Distressing

A couple days after Christmas, John and I ordered a new table+chairs and a coordinating freestanding island. This relatively large furniture purchase has been on our list since we bought our apartment and its tiny kitchen; the island will almost double my kitchen cabinet space.

When it came time to pull the trigger, the big remaining question was "distressing." We ordered the furniture in maple, which has a very smooth grain. The Amish craftsmen sand it until the finished product has an almost mirror-like sheen. Very beautiful. Also completely impossible to maintain for those with children who like to bang or spill or color.

The question was this: Should we pay an approximately 10% premium to have it systematically distressed for us or just wait and deal with an awkward finish for a couple years while our kids complete the process in a less organized way?

Friday night, Evelyn and I were having a dance party, grooving to the ABC stylin' of Hyrum's Christmas present when she slipped fell against the side of our coffee table. Thanks to a good friend's referral, we spent about an hour at a wonderful, kid-friendly doctor's office and got her face stitched up by a fully trained plastic surgeon instead of waiting five hours to have an ER resident do it.

Later that night, we surveyed the damage.

After checking out her face,

John pointed to a new battle scar the side of the coffee table. "This where she fell?" he asked. Yep, that's it.


We bought our cherry coffee table pre-children. It was not distressed then. It's coming along nicely.