I sit here typing with puke brown paint on my fingers. It has a tint of green to it mimicking the color of snot-puke brown to be more specific. It's not a color I would have chosen to paint the walls of my room, but then again, I'm not a 13-year-old girl with a fascination for zombies. I have just finished painting over the "banana pudding yellow" walls that I remember so lovingly painting just 8 short years ago for my then 5-year-old daughter who loved fairies and kittens.
Wow, those 8 years have flown by. I'm beginning to realize what my parents were talking about when they said "time flies." As a kid I would hear that and think "what are you crazy? Time drags like a snail with a hernia." And I guess it did for me as a child. Just like my own children think the time between one Christmas and the next is a painful lifetime that takes forever. A lifetime in which all the toys they failed to get this year will suddenly cease to exist between one December and the next.
This year's Christmas was a whirlwind of chaos as usual. But throw into that the ordeal of getting new floors throughout the house and it spells one mega-holiday nightmare. At first we were told the floors would be in on the 10th and installed within two days of that. We decided to hold off until after then to decorate -- who wants to put up a tree only to have to take it down for a few days then put it back up again.
But shortly before the 10th we were told our floor was on backorder until the 20th. So we decided to decorate, but in modest amounts. We didn't get out the big bouncing Christmas Tigger who says "The wonderful thing about Christmas is, well, Christmas" among other things. And the hamster than sings "Ice Ice Baby" had to stay packed, as did the dancing chicken with a Santa hat. It was a subdued holiday for us. Christmas eve was spent pulling up carpet and getting splintered hands from the horrid boarded nails around the edge. Who's bright idea was it to use nails pointing up to keep carpet in place?
The floors were delivered at 8 a.m. the morning after Christmas along with a nasty headache and stomach ache from the overindulgence of mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, pumpkin pie and chocolate peanut butter cups. They sit now waiting for their installation as I hurriedly paint while there's no carpet or flooring down.
As I throw out the old carpet I can't help but remember all the fun we had on it. All the impromptu tickle sessions. Cuddling up on it with sleeping bags and blankets to watch movies in the dark. I remember how pretty it was when it was new and shiny. Before all the years of spilled juice, potty training accidents, sudden vomiting spells, and that little mishap with The Boy and the acrylic paints. It's okay to let go of the old sometimes. Carpets aren't made to last forever. I'm excited about our new floors. And I'll tolerate my daughter's new puke-brown walls. But I'm keeping a small patch of banana-pudding yellow. And I'll look on it lovingly when she's playing her music too loud or slamming the door to her room of the puke-brown walls. And I'll remember the girl who loved fairies and kittens and ponder how fast time flies.
Lisa On Location Photography