This is a post about a vanity.
But let's back up a little.
Let me just say, I love my mom. If you know my mom, you KNOW my mom.
You know about the time she put Jheri Curl in her hair for some extra conditioning. My mom is not black. It didn't come out for weeks.
You know that for my first trip to see snow, she bought me boys thermal underwear, complete with extra space in the front area, just because they were on sale, and the girls' pair were full price.
You know that she's been kicked out of the Serbian Embassy in Hungary, just to try to get two Slovenian teenagers across the border, in Jesus' name.
You know that when I was 10 years old and we traveled via dugout canoe for 8 hours to minister to the remotely placed Mosquito Indians in Honduras, she forgot to bring my clothes.
You know she can never have Coca-Cola without ice in it. She used to bring garage sale ice cube trays to foreign countries, introduce herself to the hotel kitchen staff, and have them freeze ice for her so she could have ice at every meal. Because they had the best rates, and were so accommodating, we stayed at one hotel in particular every summer. We later found out it was actually a brothel.
You know that while we were on a layover at LAX she took me to Compton to purchase blonde hair extensions which she braided into my hair on our 12 hour flight to Germany. Can you imagine seeing someone do that on a plane?
You know that in the late 90s, anytime she saw an older woman with bright red dyed hair she would yell, "Hey Bozo!" (as in Bozo, the clown).
You know that she was almost deported for selling discontinued LA boutique clothing at a fruit market in a former socialist country without a permit. Before the threats, she made thousands of dollars doing these sales. Again, all in Jesus' name.
You know she's posed for pictures with men who she thought were Eastern European celebrities, when indeed they weren't. The same goes for the homeless man on the side of the road who told us he was John the Baptist. She tried to get me and my brother to take a polaroid with him, and he chased us off "his" property saying he was in talks with a movie production company and no pictures were allowed.
And now, cause I'm telling you, you know that a few weeks ago she asked me to help her use Miss Mustard Seed Milk Paint for the first time. I was so excited! I went over and helped her pick out a color and order off the
Luckett's website. She got Artissimo, and I ordered myself some Ironstone. The package arrived at her house a few days later. I know this because she called me in a panic.
"Becca. I did something really bad."
"Oh my gosh, what?! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!"
"Yes, no, but it's really bad… I mixed the paint. ALL of it. YOUR paint."
"WHAT?! ALL OF IT?! MY IRONSTONE?! WHY?!"
"Yes! Yours! I don't know!"
You see, my mom is really eager to get things done. And boy does she get things done. She's 61 years old and as I type this, she's actually painting the house next door, while watching a 2 year old.
Back to the milk paint.
"Mom! We were supposed to do this together! Why did you mix it? It only has a shelf life of 5-7 days! That paint would have lasted me a year! And I have no time to paint anything with it because the recital is this weekend!!!" (Every year I'm in charge of 3 different dance shows, with 500 different students, that take place within 24 hours, the first weekend of May. It's a project 9 months in the making…. The frantic phone call from my mom happened on April 29.)
I hung up. I was mad. She felt bad. I kept telling myself it was only a $30 loss, but I felt the same way I did when I would pump, only to spill my breast milk while trying to put it in those awkward Lansinoh bags to freeze. And just like I would cry over spilled breast milk, here I was, pacing across my house, crying over milk paint.
But, you see, like my mom, I, too, am eager to get things done.
Which is how this vanity came about. It had been sitting there in our work tent since Spring Break, and I had no vision for it. I got it from a friend, and really wanted it to be amazing.
So I briefly sanded it, and covered that baby in Ironstone Milk Paint!
From afar, it looked OK. But up close it was terrible. My sanding was too brief.
Paint was just chipping off all over the place. And I am not a fan of the chippy look. I really should have primed it.
The green inside looked ridiculous, and even though I tried to be frugal and reuse a knob I already had by painting it silver, it just screamed "cheesy" and "cheap."
The Ironstone milk paint went back in the fridge, and a few days later went off. The vanity went back in the tent and started collecting dust. The 3 shows happened that weekend.
I was in Lowe's a couple weeks later and discovered they carried pre-mixed chalk paint! This is HUGE. Maui stores are not progressive and don't carry any type of special paints. This would actually be my first go at using chalk paint. I grabbed a container of black and went home and got to work. This stuff is awesome!! Some Kilz and some sanding later, and oila!
Take a look at the Ironstone shining through.
Evidence of spilled milk!
It got a coat of Beeswax Furniture Wax, and a new crystal knob.
I'm eager to sell her, but know she's a reminder that even something good can come from milk paint mixed to soon. After all, the show must go on!
I spilled Ivy's milk, and she turned out pretty good.
Mom, I love you. I was laughing so hard I was crying while writing this post. And now you know the milk paint protocol. Thanks for helping this vanity to turn out so nice. :)
Aloha, Rebecca
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