My Lucky Day

So, we’ve been having some painting done.

I have to say, I know how lucky I am. I know. My mom, a designer by trade and having been in the business for over 30 years, is so knowledgeable. She knows how to pick paint, she knows what to look for, she know what to ask about. She also knows how to play the heavy when the heavy must be played.

I am not this person.

I have always been, and will be the worker bee. The person who would willingly sit behind the computer for hours typing the emails and making the lists, or be the assistant coach, or quietly cook and serve the dinner, or do all the planning, and do the driving for anyone and everyone. I’m not the person to hire or fire. I’m not the person to dock someone’s pay for being late or lazy. I’m not the person to tell someone they aren’t doing a good enough job (unless you are someone under the age of 17 and swim or sing or otherwise are under my care). I’m not the person to point out someone’s sloppy work (ditto the previous parentheses, of course, then you’re fair game).

Mom saved the day.

She’s been gone on a two-week trip to California and Washington and Oregon. Wining and dining and dune-buggying with old friends and making new friends. Exactly what she should be doing because she deserves it, but I have to say God was watching out for me when the timing was perfect for her to get home last night and be able to come over to check out the job that I’m paying over $1k for.

She was the one that pointed out the smudges and the smears (that I didn’t really see). She was the one that noticed they needed to remove the switch plates and clean them. She was the one that said, this or that isn’t cool. I probably would have seen them eventually, but I’m not sure I would have said anything. Maybe I would have pointed out a few things, but … not all.

People are human, I get that, mistakes get made, but some people are better at things than others. I’m good at coaching and swimming and singing and cooking and being a mean and sometimes nice mom. Painters are much better at painting than I am, so much better that I would rather hire them than do it myself because I know it will be perfect. As long as my mom is around, or rather my designer is around that is because she will make it so. She is good at telling them, fix that, clean this, do this over. For whatever reason, I’m not.

This is why I know I’m lucky.

Thanks, Mom.

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About krob3

Wife, mom, swim taxi, singer, writer. This is what I do.
This entry was posted in Families, House and Home, Life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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