Why I Wouldn't Buy New Furniture

A few months ago I went out on a limb had my carpets cleaned. Upon completion the carpet cleaning professional (or to be politically incorrect, the Rug Guy) lead me on a guided tour of the various extractions he had performed. It went something like this: "I got out the lotion, the sunblock, the lip gloss, the melted crayon, the marker, the silly putty, the gum,  the grape-flavored cough syrup, and most of the baby powder, but the candy stains in the corner behind the arm chair and whatever that big red splatter is in the dining room we just couldn't get out. Do you know what that red stuff it is? Is it blood or something?" "No," I sighed, "No one has been bleeding profusely in my dining room to my knowledge so I don't think it's blood, but I don't know what it is." Then I added, "It's hard to believe that with 5 people living here, nearly all of the damage was incurred by only one person - the smallest one." He looked at me quizzically and declined to comment. 

You may gasp in disbelief and disapproval at my seemingly apathetic response to carpet care but I do now and always will plead "not guilty."  In my defense, I've invested in not one, but two carpet steamers and a vast collection of spot removing, stain lifting, allergen reducing sprays and foams in an effort to maintain pristine plushness underfoot.  However, after the many carpet infractions and misdemeanors committed by multiple young children and in particular, one toddler especially prone to, shall we say, "tactile exploration," I simply threw in the towel. One can spend only so many hours a day sucking various substances out of the carpet, not to mention furniture, clothing, and the person responsible for the catastrophe. No, when it comes to our carpet I no longer have any qualms about closing the door, walking away, and eventually calling in the professionals.  Let them deal with this:

Not only our carpet but our decor scheme in general readily advertises that very busy children live here. For the past 6 years our family room boasted a rather eclectic furniture collection comprised of family hand-me-downs older than my husband, cheap green leather we bought from what we're pretty sure was a mob ring in a back alley in Philadelphia, and an entertainment center that was tragically splintered and maimed in a mishap involving a Comcast serviceman and a very heavy TV. Hardly a layout for Better Homes and Gardens but it was comfortable and functional and virtually indestructible.  Despite those advantages, I frequently felt inclined to consider overhauling the whole room and upgrading from our Get-Your-Garage-Sale-Item-Here look to an It's-Not-Fancy-But-At-Least-It-Matches kind of style. After discussing, budgeting, and debating I would consider my surroundings and find:

Crumbs on the couch left by an unidentified perpetrator of the "No Food In The Family Room" rule;

Pock mock scars left on an end table victimized by multiple stabbings with a fork;

The arm of a leather recliner converted to a pencil holder;

 
 
 
 

The back of said recliner impaled with safety pins securing blankets arranged to form a "hurricane shelter"

And invariably I would conclude that our family was simply not ready to appreciate and enjoy new family room furniture. To purchase such would be to expose it undeserved abuse and  accelerated depreciation. So with resignation I would resolutely decline the opportunity to redecorate    . . .until this winter. 

Bogged down with winter blahs and feeling compelled to add variety to the chilled, gray landscape of daily life, the impulse to refurnish overcame me once again. It didn't help that a repairman glanced in our family room and asked, "Oh, do you run a daycare in here?" This time when I initiated my patented furniture conversation Luke was ready for it.  I think he may have grown weary of the repetitious cycle of me asking for new furniture, him conceding, and then me saying I didn't want it after all. Or maybe it was simply the fact that with potty training and the bulk of toddler instigated chemical warfare behind us, it was time for our furniture to make a more grown-up fashion statement. At any rate, when I brought it up again he was prepared to take action. He had a day off so we seized the opportunity with swift momentum and embarked on a one day marathon of conferring, considering, and comparing.  A myriad of fabric textures, wood stains, dimensions, configurations, and digital accesories swirled before our eyes until finally,  8 hours, 5 stores, 2 aching feet, and many dollars later we had surmounted the task of re-outfitting the family room.

 Our couches are still leather but they were purchased from a reputable dealer with upstanding family values. The entertainment center has ample storage space and all of it's doors are in tact. Two of the chairs are still hand-me-downs but neither of them are older than either of us. An area rug dutifully attempts to salvage the majority of the carpet, and though drapes have yet to be ordered the room has really come together. Yes, the family room has proudly graduated from daycare/landfill status to a classic, comfortable room we can enjoy together. Everything is coordinated, everything is new, everything is unscathed. For now.