I've changed the paint color for our dining room remodel three times. For those keeping score, that is no fewer than eight (factoring in primer etc...) coats of paint on the new walls. My husband has been very patient with me, but I sense he is thisclose to bringing home wallpaper sample books, so I am determined this latest color will be a winner.
I went with the first color based on how I thought it would blend with the planned new color for the living room. The paint was on the wall for a bit over a month, and I liked it well enough, it grew on me, but I didn't love it, and I worried that it didn't truly work with our furniture. Then, while visiting my sister, I realized that her dining room is painted the exact color I had originally envisioned, and still loved, so I brought her paint chip home and showed it to my husband. He preferred the color already on our walls (probably because it was already on our walls), but agreed to repaint if I was sure. I was.
Long, long (trust me, it's long, involving several trips to big-home-improvement-store to tweak the color that even they admitted did NOT match the paint chip) story shortened: that perfect paint color? my dream paint? is beyond horrid on our walls. Beyond. It must be the lighting which is not great in the room. At any rate, now we are going with a new, very similar, much more dramatic (in an attempt to compensate) shade. Pray for me.
I know there are much more important, pressing, issues in the world, but please, I really hate wallpaper.
Can I just say, for the record, that my sister is, bar none, the most adorable pregnant woman on the planet. I can not keep my hands off her perfect belly. Here at Chez Pigtails we've taken to calling the baby BC (baby cousin) and it is so sweet to hear the girls talk about their long awaited new cousin that I am hoping my sister and brother-in-law name their little bundle something that will allow BC to continue. My suggestions: Bridget Claire or Benjamin Charles. Naturally, those are just jumping off points, the proud parents should feel free to name their own child anything they choose---so long as they choose a name with BC as initials. It would be helpful is all I'm saying.
Speaking of children's names, I'm changing mine.
I've struggled with the real names/pseudonym controversy since the beginning of this blog and have always, without fail, landed on the pseudonym side of the fence. I'm not clever enough to come up with cute, meaningful nick names for the girls. I tend to read way too much into those, and end up complicating the matter even further than it already feels, so I have settled for the Miss First Initial option, but I have never felt truly happy with the Miss First Initial option, and frankly, the whole topic is crazy in the making for me. I can't take it any longer, I need a change. Therefore, after many stressful hours of consideration, a couple of guilt dripping therapy sessions, and a few margaritas, I am changing my children's names (my children's beautiful, lovingly chosen, names *sob*) and I am okay with it; we will all recover.
I thought of several great new names for my girls. Because I am such an obsessive freak, I took it nearly as seriously as I did the first time we named them---my husband? not so much. The first time we named our kids he was involved, he had opinions, he liked names and vetoed others. This time? he was all, just call them what you want to call them, what's the big deal? Yeah, thanks for the help, hon.--- but then I realized something important about myself: I am far too lazy to go back through all the achieves and change their names. I don't like it, but I'll own it. Far. Too. Lazy. For convenience sake, and to minimize confusion, their initials must remain consistent.
Hear ye, hear ye! By the powers vested in me by the state of my mind, and by virtue of my 73 days and 22 hours of labor with these two precious beings, I now pronounce them to be Harper and Addison. Or Addie. Probably more Addie. You may kiss your monitors.