But I do need to get a job.
Because I am too cheap to buy furniture from IKEA.
Or I just don’t want to make the trip.
Plus IKEA is fun and all but seriously, the hours suck, the place is ridic busy.
Like annoying, want to smack someone busy.
And the customers at certain times of day, suck too.
Basically, what I think Hell will be like.
So I guess what I am saying is I need to find a different IKEA.
Or not go there at all.
I did it up right and it looked like this when I was done:
It went to my oldest daughter’s room when she was 12.
She loved it.
“Oh, mom!”, she said, “it’s perfect!”, she said. That lasted about a year, maybe a year and a half.
When she finally had the guts to tell me that she hated it.
I understand it was a little chevron, crafty, flowery. So I used it in my living room for a good year.
Then it ended up in my six-year-olds room.
And here is where my disclosure will tell you how much of a bad mom I think I am.
I have never bought a new piece of furniture for my youngest child.
I said it.
The mattress she sleeps on was her sister’s.
The bed frame and headboard was my grandma’s.
The desk in her room was her older sister’s as is the nightstand.
Heck, even 75% of her closet of clothes are handed me downs or resale clothes.I am cheap.
I have kids who are rough on everything in their path.
EVERYTHING IN THEIR PATH.
We can’t have nice things.
ALL THE NICE THINGS.
But while laying in bed and doing hair with Ellie one day, I looked around her room.
Everything was someone else’s at one point.
And I felt a little sad for her.
Growing up, I never had garage sale end tables or beds that once belonged to a sibling.
I was very lucky.
Don’t get me wrong, my girls are very lucky too.
They have a roof over their heads, full bellies when they fall asleep and health care when they get sick.
They don’t really want for anything.
But the whole furniture thing bothered me.
So “cheap me” had a plan.
A plan to make it a little more girly.
Not at all chevron, fake flower, artsy fartsy crafty.
I wanted it to be whimsical.
But still not buy a new piece of furniture because DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH NEW FURNITURE COSTS???
Here is the before again:
Here’s an even better one.
Here is what I decided to do:
I like to take the familiar road.
The safe route.
The path well traveled.
So when deciding to makeover this nightstand, I decided to do exactly the same technique that I did the first time.
Spray paint the furniture with the exception of the drawer.
Then mod podge the drawer with some scrapbook paper and slap on a new knob.
So I got my scrapbook paper and knob and headed home so excited!
I was finally doing this!
I am so excited for Ellie!!
I got the mod podge out and tried to open it!
CANNOT WAIT TO GET STARTED!!!
Let us try the rubber can opener thingy.
Ok, let’s try knocking off the mod podge crust that formed around the rim with a kitchen knife.
Ok, let’s try running warm water over the lid.
Oh, my sweet biscuits in butter.
FOR ALL THAT IS GOOD AND LIGHT IN THE WORLD.
I MOD PODGED THE FRACKIN LID SHUT.
Who does this??
WHO DOES THIS?????
Not one to be outdone by a silly Mod Podge container.
And definitely not one to run to the craft store and buy another container for six bucks, I improvised.
With spray adhesive, I have had for three years.
Does spray adhesive go bad?
I didn’t care.
I was IN project mode.
I was not stopping for something silly like an adhesive snafu.
I sprayed the suckers to the drawer.
In an enclosed room.
With no ventilation.
I may or may not have almost, possibly asphyxiated myself while the kids were at school and the husband was at work.
While trying to save money on furniture.
Then I used chip clips to hold the paper in place.
Because spray adhesive fumes.
I also had spray adhesive all over my hands for 24 hours.
It reminded me of Clark Griswold with sap on his hands.
Everything was sticking to me.
Random sticks, laundry lint, food.
But YOU GUYS!
It was totally worth it because look:
It looks so feminine.
I know, I see the crease too.
Go with it.
Ellie didn’t even notice for an entire day.
She even went to sleep in here and didn’t notice it.
My children are nothing if not perceptive.
But the next evening, as I was getting her ready for bed, she spied it.
“Oh, MOM!! OH, MOM!!”
” I have a pretty room!!!”
The sticky hands were worth it.