Makeover Mayhem

One day last spring, I was lamenting the perpetually chaotic state of my older girls' (10&12) room. Holy toledo, it was bad! So I threatened my daughters with, "One of these days you're going to come home from school and find that I've cleaned, de-cluttered, and rearranged your room the way I want!"

I expected some eye-rolling in return, but what I got was two wide grins and two enthusiastic OKAY's!

Dang it.

So I struck a deal with my girls: if they would watch the two younger children for me, I would lock myself in their room and prepare a surprise makeover. They readily agreed.

Daughter #1 is a ginormous fan of "Lord of the Rings." Daughter #2 loves monkeys. The room decor evolved into something like "Lord of the Monkeys." (The motherless living room and kitchen, meanwhile, were more like "Lord of the Flies," but that's another story.)

Long story short, it was a BOATLOAD of work! I had furniture, power tools, sewing equipment, painting supplies, and hardware scattered from corner to corner. There was stud-finding, counter-sinking of screw heads (I might be a wee bit proud of that one), hot-glue, repairing of dresser drawers, duct tape, shelf-building, custom-sewn bedding, yard-sale scavenging, and hours upon hours of peeling extra vinyl around quotes from "Lord of the Rings."

Here's where Year of No Fear came in (aside from tackling a gargantuan project that I put off for 4 months . . . ): Not long before my self-imposed deadline, I ran to Wal-Mart to quickly purchase some monkey fabric for a bulletin board. As I was choosing my fabric, the fabric girl wandered out of the fabric section. I waited at the counter for her to cut my fabric (that's 5 "fabric"s in 3 sentences, if you're wondering), but several minutes went by with no assistance. I even dinged the "ring for help" bell! I hate dinging those bells. It makes me feel all bossy and pushy. (Stop mocking me.)

I was anxious to get back home and nobody was coming! More customers were beginning to line up behind me. One lady had even gone to automotive to request a page, but no luck. So I stood there feeling more and more irritated. Visions danced through my head of a smug fabric girl engaged in all sorts of irresponsible, time-wasting activities while I stood helplessly waiting!

Then a thought came to me: If I was my friend, K, who's not the kind to stand around waiting for assistance, what would I be doing? I would be picking up the fabric desk phone and demanding some help, that's what! (K later confirmed that I was correct.) So I did! I picked up the phone, hit some numbers until someone answered (the fitting room, as luck would have it?), and explained my plight.

Turns out the fitting room carries about as much clout as automotive. Nobody appeared.

By now I had been waiting at least 15 minutes. What would K do next, I wondered? Of course she would pick up that fancy pricing gun, print her own sticker, cut her own fabric, and skitter off to the checkout stand, that's what! (K informs me that I was WRONG, but I didn't know that until later.) So I grabbed the pricing gun, scanned my fabric bolt, and started fiddling around, trying to get it to print a sticker.

You know, they make that look really easy. IT'S NOT. Ten minutes later, when the fabric girl FINALLY showed up, I was still punching buttons with a furrowed brow. Upon being caught red-handed, I immediately decided that the poor girl had probably been the helpless victim of sudden and prolonged gastrointestinal distress, and who was I to judge? I sheepishly handed over the gun with a flimsy apology, which she sheepishly took with NO apology (it's hard to apologize for gastrointestinal attacks), and nothing more was spoken while she cut and priced my fabric.

My audacious courage didn't save me any time, but I did watch her like a hawk so the next time she goes AWOL, I'll be all over that pricing gun!

The makeover was a success, and the children survived their week as orphans. (Yes, that's a hammock. She's slept in it going on 2 years now. I will either be known as the coolest mom ever, or the chiropractor's standing Caribbean cruise fund.)


My Belated Wednesday question for you:
Who wants to makeover the younger kids' room?

Ha, just kidding.

Mostly.