Molly's Room, Before and After

Extreme Makeover, Tween Girl Edition has wrapped up over here. Okay, maybe it wasn't that extreme, but between priming, painting, gluing, moving and fluffing, re-doing Molly's room while she was out of town kept me pretty busy last Wednesday-Friday.

For those who haven't been with An Inch of Gray from the beginning, let me show you some before photos of Molly's room, which we last painted a mere 3 years ago.

We did a leopard print and pink theme that we were both excited about, but that we grew tired of before the paint even dried.

BTW, can you tell Molly is a dog lover?

The blinding pink paint was annoying from the start, and the chippy white paint on most of the furniture was more shabby than chic.

I primed and painted the ceiling, painted the walls a very bright blue (B. Moore Tropicana Cabana), and repainted the white furniture, spraying the handles blue. Although the paint is extremely bright, I hope we'll enjoy it longer than the pink.

Unfortunately, the big surprise was ruined when Molly glanced at her cousin's facebook page in New England and saw what I'd been up to.

Fortunately, she LOVES it! We went out together to pick up a few trendy lime green accessories at Target yesterday to make it truly her own. She is tickled (blue!) and grateful for my hard work.

I must admit, however, that I may have created an HGTV monster, because she did observe that the paint lines between the ceiling and the walls could have been a tad crisper. Sheesh!

Here are a few Afters. Let's hope this room carries her well into her teens:

New bookcases: Target.

Old curtains and bed skirt: Walmart. Bedding, lamp, storage ottoman: Target. Bedside table: dumpster dive.
Chair: Target.

Old dresser was my mother's.
Old mirrored dresser-- my sister and I called it "The Underwear Drawer" growing up. Can you imagine why?

Tune in tomorrow when I share with you 4 almost-free projects in this room!

Bye-Bye Birdie

The kids and I watched as cardinals built a nest in the bush right outside our kitchen window.

We squealed with delight when we saw 3 perfect eggs appear one day.

We roiled with anger when a snake slithered up the branches after those eggs-- and we chased him off with a stick.

We saluted the parents who tended and tended and tended to the three perfect babies that hatched from those eggs. Thin skin, bulging eyes, little tufts of feathers-- they were cute in the most vulnerable, pathetic of ways.

They waited, mouths open, for Mom or Dad to drop in a morsel. After only a few days, the brownish-gray fledglings were ready for their big moment.

They hopped from branch to branch, tentatively testing those wings. Ever solicitous, Mom and Dad Cardinal watched from outside, Jake and Molly inside-- Molly's arm draped around Jake's back.

I stood behind, watching my no-so-small ones watch the smaller ones. In a matter of moments, all three birds took flight. It wasn't graceful, but it worked.

Jake turned to Molly and said, "They just grow up so fast."

Amen, kid.

I Guess I'm Not the Poster Child for Adulthood

So we got Molly's ears pierced on Tuesday night. She was excited, but I may have pressured her a wee bit because:

a) I got mine pierced when I was her age and I remember begging for months before my mom finally let me do it. So, I may have been operating off of contact excitement left over from 1978.

b)Her birthday is coming up and I have absolutely NO gift ideas for her.

If you recall that 2 years ago we gave her a coupon for Christmas guaranteeing she would never have to go to Home Depot again, you understand that while it may seem great having a kid who never really wants anything, it can sap your creative powers. So, the idea of getting her a bunch of cute earrings for her birthday was appealing.

She was a rock star in the piercing chair and got adorable little blue studs.

The next morning, however, she had a little piercer's remorse, which probably happens more often with piercings in more "creative" body locations.

Molly hugged me tightly and said she was afraid that getting earrings might mean she was growing up too fast. She continued, "It'll be awful. Like, instead of you taking care of me and doing stuff for me anymore I'll have to take care of kids and pay taxes and stuff."

I guess she doesn't find my life all that glamorous.