DIY Colorful Raindrop Decals {Nursery Accent Wall}

Several things happen when you sit nursing a baby for any great length of time.

1. You begin wondering if you’d be able to walk to the kitchen and get the eggless cookie dough out of the fridge without breaking baby’s latch.
2. You get an overwhelming urge to check and make sure your boob is still intact.
3. You begin daydreaming about how you could improve the space in which you are nursing.

This, my friends, is how Kenley’s sweet and colorful raindrop accent wall was born. Terrible pun completely intended.

The owner of the room approves and I’ve caught her studying her raindrops on a few occasions. When it was time to take her picture, though, she was more interested in studying the camera.

One of my favorite parts about this wall is that it is completely reversible: the raindrops are made out of adhesive vinyl. Which means that I could rearrange them every day into random shapes like a pancreas, or a squirrel, or a squirrel’s pancreas, if I was so moved. Luckily for you and the squirrel I’d need to bring to an untimely demise in order to know what a squirrel’s pancreas looks like, I am not so moved.

I did some much-needed stash-busting and used up all of the white and green vinyl that I had on hand, and then ordered the colored vinyl on eBay. I made the raindrop template on my Cricut and then pushed a button and went and did other things while my Cricut did all of the work for me. Yes, you could probably cut out 200 raindrops shape by hand with little to no whining and drama, but to be honest I’d rather pursue that squirrel and his pancreas.

When it was time to put them up, I did the white ones first, leaving space randomly between them for the colored ones. I did a fair amount of rearranging to get the colored ones where I wanted them—not too close to another one of the same color, evenly distributed across the wall, avoiding any sort of predictable pattern, etc. Organized chaos is my specialty.

When there were only a handful of spaces left, I used scraps of vinyl as placeholders so I could figure out how many more raindrops of certain colors I needed to cut out.

As far as measuring goes, there was a TON. And by a TON I mean a ton of none. (Recall my use of the word chaos.) I just started sticking the raindrops up there and eyeballed the distances between them. It’s imperfect, but no raindrop ever claimed to fall equidistant from its neighbor…possibly because the word equidistant is above a raindrop’s primitive vocabulary. This system worked because I could stick, stand back, and adjust when necessary. I might have had to be a responsible math-favoring adult if I’d been using a stencil and paint.

Overall, the wall makes Kenley’s nursery my hands-down favorite room in the house, and in my opinion its sweetness is exceeded only by the sweetness of the room’s primary occupant.

Total cost for the project: $12 and change for the colored vinyl. Total time on task: probably three or four hours uninterrupted by that cute little face. This project was definitely more time-consuming than it was difficult.

Have you ever made anything with adhesive vinyl? Who wants to hire Kenley to model their projects? Who wants to share my eggless cookie dough? On second thought, I don’t know if I am willing to share my baby or that cookie dough. Offers retracted.

Psst…you can see the rest of Kenley’s nursery here.

 

Linking up to DIY Showoff, Be Bold Challenge, and the Link Party Palooza!

Lessons from a Color-Blind Senior Citizen at the Paint Counter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You all know the drill: it’s time to pick a paint color. Cue the internal groan. Trudge to the stack of swatches. Tape a bajillion on the wall. Come back and visit them in every possible form of light. Compare one to the next. Repeat 85 times because it needs to be *perfect* and this is, you’re told by countless experts, how to do it. Hem and haw and refuse to make a decision for weeks because you don’t want to waste money—and, ironically, time—redoing it.The life of a person who cares what their house looks like, right?

And yet.

There I was, standing at the paint counter at ACE Hardware, waiting for my gallon of flat Simply White to be ready. An older gentleman approached the counter with a coupon for a free quart of paint, and, when asked what color he would like, he replied, “Brown.” I smiled a little to myself, finding humor in his oblivion to the thousands of Benjamin Moore color choices laid out in a rainbow behind me, a rainbow that had sucked me in even as a child, enchanting me with its fantastically immense variety of hues. Just “brown”? What was that? He obviously didn’t do what every “How to pick the perfect paint color” guide tells you to do.

The worker kindly showed him that rainbow of swatches, instructing him to pick out which specific brown he would like. A few seconds later, the man reappeared at the counter with his chosen swatch, at which point he was informed by the worker that the “brown” he had chosen was not, in fact, brown.

It was purple.

So back the man went with the worker, who selected a few brown swatches from which the man grabbed one, thus ending the quest for “brown” paint. It took him mere seconds.

As I stood there taking in the whole scene, I thought how freeing it would be to have that kind of contentment about a paint color. To simply walk up to the counter and ask for brown, without taping half a million swatches to the wall, without googling images of said brown, without needing the perfect brown to be called something like Mink or French Press. Just brown. And to even be content with it not being brown at all, but purple.

And then I thought, Benjamin Moore carries nearly 3,500 paint colors, not including the shades blended for annoying customers like me who ask for it mixed at 50% strength. And dear old Ben is just one of countless brands of paint, each with their own versions of Mink and French Press. At what point did we begin needing hundreds of thousands of choices for our wall colors? At what point did things stop being just brown and start being Chocolate Truffle and Timber and Autumn Dusk? At what point did I decide that it was okay for me to spend a whole lot more than mere seconds agonizing over decisions that don’t actually matter?

I walked away from the paint counter with my Simply White—because just regular off-the-shelf white was not acceptable; I had to have that extra ounce of black added to the gallon—and asked the Lord to not let me forget what I witnessed with the older gentleman. I prayed that I would have the same kind of contentment with the choices I make for our home, not constantly wanting to change or scrutinize or worry about them being “perfect.” I prayed for constant reminders that neither perfection nor happiness actually comes from the “perfect” color or chair or curtain fabric.  A fleeting feeling of perfection and happiness, maybe, but it doesn’t last. It’s not supposed to. This is just stuff of the world.

This is not to say that I’ve stopped caring what my house looks like. No, I have been blessed—and cursed—with a critical eye, and I doubt I will ever give up on trying to make our home beautiful. This house is a creative outlet and hobby for both me and Rick, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it’s not just a matter of “finding balance” with things like hobbies; it’s a matter of prioritizing. Because I can balance a 16 pound bag of cat food, two gallons of milk, four shopping bags of cereal, and my man-eating purse all while attempting to unlock the house door, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Something will always demand the brunt of my strength. And which of those things wins when they all go crashing to the ground?

See, I want to pick my just brown and move on with life. This goes for every house choice, not just paint. At the end of it all, I want to be able to say a lot more than, “Well, I sure did have some great-looking walls in my house after I painted them 42 times each, and I once spent a lot of marvelous days staring at pages and pages of fabric options.”

Because let’s face it. That’s lame.

The new drill: it’s time to pick a paint color. So I pick one. And am content with it. And learn how love and thankfulness and joy look with those walls as the backdrop.

And with that, “just brown”—yes, even “just brown”—can be perfect.

Curtains: The Only Thing a Newborn Really Needs (Obviously)

We are rocking this nursery progress thing. How do I know? Because in the two months since the room was painted, we’ve made and hung curtains.

Fabric from here

I know you are amazed at our speed and efficiency.

Really, though. A crib? Optional. Storage? Unnecessary. Diapers? Overrated.

But curtains? A must-have.

We are clearly 100% ready for the arrival of our baby girl. Soon-to-be parents of the year, right here.

In our defense, this summer has been a bit busier than usual…and we are waiting to set up the nursery furniture until the upstairs is carpeted so that we don’t have to move it all in and then back out again. And we have a list of exactly 46 things that need to be done before carpet can be installed. And by 46 things, I don’t mean 46 things things like “sweep the floor.” I mean things like “skimcoat the bedroom walls” and “install new trim.” You know, things that require a few more than 8 seconds of time on task and people who don’t take accidental 2.5 hour naps instead of cleaning the house.

I’m happy to report, though, that despite *someone’s* snoozing, 28 of the 46 things are DONE. The other 18 will be done in time to have carpet installed before school starts again in September. If I type it, it will come true, right? Here are the answers you may choose from:

A. “RIGHT Erin; you’re not delusional at all. But even if you are delusional, and the upstairs will never be done in that time frame, you can always have your baby sleep in a hammock hanging from that ladder.”

B. “RIGHT Erin; you’re not delusional at all. Let me come over with a fresh batch of brownies and finish everything for you.”

C. “RIGHT Erin; you’re not delusional at all. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.” (I will kindly excuse the poor comparison and largely misguided use of a cliché.)

Do let me know which answer you’ve chosen. ;)

Smile, I Made a Gold-Painted “Smile” Pillow

I participated in the following conversation last week:

Rick: Where did you get that from?

Erin: I made it.

Rick: No you didn’t.

Erin: Um, yes I did.

Rick: But it’s so perfect.

Erin: Thank you?

This was my first attempt at painting fabric, and I just used regular white fabric and water-based acrylic paint I had left from this drippy watercolor dot painting. I know some people have mixed the paint with something called fabric medium or something like that, but I didn’t. This is mainly because I don’t know what that even is, AND it was not in my immediate possession. Smile, I am clueless. And impatient.

Aaaand then I stuffed it with fiberfill from a deformed pillow that came with an old comforter. Sometimes things just have to be sacrificed in the name of cheap.

Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner…instead of buying the sometimes-pricey bags of fiberfill from the craft store, buy the old ugly pillows that are on clearance because nobody wants them. And then destroy them, which technically should have been done before they ever hit the stores and/or homes in the first place. This one would be a perfect victim, for example:

Source

On that note…some things that make me smile lately other than the thought of burning that pillow:

• Feeling my baby do gymnastics at all hours of the day.
• Spending time with my brother who is home from Arizona for a bit.
• Watching my dad beam with absolute pride and excitement as he directs the orchestra of Les Miserables…of which I am a (mostly) willing participant on the French horn.
• The hilarious comments of the 5 and 6-year olds at summer rec arts and crafts (“I can see seven germs on my desk!”).
• Watching Rick have three potential job prospects within two weeks of finding out that his pharmacy (at a long-term care facility) is going to be outsourced…and all within four days of applying for said jobs. That whole deal isn’t over yet--and definitely didn’t begin with either of us smiling--but we’ve cast our anxieties on the Lord and He is so clearly already showing His faithfulness. :) :) (That deserves TWO smiles.)

What makes YOU smile lately?

Stamped Packing Peanut Painting {Easy Art}

Making this art is easy. Saying the name with which I’ve christened it….not so much. I won’t recommend anything foolish like “say that 5 times fast” because you and I would both regret that and you would be embarrassed.

This simple 8x10 packing peanut art is officially the first decoration for baby’s nursery and was inspired by a giant bag of packing peanuts that I found in my parents’ basement. All you need to make your own is paint and…packing peanuts. You really only need a few, although I found it helpful to have one designated for each of the five colors I used.

On an unrelated note, having a baby makes me want to swath our entire house in bright and bold and color. Byebye, “grown-up” neutrals. Did this happen to anyone else?

Also, packing peanuts come in different shapes, but the ones I used to create this painting are shaped like figure 8s. Some are shaped like an S (which could also be cool) and some are shaped like turds. If you have been secretly pining for a turd-shaped stamp and real turds are in short supply then make those your go-to variety of packing peanut. And also invest in some prunes. Okay, this just got really gross and weird. Forget I said anything about turds.

No matter what shape you choose, you simply dip the packing peanut into your paint and stamp away to your little heart’s content. Like I said, easy. Kids could do it! While blindfolded! Using only their pinky toes!

I plan to test my theory when baby is born. Surely infants are even capable of this level of crafting.

I’m actually 27 weeks now, but who’s counting? I definitely didn’t know that yesterday was 13 weeks from my due date. And I definitely didn’t know that Sunday marked 3 months until my due date. And Rick definitely doesn’t have a countdown on his computer at work. No, nobody’s counting. We’re actually not excited at all.*

*Biggest lie I’ve ever told.

Would you stamp with packing peanuts? Have you ever stamped with anything unusual? What are you *totally not* excited about these days?

The “Erin & Ricky Should Get Married” Club {Sentimental Gallery Wall Update}

I was going through a folder of some sentimental gooey stuff the other day and re-discovered these clever notes that had been sent by some official members of the “Erin and Ricky Should Get Married” Club. I mean, by Erin and Bicky.

This club had precisely two official members. These two official members were six and seven respectively when the club was founded. These two official members also plotted to play chicken ice hockey at our wedding reception and went so far as to put their flip-flops in the freezer in preparation. This was, perhaps, in celebration of the fact that their club succeeded in its mission.

Today, those two club members are still our baby sisters but have since learned the difference between a “B” and an “R.” They also no longer take an active interest in frozen poultry athletics. But since their notes still make me smile, and turned out to be prophetic in a way, it only seemed fitting to scan and print them and make them a part of our bedroom gallery wall.

It’s especially fitting because tomorrow, June 28th, marks the five-year anniversary of Erin and Bicky being married.

Time flies when life together brings new jobs, new smiles, new places to live. Time flies when your husband is your best friend. Time flies when you find yourself, five years later, carrying the child that you created with the man who makes each day complete, and knowing that the moment you see him holding your daughter for the first time will be one of the best moments of your entire life.

So Happy 5th Anniversary, Rick. I love you! (And seriously--can I start calling you Bicky now? It has a certain ring to it.) ;)

Psst…you can see more specifics of our bedroom gallery wall here.

Navy & White Herringbone Accent Wall Reveal

Okay. I’ve stepped outside of my comfort zone big time with our recent accent wall project. Like I am maybe even in a new country if my previous comfort zone was the United States. Like maybe, I don’t know, my new comfort zone is in Guatemala or something.

I wonder how the Guatemalan locals feel about navy and white herringbone walls.

I felt terrified of them. (Herringbone walls, not Guatemalan locals.) I am a vanilla sort of decorator. Safe, safe. But we plunged ahead and there is no going back now. I like that it’s quirky but just a little less modern than its cousin Chevron.

Rick has also put up new trim AND gorgeous crown moulding in the entire room. He is my hero and seriously deserves an award for all of the work he is doing around the house. He also deserves an award for the most vocabulary learned in one project. He learned the word herringbone. I learned no new vocabulary.

Creating the herringbone pattern itself took us approximately six hours from start to finish, with obvious breaks for food eating and cat petting.

As for how we did it: I started typing up the tutorial and anticipate that writing it will also take at least six hours of my time, for two main reasons.

1. The whole thing initially made my brain hurt like I’d just swallowed a gallon of ice cream in 4.7 seconds time, and I need to figure out a way to explain the process without inflicting physical harm on anyone who reads about it. I am in no position to be sued for damages. And, actually, I am in Guatemala…so good luck finding me to deliver the subpoena. Full speed ahead with a mind-numbing tutorial. (I am all about getting people to come back to my blog.)
2. We finished the wall over a month ago and these days I’m doing this new trick where I say “Hey Rick” and then by the time he says “What” I have forgotten the pressing matter with which I began the conversation. So basically I will work on summoning my month-old memories and post the full step-by-step tutorial later this week, complete with pictures and diagrams.

There are only a few herringbone tutorials out there, and because of the tape we used, the process we personally ended up with is (I think) a little less complicated than the tutorials I looked at. We shall see.

What’s your favorite pattern these days? Do you have any accent walls in your home? Who’s ready to have their mind numbed?

Update: here’s the full tutorial!

Baby’s First Furniture {Dresser Makeover}

I know I keep saying how great Rick has been with this whole Prep the House for Baby and Hello We Have a Deadline Thing and Blah Blah Blah. But come on. I am basically more useless than a  sirloin steak at a PETA convention…and Rick has been amazingly motivated to pick up my slack and do helpful things like make sure our baby’s clothes aren’t still stored in a cardboard box four months from now.

See? I plan on keeping him around.

With my direction, Rick stained the outside of the dresser in Minwax Dark Walnut and painted the drawers Benjamin Moore Simply White in semi-gloss. The ceramic knobs I purchased from Joann’s like eight years ago. All six knobs total cost approximately the same amount as a sirloin steak. Maybe. I don’t actually remember. It was eight years ago after all. Plus I can’t say that I’ve ever actually purchased steak.

The dresser used to belong to Rick’s parents. It has been sitting silently in our storage for a while. But after we found out I was pregnant, it spoke to me. It said “I was meant to store the cutest clothing in the world and snuggle up with the cutest poop in the world.” And thus was born the idea of making it a dresser/changing table combo.

Speaking of poop, the middle drawer needs to be fixed…which is why it currently rests without much of a gap on the bottom drawer. But since it is still functional and Rick is busy renovating our entire house while I sit on my growing tush and compare the price of knobs to the price of beef, the drawer will be staying this way temporarily.

While we wait for Rick to finish, let’s all take a moment to squeal in delight over the baby girl clothes that could potentially be stored in this dresser.

Both $1 from yard sales. Both with tags still on. I’d say booyah except nobody says that. Plus I was informed by a student that I was “too old to have swag” and the use of booyah only confirms that.

Despite my alleged lack of swag, I still lead an exciting life:  a couple weeks ago, we started feeling serious Baby movements from the outside. I’d say she’s playing soccer but she happens to be the spawn of the two most non-athletic people on the planet. True fact. (As opposed to a fake fact?) Swagless AND inept at sports. Our child is doomed. At least her mom is photogenic.

Mmmhmmmm.That’s right. Booyah.

Have you inherited any furniture lately? Who wants a steak now? Anyone want to challenge me for the title of Least Athletic Human Being to Ever Briskly Walk the Planet?

*Linking up to Serenity Now!*