Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Remodel: Ready to Recap From Start to Finish

I'm finally ready to talk about the remodel. People ask me questions frequently and want to talk about it, but I don't. Part is been-there, done-that, part is that is the wound is still a teensy bit open. We love the house, it's incredible, and it will work well for our family, but there is the part where I still remember the downsides of construction. Every day was a confrontation, from tiny things to huge, potential deal breakers, and it wasn't fun. Not to mention, we lived here among the dust heaps, construction tools and debris with little escape. 

I could not have done this remodel 10 years ago. I don't think at age 30 - ahem - I could have stood so strong for so long. A friend told me last year that her mother always says, "If you don't open your mouth, you open your wallet." I said that to myself many times during the remodel, that if I didn't speak up, I'd end up paying for something I didn't want, didn't work, or was flat out wrong. Here is a simple fact of construction, and really life: you are your own advocate. No one was going to speak up for us. Many times I'd point something out to our builder, only to have the response be, "yeah, I noticed that, too." What I wanted to scream each time was, "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?" 

See, the wound hasn't healed. 

Then there are the moments, when I am sitting at the kitchen island on the family room side, working at my laptop, while dinner cooks a few feet in front of me, the kids are just behind me watching a baseball game, and golden light comes through the slats of of the kitchen shutters and I can see the pink roses outside in the sunlight. 

Or there is the morning, when I reach my office early, it's peaceful, and look out at Rocket coloring at the art table, awash in soft light. 

Those moments are perfect and it was all worth it to take our okay house and make it something that will work for us long term through the many stages of our family, with young kids, to teens, to someday an empty nest. 

This week I'll put a Band-Aid over the wound and begin to talk about what went well, what we'd do differently, and of course, show pictures, beginning with our master bathroom, simply because it is the cleanest room in the house. 

How - and Why - We Ended Up with a Furby

The crazy eyes will get you.

No way, we thought when Clover made a very late addition to her Christmas list. No way are we getting a toy that will only hold her interest briefly, while annoying us for a very long time. That it was too close to Christmas would have been a solid final response, but really, there was a set of grandparents who still needed a gift idea because all of the other art supplies, books, and trinkets had been taken by other relatives who don't wait until the last minute to shop.

Please, no Furby, we continued. 

Suddenly, it was the eve before Christmas Eve, and the grandparents still had no gift. I started having second thoughts. It wasn't because my parents still needed a gift, but if they hadn't, the issue would have been moot. As we thought about what they could buy her, the Furby was the only thing left that Clover really wanted. There were two small reasons why I was weakening: one, I worried her friends would get one, and she'd be hurt, especially because her best friend already owned one and they wanted to play with them together; and two, a gift needed to be purchased. It was the third thought that was major, and won Clover a Furby: she's 10. She's on the cusp of growing out of toys, and into the realm of teen-dom. Shouldn't we hold on to childhood for one more Christmas? Next Christmas it could be electronics, and clothes, but for now, it was still a toy. 

That thought was how Kevin and I found ourselves late at night at a Toys R Us that appeared to have been looted. We waded through the mess to find there were no Furbys left. Of course, once we decide to let her get a Furby, it's too late. I drove through the rain to Target, while he looked on his phone to see if Amazon could still overnight (nope). Thankfully, pushed back on a low shelf, were six yellow and teal Furbys, ready for a home. 

We didn't tell Clover our opinion had changed, which meant when she ripped open the gift from my parents, she was both surprised and excited. One of the first things she said was to me, "HA! I GOT IT! HAHA!" Her moment of excitement was worth it, not only because it was the toy we'd rejected, but because how often in life do you get a present wrapped so that it cannot be guessed by size, sound, or shape, only to have it be the one thing you really wanted, but never thought you'd get. Even if we've learned more about Furbish than we'd ever wanted to know (and we'd wanted to know nothing), it was worth it.

As long as no one wakes him up. Please, do not wake him up.

Remodel: Déjà Vu, There is Light at the End of this Tunnel

The past two weeks were the vacation that was not a vacation. Add it to the long and growing list of things ruined by a remodel. We came home from Christmas to be told that the flooring wouldn't be finished in time for us to host our annual Superbowl party. Beleaguered should have been my word for 2012.

The good news is that four weeks from today, the house will be so close to done. But, I may have said that in November, too. The bad news, other than the fact that I may have made the one month announcement before and may be wrong again, is that the next four weeks will be incredibly chaotic as everyone returns - the plumber, electrician, painters, roofers - added to the builder and his one man crew, who will be joined by the flooring team. 

Last month I was jealous of everyone posting holiday photos of warm fires near beautifully decorated Christmas trees or freshly baked and decorated cookies. Today, I am ready to unfriend all of the people relishing in a quiet home as school is back in session. I'm back at Starbucks, having almost completely forgotten what quiet or privacy was ever like. Some friends joke about carefully folding undergarments and hiding them under clothes while visiting the doctor or gynecologist. Recently, after teams of men had been working in my bedroom all day, I walked in to find three of my bras hanging in the closet doorway. Why had I wasted all of this modesty at the doctor's office? I have lost the battle for privacy. 

Being close to the end means visible things are happening again. All of the counter tops are in, including the shower details, mantle base, and most importantly, the island of (my) dreams. 

The mantle is almost complete, but it took a lot of negotiations. Our issue is that the TV needs to go above the mantle, which shut up, I know, some people hate, but due to the shape of the room, it's what we need to do. With the TV above the mantle, I didn't want the mantle high because that would make the TV too high, yet the mantle needed to be high enough to meet the safety requirements of the fireplace.

It was designed, negotiated, built, questioned, renegotiated, and rebuilt. Thankfully, now it's down to the finish details.

Things I never thought I'd hear during the remodel, especially from the electrician: "Uhhh, I think I woke the Furby." 

The best home security device ever.

Remodel: Day 106 - You Spin Me Right Round

When the doctor told me the causes of vertigo, she tossed out at the end, "And stress. A very small number of cases are caused by stress." It was no surprise to me that stress caused my head to spin. I was happy that the cause was vertigo and not something worse, like an aneurysm, which was my second thought, the one that followed my first thought of "make it stop." It was only vertigo, which was an immediate relief, but it meant spending the next 10 days keeping my head up for fear of the spins. 

It's now mostly passed, which means I can turn on my side in bed without grasping the air, searching for something to steady my brain. 

This I could not do because I would have become dizzy enough to fall into the fan. 

The fan is running nonstop because the dry wall mud isn't drying - despite being the quick set stuff. We've been delayed a few days, and with rain in the forecast for the end of the week, the guys better be working fast to get as much done as possible. 

In the meantime, we lost the only working sink in the house. 

We have to use the bathtub faucet to wash hands and brush teeth, which the kids view as a ploy to lure them into bathing more. 

Our only mirror left too, which means I now put on my makeup in the front yard using a mirror salvaged from the scrap heap. That was after a failed attempt to use Photo Booth on my MacBook for makeup application. 

We are the hot mess of the neighborhood.

When Life Pushes You Down...

Every school year I under estimate how that first week is a knock out punch. The problem is that the second week hasn't been much better. 

The kids were squabbling yesterday before school, and Rocket slipped on a deck of cards (left out on the floor, of course), which caused him to slip and spill water. He felt that this slip had been assisted by his sister, and was upset that she wasn't getting into trouble. The injustice of our justice system is a hot issue in our family right now. The other person never gets punished enough, according to my kids, marking one of the few times they're in agreement. 

Rocket went out to the backyard, picked up a stick to tap the glass, and when Clover looked out, he stuck out his tongue and flipped her off. 

She ran out of the room like it was on fire, screaming, "HE GAVE ME THE MIDDLE FINGER!"

That is what my life has been like.

Remodel: Day 33: Three Men in a Tub This Isn't

Do you want to take baths together?

It's a straightforward question, but I blushed, full of Catholic modesty. A lot of private questions get casually thrown out when planning a remodel, but sadly not the one I want, which is "do you never, ever want to see another person on the toilet?" Sadly our new bathroom is too small to comfortably fit in a private toilet room. But, even when I'm not blushing, I don't really have an answer for the bathtub. Unfortunately, to fit two people, the tubs have to be kind of wide, wider than the new tub alcove can support. Not that I'm saying we want to do that, anyway.

From the start of this project, I fell in love with this tub:

But when I met with the plumbing fixtures lady for the first time, she said no way. The tub would feel too heavy for my bathroom. My dream was crushed, and while the decision would save some money, it took some time to get over. My heartache wasn't helped by the fact that my tub is in their showroom window and I have to drive by at least twice a day on my way to my sister's house. Finally, like with broccoli, I learned to appreciate the tub that was good for me.

Decision made, right? Not so fast.

Back at the plumbing place today, I mentioned that we were scrapping plans for a wall in the bathroom, having decided on a pedestal tub and not a built in. One fewer wall means more tub space and suddenly dream tub isn't too heavy anymore. 

This is where an indecisive person like me freezes. 

I got in both tubs (with my shoes on, and not demanding people look at me, unlike this scene that I was forced to watch), and the dream tub is actually roomy enough for two if you want that and I'm not asking, but good-for-me tub curves around like a hug. Tub hug, not a person-hug tub it is. 

Remodel: Day 15 - Over It

There's our kitchen. 

I should be more excited, but I'm over it. Which is pathetic because it's only day 15. Day 15! This is like preparing for a marathon, then petering out at mile three.

I got home from BlogHer early this morning after a long delayed flight, woke up after a few hours of sleep to get going to work, then pack for our annual Moms and Kids Camping Trip. Packing for camping is tough on little sleep, but packing when everything we need is in different bins in two different houses, is horrible. I don't want to camp, I want to nap. I'm tired, cranky, and I'm tired of digging through boxes to find yoga pants (my camping sleepwear of choice). 

When I woke up, still sleepy, I saw Rocket, standing on his bed, who said to me after days of not seeing each other, "Mom! Do you know where my notebook is? I want to draw and I can't find it." I missed you, too. 

Remodel Prep: Building Our Cardboard Fort

If an earthquake hits in the next few days, we're screwed. I'm at the point where I'm finished with packing. I'm not finished packing, but I'm finished with it. If we were moving into a new house right away, this would be the point when I'd madly throw things into garbage bags, and move them that way (and judging by past experience, not unpack them for a few years until forced to by something, like a remodel. 

Our permit was finally finalized July 6, giving us 16 days to get out of the house before demolition begins. Rocket dreams of a wrecking ball crushing our house to bits, but it will be a much less dramatic team of guys with sledgehammers taking out the unnecessary parts. Still, a deadline is a deadline. 

I printed out a two week calendar for the kids, especially Rocket, who'd ask every day what was happening that day, how many days until we move, etc. It's helped him a lot, but for me, I look at it and think about how much we have to do in that time. It will happen, I keep saying, but I worry I'm a liar. 

We own a new kitchen! The appliances have been ordered, a full month after I initially went through to pick them out with the appliance guy. Time smooths a lot of rough edges. There were papers or kids' projects I never thought I'd be able to let go of, but now, I can quickly toss them into the recycling or garbage without hesitation. Those things are less important now that some time has passed, and the same went for the price tag of the new appliances. One month ago, the price tag for all of the new appliances made my stomach tighten. Now, it looks like no big deal. Of course a new washer, dryer, dishwasher, range, hood, microdrawer (drawer, awww yeahhh), and refrigerator would add up to something substantial. The appliance salesman laughed when asked how much I wanted to spend, and I answered as close to zero as possible. That, of course, was a joke after I'd just picked out a Wolf range with four burners and a griddle. (For those in the market, he said no one ever orders the black handles. I like how the red handles pop, but even if I didn't, if I'm paying a Wolf price, I'm getting the signature handles.)

Real cooking has ended. We've grilled most nights, gotten take out on others, but just now I've come to the realization that we're not using our current range again, except as a place to rest stuff, which it is doing quite well. Goodbye crappy Kenmore range that came with the house. You've done a fabulous job of letting me rest stuff on you, which is really what you did best. 

I'm quite glad to not be buying anything Kenmore after this ad:

Dad's don't cook? Being labeled a mommy multitasker is condescending. There is no reason the word mommy needs to be in this ad at all. 

(The labels on the storage bins are 3M's Post-it Storage Container Label Pads that I picked up for free at BlogHer last year. I found them while starting to pack my office closet, and they are fabulous. This isn't a sponsored post, but I like the labels enough that I will buy more when we run out. So much better than the paper I'd tape to the plastic bins with packing tape, which would peel off in the attic heat.)

Remodel Madness: And So It Begins. Kinda.

Artwork from Rocket, made for me. His inclusion of the Native Americans confirms my fear that I'm fighting a losing battle. The chaos is dead on.

When I run into people, they ask if our remodel is almost complete. This would be funny, if it weren't so sad because we're not even through the permitting process. I'm hesitant to say this, but we may be getting close to permitted. I probably just jinxed it and set the process back by three months. 

We're frantically packing everything up, which means boxes everywhere. It's an obstacle course to walk from room to room, with hazards everywhere, including a scorpion, who appeared at the foot of my desk, very much alive, last Friday. There's been drama and tension, mostly because life doesn't stop while hurriedly packing up a house. There's work, birthday parties, camp, playdates, photo editing, more work, and meals that somehow need to be prepared. Tonight I served a salad out of a melamine camping bowl onto paper plates because the real stuff was either packed away, or, in the case of the picnic plates, the few we share were dirty. 

There was something so sad about the plates and the bowl, even though I knew they were coming and had gotten myself excited about it because it would be like a picnic! Every night! For six months! But then it happens, and it's more sad than fun, actually it's all sad and not at all fun, especially because the remodel hasn't begun, which means the six month clock has yet to start. 

The great purge is on as I repeat my mantra over and over, which is that it's time to make the hard decisions. This means looking at every piece of preschool art work or hand painted Italian plate, and asking myself if I'll really use it or care about it. We've donated so much to charities that the Salvation Army guy cut Kevin off yesterday, telling him he couldn't take any more. So it was onto Goodwill. We've got bags and bags of garbage, stuff that needs to be Freecycled, the garbage company has made two hazardous waste pick ups at our house for all of the leftover cleaning chemicals, and paint we'll never use. That's the stuff we're getting rid of, but it's the stuff we're keeping that's got me stressed. Where will it all go during the next few months? Somehow that question will be answered in the next week or two, and I'm scared to think about all we have to live through in the next month.

It will be a fresh start, if we can just get to the start. Hopefully this year July will be the month that goes in like a lion and out like a lamb. August better be the month of naps and pedicures because I need both.

This is What My Office Looks Like

Few things make me giddier than secretly seeing someone else's clutter. I love when people post a picture on Facebook with the caption, "Bebe loves playing the xylophone," or something like that where their child is the center of the photo, but all around the child is clutter. Not just a few papers, and not enough to be on Hoarders, but enough to make me feel good about my house. None of my photographer friends do this because they're savvy enough to note the background when composing their photos, but enough people I know do this, where they assume we are all focused only on the subject (the kid and the toy) and not on the stacks of crap piled up everywhere in the background. Those are the best. It answers my question of how some people have a lot more free time than I do. 

But, here is where I explain the chaos in my head, and why right now I'd like nothing more than a quiet corner and the ability to go deeply into denial. This is my office:

Try to find Waldo. Yes, We're using Girl Scout cookie boxes for storage. 

I know, right? Yesterday, I tripped over the shoes and fell hard onto my desk, which is exactly the type of disaster they predict on Hoarders. (I know it seems like I'm obsessed with the show, yet while I haven't watched it in at least a year, it gave me the credentials to point out signs of hoarding.)

The state of chaos is because we're packing up the house for the remodel. I'm optimistic it will begin in the next month, but I'm less optimistic about getting everything packed. As the permitting process has lagged on over the past five months (seriously, they should offer Xanax when permit applications are filed in San Mateo County), I've kept focused on the end product to keep me going, but now, my fantasies are strictly about getting all of the stuff out of the house and safely stored somewhere. 

In the meantime, I cannot think with clutter everywhere. Just now, I needed to make a copy of something for school, but it took me five minutes to uncover the copier, then after, I realized that in the process, I had lost the forms that the copy needed to accompany, which required more time to look for them. When I'm not tripping over shoes, I'm looking for a paper that I just saw two minutes ago, but is now missing. This is my hell. 

In other news:

Yes, my kids are still in school until Wednesday at 12:30 p.m. Until then, please refrain from telling me how great it is to sleep in now that summer has started. 

We have a deer living in our backyard. Sure, she goes away for hours at a time, but she comes back every single day to spend most of her time outside my office window. Not only do I work among piles of paper, but I get that creepy feeling of being watched. Because I am. By a deer. 

I've relaxed into my summer uniform, which is Lands' End v-neck t-shirts, and jean capris with a rolled cuff. For the people who see me regularly, I have several pairs of these pants. Please note the difference in back pockets for reassurance that I'm not wearing the same pair every day. This is my first step toward moving from a dresser and a closet to a single plastic tub to hold my clothes during the remodel. Hobo chic.