Today Griffin randomly invited a classmate over for a playdate and I let it happen.
Now, this may sound a wee bit bad, but I shouldn't have let that happen.
You see, Griffin has these grandiose ideas of huge playdates and parties. And when he invites kids over without asking permission first and then me allowing it to happen is usually a disaster. Especially when it's someone I barely know and I haven't had a chance to put a fresh coat of white paint on the ceilings.
But I digress: the playdate went well. And I'm convinced my freak-out and subsequent high blood pressure can count towards exercise for the day.
I spent most of my morning bitching out my eating table.
We have a love/hate relationship.
Our affair has been going on for nearly two years. My in-laws purchased our table and chairs two years this November ago after squeezing eight people around our itty bitty old table (which now makes a fabulous sewing table, thank you very much).
In any case, I love the table (and chairs) because they are cheap. And I mean CHEAP. They are Martha Stewart's Everyday Dining Table and Chairs (and OH HONEY, I got mine 30% off the price and the original prices were way below what they are now). I love the cottage-y/farmhouse feel of them. The chairs had a bad paint job and just figured, hey it looks worn already, awesome (after all, I am the girl who is tickled pink due to our floorboards peeling and exposing the old green paint underneath).
About a year ago I realized the table was oddly sticky. Like, grossly sticky. So I scratched it over and over with my fingernail. And? Blech.
Fast forward another year and honestly? I'M ABOUT TO TAKE THE TABLE OUTSIDE AND BURN THE DAMN THING.
Now, let me say: I'm a very laid back person. Okay, actually? I'm not.
But I am learning to not worry and obsess so much.
However, I just cannot seem to Let This Go, Oh My Hell.
Now, I really enjoy having a laid-back table. I think it's great. Growing up, my family had a very heavy, oak table that would get gray rings when a glass was placed on it and my dad would go apeshit. I wasn't allowed to paint or color at the table. Hell, I wasn't even allowed to do homework at the table. I never wanted a table that would make me go apeshit on my kids. Which is why it's a great table bu-u-u-u-u-u-u-ut...
I cannot get this fucker clean. Like, clean-clean. You know, PROPERLY CLEAN.
(I would like to say I increased the lights and darks to make it more noticeable; it doesn't look that bad in real life, but it looks a thousand times worse in my mind.)
I think what's happened, is over the course of that first year we'd spray the table with an soapy spray, wipe and go. I'm pretty sure it's a buildup of soap, dirt and skin cells and has make the table darker, slighty sticky and obviously gross.
Having the table look like this isn't good for my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Unless you're my kids. Then you're getting away with all sorts of shit while Mommy screams at the table.
I've tried the magic erasers (they work a little bit, but take a lot of elbow grease. also? they burn the shit out of my hands), goo gone (didn't do anything but make my house smell like oranges) (mmmmmm, oranges) and a wide variety of cleaners (which, guess what -- didn't do shit to help).
The only thing I've found that remotely helps is Windex Wipes. Not spray Windex and a paper towel, oh no. They have to be the Wipes.
If I rub-rub-rub-rub and curse and use five wipes and throw out my back, I can get a slight sparkley-white strip in the midst of dingy part of the table.
So my question to you, my dear internet friends, is what the fuck should I do?
I realize that once I get the table adequately uniform white, I'm gonna polyurethane the shit out of the table.
But how do I get it clean? Continue with the Windex Wipes? Lightly sand it and put a top coat of paint to match (in the hopes that it Actually Will Match)? Is there some other magical alternative I haven't thought of?