Grosser than Gross

I've decided to take part in the "Grosser than Gross" tag that Steph of Adventures in Babywearing, is hosting. This may not compete with some of the other's downright disgusting stories, but what can I say? You didn't sit on my couch. Here goes.

A Sofa Story

I can still remember how excited I was that day, browsing through the furniture store. My husband and I had just gotten back from our honeymoon, and with a wad of wedding money in our pockets, we headed to the local furniture chain to pick out our first couch together.

I remember carefully picking out the coordinating plaids and florals, the perfect accents to our country apartment. As we handed the lady our $800.00 in cash, there was one last detail to address.
"Did you want to Scotchguard the sofa?" the lady asked. With little contemplation, we answered in unison, "Oh no, we won't need that." Period. Biggest mistake of our lives, right there. If only we had the foresight that my wise mother has...if only we could go back in time.

Fast forward approximately two years. Our green plaid couch was holding up great. It's wide cushions and fluffy pillows catered to our needs perfectly. We loved our couch. Everyone loved our couch. And then one day it happened. What we didn't know then, but know now, as the "beginning of the end."

My daughter was about 18 months old, our little doll. Even at that age we could see her artistic nature in bloom. It was everywhere in our apartment, pictures on the refrigerator, on the walls, just everywhere. Along came that day: My husband claims he was busily cleaning that hot summer day, and thought she was just "hiding" from him. But to his surprise, when he lifted the overstuffed, ticking striped pillow, what he revealed was not what he had thought. Our little Picasso had fearlessly drawn with permanent black marker on the couch, not just the pillow...the entire couch. In fact to this day, I'd swear it was a picture of a face laughing. It was laughing all right, laughing at me, that is.

From that moment on, protecting the couch became much less of a priority for us. We no longer felt the need to guard it with our lives. What could be worse than permanent marker? That couch was as good as dead to us.

As the years passed, the children increased and so did the damage. The staining became much more of a daily occurrence. The wear and tear progressed and we knew it wouldn't be long until we had to let it go.

The final demise of our sofa would come with the potty training of our middle son. I don't think I have to tell you, it wasn't a pleasant time for anyone involved, including the couch. The accidents kept happening over and over, and the cushion covers were shrinking due to the constant washing. As you can imagine, this left for some worn down, half opened cushions. I tried to cover the couch with a pretty slip cover. Those things never completely work. They slide all over the couch, and never really amount to much more than a blanket tossed on the couch. And everyone who sits on a slipcover, always fears what is lurking under it.
In my case, the fear was a valid one.

Ironically enough, what would prompt us to get rid of our beloved couch, was not the staining, (our standards were much lower now), it was the smell. Though it was hard to let go,(not really, the thing was rancid), we found a lovely replacement, (a 1980's hunter green pouf couch), and moved our prized sofa down into the garage. There it would rest for the next two years, where my husband would rip off its fabric to use as grease rags. Imagine that. Our dream couch, stripped and reduced to rags. What a shame.

If only we had opted for the Scotchguard...