Boys Room Makeover

It's no secret that we're crammed into this little house like sardines. Doing the best with what we have has become a motto around here. While I'm a proponent of room sharing and the lessons it teaches, this many boys in that small of a space is tricky business. We're working with two bedrooms here, leaving one shoebox-sized room for all four boys. Despite having barely enough room for the boys' beds, we've also squeezed two dressers, a nightstand, and a toy box into their room. It was beginning to feel just a bit claustrophobic and wildly hard to organize. It was time for a change.

This was the boys room last summer. With school over, I found extra time to organize and clear out broken and unused toys. It was manageable but still packed full.

And then birthdays, Christmas, and seasonal wardrobe changes wreaked havoc upon the tenuous order that once was. We ran out of hangers for all the clothes that should be hung up. (Or is it hanged?) Both dressers accumulated piles of "good" clothes on top, piles of games that needed new spots on shelves, piles of overflowing toys, piles of blankets that toppled every time beds needed making because we don't have a linen closet. One Little Boy scribbled on a wall with a pencil and another wallpapered his corner of the room with his own artwork + miles of Scotch tape. Yet another was trying out for gymnastics and ripped a shelf off the wall, nails and all. The last son decided his side of the bed by the window was his own special cubby hole. That one needs to be watched for hoarding issues later in life, because the space was wedged full of treasures.

I transferred the piles of shirts and sweaters from dresser tops into the closet for the photo....

Hoarding pile discovered, as well as a large water stain. I enlisted my muscle to help take the bed apart.

This photo shows the nasty water stains (at the right) that keep seeping through the wall. And why do people paint over electrical outlets? Let it be, man. Let it be.

The boys need a room that works just as well for a 9 year old as it does for a 2 year old. Their old bunk bed was a twin loft over a double, and slept three boys comfortably--not four.

Using Christmas money from the last couple years, we invested in this double-over-double bunk bed with a pull-out twin trundle bed. It'll sleep five comfortably. Top and bottom bunks separate, so when boys move out two of them get full-sized mission-style beds. If they last that long. Ordered through Amazon and delivered by FedEx, I'm not sure how the driver muscled all four massive boxes out of her truck and through our back door. She was smaller than I am.

I decided while we were moving everything out this was the perfect opportunity to patch nail holes and repaint. It's something I'd have to do anyway before we move. Besides touch-ups, the room hasn't been painted in about five years, when our landlord spray painted the whole room in flat white during its remodel. (Previously it was electric blue.) Every scuff or fingerprint wiped off also removed paint from the wall.

I spackled no less than 30 nail holes in the plaster and sheetrock walls, which will save me a lot of time when we do move. No more nails are going into these walls! Our landlord came to look at the water-stained wall (the stain wrapped even around the adjoining wall) and insisted it was an old stain, even though you can feel moisture on the wall and baseboard. So I sprayed it with Kilz and if it comes back he can deal with it then. I used ColorPlace (Wal-Mart brand) satin interior paint in Dakota Ranchwood for the walls, and semi-gloss white for the baseboards.

Painting in old houses is like looking through scraps of previous inhabitants' decor styles. This old girl has seen a rainbow of colors, and the boys room was no exception. This corner reveals some electric blue and sage green. It also shows what rough shape the paint job was in.

After:

Room-redo day one the boys were so excited to help, carrying things out of the room, throwing stuff away, and grabbing things for me. Gavin helped erase pencil from the wall while Ian made jungle gyms of everything. The rest of the house took a hit as it absorbed the displaced stuff from the boys' room.

I thought the room would look bigger when everything was cleared out, but no. It looked smaller than ever. It left me wondering how on earth we had everything stuffed into it that we did.

The first night the boys were so excited to "camp out" on the floor. The next three nights: "Aw, we have to sleep on that creepy mattress on the floor again?"

The second, third and fourth days: "Is our bed ready yet?" These were my main painting days, in between laundry, school, and cooking.

I use a twin bedsheet purchased at a thrift store as a drop cloth.

This poor old dresser needs some TLC. It was once Eli's sister's, then his, then ours as newlyweds, and then passed on to our boys. I'm trying to decide if it should be sanded and painted blue to match their other dresser or restained the same dark wood color.

A nail left behind by previous inhabitants served as a handy paint-can-holder. There were about ten other nails and a 2" pin stuck in trim and walls that had been painted over. Keeping paint off trim also wasn't a priority for previous painters.

My view for the week.

Wrapping a paintbrush in a baggie and sealing with a rubberband is a trick learned by many many painting sessions, as washing out brushes seems to both waste paint and is also not my favorite chore. Taping trim as well is an art I've never mastered; paint always bleeds under the tape. I ran out of tape halfway through, but it didn't make much difference. I used that smaller blue brush to edge the whole room, and saved time that way.

The closet doors (Hey look! They shut!) get so much use that I decided to paint them the same color as the walls to help hide scuffs and prints. After snapping this photo I think the top cabinet doors need to be painted as well. Inside of the closet: still being organized.

Day 5, painted and dry! Bed assembly time! Eli did the majority of the building,  which was a tough lesson for me in stepping down and not commandeering the whole process. The bossy-oldest-child-syndrome in me still needs to be tamed on occasion (ok ok, most the time). My tongue was sore at the end of the day from me biting it.

Ian had fun playing with the dowels...and of course, one was misplaced. Never fear, necessity is the mother of invention. We cut an inch long piece off the handle of a wooden spoon, and with a little sanding it substituted beautifully.

Hey, thanks for the playset, guys! My new bed? Nah, I'll just sleep with you guys for the next five years. Ha.

Once the main part of the bed was put together I was able to start organizing the rest of the room, including scouring the closet for garage sale items and toys to pack away in a tote to be stored in the basement. This is a work-in-progress, and I think always will be as long as we're in this house. I've already moved the dressers around, trying to find the right layout. The trundle bed still hasn't been assembled, but it's there when we need it. I now have plans to make quilts for each bunk eventually.

The boys are loving the new bed. Their room has become a new favorite hangout spot, the bed transformed by their imaginations. It's currently a pirate ship, the bottom bunk being "below deck" where they keep prisoners. It's still such a novelty that they've wanted to go to bed since it was assembled. As long as none of them get sea sick, I'm ok with that.

Better Homes and Graves

Hello. My name is Julie and I'm a candleholic.

You may be amused to know that autocorrect changes candleholic to Catholic, which is also appropriate.

Inspiration for this post came from the 1 1/2 hours I spent this morning scrubbing inky black soot from the bathroom ceiling and walls, courtesy of a cheap candle from Wal-Mart. I even scoured the worst spots with rubbing alcohol, but in the end the entire room will  just have to be repainted.

I've been a faithful candle consumer ever since the moment my mother let me keep a box of matches in my bedroom. Yikes, right? I was about 12 or 13 then, and had been burning our trash for a solid two years. I was given a couple square, sage green pillar candles for Christmas that year and was ridiculously elated.

From a young age I was taught the dangers and importance of fire; I can't count the number of times Mom would caution, "Don't breathe that smoke in! It's toxic!" We had a woodburner as the sole source of heat then at home, and it was a regular chore to head down to the basement to "throw a log on". Occasionally we'd sit down there on overturned 5 gallon pails with the burner door wide open, cracking mixed nuts and throwing the "shucks" in the fire. Every spring we burned off the pasture and ditches, standing watch with shovels in hand. Fire meant comfort and warmth, light and new growth. Fire was no stranger to me, and frequent use bred a healthy respect for the damage it could do. To this day most smoke smells are pleasant to me and bring about an aura of nostalgia. I'll save you the psychoanalysis associating my years of smoking to this fondness...despite all the earnings I received.

I was so spoiled the last few years by the soy candle factory in our town. They had an outlet store just a few blocks from home where I'd stock up every few months on the defective or discontinued candles. I kept a crate of candles in our closet, and usually had the appropriate scent on hand for each season. They never smoked and lasted so much longer than cheaper candles. Then the factory closed, and there was no more outlet store. Local thrift shops sold the remaining inventory at a higher cost and fewer options. I broke down and turned to Wal-Mart for my luminary needs. Candles were (and are) very much an essential part of my homemaking routine.

I kicked myself mentally for the sooty mess because I recently ran across an article that made a lot of sense, describing the dangers of scented candles, aerosols, and other scented products. The article can be found by clicking this link. Basically, if you can smell something molecules from that thing are entering your olfactory sensory neurons (your nose). Which is disturbing if you think about that while changing a particularly aromatic diaper. Anyway, while I've long known about hazardous cleaning products and removed all aerosol products from our home, my candle addiction is on a whole other level. Especially this time of year, when they provide such a calming and homey ambience. They can't be that bad, right? The article lists numerous disturbing health issues associated with fragrant products, such as DNA mutation, cancer growth, and asthma. Even depression made the list. After witnessing the damage done to our bathroom walls, I could picture how much of that we were breathing in and what it does to lungs. Most candles' scents are composed of harmful chemicals that we don't think twice about inhaling.

I'm resolving to try to eliminate unnaturally scented candles from our home. I have an essential oil diffuser on my wish list, and I'm going to research natural candle options...beeswax candles. If nothing else the switch might save me some scrubbing and painting.

Have you given up scented candles? What did you use to replace them? Or do you think there are dangers to everything in life and giving up scented candles is going overboard?

Update: December 2017: 
I'm happy to report that, while we still occasionally burn candles, most of the amazing smells in our home now come from baking food or essential oils. We are on our third essential oil diffuser (the first one quit working after our move, but I was not consistent about cleaning it). I've only ever bought cheap diffusers from Amazon, and they get the job done. I was (and am!) very hesitant to buy the super expensive diffusers the way things get broke around here! I'm working on my collection of essential oils, experimenting on blends, but my favorite remains lemongrass. If you haven't taken the plunge with oils and a diffuser yet I'm here to tell you: just go for it! You won't regret it!

The Downward Spiral

"Are you feeling alright? You haven't exactly been yourself lately," asked my husband recently.

You can feel yourself falling, slipping into old patterns; bad habits are sliding back into every day normalcy. You can feel the irritability and frustration at almost everything creeping in. You want to snap at the smallest things. Tears spring to your eyes at the littlest perceived offences. No one understands. Rooms are too small, clothes are too snug, nothing is right. You remember how refreshing it is getting together with friends...but this dark hole of seclusion that has built itself around you holds you in as if powered by some kind of magnestism. Sleep does not cure the exhaustion you feel. You know fresh air and sunshine have amazing restorative benefits, but it seems like too great an effort to pull yourself out. After all, it takes over an hour to get everyone dressed. The littlest will be crying on the floor and bathed in sweat by the time you get yourself bundled up. Beside that, all those dishes won't wash themselves; all this homework doesn't mark itself. You still haven't taken down the Christmas tree, for Pete's sake, why would you think it's ok to run off? Catch up a bit and then you'll really deserve a break. Later...you'll do it later. Next week you'll see if someone is free to get together. But only if you finish the ten projects you've secretly committed to in your mind. Later.

You see the tidal wave surging toward you but feel powerless against it. Why can't you just be that person who always lifts others up? Why can't you just be the joyful one? There's hope...there's always hope. But from where? Which direction do you turn? How do you fight an enemy you cannot see?

Up. Look up.

Greetings From the Deep Freeze

We had plans to go sledding this afternoon with my brother and neice. Not happening.

Instead, I sit here in a little pool of sunshine from the window, wrapped in as many blankets as I could find, gazing enviously at the roaring fire photos everyone is sharing on Instagram. The nerve! Especially that one who was so bold as to complain about the embers popping out at her and burning holes in her new Christmas robe....pfft. Lovely hot embers....

I introduce you to my roaring hot fire:

It's not easy getting this coveted spot in the house, but I was able to get most the little guys busy with games and books and I *think* they didn't hear the furnace kick on this time. After all, it has been coming on frequently with only a couple minutes of down time between blasts of chill-vanquishing warmth, despite being set in the mid 60's. Cranking her up to 75° just once to bake the cold out of my bones is as close as I'm going to get to crackling coziness.

Ian has been protesting this cold snap in right form today. I'm sure his runny nose isn't doing much to promote a good mood. Any attempts on my part to sooth or distract only made matters worse, and so I let the little dictator drive his crazy train until it ran out of steam.

Crankiness abides often with almost-two-year olds, and he spent an amazing amount of time this morning fighting the couch. It was profoundly offensive to him. And then when it refused to fight back he moved on to his jammies. If you didn't know better you would have been convinced they were covered in acid and burning his skin off. Once offending jammie leg was rolled up off his shin he brought me one black and neon green sock, motioned that he wanted it on his foot, and giggled as I slid it on. He continued giggling like a maniac, racing around the house like the wings of Nike had been welded to his feet, and tantrum was officially over. If I had known one black and green sock had the ability to produce such an effect, we may have been able to detour much of the drama. Or maybe he just needed to find the solution for himself?

If he wasn't so cute he'd be for sale. Kidding! I think.

It's nearing dinner, and I suppose I should pry myself out of my cocoon to find food. It very much feels like a comfort food kind of day, though I haven't a clue where it would come from. Sunday's are my kitchen strike days. This whole food business is a mystery of epic proportions right now. I think the cold has frozen my brain.