I never promised you a rose garden

You know how people say that pain is fleeting and that's why you decide to have another baby after going through the birth process?  I think the same could be said about removing wallpaper.

Some of you may recall the Great Wallpaper Exodus of 2008?  It is referenced here.  Our nearly 70-year old home had copious layers of the stuff.  Including ceilings.  The ceilings!  For the love people.  I had performed wallpaper removal before in our earlier fixer-uppers but our current one would prove to be epic.  A minimum of 2 layers (many with three) on each and every single wall.  And two of those rooms had a lovely layer of the foil variety just to keep it fun and fresh.

Back then I begged to walk away from our newly purchased home when I found the sticky, goopy, slimey layers of sickening pink roses and carnations to be too much.  Seriously, I said I would cut my losses and just walk away.  Let some other fool have a go at it.  Then I toyed with the idea of hiring a professional wallpaper remover person who was a glutton for pain and pay them some ridiculous amount of money to get the job done.  And pay them with what?  Cookies?  I cursed the former owners (sorry neighbors who knew/loved/adored Millie) and her brainchild idea of wall coverings.  I said many a not-so-nice word.  Officer Long even warned me that the Ghost of Millie Past would haunt me for saying the things I did.  To which I simply responded, "Bring it."  I bribed friends and family to come and help me (and several did).  I cried and I even threatened my husband that I would divorce him if we ever purchased another major remodel.  And he knew I was completely serious.  A woman says a lot of things that she maybe doesn't entirely mean when she is delirious from wallpaper pain.  Not unlike labor and delivery perhaps.

Fast forward four years.  We've had Grandma Millie's bathroom residing with us now for that long.  Her English rose garden wallpaper hanging loosely for this long (and honestly, if the wallpaper was in good condition, I would have gone with it indefinitely) while our other rooms enjoyed updating.  Officer Long talked about demo-ing walls with grand plans of a jetted tub and other modern amenities.  Overhauls that would allow his wife the freedom from having to steam wallpaper off in postage stamp-sized pieces.  But that was a different time.  A different salary for Officer Long.  We're on the economy plan now. So that means remove the layers of wallpaper, paint and update fixtures.  Oh now, don't worry, there will still be plenty of pink tile in our bathroom.  Lovers of the vintage will still find solace in this room.

And so I steam.  I steam on weekends and holidays.  I steam when I can trust my toddler won't dump candy sprinkles all over our upper level (you know I am dead serious about that). I steam when it's okay to let my hair go frizzy and sweat like I'm camping in Death Valley and let a few swears out.  I steam. And scrape. And am vividly reminded of the pain of those early days.


Exhibit A. The Rose Garden.

Exhibit B. Millie's Powder Room

Exhibit C. The Foil Layer Underneath the Blooms.  Under this is plaster.  Plaster means you use extreme care when scraping.  You know, extreme care while scraping postage stamped-sized pieces off.  

Exhibit D. Carter's Pile of Oreos.  The ones he licks the frosting out of and then discards the rest.