The last two years, within a week of finishing home school for the year, I drag out the kitchen table and refinish it. It wasn’t meant to be a tradition, but because I plan to do it again this year, it now is the official sign of the end of school.
The first year I (and my loyal assistant Scott, who stuck around as long as he could used the sander) sanded off the old finish and restained it. Over the coming year, the table was badly marked up by the kids.
Second year I painted it. First with white paint, which was an epic fail, then with hunter green paint on the top. Over the last year, the paint was badly scuffed up and chipped.
Which brings us to this year.
Dragging it outside to finish stripping and sanding it. Notice my loyal assistant Scott (again, only as long as he can use the sander).
We ended up having to wait a few days to finish sanding because we didn’t have the right grit.
Sooo, Dave, who had a few days off (yay!!) helped me Tuesday with sanding.
Final step…coating the heck out of the table so we can wipe ANYTHING off of it.
I love this table, but it had issues. It is small, we now have to keep the leaf out permanently. The legs tend to loosen, and there is damage to the support beams (?). Dave has had to replace dowels and various other things, including adding another support.
Why not get a new table? I brought this table in 1999, the first year of my marriage to Dave, while he was gone on a deployment. We didn’t use it really until much much later. It moved around with us until we had kids, and then memories were made.
It still has sticky residue from the velcro used to make a “table tent”, a gift for Scott. I never have managed to sand off all the nicks and gouges made by the kids (and adults) over the years. This table has served us through meals, craft projects, hide n seek, playing board games and tons more.
It contains memories. For me, I don’t have much from my childhood. Furniture, toys, and other things were discarded during moves. I learned that to hang on to things, I needed to use a death grip. For the kids, I’ve had that death grip on several things, in hopes that when they get older, they could appreciate the memories.
I love this table.