As I mentioned yesterday, there has been some rearranging of furniture taking place in our home. Our house, though still in need of some paint on the walls (anyone want to come do that for us? I will feed you in return!), is cozier and more welcoming. We love it. The process to get there however, well, as you would expect, was an adventure.
A friend who is ridiculously gifted when it comes to interior design, was over here and helping me figure out what we could do to change up our large living room to make it feel more welcoming. Besides, I was in need of a change. We started moving furniture around, and since we workout, lifting couches wasn't any trouble at all for us. There were a few elements left undone due to the fact I had taken up way too much of her time and she did have more important matters to attend to in her day than my couch's location. We asked Andy what he thought, and we agreed there were some changes that needed to be made, but for the time being, oh well, it was going to stay as it was.
That evening I headed to my last session of the day and was pondering what we could do to get the look and feel we wanted. As my session wrapped up, I got in my car and made a mental list of the tasks Andy and I would do once our child was asleep. I envisoned myself arriving home, eating some dinner, enjoying some time with my child, putting her to bed, then finishing the task of moving furniture with Andy. However, I walked in the door and lo and behold, all furntiure had been moved, my husband was grinning from ear to ear, and my child was saying, "look Mommy look!".
I walked into the living room, noticed the Christmas tree had been moved, and looked over to its new location. There it stood, the bows my friend had so wonderfully done strewn wildly about, ornaments littered the floor, and the tree itself had become a wobbling disaster. I stood there, mouth gaped open, eyes honed in on the tree and the tree only and did what any normal wife/mother would do: I freaked out. My tirade involved something along the lines of, "what were you thinking trying to move the tree? You completely destroyed all the work Kelly did for us, who knows what ornaments are broken, and it's unstable and we have a young child. I would prefer she not be crushed by a tree!" That is correct, I paid no attention to the work he had done to move the furniture to create a better atmosphere in our home while keeping it completely functional. My attention and words focused solely on the tree. And this friends, is wife failure #100,052,112 in my world.
Once we had both calmed down and I was no longer near hyperventilating, we put the tree back together to ensure no one would meet their death at its branches and I went to work with the bows and ribbons and ornaments. I explained that there were ornaments on that tree from my childhood, and most ornaments on the tree have some meaning, and each held a special memory. I attach sentimental value to very little in this world, but I realized do with ornaments. I had to stop and breathe and let Andy know that I did in fact appreciate his work and efforts and his initiative to get the job done, and I was thankful that I would not have to move any furniture because I was tired, and yes I did like the room(s) much better. My focus had simply turned to the tree because 1) the state it was in when I arrived home was not a safe one, 2) a friend had sacrificed some of her time to make bows for the tree and they were now in a heap on the floor, 3) each ornament brings a specific memory to mind and I did not want them damaged and 4) as a stay at home mom, it was like going to work and finding someone else had rearranged your work space without making sure its what you wanted.
Two ornaments were broken. One of them was given to Andy by my mom right before we got engaged. The other was from 1980. Ouch, that hurts. But, I just kept saying, "super glue can fix it." If there is one complaint I have, it is that my husband is a man of great thought and knowledge but rarely action. It makes me crazy. And here he was, stepping up and taking action, and I might as well have beaten him over the head for it. Hmmm, can't imagine why he doesn't do it more (she says sarcastically)? We each apologized, and we are loving our space much more. I tease him that he tried to break Christmas, and laughter has been restored to our now cozier home. And our child? Each morning she wakes up and says, "look, it's our Christmas tree!" Then she looks around the room and says, "I do like this room better."
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