The thing is, it shouldn't be a problem. But it is ... in the scheme of first-world, non-imminent problems mind you, but still it's driving me crazy. "It" is my ridiculous inablity to decorate my house.
Not decorate well, just decorate as in choose a few paint colors, hang some curtains, and put together a "big girl" room for my nearly 4-year-old daughter who is still sleeping in her nursery (and in her crib -- if truth be told). But in the five years since we bought this house, I've yet to make any significant changes to make it our own, and thus we live in a world of beige. It's a lovely shade of beige, but still, we're not a beige kind of family.
Oh, there are pictures on the walls, but only where there were nails left by the previous owners. Even driving in a new nail gives me all sorts of anxiety. The curtain rod in my son's room has curtain rings hanging desperately bare because I haven't been able to commit to any kind of draperies. Thankfully there are some blinds for privacy, but still you'd think in five years, I might be able to choose some.
It's not a problem of money as I actually have a designated budget for this task that we've set aside. It's not a huge budget, but it could definitely get me started. I just can't seem to get started. And it's not nearly big enough for me to bring in a designer to just do the work for me.
Besides I SHOULD be good at this. I'm a fantastic shopper (seriously, it's one of my best talents), and I like to think I have a great eye for style. I was once an art major with dreams of being a fashion designer for crying out loud. I know what I like -- modern, clean, and a bit edgy -- and I'm typically a quite decisive person. But there's something about my house that leaves my wheels spinning as my head spins with options.
Case in point: I have an antique bed for my daughter that was gifted to us by a relative, and it's beyond lovely. But the headboard and footboard need to be recovered. I can't even tell you how many fabric samples I've perused, and yet still she sleeps in her crib because I just can't decide what to do with this room. Because I also have to consider the curtains, and a rug, and bedding, and oh ... she's going to be in the damn crib forever.
I spend hours poring over home decorating magazines, reading blogs, and marveling over websites filled with wonderful rooms, but when it comes to actually making the decisions, I can't commit. And maybe that's the problem -- my fear of commitment to something so big and permanent.
A new pair of shoes isn't something I have to stare at every day. They signify more of a whim, or a fad, or a mistake (a much cheaper mistake than a new couch in most cases). But my home -- my home is me. My home is my family. My home is what I imagine as the backdrop to my children's childhood memories, and I want it to be just right. I want them to look back with lovely images surrounding them.
Of course, I know it's not the tangible things in our house that any of us will remember the most, but rather the love and good times. And I know that if I NEVER decorate my house and we forever stare at beige walls, life will go on just fine. Still I'd like my children not to look back and wonder why I never at least took down those damn empty curtain rings.
Do you have a problem with home decorating?
Image via Julie Ryan Evans