Week 18 ~ April 23, 2002
~ Artist at Work
Last Sunday night, my husband and I indulged ourselves by eating dinner in front of the television. You see, Pregnancy for Dummies was on the Discovery Channel, and we thought the program MIGHT just apply to us. As we watched, we laughed at all the foibles of pregnant women around the world. I especially laughed at the segment associated with pregnancy-related klutziness. The poor lady kept dropping her keys. Over and over again. I laughed, knowing that I wouldn't have to deal with the whole klutzy thing. I'm not a future ballerina, mind you, but I rarely, if ever, have "the dropsies." Famous last words.
Let me backtrack a bit. Over the weekend, we completely painted our kitchen (yes dad, there was plenty of ventilation). We took it from a bland, stark white to bland beige. Trust me, it looks much better with the Pergo floor. We got the kitchen painted, but I decided to leave the trim until Monday night. That way I could tape around the trim and not risk damaging the new paint job. So Monday night I began painting around 8:30pm. I didn't spend a whole lot of time taping drop cloths, etc. After all, I am not the kind of person that splatters paint. I got started on my short project, and my husband decided to take the dog for a quick walk.
It was then that disaster struck. The pregnancy-related klutziness attacked me with a vengeance. I shall never laugh at "the dropsies" again. Not ever. Never. You probably guessed what happened. Do I have to relate the whole embarrassing story? Okay, I will.
I dropped the whole can of paint while standing on a stool. It hit the floor. It bounced high in the air. It hit the wall. It rolled over to the carpet in the formal dining area. It did not drop on any plastic. It dropped on the Pergo floor. It splattered on our freshly painted kitchen walls. Our bland beige now has white splatters. Our cabinets were hit by flying paint. Our knickknacks, carpet, dining room furniture, ceiling, pictures, red dining room walls, dog toys, dog bowls, and yes, even myself, were struck with the offending latex mixture from hell. I even found splatters two rooms away from the dreaded spill.
I can't say how I would normally react in this situation. After all, what have I got to compare it with? But I think my reaction was not a normal reaction for ANYBODY-even the most hormonal. I leapt off the stool and ran to get a wet rag. I only got one wet rag-apparently I am an optimist. I began cleaning frantically. As I saw the paint fill the tiny cracks in the Pergo, I began to sob. I don't mean just a little crying, I mean full, body-racking sobs. I threw the rag in the sink. I grabbed two rolls of paper towels. All I could think of is "I've ruined our house. I've ruined everything. I'm so stupid." I scrubbed furniture; I smeared paint all along the walls; I managed to push more paint into the Pergo cracks; I smeared paint into our carpet. I sobbed. And sobbed some more. I felt like a 10-year-old child, desperately trying to clean a disaster before the parents arrived to find the mess. Did I succeed? No. Because in walked my husband.
He didn't know about the mess, so he let the dog off of the leash. Where did the dog go? Immediately to his mommy, to see what on earth could be the matter. What did he walk through? Paint. Good dog. Our home is now an artistic expression. I am following in Pollock's footsteps. I'm an artist--a designer! When can I appreciate the proceeds?
You know you've married a magnificent man when he immediately pitches in to help, all the while trying to calm his crazed, erratic wife. After we cleaned the mess, he looked at me and said, "When can I laugh?"
He laughed like a hyena. Like a man without a care in the world.
I finished painting the trim that night. It looks beautiful. The best part is, it goes well with the white streaks on our wood floor. Fortunately, the white spots blend well with the carpet. As for the walls? Well, I'll be repainting them this weekend.
I've always said that if you were going to screw up, do it to the best of your ability. While I don't get much practice in paint dropping, I definitely feel that I can drop cans of paint with the best of 'em. Can we add this event to the next Olympics? Maybe Home Depot will sponsor me. After all, I am using their brand of paint.
Quickly, I will say that we finally got to see our OB. We waited an hour and a half to see Dr. F. She was in and out in 10 minutes. GB's heart rate was steady at 154. My husband was disappointed to not get to listen longer, but Dr. F had spent most of her morning delivering a baby, making for a backlog of patients. I guess that might be a valid excuse for making us wait. At any rate, I told her my tailbone was killing me. I wanted to know if this was expected (I injured my tailbone a few years ago while rollerblading with the dog). She said it was early, but that pregnancy could bring about all sorts of aches and pains. She made me feel a lot more at ease about delivery when she told me that I was probably going to be one of those people that broke my tailbone when I delivered.
Is it too early to schedule a C-section?