Extreme Home Takeover

I never thought this would happen to me, but it has.

You’ve all met folks who turned their kids’ rooms into veritable shrines after the little darlings left home, right? My mom was like that. When the first three of us flew the coop, it was good riddance, baby. But when Bridget and John left? Shrine City.

My kids still talk about the feeling they got from going into Bridget’s shrine—the good vibes. There were her ‘80s jigsaw puzzles, stuck on backboards with puzzle glue, hanging on her bedroom walls. Her prom dresses and dance costumes filled the closet, and I’m pretty sure the dresser drawers contained teenager-frozen-in-time secrets that fascinated my young children.

Doug’s mother, until 2004, lived in the same house he moved out of in 1971. His bedroom remained a shrine, too, in the sense that the wall decorations—all Jesus freak campy stuff that might sell for a gazillion bucks on eBay, or then again, maybe not—was never altered.

“If you feel far from God, guess who moved?”

Well, Doug might have moved, but his stuff didn’t. And not only that: His mama turned his room into a Where Broken Furniture And Pieces From Things We Can’t Identify Go To Die Room. In addition, the woman became incapable of tossing even an old Price Chopper ad, but filled grocery sacks with junk mail, opening his door just far enough to toss a fresh bag upon the pile.

Doug’s room became a shrine with plenty of flameable material, in case anyone got in the mood to offer a random sacrifice in there.

Is it laziness that keeps parents of adult children from lowering the boom on shrines? Or is it that they’ve got other stuff on their minds, and don’t have the time to devote to reclaiming their own space which they purchased at interest rates possibly as high as (in the late ‘70s) 15%?

Or is it that dreaded Something Else?

Until now, I’ve maintained (Ha!) that it’s probably laziness more than anything else. But you know what? That was before Carrie and I started going through her room and all its artifacts some ten days ago. She admitted then that until she went to Jamaica to work in the orphanage for five weeks, she probably would not have been able to deal with all her childhood stuff. She wanted the shrine, and I can understand why.

Sure, she’s been living away from home for seven years, but it took a complete change of perspective—seeing things through the eyes of children who don’t have many attachments to physical objects—for her to be ready to lose some of her baggage.

I’ve got to admit, she and I did some ooohing and aaahing over pictures and letters and awards and stuffed animals. We boxed up her china dolls, in case she has a little girl someday who might love them. We kept all the stuff of importance, and pitched the rest. There was a whole lot of pitching going on.

Since then, Doug and I have kicked in big-time. Carrie had a penchant for attaching posters to her closet walls with Scotch tape. Dang, that stuff works great! Much better, in fact, than whoever hung the dry wall. Our beautiful daughter also used sticky-tacky-gooey stuff to adhere Anne Gedde pics mounted on foam core around the top of her walls, like a border. It was darling at the time, but not quite as darling on this end.

Remember this, All You Who Refuse To Build Shrines: Sticky-tacky-gooey stuff, after it is scraped off, must be covered with Kilz or it WILL show through the new paint, no matter how many coats you use. I’m just sayin’.

And I might as well tell you this: I’ve bawled up there in that Temporary Shrine, paintbrush in hand, meticulously covering the material evidence of a little girl having ever spread her creative wings under our roof.

It’s the little things that got me, the things I didn’t expect. Like the one strand of stencilling Carrie attempted behind her closet door without our permission, a long gangly vine of tendrilled ivy, so gloppy and smeared that she must have despaired when she saw it, and then gave up the effort.

If she’d given up on other efforts, if she hadn’t gone on to grow into the amazing young woman God made her to be, I might have rushed out of the room, paintbrush in hand, and left the vine to wither for another day. But she’s a woman now, and so we, too, must continue to grow.

Her room was a shrine for a little while, for a few reasons, I’m sure. She wasn’t ready—until now—for us to perform an Extreme Home Takeover. And while I don’t think of Doug and me as lazy, and I’m not sure we have so much on our minds that we can’t keep up around here, there really is Something Else that must be faced.

Ah, Something Else.

Now I’m heading into Kev’s old room. Wish me well.

Posted by Katy on 06/05 at 07:26 AM

Fallible Comments...

I love the way you write, Katy. You make me laugh and cry.

Grace made the takeover easier on us. The summer after her freshman year in college she announced she wanted to completely redo her room. She went through all her mementos and either trashed them or stored them in plastic bins. We painted the walls, sheetrocked the ceiling, refinished the wood floors, framed some b&w photos she’d taken and hung them on the walls, even bought new furniture and linens. It’s her room when she comes home, but it makes a lovely guest room most of the time.

George is in the process of converting Luke’s old room into a science lab. So I know how you feel. It’s kind of sad to erase the traces.

Of course, having decorated my house in Framed Family Fotos motif, there’s no really danger of their presence ever being missed.

Wishing you much more than well,
Jeanne

Posted by Jeanne Damoff on 06/05 at 08:12 PM
My oldest gets her driving permit this week . . . not a room shrine issue, but it reminds me how close I am to those days!

Posted by Paula on 06/05 at 08:47 PM
katy, i’ve just had to go through a similar thing myself, as we’re moving from Kansas to Florida on pretty short notice because of C’s job..i’ve had to look at and make a decision about (keep, goodwill, garage sale, or garbage?) EVERY THING in our humble abode. after awhile, i thought i was going to lose it if i had to look through one more box of kid’s school papers, and got really good at pitching things altogether. asking myself if i really wanted to UNPACK this stuff at the other end helped tremendously. i’m a sentimental sucker for sure, but this time has really shown me how to prioritize in this area!

Posted by lisa on 06/05 at 10:38 PM
Oh Katy, how you make me laugh! I love how you describe Mom! That gives me a much better word picture than the usual way I’ve seen things! Your writing and your ways are very inspirational, you know! Much love! Nancy

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 06/06 at 09:45 AM
Katy, I wanna write like you when I grow up:-) Loved your post—it connected with my mommy heart of three (all grown and have flown the coop, as they say).

Would love to get some writerly perspective at my new place under ‘Valuable Writing Lessons’ if you get a chance. Thanks, Katy. God bless.

Posted by Vicki on 06/07 at 02:33 PM
Ah, to have my old bedroom called a “shrine”...that’s so funny to me! :) I didn’t move any of that stuff out until we moved Mom into assisted living three years ago, you know that, right? The puzzles went into the trash, I’m sad to say, as did two of the Prom dresses after I did a fashion show for Jim, who took pictures. The one from sophomore year didn’t fit at all, although Baillie looked great in it. The junior year dress actually fit and zipped almost all the way, but my boobs overflowed out. LOL. I kept my flapper senior prom dress..you just never know when it might be needed as a costume. I loved that dress! As for the dance costumes, they, too, ended up thrown away, but I still have all the memories of your kids and the other nieces/nephews trying on the costumes through the years and performing for the family. The teenage secrets stored away in the drawers and closet shelves consisted of letters from lost loves, pictures of past boyfriends, and memories of such a wild past that I needed to keep stored safely away in Kansas City. I miss my home, my room. No one seems to understand what memories my “shrine” really holds. Thanks for helping me remember.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 06/09 at 11:23 PM
Jeanne—Some kids take it easier than others, and some parents do, too. Your Grace sounds like a girl I’d get along with! :)

Paula—Oh, my! I remember the first license around here, 11 years ago. I let him go up to the gas station alone for his first solo fun. Gave him ten minutes to get there and back. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life! The years do fly by after they start driving….

Lisa—You’re moving? I’ve loved knowing you were just over there, beyond the bend. You will be missed in this neck of the woods, but please stay in touch!! I am glad you have the strength to go through stuff on this end. You will be glad.

Vicki—You are so nice to think that I might have a writing lesson to contribute! I will definitely give that some thought…. :)

Bridgie—I am still intrigued by how differently kids experience their home life. I never had a room of my own, much less a shrine! Ha. Carrie took a ton of pics of her shring before we disassembled it and started over. Then she LOVED what we’d done with her room when she came home this weekend. And took more pics. She was ready…..

Posted by Katy on 06/13 at 08:51 AM
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Posted by transsexual on 07/12 at 04:14 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Rachelle Gardner at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Recent Posts Some Things, You Know Ticking The Boxes Happy Ninth Blogiversary to ME! NaNoCryMo Predictability? Don’t Count On It It’s That Time Again! Losing It Acutely Not That Funny Coming To Terms With Writing Terms Another Great Conference! Catching Up Again, Or Still? Crazy! If Doug Had Seen This Movie Of Me As A Baby, He Might Not Have Ended Up With Chatty Katy I Can’t Believe We’re Finally Here Why I’m Always Glad To Have Written Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Extreme Home Takeover I never thought this would happen to me, but it has. You’ve all met folks who turned their kids’ rooms into veritable shrines after the little darlings left home, right? My mom was like that. When the first three of us flew the coop, it was good riddance, baby. But when Bridget and John left? Shrine City. My kids still talk about the feeling they got from going into Bridget’s shrine—the good vibes. There were her ‘80s jigsaw puzzles, stuck on backboards with puzzle glue, hanging on her bedroom walls. Her prom dresses and dance costumes filled the closet, and I’m pretty sure the dresser drawers contained teenager-frozen-in-time secrets that fascinated my young children. Doug’s mother, until 2004, lived in the same house he moved out of in 1971. His bedroom remained a shrine, too, in the sense that the wall decorations—all Jesus freak campy stuff that might sell for a gazillion bucks on eBay, or then again, maybe not—was never altered. “If you feel far from God, guess who moved?” Well, Doug might have moved, but his stuff didn’t. And not only that: His mama turned his room into a Where Broken Furniture And Pieces From Things We Can’t Identify Go To Die Room. In addition, the woman became incapable of tossing even an old Price Chopper ad, but filled grocery sacks with junk mail, opening his door just far enough to toss a fresh bag upon the pile. Doug’s room became a shrine with plenty of flameable material, in case anyone got in the mood to offer a random sacrifice in there. Is it laziness that keeps parents of adult children from lowering the boom on shrines? Or is it that they’ve got other stuff on their minds, and don’t have the time to devote to reclaiming their own space which they purchased at interest rates possibly as high as (in the late ‘70s) 15%? Or is it that dreaded Something Else? Until now, I’ve maintained (Ha!) that it’s probably laziness more than anything else. But you know what? That was before Carrie and I started going through her room and all its artifacts some ten days ago. She admitted then that until she went to Jamaica to work in the orphanage for five weeks, she probably would not have been able to deal with all her childhood stuff. She wanted the shrine, and I can understand why. Sure, she’s been living away from home for seven years, but it took a complete change of perspective—seeing things through the eyes of children who don’t have many attachments to physical objects—for her to be ready to lose some of her baggage. I’ve got to admit, she and I did some ooohing and aaahing over pictures and letters and awards and stuffed animals. We boxed up her china dolls, in case she has a little girl someday who might love them. We kept all the stuff of importance, and pitched the rest. There was a whole lot of pitching going on. Since then, Doug and I have kicked in big-time. Carrie had a penchant for attaching posters to her closet walls with Scotch tape. Dang, that stuff works great! Much better, in fact, than whoever hung the dry wall. Our beautiful daughter also used sticky-tacky-gooey stuff to adhere Anne Gedde pics mounted on foam core around the top of her walls, like a border. It was darling at the time, but not quite as darling on this end. Remember this, All You Who Refuse To Build Shrines: Sticky-tacky-gooey stuff, after it is scraped off, must be covered with Kilz or it WILL show through the new paint, no matter how many coats you use. I’m just sayin’. And I might as well tell you this: I’ve bawled up there in that Temporary Shrine, paintbrush in hand, meticulously covering the material evidence of a little girl having ever spread her creative wings under our roof. It’s the little things that got me, the things I didn’t expect. Like the one strand of stencilling Carrie attempted behind her closet door without our permission, a long gangly vine of tendrilled ivy, so gloppy and smeared that she must have despaired when she saw it, and then gave up the effort. If she’d given up on other efforts, if she hadn’t gone on to grow into the amazing young woman God made her to be, I might have rushed out of the room, paintbrush in hand, and left the vine to wither for another day. But she’s a woman now, and so we, too, must continue to grow. Her room was a shrine for a little while, for a few reasons, I’m sure. She wasn’t ready—until now—for us to perform an Extreme Home Takeover. And while I don’t think of Doug and me as lazy, and I’m not sure we have so much on our minds that we can’t keep up around here, there really is Something Else that must be faced. Ah, Something Else. Now I’m heading into Kev’s old room. Wish me well. Posted by Katy on 06/05 at 07:26 AM Fallible Comments... I love the way you write, Katy. You make me laugh and cry. Grace made the takeover easier on us. The summer after her freshman year in college she announced she wanted to completely redo her room. She went through all her mementos and either trashed them or stored them in plastic bins. We painted the walls, sheetrocked the ceiling, refinished the wood floors, framed some b&w photos she’d taken and hung them on the walls, even bought new furniture and linens. It’s her room when she comes home, but it makes a lovely guest room most of the time. George is in the process of converting Luke’s old room into a science lab. So I know how you feel. It’s kind of sad to erase the traces. Of course, having decorated my house in Framed Family Fotos motif, there’s no really danger of their presence ever being missed. Wishing you much more than well, Jeanne Posted by Jeanne Damoff on 06/05 at 08:12 PM My oldest gets her driving permit this week . . . not a room shrine issue, but it reminds me how close I am to those days! Posted by Paula on 06/05 at 08:47 PM katy, i’ve just had to go through a similar thing myself, as we’re moving from Kansas to Florida on pretty short notice because of C’s job..i’ve had to look at and make a decision about (keep, goodwill, garage sale, or garbage?) EVERY THING in our humble abode. after awhile, i thought i was going to lose it if i had to look through one more box of kid’s school papers, and got really good at pitching things altogether. asking myself if i really wanted to UNPACK this stuff at the other end helped tremendously. i’m a sentimental sucker for sure, but this time has really shown me how to prioritize in this area! Posted by lisa on 06/05 at 10:38 PM Oh Katy, how you make me laugh! I love how you describe Mom! That gives me a much better word picture than the usual way I’ve seen things! Your writing and your ways are very inspirational, you know! Much love! Nancy Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 06/06 at 09:45 AM Katy, I wanna write like you when I grow up:-) Loved your post—it connected with my mommy heart of three (all grown and have flown the coop, as they say). Would love to get some writerly perspective at my new place under ‘Valuable Writing Lessons’ if you get a chance. Thanks, Katy. God bless. Posted by Vicki on 06/07 at 02:33 PM Ah, to have my old bedroom called a “shrine”...that’s so funny to me! :) I didn’t move any of that stuff out until we moved Mom into assisted living three years ago, you know that, right? The puzzles went into the trash, I’m sad to say, as did two of the Prom dresses after I did a fashion show for Jim, who took pictures. The one from sophomore year didn’t fit at all, although Baillie looked great in it. The junior year dress actually fit and zipped almost all the way, but my boobs overflowed out. LOL. I kept my flapper senior prom dress..you just never know when it might be needed as a costume. I loved that dress! As for the dance costumes, they, too, ended up thrown away, but I still have all the memories of your kids and the other nieces/nephews trying on the costumes through the years and performing for the family. The teenage secrets stored away in the drawers and closet shelves consisted of letters from lost loves, pictures of past boyfriends, and memories of such a wild past that I needed to keep stored safely away in Kansas City. I miss my home, my room. No one seems to understand what memories my “shrine” really holds. Thanks for helping me remember. Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 06/09 at 11:23 PM Jeanne—Some kids take it easier than others, and some parents do, too. Your Grace sounds like a girl I’d get along with! :) Paula—Oh, my! I remember the first license around here, 11 years ago. I let him go up to the gas station alone for his first solo fun. Gave him ten minutes to get there and back. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life! The years do fly by after they start driving…. Lisa—You’re moving? I’ve loved knowing you were just over there, beyond the bend. You will be missed in this neck of the woods, but please stay in touch!! I am glad you have the strength to go through stuff on this end. You will be glad. Vicki—You are so nice to think that I might have a writing lesson to contribute! I will definitely give that some thought…. :) Bridgie—I am still intrigued by how differently kids experience their home life. I never had a room of my own, much less a shrine! Ha. Carrie took a ton of pics of her shring before we disassembled it and started over. Then she LOVED what we’d done with her room when she came home this weekend. And took more pics. She was ready….. Posted by Katy on 06/13 at 08:51 AM Aesthetician transexual holster farinaceous batmen turds. Lustre mmf overcoming plusher embanked sobriquet. Posted by transsexual on 07/12 at 04:14 AM Page 1 of 1 pages Name: Email: Location: URL: Add a fallible comment... Remember my personal information Notify me of follow-up comments? Next entry: Picky, Picky, Picky Previous entry: Emptiness << Back to main


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Extreme Home Takeover

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri