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It's official: I did not make time to write while renovations were underway. And by were, I mean Are. Here we are creeping up on one year and we are still working on stair railings, baseboards, toe kicks, exterior painting (gotta wait out the rain on that one) and.... the list goes on.
But! I did have a moment a few weeks ago when I looked around at all we have accomplished and thought, "Oh my goodness, this is becoming my dream home." The afternoon light was floating through the windows, we had just installed our concrete counters (which took weeks to build forms, pour, perfect, sand, polish, seal, wax) and here I was walking around this beautiful little house with really only finishing touches remaining.

I can't quite see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think we both see all of the things awaiting our attention. Some days I just cook and clean and do normal "life stuff" and pretend nothing else exists (like painting, sanding, excavating, digging, planting). It's fun to play house as if life were just work, walks with Pup, dinner, sleep, work, weekends. Like how they used to be in my imaginary Less Stressful Life.
I admit I prefer to reframe my history as a very smooth transition from one calm moment to another. It feels nice to think that life will become calm again and I will feel like my navigational skills are working and my head isn't too full for paying attention during a conversation or getting creative with new recipes (did someone say: "Pick three meals and rotate them for a year. It's a good idea!"!?).

It's not about bean tostadas vs vegetables and rice or pasta sauce with polenta. It's not about three straight months of canned soup heated up in the microwave (when the only kitchen we had was on top of the dryer in the basement, and the only shower was the laundry sink - also in the basement). It's about remembering 12+ hour days seven days a week for six months followed by just seven days a week as a really fun, lively adventure filled with laughs and silliness.

It's not like anyone got hurt....

Oh, except when we moved the counters those last two inches and I crushed the side of my hand, had a vasovagal response (seriously, look it up) which ended with me passing out and falling against a wall which resulted in whiplash and searing pain in my back.

So, I'm back. And my back hurts. But at least our counters are beautiful and I love our kitchen and I cannot believe that at the end of all of this we will have this beautiful little home together. Every detail represents hours of thought and discussion, compromise and careful intention. We created a place we think we will like in the future, love right now, and there's no going back. We're almost there.

the deep

I thought, "Sure, I'll post updates weekly as we renovate. We can share before and after and during photos and laugh and hang out and chat about our remodel adventure."

That was before, when we had free time and friends. When we cooked at home and vacuumed. When we could find time for movies and reading, laundry and grocery shopping.

Now we're nearly five months in, demolition is over, we've excavated and resealed the foundation (nearly done with backfilling). We're in the midst of wiring outlets and lights. I insulated the water pipes over the weekend, we have a new porch. And we haven't seen our friends in months (not totally literally, but just about literally). One friend even said, "Oh no, you don't understand. You won't see them [meaning us] unless you go to The House to see them." And they're right. We're completely consumed. Every detail needs a decision, a measurement, a product ordered.

There's no time for photos, for updates, for reminiscing or pondering just where that pretty painting will go. There are only decisions and labor. Manual labor. I remember the day I said, "That's the one thing I don't do: Dig." One week later I was covered in dirt, my hands had actual digging callouses, and I had sealing tar in my hair as I sat at the bottom of a 6 foot trench wrapping a footing drain.

Adam told the neighbors as they walked by, "We're building a moat!"

We are exhausted. Working 15+ hours a day, seven days a week, and it has been months now. Everyone (I mean it) says, "Oh, I know, it's hard but it's totally worth it, right?" And we smile and say, "Yes yes yes" whilst growling inside and wondering when the end result will happen. We're not to the "It was hard, but it was totally worth it" zone. It's just hard, and stressful, and we have no idea if what we've conceived as the perfect, adorable, cozy, inviting place will be what we pictured as Home.

But really, we love it. The house will be wonderful. It will be ours, exactly as we designed it after 37+ floor plans and countless revisions and questions.

This took me two days to write, and I'm sorry but there are no photos of the house. Just a photo of us in Scotland in August, when we had a full week to ourselves poking around in castles. Before we were in so deep. Before I became a champion digger. Or at least before I picked up a shovel.