A Finger, A Closet and Regret

This is the closet in our kids room. It originally had 2 shelves along the right side and a rod in it. Recently my husband said to me, "I think I'm going to rip that closet out and rebuild it with a ton of shelves for you. Would you like something like that?" And then after I stopped weeping tears of joy, I said yes. The situation created emotion very similar to the night he proposed to me. My life has reached a strange place since I became a Mom.

For you to fully understand the magnitude of this closet ordeal, I really should have gotten a picture of the closet before. You could NOT step one toe in there. I had stacked outgrown toys, clothes, excess blankets, stuffed toys, etc, etc, in there to fill the whole thing. This was not going to do once we had to house clothing and bedding for two kids.
The first thing that happened was a thinning of toys and clothes. Then my sister and her husband very graciously allowed me to put larger toys that Baby Brother will use later in their basement. I marveled at how they seemed so big in that closet, but just looked like a little pile in the corner of their basement by the workout area. But I digress.

And now I'll digress even more.
This project was in the making for weeks. Arrangements were made, plans were drawn, and money was set aside. Then the finger infection happened. I touched on it in one of my lists. The finger was a horrible and extremely painful 3 week ordeal for my husband. After 2 weeks of him thinking he had sprained, jammed, fractured or otherwise maimed himself, I convinced him to go to Urgent Care. After all, it had reached a point where he couldn't sleep it was so painful. The first Doc gave him antibiotics and sent him on his way. At this point there was a large red area near the tip with a white spot that appeared to be deep in the skin. This was labeled a pus pocket. Eeeewww, right?
Then every other day for the next week he went back to see them because it continued to get worse in every way. Each time he was sent away to "Give it 48 MORE hours." Finally on his 3rd visit a new Dr took one look at it and (with little warning) sliced open the end of his finger and reached into the "pus pocket" and pulled out what was described as a grain of rice. This was apparently some foreign body that had wedged itself in the finger and it was encapsulated by Tim's body. Gross, huh? But, within little more than 24 hours the pain was 95% gone.
This was great news since that closet was on the docket to get done.

Yesterday, Tim hit it early and tore out all the old stuff and set to work with the new shelves.
He built them all from strong plywood and mounted them on the closet walls. While that was going on, I was going through boxes and running to Goodwill and my sister's house.
After all of that, I came home to admire my husbands handy work. It was beautiful. But I couldn't get over the raw wood, though it was sanded smooth, or the fact that the closet was the original dingy eggshell paint that is original to this house. "I think I'm going to paint it white." I said to Tim. Then he made "The Face" It is an all purpose husband face but this time it said, "That is a bad idea, but she's nesting, and I know she already has her mind made up, so I'll just go with this." He asked if I was sure, it might be a real big job. I was sure. He drove me to Lowe's and we got a gallon of white paint and I set to it. Now, don't get all freaked out about me painting. There was adequate ventilation and I took breaks and Tim stayed there to monitor me. Not to mention I did artificial nails the first 7 months of my pregnancy with Violet and she seems ok. Plus, I've no doubt some of those chemicals make paint seem like fresh air.
So, after 2 hours, 2 coats and an entire gallon of paint, that closet was a mess. I kept thinking, "Where is this paint going?" Turns out raw wood is thirsty, and I remain convinced that the drywall in that closet is made of sponge. The truth is, I most certainly should have primed that wood, and I am quite sure that closet just got a quick spray when the house was built. I ended up going back for another gallon of paint later and worked until the minute Violet went to bed. I realized into the second can of paint that I had a better, thicker paint and that things were covering quickly, but it also became apparent that the better paint was a little bit darker than the first. I then became filled with angst and regret. My technique at that point was that like what I imagine an angry teen would employ if forced to do this job when they could be out rabble rousing with friends. I could not believe what a complicated disater painting a closet had become.
It was pathetic. I slopped paint all over the brackets, dripped on the tarps and everything in flinging distance. Much of my own person ended up painted as well, considering I was lumbering around in there with a step stool 7 months pregnant. You should see the belly of the shirt I wore.
Three coats and nearly 2 gallons of paint later I had 97% of the closet covered and that's when I cut my losses. Every time Tim checked on me I'd say, "I regret this decision with every fiber of my being." And I still do.
This morning we loaded it with every baby thing we have and I can walk in there and turn around. That worked like salve on the wound and truly, it is glorious, but don't look to closely. I guarantee you will cringe. I know I always will.

The end of this tale is that I'm thankful. I'm glad my husbands finger is better, glad that we have the storage we so desperately needed, and pleased that it appears nice.....from a distance.
I am hoping we will do this to our closet, but I intend to go about it completely different. And I think we'll all be glad for that.