I think I mentioned my childhood dollhouse experience, and my commitment to not allow the same sad fate to plague my own daughter thirty years from now. But ... good intentions aren't always realized. We've been so busy and this project is so overwhelming and ... Kidding!
The first step to any dollhouse-construction project is to determine a color scheme. I mean, you don't have to I guess. You can glue it together and slosh whatever paint you have all over the unsanded, bare wood. Like the gloppy leftover stuff in the back of the basement closet. It worked for me as a child, and the effect was rather like a third-world outhouse. I pointed this out to Mud Pie when she was in the throes of impatient agony. "We could use hot glue and poster paint, but if that's what you really want, let's return the kit and tape some cardboard boxes together."
Paint is important. Paint is probably more important than getting the windows in straight and the door on right-side-up. Ok, maybe not, but it's important. The kit instructions clearly say to paint before handling the pieces, to sand after each coat, and to be a totally anal perfectionist (as opposed to an overly eager 9-year-old girl). Unlike with my childhood dollhouse's many little bottles of craft acrylics, we're using Benjamin Moore paints. We can get sample pints mixed up in eggshell finish for a reasonable charge, which will be more than enough for our project.
So we looked at dollhouses (and houses) online, decided what she liked (NOT pink or purple, heaven be praised) and went to Benjamin Moore's website to try out some color schemes. Their Virtual Paint Your Room app is astounding. We picked a house with the features of our dollhouse (trim, shutters, and, uh, walls) and tried paint combinations until we were happy with the result. Mud Pie's conclusion:
Sadly Mud Pie had to wait until yesterday - a full Two Days after unwrapping her dollhouse - to get the paint. Poor darling. Wait until I tell her we next have to label all the parts with sticky notes!
How to overcome childhood disappointments through vicarious living, Or: building the Victoria's Farmhouse kit by Real Good Toys
Flashback to 1985-or-so. More than anything else in the universe a certain little girl wanted a dollhouse. A real dollhouse made of wood, with real wallpaper and tiny furnishings with drawers that opened and teeny tiny plates and cups and pillows. Imagine her delight when the gift she opened one Christmas (or maybe birthday - her memory is a little spotty sometimes) was a real, true dollhouse kit! Oh the joy and delight!
Flash forward several long weeks of, "when can we build my dollhouse? When when when?" Until her parents were so annoyed they finally cleared the dining table, put down newspaper, and opened the box. "Yay! My dollhouse!" quickly became, "What do you mean we have to paint the pieces first?"
Flash forward more weeks of dust collecting on the yet-unpainted dollhouse pieces. "I can paint it myself, really really I can!" So she painted (some) pieces. She may have made a mess. She may have been told No More Painting!
Flash forward again. Dinnner guests! Pack up the dollhouse pieces, let's set the table!
Flash forward an undetermined amount of time with much, "WHEN ARE WE GONNA MAKE MY DOLLHOUSE DAMMIT!" to finally unpacking the box of partially painted pieces. Add in the little girl deciding to build it her own damn self but giving up after reading one page of instructions, then changing to, "I CAN PAINT IT WHEN IT'S ASSEMBLED JUST BUILD IT ALREADY!!!" Soon the little girl's dollhouse had a foundation and three exterior walls. Yay! At last!
Flash really far forward. The dollhouse with no paint, no siding, no trim, no interior walls or second floor sitting on the floor of the little girl's bedroom, atop the box of largely unpainted pieces. Can you see it? Imagine years going by, and the little girl's best friend accidentally sitting on the dollhouse, breaking the foundation.
At some point it was fixed, some interior walls were added (or at least the second floor), and she painted the damn thing without any damn siding because she was so damn sick of looking at bare wood. She then donated it to her church because she was now a teenager and was too old to give a crap about dollhouses.
Would you believe me if I said that I was that little girl? What a sad, sad story, and ever-so sadly typical of my youth. Just like the fake Cabbage Patch Kid I received and cried my eyes out over because it was the uggliest doll ever made.
Flash forward to today. My little girl (who received a Cabbage Patch that she didn't especially want several years ago) opened her much-longed-for Christmas package. The worktable is set up in the basement, and once we pick paint colors, we'll be ready to rock and roll. I will not let my daughter relive my childhood. In fact, this will be the Great Childhood Reclamation Project! Come back and check on our progress!
Filed under:
Childhood Reclamation Project,
Life as We Know It,
Mud Pies and Messes
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