Fresh Paint

Warning...

What you are about to read is a sappy, sentimental post written and served with a side of crazy.

Today...I'm painting my hallway.  We have a hallway that leads to the bedrooms in our house.  This hallway has been used and abused to say the least.  The carpet has more spots than Big's freckled face and the halls have a dark line down the middle from the hands that drag down it daily.  I'm pretty sure we "cleaned" them last summer (and every summer before that), but the hand prints just keep coming back.  Along with the carpet spots.

As I'm painting the walls today, I've noticed a large amount of what I like to call character on our walls.  This character can be defined as dings and dents from who knows what.  Mostly balls being thrown down the hall or trucks being pushed.  Any given day you can come in our home and see this hall lined with laundry hampers as our laundry room is upstairs as well.  Five hampers...all in a row...all FULL of clothing, towels, uniforms, etc.  The kids like to think of this as an obstacle course.

I have been trimming out the walls and it looks so nice already.  But here is where the sentimental with a side of crazy comes in.  As I'm painting, I start tearing up.  Out of nowhere tears are streaming down my face as I cover the dings and painted dents from the Little People school bus that was so gently driven down the hall.  I'm sad to cover the dirty hand prints. WHY?  Because I'm crazy...and emotional...and my babies are growing up.

I dropped my almost 8th grader off at weights today.  WEIGHTS.  He is lifting for football.  Ugh.  He used to drive big Tonka trucks down the hall and run them into the doors.  I would tell him to slow down and he would grin a cheesy grin as he clipped the corner of the hall with the truck.

I then drove my almost 6th and almost 1st grader to Summer Rec.  This will be Middle's last year at Summer Rec. because he too will start "lifting" weights next summer.  This child spent many days racing down the hall and flying into the walls with his bat cape and his bat mobile.  I would yell as he slammed into the closed doors as his baby brother was napping.

My Little...my sweet, sweet Little is getting big.  So far this summer we have mastered bike riding, swimming, and swinging by himself.  He actually told me the other day he didn't...wait for it...NEED me.  I said okay and walked away.  As I walked away I could think of nothing other than the day we brought him into this world.  Our lives have been forever changed by this baby and now he is a big boy who hits "soft" balls down the hallway.  We have many a mark from these types of games.

I'm not crazy.  I'm not THAT crazy.  I'm just a Mom.  And a woman.  And things are changing faster than I can keep up.

I realize it is just a hallway with fresh paint.  But it is also the fact that these boys are growing and it won't be long before their hands won't be here to touch my beautiful hallway.

Why can't women just be like men?  When Coach paints a room...he simply paints the room.  No tears...no memories...just paint.

I guess I'll just keep painting and maybe have a little cookie dough with my coffee.  Today has helped me to see that even though I would love to have a perfectly clean and beautiful show house...I'd rather have our home.  Thankfully a fresh coat of paint can't cover the sweet memories I have of these crazy boys.  Someone remind me of this post next time I've had enough of them.

Have a blessed day!
Referee of 3