This week in my “spare time” (insert laugh here) I worked on redecorating my daughter’s room. Her 10th birthday was March 5th and, when asked what she wanted, she replied, “I want to paint my room.” While infinitely more practical than yet another stuffed animal, Littlest Pet Shop, or one of those strange little battery operated hamsters that are so popular these days, I will admit I did cringe and shudder at the thought. We live in an older home. When we moved in many years ago, I thought we would eventually sell this house and build “our own” house. Alas, life happens.  A couple more kids, job changes, more bills, and we are still here. In this time I have found that I can do just about anything I set my mind to.

Over the years I have worked on various appliances like the washer, dryer, and dishwasher. I have learned how to prime the well and the furnace. I have hung sheetrock, taped, and mudded. I have laid laminate and painted every wall in this house at least 3 times or more. I have hung tile, stained trim, stripped and painted cupboards, sewn curtains, made pillows, and moved furniture.  I have had a lot of help along the way, mostly by guilting my oldest son Tyler before he passed away and my husband, who will tell you he is not a carpenter. The result is not a showplace, but every space in my house has been fluffed and buffed by myself and, while not perfect, does give me a sense of accomplishment.

Cassie’s room, while originally was just a simple paint job, ended with me ripping out the vintage 1970s carpet, only to find the carpet pad had every square inch glued down. I had what you might call home improvement rage and might have gotten into a fight with the perpetrator of this mess had I known who it was.  After countless hours of scraping, sweeping, cleaning, and ultimately painting and laying of new floor, the result should have earned me a mother of the year award. “It looks good, mom,” said Cassie.  Kids…

Now today as I write this, my hands are full of blisters, my back and knees ache, and I have a glob of teal paint I can’t quite get out of my hair.  Bob Villa can eat his heart out - “this old house” would give him a run for his money.  I have along the way of the many years of home improvement learned a valuable lesson. It isn’t always the shiny new things that we need.  Sometimes it is the things that may appear worn with age to another’s eye that appear the most bright when we look at them as our minds are filled with memories.  If the walls in this house could talk, they could tell you of countless birthday parties, games, discussions, laughter, and years of family. They could also tell you of hard times and the last breath of my oldest son. Both the good and bad within these walls mean more to me than perfectly level floors or brand new cupboards.  In the end, it’s not where we live, it is recognizing that the life we live and the people we love are priceless.