Tonight I literally stripped one of the last vestiges of my children's babyhood out of our lives. Or, technically, off the wall: we're finally getting rid of the Winnie the Pooh wallpaper border that we put up over 12 years ago in anticipation of bringing home baby numero uno. Maren has been pestering us for awhile to get to this chore - she claims she's too embarrassed to have any friends come up to her room with that nursery relic on her wall. I would have thought I'd be sad getting rid of Pooh, but I'm not. I'm definitely ready to say good-bye to all things baby and am looking forward to having ALL school-age children. When Chase starts kindergarten next year, not only will we be able to stop investing one of my monthly paychecks in childcare, but I'll also get something even more valuable: time. No more dropping off and picking up at daycare or preschool day after day after day. For the first time since I had children, I will be able to drive straight to work and straight home every day. And if I happen to be sick one day, I won't have to drive my kids ANYWHERE before I can wallow in my misery at home. I'll just wave them out the door to the bus while standing in my pajamas and holding a nice hot cup of coffee. Just the thought of this buoyed me through the wall-stripping process.
Not that I really needed to be buoyed. There is something innately satisfying about pulling long strips of wallpaper off. It reminds me of when I was growing up and would get one of my annual sunburns and Terri would offer to peel my back. Yeah, ew, gross, but pulling off anything in one long, continuous strip until it finally breaks off is...rewarding, even when it's dead skin you're pulling. In fact, my dead skin and I can probably take credit for sparking Terri's interest in pursuing a wound-care career. You're welcome.
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5 comments:
Sounds like someone needs to have another baby.
Nah, but I think I'm going to be sick a lot next year. No point in being sick this year, when I have to drive Chase all the way to Mahtomedi. When I get all the way up there, I figure I may as well drive the rest of the way to work and slog through the day.
Guess I didn't inherit that "one sick day every ten years" gene. But then, I also don't have the sterile work environment you enjoy. Instead, I have to sit in close quarters with kids who sereptiously pick their noses, sneeze and cough without covering their mouths, and occasionally wipe wayward spittle from their mouths - and then pick up my pencils, markers, notebooks and binders to get back to work.
I have absolutely no recollections of peeling dead skin off your back
I don't think you did it more than once... maybe twice.
Thats disgusting! I'm going to have nightmeres...
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