Does Painting My House Also Include Therapy And A One Way Ticket To Heaven?

We are having our house painted. Starting Tuesday at 8 a.m.. It’s an effort to save the siding and shutters. Or my husband’s secret plan to drive my insane.

The last time we worked on our house was a year after we moved in. Scott found a leak. I cursed our house inspector. And we got a new roof while I had two children under the age of four, one of whom napped twice a day. Well, she did until BANG BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANG

A bad, bad flashback.

During this trial of the Iwashyna’s Left Behind, I tried to let my daughter, N, nap downstairs while muzzling her rambunctious I-have-not-napped-in-a-year, E, with THE FURY OF MAMA’S EYES since we couldn’t go outside lest a shingle or small man fall upon my son. Plus, our lawn was littered with nails! For weeks!

Instead, it was twenty minutes of me glaring and going: Shhh, E be quiet. SHHH, E be quiet. DUDE, N IS SLEEPING!


E: Mama, N is awake again! I can talk!

I pretty much looked like this…


My husband, Scott, was at work from the moment the roofers arrived until exactly one minute after the roofers left. The first time he said, Wow! They’re working so fast!, I accused him of being the Anti-Christ.

Needless to say, I’m not very hopefully about my attitude and ability to handle house painting this week.

But I’m happy to report that on Wednesday, Scott is off and in charge of the kids.

I cannot wait to casually comment as I walk in immediately after the painters leave: Wow! They’re working so fast!

But if he agrees and tells me that our daughter took a great afternoon nap, I plan to cry until he promises to stay home for the rest of the week.


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Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

12 thoughts to “Does Painting My House Also Include Therapy And A One Way Ticket To Heaven?”

  1. At least painting is quiet. After the rotten wood is replaced. Good god, you’ve brought back flashbacks of rot. And more rot. We painted right before selling. And had to fix it TWICE. I’m sure you’ll have a better guy. Who is fast.

    1. They do that because they don’t notice the details that we do. It’s maddening. I have to leave the house whenever he cleans anything because he always does it “wrong.” His cleaning takes 3 hours to get to 50% of my expectations, mine takes 2 hours to get to 100%. If I don’t leave, I’ll have an aneurysm from the frustration.

      Yeah, it might go off without a hitch, but if I’d been there I’ll bet I’d have noticed something I didn’t like.

      Which is why it’s best that I’m not there. Time to go to the YMCA for a long workout.

  2. We had our trim painted one BLAZING HOT JULY and they took all of our storm windows off, complete with attached screens. Because we have squirrels the size of cats in our neighborhood, I then felt compelled to close the inner window for fear that a squirrel would come in our bedroom and eat our faces and hair.

    Instead, we just sweated (pre-central air) and I turned mean. It wasn’t exactly the best of times.

  3. I live in an apartment and can hear everything that goes on when someone is doing something to their unit. It drives me bonkers. Fortunately, enough of that over time has trained my son to sleep through drilling and hammering.

    At least you’ll have a pretty house!

  4. I totally feel you. Our neighbors were having their old driveway torn up this morning. At 6 freakin’ a.m. Oh, I was not a happy camper and neither was my three year old. And off my husband gleefully went to work. :/

  5. Serenity now… serenity now.

    Carl from Family Matters had a great way to deal with stress. “3-2-1, 1-2-3, What the heck is bothering me?”
    He still blew up at Erkle – but it wasn’t until the end of the episode. Maybe you’ll make it to the end of the week. Or not.

  6. Man. That sucks.

    And that’s all I’ve got for ya today, Al. Sorry…this monkey flu is kicking my arse. I’ll be thinking about you, though, and hoping for good naps and quick painters.

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