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On Saturday afternoon, when the painting was (finally!) all done, I started putting together Owen’s new furniture set.
In fact, I told Jeff – who, of course, offered to help – that I WANTED to do it myself.
I used his – and Owen’s help – a few times over the course of the weekend. But by and large, the redecoration of Owen’s room was my doing.
When we moved into our house more than 10 years ago, I named Owen’s room The Yellow Room Which Will Be the Nursery. For nearly 3 years afterwards, TYRWWBTN sat empty. There were times I had to close the door. I considered setting up something – anything – in that room, just to make it something different.
You’d think that when I was pregnant with him, then, I would have gleefully decorated. Finally! We were going to have a baby!
Except I barely breathed through my pregnancy, my anxiety that something bad was going to happen was so high. It wasn’t until he was born that I actually cobbled together something that resembled his own space.
It was surprisingly cathartic to paint over those yellow walls, to purge all the baby stuff from that room. After the tape came down off the trim, I even spent extra time with a tiny brush, going over every line in that room, eliminating all yellow from the space.
It felt like I was exorcising demons.
Turning TYRWWBTN into a real Kid Room, my son’s own space, purged all the heartbreak and fail from the years of trying before Owen – and after. And it wasn’t until I was actually painting over the yellow in that room that I realized how, well, HEAVY, the yellow was.
Amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do.