room temperature above 72 degrees for three days in order for the paint to cure — that was the one instruction I couldn’t control.

Unfortunately my furnace died the night I decided to paint.

I thought that maybe the tub would still work. It still looked good. I waited the next three days like the instructions stated before using it. Meanwhile my boys and I bathed at my mom’s house and I had a new furnace installed.

But the new heater was too little too late. I sat in the tub after the third day of drying only to find that the tub’s paint hadn’t settled and I was leaving butt prints behind on the bottom.

Talk about discouraging. I did all of that work in vain, and I had my butt prints in the tub to prove it. I tried desperately to smooth them out of the bottom and then waited three more days for the tub to cure.

Still more butt prints.

I called the number on the kit’s package and the customer-service agent told me that temperature was critical in curing the new paint. She suggested I put a space heater in the room for 24 hours and then test the tub.

It didn’t work.

I called again and a different customer service agent told me that if it hadn’t cured in 6 days, it wasn’t going to work. He told me I could remove the new paint by stripping it.

Wow. I was mad. I had done all that I could to follow the instructions on the kit and worked so hard to make my tub sparkling white to no avail.

Luckily my husband is always there to clean up my messes when one of my do-it-yourself projects goes awry. He stripped and I peeled the non-cured paint from every inch of the tub. I have sanded the tub’s edges until my fingers were raw.

We finally finished it all on Monday. The tub doesn’t look perfect — obviously there was a reason I wanted to refinish it in the first place. But it looks amazingly better than the shoddy paint job I pulled over it. And at least now when I bath I no longer leave butt prints behind.

Who knows what I’ll think I can do next.

Gentlemen

22 Dec 2011 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do?

It wouldn’t be Christmas unless I sewed something for my boys. Right?

Not that I don’t already have a million things going on in my crazy life, but it wouldn’t feel like I gave it a solid holiday try if I didn’t make them something each December.

So on Monday I hauled my 3-year-old to the fabric store. To my surprise they had virtually no holiday-themed fabric — unless you were looking for Valentine’s pink or St. Patrick’s Day green.  Apparently we missed the holiday sale.

Eventually we found a few reams of Christmas-looking stuff and settled on a maroon velvet print. I also grabbed some satin gold and some gold buttons. I spent the morning cutting out and sewing my sons Christmas vests for church on Sunday.

When my 5-year-old got home from school he was so excited. He loved his vest and said that now he could be, “a real gentleman.”

Little did I know he wanted to transform himself into the epitome of gentleman. The next thing I knew I was in the kitchen working on dinner and getting ready to sew him a pair of black knickers to go with the outfit, when I heard the water going in the bathroom.

At our house, that is never a good sign.

I turned down the stove and poked my head in the bathroom only to find my hair styling gel bottle half empty and my boys’ hair shellacked to their heads. They had splashed water and gel everywhere in an effort to top off their “gentleman” persona.

At first I was really mad. I grabbed a brush and started combing my oldest son’s hair. Bubbles foamed as I ran it across the top of his scalp.

There was no way I was going to be able to comb through this one.

I have never used a blow dryer on either of my sons’ heads. They have always been nervous about its sound and the warm air. But I had no other choice. I didn’t have time to toss them in the tub so I whipped out the blow dryer and blew away the foam.

That seemed to calm me down and then it hit me. They hadn’t ruined their new vests and they hadn’t ruined anything in the bathroom. That’s when I started to feel guilty.

I felt like an evil stepmother who tells her child that they look hideous after they just finished “perfecting” themselves for a special event. I don’t ever want to be the kind of parent who puts them down when they are trying their best.

So I tried to explain to them that if they really wanted their hair to look extra special, I would be happy to teach them how to comb and style it — but we could use a heck of a lot less gel.

Sometimes I get too worked up over the little things. I need to realize that if I haven’t sewn my sons anything for Christmas and the holiday is less than a week away, it’s OK. Granted they loved the vests and I love making things, but sometimes it’s too much.

I also need to realize that losing a little gel to a child who wants to look like a “gentleman” isn’t a bad thing. There are worse things my sons could want to look like.

Next year I might not sew anything for Christmas. And I might buy them some styling gel to wrap for under the tree.

Merry Christmas!

Stranded

15 Dec 2011 1 Comment

by Natalie in What's a mom to do?

There was one thing as a mother that I promised I would never do. At 3:12 p.m. on Monday I broke that promise to myself and ultimately to my oldest son.

I forgot to pick him up from school.

My mom was always really busy when I was younger. Between boutiques, PTA, church callings and caring for me and my three siblings, she had a lot on her plate. So we were used to her being late.

We often teased her when we were the last ones left at sporting events, dance lessons and school carpools.

But after sitting outside of singing lessons for the up-teenth time waiting for her in the foyer long after the other class had already started, I made a silent vow to myself to never be late or forget picking up my child. Ever.

Too bad I wasn’t being realistic.

I was checking my email for work Monday afternoon thinking, ”My son will be home any minute.” Then it hit me, the girl he usually rides home with didn’t go to school that day.

My computer clock said 3:12. I was already two minutes late. I raced into my 3-year-old’s room and woke him from his nap. I grabbed him, his coat and my purse and jumped into the car.

When I got to the school, my oldest wasn’t outside at the usual pick-up spot and the doors next to his classroom were locked. So, I carried my 3-year-old — we didn’t have a chance to put on his shoes — and we ran to the other side of the school and rushed to the office.

There was my son. Sitting comfortably in a chair next to the office door. He was perfectly safe and happy with his kindergarten teacher by his side.

He was fine. I felt horrible.

Not only had I broken a promise I made to myself in adolescence, I had forgotten one of my children.

I seriously think I took forgetting him at the school harder than he did. I am sure it won’t be the only time while I raise him that I will get a call from somewhere reminding me to pick him up.  Thank heavens for good teachers who truly care that each 5-year-old makes it home safely.

I think what hit me hardest was the fact that I never want any of my kids to think I don’t care about them. I don’t want them to think that they aren’t my top priority. They are my life. But I think it’s easy as a mother to have dozens of things on my mind fogging up what’s really important.

I know my mom didn’t ever intentionally pick us up late.  Sometimes it just happens that way. Hopefully it won’t happen to us very often.

Blackout!

09 Dec 2011 2 Comments

by Natalie in Uncategorized Tags: , ,

This past week I have been reminded how ridiculously dependent I am on electricity.  I know now, after being without it for 72 hours, that I could never have been a pioneer.

Thursday morning there were some crazy tornado-style winds in our area. My boys and I were late for school and we were picking up a couple of extra carpool kids that morning so we were rushing more than normal. When we got to the school it was crazy. All of the students and teachers were huddled into the lunchroom because the power was out.

Luckily my son’s kindergarten classroom has a bunch of sunny windows so he had plenty of light and heat in his room, but other kids didn’t have it so good. Some parents picked up their kids early and brought them home where they were safe and warm.

Around 10:30 a.m. I was still debating on going and picking him up from school when the power went out in our home.  Luckily I hadn’t showered and washed my hair yet because I would have ended up with frozen stringy locks.

Having the power out was kind of fun at first. It was nice to get a break from electronics. We all know how much I love when my children watch television.

My 3-year-old and I played games around the house and then used a match to light our gas stove to cook a macaroni-and-cheese lunch. That’s when it hit me that I had a 1 p.m. work meeting and I was planning on sending a document via email right before to review during the meeting. Unfortunately my wireless Internet doesn’t work without power.

No problem, I could head to McDonald’s and take advantage of their WiFi. Right? I grabbed my little one and we headed out to get in the van. But our van was in the power-operated, motor-opening garage. I still haven’t figured out how to unhitch the motor in order to open the metal door manually.

It was now 12:25 p.m. In a panic I ran to my next-door neighbors to see if I could borrow her car. Luckily she was home and gave me her keys. I ended up driving a couple of blocks to another friend’s house, which still had power, in order to send the email before my meeting. Crazy.

I have forgotten how easy it is to turn on to my computer, log on and use the Internet.

I stayed home the rest of the afternoon and couldn’t have gone anywhere if I wanted to. I was a little nervous about some of those Kindergarten classroom windows being blown in, but I just had to trust that my son’s teacher would make her students’ safety a top priority.

The power was still out at 5:30 p.m. when my husband got home from work, so we decided to go stay at his parents’ house. Unfortunately, we only have two toy army flashlights that my boys got at a birthday party a couple of months ago. For some reason all of our other flashlights and lanterns have burned out or broken — probably because my children like to play with them and wear them out. So we searched and packed in the dark.

Luckily my in-laws live 30 minutes away, in another valley that wasn’t affected by the wind. We were able to stay cozy and warm in a house large enough to have beds for us to sleep in. And we had lights and Internet.

My husband went to work Friday and my boys and I stayed up at my in-laws house. It ended up being a nice day where we played and hung out. It was kind of a relief not to be home and worried about the usual duties I have there. I was able to get my work time in, but I didn’t have to worry about my house being clean or the errands I needed to run.

I don’t know how many times I called our power company over the course of the next three days. I practically have their phone number memorized. I called two or three times a day to get an update on our power situation.

I set up an automated service to get a call when our power was restored, and I got a call Friday afternoon that told me I had power. So we were planning on going home.

My husband stopped by our house on his way home from work that night, but we still didn’t have power. I was discouraged, but hopeful it would come on any minute. Little did I know it wouldn’t come on for many more minutes.

Saturday there wasn’t any progress. We stopped by our house in the afternoon before running some errands. The thermostat said 48 and I could see my breath.

We threw away our egg nog, milk, a bunch of leftovers and more from our melted refrigerator. Our chest freezer in the basement was still really frozen so we left it untouched and crossed our fingers it wouldn’t be another 48 hours before it was hooked up to power again.

We packed up another night’s worth of supplies and clothes, this time we were smart enough to do it in the day light, and left to do some Christmas shopping and activities. When we stopped by our house afterward, around 8 p.m., the lights were still out.

This is when I started to get really discouraged. I know it sounds dramatic, but I actually wondered if we would be able to ever get power again. We found out that there were only eight people right by us who were affected.

They wouldn’t come out and say it on the telephone, but I knew what that meant. The power company wasn’t going to bust a move to fix a pole in my backyard that would only help eight people. Not when they still had clusters of 100s of people who were without power. We were going to be last.

Sunday morning I called for another update. Still no power. Then about 15 minutes later, one of the other seven powerless homeowners in my area called my husband. He said that a crew was trying to get into our backyard to fix the pole, but they needed to tear down our fence. Since we weren’t around to give permission, they left.

They needed permission? I was just on the phone with the company and they didn’t say one word about my fence.

We asked our neighbor to please tear the fence apart so we could have power restored. Why the power company didn’t call us for permission, or ask for it one of the half dozen times I called them, I’ll never know. I was pretty mad. I know they had my cell phone on record somewhere. If they really wanted to get back there, they would have been able to contact me.

Once the fence was down it was easy. We went home Sunday morning around 10:30 a.m. and the crew had driven into our backyard and was up on a lift fixing the line. Our power was back up and running by the time we came home from church.

It was a crazy 72 powerless hours. But my family was only one of about 55,000 customers who initially reported power outages. We were lucky to be able to drive to a relative’s home close by to stay safe and warm. It’s never a bad thing to spend some extra time with family. It was inconvenient for us to be out of our usual surroundings but not traumatic by any means.

My parents live less than 20 miles away from us and they had it much worse. A giant pine tree in their back yard crashed down early Thursday morning, narrowly missing their home. Their house was safe, but the tree took down a major power line and they had a live wire downed in their back yard.

The tree fall also caused the wires to tug out from their home and they had to pay an electrician to rewire their home before their city’s power company could even come and start fixing their power.

My dad bought a generator in the summer when he saw a really good deal. We all teased him about it. But it came in handy when things went dark.

This experience has taught me to re-evaluate my emergency preparedness plan. I have plenty of food storage, but unless I have a warm place and an easy way to cook it, it won’t do anything for me.  I’ve also decided I need to get some more flashlights and possibly a lantern. It’s really hard to do anything when it’s a blackout.

I’m going to make a list while this is all fresh in my mind of things I need to buy in case of another emergency. I’m going to start by asking Santa Claus for a generator.


A Trio of Victories

01 Dec 2011 6 Comments

by Natalie in What's a mom to do?

Usually I use my blog to vent about the stresses and annoyances that pop up in my life. Today I want to tout a few positives that have happened during the past couple of weeks.

First, my sons have started eating dinner. I don’t know what has happened to them and I doubt it will last long, but for the past seven or eight days they have not only finished their food, but they have finished it fast. They are probably going through growth spurts (cross your fingers), and it may be a fluke deal, but I’ll take it while I can.

Second, there were no fits while grocery shopping on our last trip. This is a major feat. I don’t know how we navigated all the way through Wal-Mart without any pinching or hitting but we did. Although I do have to admit that our visit wasn’t without incident.

The boys were so good while shopping I actually let them out of the cart while I was checking out. That’s when my 5-year-old crawled under the cart and laid on the metal rack above the wheels.

He got stuck.

Panic struck as we both tried to push and pull his little knees from out of the bars. I am sure if I had been watching my struggle from a distance I would have been busting up laughing. A lady waiting behind me in line had a little baby boy in a car seat riding in her cart. I had to fight the urge to tell her, “just you wait,” as I picked my oldest up off the ground.

It was crazy.

Last, Captain Hook has stayed away a few days this week. Sure, my three-year-old has dressed as something else instead – cowboy, army man, Santa- but at least we have been able to give our sword, hook, wig, hat, red jacket and more a break.

I am positive I will still be seen around town with a mini Hook in tow on occasion, but I don’t think I have to worry about my son actually believing he is Hook anymore. He is beginning to broaden his horizons.

I want to know what’s going on with you. What good things have happened to you lately? I’d love to hear about your parenting victories.