I Didn't Mean To Paint The Walls

Well I did intend to do it eventually.

I just didn't intend to do it yesterday. But that's what I did.

The Boy is "re-doing" his bedroom. And I am practicing a whole lot of "letting go of control" by turning over two cans of paint, brushes, rollers and... did I mention control?... to two teenagers. Because, of course, the girlfriend is helping.

To make a longer story shorter, I had purchased some dark, rusty red (don't judge, just trust me) paint for our stairway. I knew there would be plenty leftover, and I knew it would work well for a primer to my son's dark red paint that will cover one small wall in his room. (To match the drum set, of course).

And since he was itching to get his room painted, I needed to paint the stair walls, too. So that's what I did. And then I gave them their supplies, showed them how to do the cutting in, and tried not to look. Or direct. Or step in. Or control.

Admission: I haven't gone in there to look. When Hubs said he maybe got a little too much paint on the ceiling, I tried not to hyperventilate. But I didn't look.

I figure it will be better to look once the walls are painted, since they've only done the cutting in so far. Today they'll roll out the walls.

In case you haven't figured it out, I kind of have a control problem when it comes to painting and 80% of everything else in life. I'm the only one who has EVER done the cutting in in this house, and most of the painting - I have once or twice handed Hubs a roller and let him fill in, after all. And every room has been painted at least once, some more than once.

But I figured I had to let him learn the craft and express his own creativity. Right? RIGHT?

I just keep chanting: It's only paint. It's only paint. It's only paint.

Wish me luck today. I may have a margarita for lunch.

***Ally
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