As I sit typing this I have a mug of coffee steaming to my left, my littlest little is napping in her bassinet in our bedroom, the two elder kids are at school, Ryan is out on the deck working on a project that involves a buzzsaw and wood, Christmas carols are playing - all really IS merry and bright.
This last 6 months have been anything but what I’m experiencing right now though. They’ve been cramped, uncomfortable, dirty, frustrating, loud, intrusive - and all by choice!
About a year ago, Ryan and I made the decision that our little bungalow was where we wanted to live for as long as possible. Being married nine years we’ve moved into about that many rentals, then three years ago we bought our first home and have lived and loved in it happily since. But the 2 bedroom, 1 1/2 bathroom layout wasn’t going to work in the long run, so we were faced with two options: sell and move into something bigger or add on.
“We can add on! We just need another bedroom and bathroom, so how much time and money could that really be?”
Answer: a lot and all of it. All the money and all the time.
Our simple plans just kept getting more and more complex. “Well, if we’re gonna go into the house and add on, then maybe we should make our kitchen a little bit bigger”. “Yah…and if we’re gonna do that, then we should probably put on a little deck”. “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice. It’d be cool if it was covered too so we could be out there year round”. “That WOULD be nice”. “You know what would also be nice? What if we did kind of a bigger bathroom, you know with a walk in shower and walk in closet with stackable washer and dryer…that’d be cool”. “That WOULD be cool. You know what else would be cool? One of those big hot tubs so we could relax in it with the kids”. “Oooh, that sounds really nice”…etc.
So fast forward to May and the ground started getting broken in, and then in July demo to the existing house happened.
Oh, I forgot to mention that I got pregnant in January, so I was ripe with child when it was time to go from having a stove, sink, dishwasher and garbage disposal to using just a microwave and hand washing every dish in the basement sink. Once the kitchen went away all things became more difficult. Not just because I was getting bigger and more uncomfortable by the day, but because everything involving food now took additional steps. No garbage disposal meant every single dish had to be wiped out BEFORE I actually washed it. No kitchen counter meant that any meal prep was done on a small cutting board smashed between the coffee maker and toaster on a bar table in our dining room. That dining room was also playing host to our refrigerator, dining room table and chairs and for the months of August and September, stacks and stacks of hardwood for the floor that had yet to be laid in the addition.
Because Ryan was so involved in the remodel I was rocking parenting pretty much solo. My kids are sweet and amazing, but they’re also 5 and 6, so they can be wretched. And because of the magnetic force that apparently exudes from me, they were usually within 2 feet of my swollen, sweaty body. And with me being so whale-like going out and about was difficult, plus with the summer heat I didn’t like being outside. So inside it was. For months. With kids that don’t yet know how to read on their own or play board games without cheating or do chores really well or be together without vexing each other to the point that they yell the other’s name so loud or opt for their favorite way to fix any problem - “MOOOOOM!!!!”.
And as is the case with any kind of remodeling - there’s the dust. The white, persistent, filmy layer that coats everything within 10 feet or so of the demo area heavily (which in our case was the dining room / kitchen) and then tapers off BUT STILL REMAINS as you get further away (living room aka our only living space). I couldn’t escape it or clean it entirely. Every time I would sweep the edges of the broom would swirl up a new cloud that would settle lightly on the swept lane. Our area rug in the living room began to feel…coated. Walking on it barefoot wasn’t an option only because the feeling of the cloth under my feet was grimy. No vacuum could get it all up. Shudder.
As is the case with any cramped space, stuff just seems to surface. Random stuff. The kind that you don’t want to throw out, but you don’t use it either, so it’s storage, but not all permanent storage: t-ball equipment that isn’t necessary until spring, clothes that will be taken to Goodwill that need to be put in a bag until there’s enough to make a run down there, car seats that the kids have outgrown but that the baby will use in another year or so - all of those types of things suddenly are everywhere. So as stacks of different items started appearing in our walkways, closet spaces, and corners the feeling of a comfortable, open home vanished. It’s like I held my breath under water for almost too long to where vision got hazy and panic started to set in.
But now.
I've come up from the deep and had that first huge inhale, and it's filled my lungs and brought life to my body, mind and soul.
All the things have been done. The kitchen, new bedroom, new bathroom and new back deck have been completed. There are no longer tools strewn all over our backyard, no longer stacks of broken wood, empty boxes, paint cans, and trash heaped up in our carport. Gone are the various workers and their muddy boots tracking dirt and leaves through the front entry way, and gone are the seven different trucks that would occupy our driveway and parking spaces in front of our house. The living room has stopped being a storage spot for all my kitchen gear, the kids art projects and supplies, Maggie’s stroller and car seat - it’s just a living space now. The kid’s room has space for them to play now that their toys and books have been moved into the other upstairs bedroom.
Every cabinet and drawer in the new, white kitchen has clean pots and pans occupying it. All the dishes have been washed and sanitized in the dishwasher. The couches and rug in the living room have been deep cleaned. Clothes have all been moved into the proper closets. The central air and heat is on and working - and I have to say that the warm air flowing through the vents and wrapping me up in what feels like a cozy cocoon might be my favorite addition of this whole remodel.
Life can get back to normal. Last night we were all in the kitchen together: Israel was at the desk doing homework on the computer, Charlie was at the island coloring, Ryan was holding Maggie and I was making dinner. It was a magical moment.
Sometimes the ins and outs of any given day can begin to feel monotonous and boring, but how blessed we are to have what we have. To have family, a roof over our heads, to be able to do something like cook a meal for our kids, and use the convenience of dishwashers and stoves to help us out. I hope I never again take for granted how wonderful it is to be a mom to my kids and a wife to my husband and to simply provide for them a home that is warm, inviting and safe. God is so gracious with His perfect timing. The fact that we are rolling into the most cozy and joyous time of year hasn’t been lost on me. It’s like He was saying “Oh, Megan, I have a perfect plan for this whole thing. You’re going to so enjoy all that you have worked for. You will enjoy it x 1000.” His Christmas present to me this year was the realization of how much I love what He has called me to do and be: a mom, a wife, a neighbor and a friend. And for that I am so, so grateful.
