Sometimes, a woman on maternity leave needs to venture into uncharted territory. I haven’t edited anyone’s grammar (except in my head) for three days. But today, I painted a rocking chair.
The Only Paintbrush Available:
Let me stress that I am not naturally crafty. It is a woeful inadequacy. I don’t do house projects, I have no interest in Pinterest, and so little sense of colour and interior decor that our flat is practically whitewashed, just to be on the safe side. I ventured into green for the nursery, and considered this to be bravery on a par with the charge of the Light Brigade. So you can imagine the trepidation with which I approached this project.
Good job I was warned beforehand that the first coat would look awful, and I wasn’t to mind, but to press ahead. Because, wow. It really did.
I realised quite early on that I could’ve chosen an easier piece of furniture for my first DIY attempt. Rocking chairs don’t have straight lines; they have poles. Poles that require endless dabbing, all the way around, to prevent little globs of paint forming on the opposite side to the one you’re brushing. Oh, and also: carved wood. Not the easiest, especially when you’re eight-and-a-bit months pregnant and you’re lying in an impossibly curled-up position on the nursery floor. TJ realised there was something hard underneath his/her feet and took the opportunity to practise a bit of marching. This feels like someone is drawing on the inside of your skin with a marble. It does not help with painty concentration.
After a while, I took a break and went to make some macaroni cheese for dinner. Stick to what you know, eh?
I’m afraid I cannot yet post a photo of my crafty masterpiece, as the camera would likely spontaneously combust from shame. Tomorrow I’ll do the second coat, and hopefully it’ll be better-looking. Would it be trivial to pray for the presentability of your rocking chair? I haven’t ruled it out.