Four years ago, on Aug. 31, James and I carried Bean through a hospital corridor for major surgery. Surgery to repair his three heart defects. A surgery that would end his five month battle with heart failure. A surgery that would allow him to wake up, experience energy for the first time, drink milk without sweating and turning blue from lack of oxygen, gain weight, and get down to the business of growing and learning. And that is what happened.


But on that day. The day we woke up at the Ronald McDonald House at a Children's Hospital in a town not our own. The day we had to carry our son into the hospital at 5am to be prepped for open heart surgery and hand him over to a surgical team that we had no choice but to trust. The day we paced the halls of the hospital for five hours waiting to hear that surgery was over and he was off bypass. That day was tough.


Tom, over at Narrow Ridge, captures it beautifully in a clip from the documentary he is making about his son, Ian. While I do not know the reason for their hospital visit there are many things I find powerful about this clip. Ian's contentment in his mother's arms as they walk the hospital corridor. The medical personnel that pass, glancing at Ian, another patient in a hospital full of patients. Ian's mom, the way she looks up and sighs as she holds her son tightly and waits for the next step. And the music choice. I find the words both haunting and hopeful.

Seersucker

A seersucker blazer is, to a southern man, what a string of pearls is to a southern woman.

And don't be afraid, men. Like a nice string of pearls, the seersucker blazer can be paired with any number of items in your wardrobe.

Tank is not afraid of a fashion violation. He's a confident Southern Boy.

We're still working on the 'gentleman' part.

After staring at paint cards for 10 days I finally decided on a color for my 10 drawer dresser.

Apple Green. And once I was sure of the color I put everything else aside and loaded up the boys for a trip to Lowe's. And for fun I allowed Tank to walk while I pushed Bean in the shopping cart. What a great decision that was. Moments after stepping into the paint section Tank opened a jar of antique glaze, which is greasy and black, and started finger painting. I took the jar and put it in the cart to purchase while groveling to the paint lady, who was not amused, for something to help me clean up my disaster of a child. A bit later while talking to Paint Lady about my paint needs, Bean hurled the bottle of antique glaze out of the cart onto the concrete floor. It shattered. And black, greasy goop went everywhere. Within 10 seconds five Lowe's employees descended like a hazmat team with a bag of powder and a large bottle of liquid and they went to work cleaning as they asked me to keep my children away. Sure thing.

Oh, and in the midst of that a stranger approached me to discuss her concerns for Bean's skin. "His legs looks bad." "Don't you use sunscreen on him?" "Is it painful?" My telling her that Bean has sensitive skin and was prone to heat rash did not seem to satisfy her. "Isn't there something you can do about it?" "Poor thing." "And sunscreen really won't help?"

And people wonder why I'm such a homebody.

Once home I set to work sanding, priming and painting.

Once dry I distressed it a bit and then accepted my dresser's thanks for the face lift.

It's December now and I've come back to visit this old post to link up to Funky Junk Interiors, a new fav blogspot of mine, to share my diy dresser. Still loving the green!