For the past couple of years Mrs. Superdad and I have been discussing whether we should replace our flooring. We have the original contractor-grade ivory carpet in the house, which is now 12 years old. This carpet wasn’t the finest quality to begin with, but even if it had been I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have survived our kids much better. After all how much mud, dropped drinks, cat vomit, burns, and water (I’ll someday write a post on the great trampoline flood) should I expect carpet to take? We’ve tried carpet cleaning, but the stains only disappear for a couple of days and then start showing up again. Mrs. Superdad wants hardwood floors, which I would like as well, but aside from the initial expense I remember a comment my uncle made some twenty years ago that there is no point in getting anything nice until the kids move out. This was right after my cousin had spilled nail polish remover over his brand new dining room table (ouch). So I’m thinking stained concrete is a better solution. (Mrs. Superdad has been a fan of this and found stain, free of heavy metals and VOC’s)
The latest tragedy to hit our poor carpeting is the Red Road. While Mrs. Superdad was reading Black Beauty to CJ, AC got a hold of a red “washable” marker and decided that it was the perfect tool to build a road… on the carpet. She proceeded to draw a line in “washable” red marker starting on the ground floor, going up all 16 ivory-colored carpeted stairs and into the game room where it became more of a spiral. Apparently going through a ream of paper was not enough to quench her artistic desire. After getting over the initial shock, Mrs. Superdad tried a few cleaning solutions and found that good old soap and hot water seemed to work best. So Mrs. Superdad set AC to work with a bowl of soapy water and a toothbrush. AC initially wasn’t very cooperative, but she did it. It did lighten the “road” a bit, but it is still clearly visible.
Having kids is hard on floors, furniture, parents and about anything else you can think of. Honestly I would be satisfied if my stuff didn’t look like I had been dumpster diving for it. I haven’t come up with a fool proof system that will prevent the needless destruction of our home other than wrapping everything in plastic; not comfy. So what few nice things I chose to have I keep locked up and for everything else I let it roll. Now that doesn’t mean we allow willful destruction, there are always consequences, but it means I’m not going to stress out over every little stain. After all when I was a kid I wasn’t the most gentle and careful child myself. Mrs. Superdad’s mantra is “It’s only a bad day if someone is dead or something’s on fire. Everything else can be fixed.” That is life with kids; so I’ll just choose more ‘doing’ rather than ‘having’ and wait for the grandkids to get my sweet revenge.