Lighting up the stairway

The stairway to the basement {not to be confused with the stairway to Heaven} is one of those spaces that is usually forgotten but it could be an absolute gem.  I plan on making the main wall into a family photo gallery.  I have been collecting frames since we moved here {it's a big wall}.  I want the space to be really unique and interesting, more than just a way to get from one floor to the other.

We've been working on updating the lighting throughout the house.  Lighting is one of those details that we feel is really important to the feel of a space.  Well, I feel that, and Handsome Hero loves me, so....

In the stairway to the basement, there was this dinky little pendant with one bulb that had been hung too high anyway.  It seemed like an odd choice to me, but, hey. 

We found a cheap brass chandelier at ReStore and painted it yellow.  Handsome Hero hung it a couple of weeks ago, and it's amazing the difference in the light and feel in here.

It's fun and funky, but will likely be the last painted chandelier we do for awhile.  Handsome Hero is at his painted-chandy limit.  He says I'm about to be a one-trick pony.  I actually agree, so we'll call two painted chandeliers good for awhile.

Eventually, this room will be painted a putty-gray color called Fawn Brindle.  It needs it.  Badly.  Picture flat builder-grade white paint with kids going up and down the stairs many times a day.  Nasty and unwipeable.  Obviously, I am really looking forward to having it painted, but it's a tricky proposition. With two story ceilings and a stairway, it's a difficult space to paint.  We may hire it out {we got a quote when we had the trim painted back when we moved in and it wasn't bad}, but we may just tackle it together.  I haven't been able to get on a ladder or swing since having Nate without being absolutely sure that I'm going to fall and die {I sure hope this pregnancy-induced vertigo goes away like it did with the other two} which means Handsome Hero will have to paint all the high stuff.  He's still fine with heights, though.  No sympathy vertigo or anything.  hehe.

I'll go ahead with the gallery wall and other things I'm able to do by myself, and I will enjoy my fresh and funky and very happy chandelier.  It will get painted eventually.

Nasty kid hands.  Sheesh.  

I'm going to tell you what.

That is what Jack says every day at naptime.  "Mom, I'm going to tell you what."  Then I say, "What?" and he says, "I want to play dump trucks and bulldozers at G.G. and Poppy's house tomorrow."  Then I say it sounds like fun and we blow lots of air kisses and he goes to bed.

This happens every day.  Not once has he shown any interest in actually carrying out this plan.  He couldn't care less about playing dump trucks or bulldozers with G.G. or Poppy, but he always says it.  

It's tradition.

It's what we say.

Sometimes he pretends that he isn't going to say it, but if I leave the room, I'll hear him start to whimper.  I will sometimes say, "I'm going to tell you what," to speed things along, and then he giggles and says, "No, I'm going to tell you what!"  And then he does.

It's what we do.

It's tradition.

Except that yesterday he didn't say it.  He said goodnight and we blew kisses but he didn't tell me what.  He didn't whimper when I left the room.

I kept thinking about it all evening.  Is he past it?  Are we done telling what?  I don't know that I'm ready to be done telling what, but I don't want to push to keep it, either.

So today when I put him to bed I just sort of let him take the lead.  I tucked him in and told him I loved him, and started to get up from the bed.  He pulled me down and said, "Mom, I want to tell you what.  I want to play dump trucks and bulldozers at G.G. and Poppy's house tomorrow AND {squeezing his chubby hands on my cheeks until he's given me an fabulous fishy face and then roaring} I want to take the dump truck and bulldozer TO THEIR HOUSE TOMORROW!"  Then he fell back against his pillow, laughing.

I guess he needed a break so that he could make some improvements.

I told him it sounded like a great idea, and then we blew kisses and I left the room.

 

He won't always want to tell me what.  Or maybe he will but it won't be the same sweet kind of what.  He won't always insist on wearing pink infant sunglasses for his school picture or be adamant that I call him Magnet Boy or Super Dog.  Someday, tomorrow will actually mean tomorrow and not any moment in the future.  Yesterday will be a specific day and not any moment previous to this one. 

 

I know that, but I'm glad it's not this moment.

 

 

Never tired of being told what,

 

Magnet Boy's Mama