So - I’ve been working on these gifts to give my kids before AndyZ gets here. We did something similar before NikkiZ was born - when I painted wooden signs with her and LilZ’s names on them. Since I wanted to paint one for AndyZ, I took the chance to let the kids pick out something at Michael’s for me to pain them. They both chose different stools to keep in their room, LilZ wanting a circular one with a peace sign. Because he’s in Junior High and evidently that is one of the few things that have NOT changed in the last 20 years: I had peace signs on EVERYTHING.
NikkiZ’s, however, was going to have her name on it. Since I was using stencils, I did every other letter in her name first so that I could do the others when the first batch dried. LilZ came home from school and looked at the stool. He said, “So…um…where are you going to put the rest of the letters.”
My first thought was, Duh. WHERE THEY BELONG. I mean, I had left plenty of room between each letter, I just didn’t want to keep putting my hand in wet paint so I was letting the first ones dry. I gave him a look to try to figure out where he was heading. And then I saw it: SYMPATHY. One of my friend’s daughters was there too and she said what he was scared to, “Aren’t these letters in the wrong place?”
I spelled my daughters name wrong.
Now, since I had only painted every other letter, it was just the middle letter that was wrong. But I was SO mortified that I immediately grabbed a brush and paint and painted over it. I thought I was going to cry I felt so stupid.
I realized later I should have at least photographed the error for visual evidence of my placenta brain to show future generations. But all I wanted to do was cover it up before MrZ got home. BECAUSE I COULD NOT HANDLE THE SHAME.
The stool is done now, except for the sealing coat I’ll spray on today. I have read, and re-read, the letters in her name dozens of times to make sure I’ve spelled it right. I’ve had every family member come up and do the same: assuring me that I won’t wake up one day and see that the stool says: FRANK.
Which - for the record - is NOT her name. But I wouldn’t put it past my limited brain capacity to spell it that way.
You spelled my name wrong? NICE.
(What? I need to take a break from posting the butterfly costume pictures? Ya think?)