That mom?!

When did I become "that mom"? I asked myself that question about a gazillion times this weekend. Since we are selling our house,  that means we have to de-personalize and make all of the colors in our house neutral. I have come to the conclusion that the word "neutral" really means snooze fest. Our entire house is in earth tones except for Isabelle's room. We had fun decorating it. When I first found out I was having a baby girl, I was so excited to paint her room BRIGHT PINK. Yes, I have heard soft colors are more calming to babies and blah blah blah, but I knew my baby would come out a little pistol. I was correct. Hello motherly instincts! So we painted her room very pink. We also had Mr. T's amazing artist grandma paint a tree in her room to give it a little personal touch. The room was perfect. We brought Isabelle home to this room, rocked her to sleep in it, read to her, played with her in it and now she loves to look at her birds hanging from a tree branch (we hung that instead of a mobile) and yell "bud! bud!" and then my heart melts.

Bed and "buds!"

The first time our realtor walked in her room, he stated that it would be best to make the room feel bigger and a "neutral" (there's that stupid word again) color. I knew that was coming. I knew the first time we painted her room pink that we would have to paint the room again when we decided to sell it. So I told myself it would be easy and I would be excited to paint her next room in our new house.

The last picture I took before covering up her tree

On Saturday, I got my run in, drank my coffee, put my Pandora radio on Adele  and started painting.
Everything was going smoothly until I got to the tree. I started to panic a little and felt something warm in my eyes and also felt my throat starting to get a knot in it. What the heck is this feeling? No way am I about to cry. I don't cry in situations like this. No one is dying, it's just a stupid tree made of paint.

The start of the Sad Saturday paint day

That's when I realized I was "that mom". I immediately told Mr. T that I needed to find a hobby because I was losing my mind. I always laughed at the moms that got all sentimental at the smallest changes (hey mom! sorry for laughing at you...I thought you were a big cry baby, but now I have turned into a monster wimp). I immediately changed the radio station off the sad break up songs and put on some Britney Spears radio. Nothing screams less of a "that mom" than Britney Spears right?

Boring finished product.

When does this lameness stop? Ever? I know it will come and go when they get older, but I just hope I don't cry every time we paint. That's just weird.

I'll order my Prozac now.