Farmhouse Update

So just in case anyone had gotten the crazy idea that we have it all together (ha. ha.) here is a house update to disabuse you of such silly notions.

Renovation at Wise Road has reached the constructive stage, in other words, the demolition is finished and now “all” we have to do is put everything back. Anyone who has done any renovation knows that, of course, the constructive stage is almost infinitely more difficult than demolition. Demolition is fun.  It makes a lot of mess, and you fill a couple of dumpsters, and you feel like you have accomplished lots and lots. Then you realize… “Oh, I have no walls, and no sink, and no toilet.” And then you must argue and fight with your contractors about the walls, the sink, the toilet…and the siding, and the paint, and the trim, and the windows, and the electrical. You know the drill.

So this has what has been accomplished at Wise Road to date: the walls are framed, the drywall finished. The siding is on, but not painted. Apparently, “people in the country” don’t paint their siding. Or so say our contractors, to explain their surprise when we gave them our paint color of choice. Apparently this wasn’t included in the quote for the exterior.

Maybe you are getting the feeling (Devin and I certainly are) that our contractors *might* be trying to rip us off. As the project progresses more and more items (essential items, I would say) have become “extra.” Like exterior AND interior painting. Like insulation. And apparently the stain that *we* want on the floors is about $1000 extra. But not to worry, no extra charge on the Tang-colored stain the floor guys have in their van. Anyway, the $$$ have really started to stack up and we still have not spent a night in the house.

So we have started contracting for ourselves to save money. And we decided to paint ourselves. Painting is the one renovation task we feel confident enough to undertake. Wait. Did I say "feel"--present tense? Sorry, let me try this again: painting is one renovation task we *FELT* (past tense) confident to undertake. 

Here we are, still feeling confident.

So last weekend the kids went to stay with their (amazing) grandparents while we went up and painted for two days. Surely, we said to ourselves, we can paint one tiny little house one shade of white in one weekend? Not so. We worked like mad for two full days with hardly a break to use the toilet (oh wait, we don’t have a toilet…), and we didn’t finish.

This was very disappointing, mostly because the floor people were coming in the next day and painting is better before the floor is done, for obvious reasons.

They went on and sanded the floor. Then they got to the kids’ room, which, if you recall, used to be the kitchen. And there they stopped, because under all the dust and crap there is a solid sheet of asbestos. Not tiles, a sheet. We knew it was there, and we (mistakenly) assumed that our contractors, who we had just paid many dollars to rip up the old floor, would have taken up this mess as well. But no. They had not. And they did not plan to. They suggested that maybe Devin and I would like to tear it up ourselves.

So a couple days after our failed painting trip we farmed out the children yet again and headed back up to the house to try our hand at asbestos removal.

We had to go up there anyway because we had to meet our carpenter (the one *we* found. Apparently our contractors don’t know any carpenters). Now our carpenter was up there putting in The Doors.

The Doors… (Cue ominous music.)

Old Door.

There are only three doorways in the house. Three. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. We knew from experience that contractors *will* put in plastic, hollow core doors if you let them. So we had this brilliant idea that we would buy old doors from architectural salvage, with lovely brass hardware and heavy old nobs. There isn’t a lot of inherent character in the house (the previous owner saw to that), so we realized that the few details like this would be our way to restore a sense of history and integrity to the place. We had the doors up in the house for MONTHS while the contractors were doing other things. They knew from the BEGINNING that we were planning to use old doors.

So they day came when they went in to install the doors. We got a call. Apparently (I seem to be using this word a lot) they couldn’t do the job because “the doors are weird.” So they had brought in (you guessed it) plastic, hollow core doors. They were just going to put them in—in spite of my explicit instructions otherwise.

So we called up Mike, who is a carpenter.

Carpentry is a noble trade. Remember that Our Lord was a carpenter. And Mike is a good carpenter. We have so much respect for Mike. He is a craftsman and a man of integrity. I wish he could do *all* of the work on our house.

Mike drove more than an hour to Wise Road. When he got there the power was off. He problem solved and hooked up his tools to an exterior power-line (?!). Then he realized that we had gotten a door that opened on the wrong side. Then he realized that we had bought *one* hinge that was the wrong size. Then he realized that one of the doors we had brought was warped and unusable. An on and on. Basically everything that could possibly go wrong with the doors went wrong. And it was all our fault. But Mike powered through. Despite everything we have our (old) new doors installed.

While Mike was Getting It Done, Devin and I were madly scraping up asbestos.

Floor of Death.

We worked for a long time and maybe scraped up 5 square feet, not even a fourth of the room.  We don’t have time to do this job, and since cash is running short as well, I think we are going to have to carpet this room, at least for the time being. Maybe later we can go back and finish the job properly.

I hate that we are going to have to do this. I hate how we have failed over and over again: the painting, the doors, the floors, and many other aspects. Our own stupidity, ignorance, overconfidence have combined with lack of time, lack of energy, lack of funds to create some major issues.

So this wasn’t such a good week. Here’s hoping that the next update will bring some sunshine!!

I will say that I am excited about the floors. I am so happy that we were able to salvage the original wood, at least in most of the house.

I also like the painting I was able to finish. Here is a picture of what will be the living room:

There will be wallpaper to the left of the door.

House Tour: The Master Bedroom

Today is the first installment of my Deep Clean House Tour!

As I embarked upon my cleaning journey I was unsure where to begin. Which room was worthy to initiate this grand endeavor? I firmly believe that each house has a spiritual/emotional center, the location of its “soul.” This room should remain, in any home, impeccably clean, welcoming, etc. because the life-force of the home flows from it. My first task, I decided, was to find this “center” in my own house. 

Many would argue that, in most homes, this center of the home, and indeed the center of family life, is the kitchen. And indeed, as someone who places a high emphasis on physical nourishment and good fellowship in good feasting, I was tempted to start my Deep Clean in the kitchen. In fact, the great cleaning Authority over at FlyLady insists that a clean and happy home begins with an immaculate (polished!) sink.

However, I have been reading this book, written by my beloved Auntie Leila. She, wise woman that she is, locates the “center” of the home not in the kitchen but—in the Master Bedroom.

Why? Just think. We are Catholic after all, and we hold a very sacramental view of family life, and the family finds its source and strength in the sacrament of marriage—and more specifically, in the marriage bed!

(Are you blushing?)

But seriously. The marriage bed is *literally* the “source of life” in the family home. For if it weren’t for the sacrament of marriage which is, of course, enacted *in bed!* there would be no family at all. 

(Where did all these kids come from anyway?!?)

So if I believe this about marriage, shouldn’t I treat this room, of all rooms, with great reverence? Shouldn’t my CHILDREN treat this room, of all rooms, with great reverence? If it weren't for this room, they wouldn't exist. 

And the Bible says, if you recall, that children should “Honor their father and mother and not leave legos and tiny plastic people on the floor beside their bed, lest their hoary and revered parents step upon them  and injure themselves in the night and thus bring ruin and shame upon their descendants even unto the seventh generation,  Etc.”

I have thought it over and decided that, indeed, this room should be set aside. So. No toys are allowed in our bedroom. No iphones or computers cross the threshold. I make the bed (almost!) every day, and establish order in this place before I attempt to establish it anywhere else. After all this, it seems only logical to begin my deep clean here.

So without further ado here 'tis:

Now I will be all design-bloggy and give you sources:

The bedspread and bedskirt are from Anthropologie.

The pillows are made from vintage kimonos and purchased at Black Bamboo.

The “El Espiritu” print is from Hammer Press (purchased while I was in labor with Hattie).

The nativity scene is Mexican. I have had it since I can remember. (Used to have more shepherds!)

The painting on the mantle is an antique station of the cross salvaged from a church and purchased by Devin for our anniversary.

The Chinese horse Devin bought for me in China while we were dating.

The sketched portrait is by local artist Paulina Everett

The two small paintings of roses are by Devin’s grandmother.

The rug is also from Devin’s grandmother, purchased while she lived in Afghanistan in the fifties.

The English antique chest and pedestal table (bedside tables) were my grandmother’s.

House Tour, or, The Deep Clean

For years I have been meaning to take photos of our house here in Kansas City. The only ones I have are shots of the empty rooms right before we moved in (and before we had children). I am always planning to get out my camera in those rare moments when the children aren’t around, but something always stops me. I am waiting, I suppose, for the Perfect Moment when all the rooms are a.) clean, b.) toy-free, and c.) “finished,” i.e. “decorated.” Considering my life right now (and my lovely children) this “Perfect Moment” will never, ever, arrive.

Obviously.

But still, I should really take pictures of my house. Because I love my house. And though it is rarely perfectly clean and never perfectly neat, it has become, even in the few short years we have lived here, a home: a place of rest, good fellowship, and joy. It is filled with good food, good memories, beautiful and meaningful things, and—most importantly—beautiful people (two of whom possess more tiny plastic toys than I would have thought possible considering that their mother doesn’t “believe” in plastic toys. But I digress).

Anyway, this Autumn I decided to supply this lack of photos even as I undertake another major household task: the Deep Clean.

For though I have a (fairly) successful rhythm that keeps the house “reasonably” clean, I have noticed that  dust gathers in certain unused corners, that there is grime on the baseboards, that vast and untold riches lurk beneath the playroom sofa…

So now that Hattie goes to “school” a couple of mornings a week I hope to undertake a thorough room by room purge and clean. Then, once the room is “done,” I will take a picture—quickly, before anyone builds a playmobile town under the table or grinds cracker into the rug.

So stay tuned for the first installment of my Deep Clean House Tour, scheduled for tomorrow!