Black Chalk Paint Vanity & Crying Over Spilled Milk

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.

She's for sale for $200. 

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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11 Things To Do With Your Little Girl (part 3)

Finally, my final installation of:

"11 Things To Do With Your Little Girl."

 (To read Part 1, click here.)
 (To read Part 2, click here.)

I started this series back in September and October, and those holidays sure crept up on me! I even had to get through Valentine's Day just to get part 3 out!


If you've been following along, you know that I just think life with my daughter Ivy (age 3) gets better each day. Infancy was a little hard on me, and motherhood in general took some figuring out. I had to figure out what Ivy likes, and to figure out what I like in this role called "mom."

So here's #8, #9, #10 and #11 of things we do together:

Sometimes you just have to get out the cups and saucers, fill those miniature carafes with water, sit in a too-small chair, and have some tea with your daughter. Last spring I re-finished a kids Pottery Barn table and chair set, (see that post here), which gave me a great excuse to take it outside and use it in its full glory. My daughter was in 7th heaven, holding those little cups to her stuffed animals' mouths and pouring me "tea" every 30 seconds, watching me sip it. It was just me, Ivy, and our best manners. (Oh, and grandpa popped in for a bit). Such a sweet memory and so simple to do.

Throughout my pregnancy the smell of coffee made me vomit (literally). Within weeks of giving birth, I started drinking coffee again, especially since Ivy refused to sleep longer than 2 hours, night and day (until I made her cry it out at 10 months old). Getting coffee at Starbucks has always been a fun treat for me. As soon as I was mobile with Ivy, I started hauling her in the infant seat and enjoying a few nice moments at Starbucks with her, before she'd cry or need a diaper change or something. As she got older, started eating solid food, began to walk and such, I'd order her an organic chocolate milk and a muffin or croissant. At first she wanted to climb around (or worse, run around by those stacks of ceramic mugs!) but with some patience, practice and sometimes having to leave earlier than I would have liked, I trained her to sit there and "have coffee" with me. Just because I'm a mom now, doesn't mean I have to sacrifice those simple pleasures. But I did have to figure out how to still make it enjoyable-- for all parties involved. It is now even more enjoyable sharing "a cup of coffee" with my precious daughter. She loves it and looks forward to those mornings where I say, "You wanna go to Starbucks?"

I like to paint furniture and sew bunting. That's why I started this blog. My husband also likes to paint, and is also an amazing painter on canvas. The first thing Ivy does when Kit or I go out to the work tent to paint is say, "I wanna paint! What can I paint with?" I'll be honest, my first response is not always, "Ok great! Help me paint, Ivy!" It's usually more like, "Ivy, this is something mommy needs to paint, can you find something else to play with?" That response doesn't go over well at all. So I keep a few "projects" handy that Ivy can "help" with. For example, when I go to garage sales, I pick up old acrylics, paint brushes and wooden shelves, etc., so Ivy can feel like she's painting something like mommy. We have a gravel driveway and Ivy LOVES to paint the tiny rocks. I had a bunch of pumpkins left over from her Cinderella Birthday Party (see that post here) and one day she helped me paint them. It's pretty much a 100% chance (50% Kit + 50% Becca) that Ivy will be artistic. We might as well foster the creativity now! 

I might be cheating a little with this one... I choreograph 4-5 days a week at home before I head to work at the dance studio. So Ivy has no choice but to watch me move around our tiny cottage creating dances to teach to kids and adults. But sometimes, I have to stop choreographing with purpose, turn my eyes toward Ivy, take her hands, and dance with her. Especially when she says to me, "Mommy, dance with me!" Many evenings after dinner, instead of flipping on the television, we turn on some music and tell Ivy to dance. She may request some sample moves from Kit and I (yes, Kit), but soon gets on a roll herself. And, contrary to common belief, you don't have to play those overdone nursery songs to get a kid to dance. The other day I was playing the most Indie/Singer/Songwriter/Emo mash of music for work and Ivy kept telling me to play it again and again. Kit loves reggae. She dances to that. I love Christian worship music. She dances to that. I play hip hop for work. She dances to all of it. 

And that concludes "11 Things To Do With Your Little Girl." Hope you're able to take a little of this information and be inspired with new ways to spend time with your sweet daughter. 

Aloha, Rebecca

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