I’m afraid of our house. I want to live in this colorful tub of balls.
So, I just got home from a long day with Nolan, ready to put him to bed. I love that time of night (or in his case, late afternoon!) when you realize that you are moments away from some blissful silence and possibly a glass of wine and a Rehab Addict marathon. That euphoric time is well within your grasp. You can taste it.
And then you walk into your house, which is an active construction site, and what do you actually taste? A thick dust cloud that is quite likely a lead paint and asbestos cocktail. It’s delicious if you suffer from Pica disorder. Unfortunately I do not.
This is what I’m getting to: my house looks a lot like Pompeii right now. It is completely uninhabitable, at least for tonight. I didn’t realize that it would be uninhabitable until I walked into the front door, Nolan perched on my hip, and got hit with the dust cloud. We fled to the second, and then third floor, hoping to find some fresh air, but there was none to be found. We had to flee the property, a pair of refugees in matching mother/son sweatpants.
We’re at the part of the home renovation that is about as far removed from my dreams of chenille as you could possibly be. I couldn’t even get a picture of the wreckage because I was eating mouthfuls of my 1890’s house with every passing moment I spent inside. I’m going to go back tomorrow morning with a hazmat suit and try to capture the glory of the situation. In case I can’t find a hazmat suit I’ll practice holding my breath Mississippily tonight so that I can make a play at it either way. I’m a go-getter that way.
For now, I will be breathing in the board of health approved air at my parents’ house. I’ll try to post some photos tomorrow, but I don’t see a Friday Five happening, unless someone sneaks onto my computer over night and bangs one out for me. I’d appreciate that, actually, so if any of you are able to hack my blog and git ‘er done that would be great! Thanks in advance.
(Oh, as an aside, this morning I found Nolan nibbling on some grout in the bathroom. It’s not every day that you think about Pica, and today I’ve thought about it twice!)
Come on now Liz! Nicole Curtis drinks lead paint and asbestos cocktails for breakfast (along with her Wheaties, obvi)! If you wanna be like Nicole, you have to embrace these opportunities… park Nolan at your Parents’ house, stop by your fully-stocked storage locker to grab the “perfect” item you’ve had in there for years just waiting for this opportunity and get back to that house with your sleeves pushed up and an adorable smile to tackle the disaster! You know… WWNCD?
Oh no! You are completely right! I didn’t even see this opportunity right before my eyes, and now my chance to shine like my idol has passed me by. I am actually disappointed in myself. (I think it sounds like I’m joking but I’m not joking!) That was a total WWNCD moment and I came up way short. Both in my looks and in my ability to repurpose a 100 year old wrought iron bedpost into a railing to “restore my home to its previous glory.” Shame on me.
Well, On a plus side, Your little one is SO INCREDIBLY CUTE, I COULD EAT HIM…I’m not sure that could be classed as Pica though…
Hope your home is looking clearer and more breathable tomorrow!
Krissy, as a clinical social worker, I can say with 100% certainty that your desire to eat my baby is Pica. That is my professional opinion 🙂