Dressed to impress

Yesterday the boys (all three of my current home-based brood, aged 18, 14 and 4) came and helped 'seal' a new plasterboard wall we've had erected to create another bedroom in the latest property. Diluting the paint 50/50 with water they keenly applied said mixture to the walls and approached the whole activity with gusto and enthusiasm. It was rather like watching the three bears decorate, with daddy bear's industrial size roller brush, mummy's value roller, and baby bear's mini roller. All three happily splashing and painting and rolling together, trying not to get in each other's way, but not too worried about coming out looking like dalmatian pups without the black spots. One stood on the step ladder to reach the highest edges, one rolling more-or-less at face level, and one kneeling to get down into the corners.

It wasn't all sweetness and light though. The first spat was between the two older boys over who should have the step ladder - arguing about who was the tallest. Then they ganged up on the youngest, who was merrily painting any blank space he could find, whether or not it was near the paint tray, thus trailing paint across the floor before walking in it. The dust sheet was abandoned half-way through the job as 'another annoyance that mum's brought with her'.

I was trying to guide/direct/train them but really I was a totally unnecessary accessory to the whole event. No matter what I said the boys were quite happy to do it their way, and experiment with what worked (and work out their conflicts without external mediation)!

She's looking a bit too clean for me

We finished after a couple of hours and exited from the house looking decidedly white and spotty. Hair, hands, arms, faces and clothes - spattered and spotted with paint! I had warned the boys of the necessity of old clothes and I was glad we had worn our oldest and scruffiest clothes. Except when we approached the counter at McDonald's 10 minutes later - spotty, bedraggled, unwashed and greasy - looking like something the cat had brought in.

But you know, there's something terribly freeing about wearing your oldest, dirtiest clothes. Then getting them covered in paint and dust and dirt. Having unwashed hair, no make-up on and one's nails a bit chipped and broken. Yes you do feel a bit like a tramp. But it is totally liberating. I think if I get into this more I may have to develop a 'property developer's wardrobe' (now there's a thought). A selection of items designed to give the impression that hard labour has been partaken of during the day, whether that be drilling, sawing, painting or building. In fact, I'll probably have been sitting at my desk all day, updating the finances, reviewing the marketing plan, or analysing the market. And when I collect the youngest from school - they'll never know quite what I've been up to!