Why Didn't I do this Earlier?

Charlotte is sleeping through the night! I read a bunch of baby sleep books before she was born, and though they didn't agree on what age a baby can sleep through the night, I seem to recall that all of the suggested ages were waaay younger than 1 year old. (Although I guess Charlotte is really only 11 months).  I've put off sleep training because she's been sick, teething, blah blah, excuses, but since we are leaving the girls with their Nana and Poppy in two weeks, I decided I needed to get serious.

Last week she woke up at her normal time of 11:30 p.m. I knew she wasn't hungry, as I had stuffed her at dinner so I wouldn't be worried about that, I knew she wasn't poopy because she didn't sound angry. In fact, if I were to do a little voiceover to her cries, it would sound like this..."Mom, why aren't you getting me? Usually when I wake up and cry I get a reward of milk or a long cuddle. Why am I not being rewarded for waking up? I'm so cute, you know you want to pick me up..." Yes, I know she doesn't need anything at night at this age, but it's so hard to resist a crying baby. That's why I went in every 10 minutes to give her a little cuddle then put her back down. "I'm here, I hear you, I'm just not going to give you a prize for waking up in the middle of the night." Of course, psyching Charlotte out by picking her up only to put her back down made her really mad, but it was more to reassure me than for her. After doing this a couple times she calmed down and went to sleep. Elapsed time? 40 minutes tops.

The next night Charlotte slept through the night. For me, sleeping through the night for kids is the solid 12 hours they need--7:30 p.m. to 7:30 a.m. Success? Not yet. The next two nights she woke up at 11:30 p.m. again. Old habits are hard to break. I just held her for a minute, sang her a song one night, then put her back down. Five minutes tops.

Now we are here a week later, and she is solidly sleeping through the night. I'm still pleasantly surprised when I wake up in the morning refreshed and energized. And I can't help but wonder...how many months ago should I have done this? How many nights was I needlessly disturbed from my sweet sweet slumber because I didn't have the gumption to listen to her cry for half an hour? Parents these days. So soft.

A Story from English Class

I'll never forget a story one of my English professors told in college one time. I'm not sure why he told it, except for us English Lit people like to shake things up, but it was about modesty. He and his wife brought their baby girl to church for the first time since she was born, wearing a cute little sundress without sleeves. An older man came up to them after the Sunday service and commented on how cute their baby was..."if only her dress was modest," he casually lamented. My English teacher then told the man to keep himself and his pedophiliac tendencies away from his daughter.

Why did this story stick with me? Mostly because I'd never really thought about the sexualization of young girls in church culture. After consideration, I think the terms "modest" and "immodest" are irrelevant to young girls. I refused to read Sammy this story in a church magazine about a little girl that wouldn't go on a field trip until she put sleeves under her dress, because then she would be modest and ready to go out in public. Let's see, that would make my little girls, who I occasionally send to church in sleeveless dresses...immodest?

A while back, I tried to explain to my sister that my girls could be running around naked and still be modest, but I'm not sure she got the point..."Well, you wouldn't do that, there are pedophiles, etc." Of course I'm not going to let my children run around naked, but little children are innocent. They are incapable of planning to use their clothing to turn people on or draw inappropriate attention to themselves. They have not made any covenants to God concerning what they will wear. Thus no matter what my girls are wearing, they will always be modest. The only reason to dress a certain way now is to practice for when they are older and capable of choosing to dress in the way that lets them stand with confidence before God.

(And lady in church who declared that "some standards will never change, like not wearing sleeveless dresses," go back to church in the early 1900s and see how modest they think your dress is and if standards have changed.) Standards of dress change, but principles don't. And why our pre-occupation with sleeves? Are they just an easy cultural marker of who is righteous and who is not? I heard a mom talking about how modest her daughter is--yes, she always wears sleeves and knee length skirts but frequently her cleavage is busting out the top of her shirt, which I think should be way more of a concern for a parent...but I digress.

How do I plan to teach my girls about how they should dress now and as they get older? "Dress like a lady." "That's not appropriate for this social situation." "Let's dress with sleeves to practice being covenant keepers." "Our family rule is no bikinis." "I would hate for you to have to throw away most of your wardrobe when you start wearing garments." (Too passive-aggressive?)

I've watched with interest as the media has recently exploded with articles about modesty and my concerns about how it is taught. I thought this article most closely matched what I would say:

http://empoweringldswomen.blogspot.com/2014/03/modesty.html

A couple months ago, I had a discussion with a guy in which he tried to explain how women have to take some responsibility for being raped if they're wearing inappropriate clothing. Yeah, that happened. It really bothered me, especially as one day he might be a bishop who, when a women comes to him for healing and hope through the Atonement after a sexual assault, could very well be asked by him, "Well, what were you wearing?" I didn't blame him for this viewpoint as much as the church he was raised in. The church sends out lots of positive messages to women, like "You are daughters of God, you have a divine destiny, etc." But then these are mixed in with the messages like, "Women, you are responsible for the actions of men," or "Little girls, you are being immodest by wearing certain types of clothes." These messages crowd out the good messages and make me want to leave the church and raise my girls elsewhere. Or maybe just blog about it so I can get my frustration and anger off my chest.

In Pursuit of Passion

Pursuit is a funny word. 

So I think I've talked about why I blog before--I love writing and sometimes I just have to write about something I'm thinking about. Writing in my journal is great for my private thoughts, but if I didn't blog about my more public thoughts I would miss out on the vague thrill that comes when I realize someone, somewhere, is reading what I've written. I am an author!

Lately I have been drawn to the idea of creating a blog for our neighborhood. I have all sorts of posts and ideas floating around that need to be written. My first main question is should it be anonymous or should it have my name and picture? If anonymous, I could be more honest about things such as crazy people at neighborhood meetings, but then it might be hard for people to contact me with neighborhood information they want to see on my blog. Also something to consider with going public is that it doesn't take much to propel a person to minor-celebrity status here in Provo. People would know who I was. (Again, good thing?) 

In any case, I want to do this blog because I feel there's really a need for it, whereas my current blog just fulfills my need to write and the needs of bored people to read something interesting to keep their brain from shriveling. I feel like I could influence a whole neighborhood and provide a forum to make real life change happen, and that's a cool thing. I hope this blog may have changed the way some people think about life, but that's much harder to quantify than a blog that boosts the turnout to neighborhood meetings by 50 percent.  

I'll write here on my blog when I just can't keep things to myself but I wanted to mention the current project on my mind...I'll post a link when it's ready! 

 

A Chance Meeting

It was serendipitous: I had decided at the last minute to drive by the library Friday night and drop off some books when I saw a sign on the corner: Neighborhood Meeting at the Library, Sat 9:30 a.m. The babysitting stars aligned and off I trotted the next morning, curious about what we were meeting about. Now, in my experience, 50 percent of meetings are a waste of time. They're just so long, you know? If only people could say what needs to be said and move on...in any case, I figured I could just leave if it got too boring.

 

Fortunately, from the opening minutes it promised to be an interesting meeting. The neighborhood chair (who apparently annoys people with his Luddite tendencies) started by introducing the fresh-faced BYU student who had called the meeting to discuss a proposed development. An indignant lady near the front immediately hijacked the meeting. "This is a neighborhood meeting! There's so much we need to discuss! Crosswalks! Etc!" The neighborhood chair tried to explain that it was a neighborhood meeting in that the meeting affected the neighborhood, but that the meeting did not belong to the neighborhood, it belonged to the BYU student who had paid for the room and for the advertising for the meeting. They went back and forth on this point for some time while the BYU student stood awkwardly at the front of the room and I sat with glee in the back of the room. Awkwardness and infighting? Excellent start.

 

The BYU student was eventually granted the right to talk at his meeting and he gave a little presentation about a four-plex he wanted to build on an empty lot around the corner from our house for single families. I could tell he was nervous...and rightly so. People don't go to a neighborhood meeting early on a Saturday morning unless they are really passionate about what happens in the neighborhood. I liked the guy though. He was a newly-married construction management major that won some money in a Dr. Pepper football throw-off contest and wanted to build something with it. (I could tell he felt silly about this and originally described it as a vague scholarship thing. I think he was pleasantly surprised when we all thought it was fun how he won it.) I could have warned him though about what this crowd would like and not like about his proposed plans. (Population density: bad, Green space: good. House design mixing old and new: bad, financing in place, good.)

 

After his short presentation he opened the floor to comments. Hands popped up all over the room, because basically, if you were there, you wanted to comment. The comments ranged from dumb ("You should build a single family home!") to thoughtful ("How is this being financed?") with a pinch of crazy thrown in.

Actual exchange:

Person A:You can't stop progress!

Person B: Do you own a house in the neighborhood?

Person A: Yes.

Person B: Do you have any rentals?

Person A: Yes, I have one over in Mapleton.

Person B: Ha! Well there you go! (With note of triumph in voice for ferreting out evil landlord)

 

At this point in the meeting I was definitely feeling superior for owning a historic home, living right by the proposed development, and not having renters. (Although the brunt of this group's wrath is really reserved for absentee landlords.) I knew this group would like me.

 

For some reason, I was really nervous when I finally got to put my two cents in, but I think my comment (speech?) went over well. I warmed up the room by stating that I owned a 100 year old house a block away and had three kids. (Home-owner-with-family brownie points.) Then I speechified about how no one was ever going to put a single home on the lot, because the land was too expensive to justify that, and that a well-thought-out development would increase the property values better than an abandoned lot. I seconded earlier suggestions for two parking spots per unit rather than three, more yard, and a historic look to the outside based on the jewels of the neighborhood rather than the old/new architecture which sounds good but pleases no one. (Cheers and cries of "Bravo!" Or maybe that was only in my mind.)

 

I felt comfortable talking about property/land values and design issues, but I am still pretty ignorant of the zoning issues and how you keep single students from taking over a family development, so I let other people speak to those concerns. I felt awesome though. The comments after me were very affirming of what I said and the two ladies sitting next to me* both started furiously writing their contact info down for me and asked me to join the neighborhood Facebook group. I felt so popular.

 

The BYU student promised to change things per our suggestions (looking at the Facebook group he has already started on that) and I left energized and full of ideas. Walk the boundaries of our neighborhood and become familiar with businesses and blocks in it! Start a blog about things I like in our neighborhood! Become Neighborhood Chair 2015! It's just fun to be involved in something bigger than yourself, something that makes you feel part of a community. I felt listened to, and like I was able to use my talents for shaping discussions and leadership, and that I Am Still A Person away from my kids and husband. I go in fear of becoming a boring individual, especially since as a homemaker it's easy to get lost in the constant demands of family and stop developing your interests and passions.

 

 Plus, I was reminded of one of the main reasons why we moved to this area of town. I like that it has a sense of place and a cohesive neighborhood. The meeting was a fun chance to meet some fellow citizens and see what living in this neighborhood can involve!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*It turns out they are on a Steering Committee. I wasn't aware a neighborhood could be steered. Did they make this up? I joined the Facebook page and saw a call for action to join the Walkability Committee...apparently I have much to learn about committees.

The Glorious Symbol of Motherhood

Twice a week, I and six other widely assorted people gather for a Spanish class. Our teacher is really great--she's always well-prepared and very patient with our mistakes. (Although last week she just about gave us all heart attacks when she told us she had invited *real* Spanish-speakers to come talk with us.) Anyway, I've been wanting to write about this incident from class for a while...

A couple of weeks ago our teacher asked us all to come to class the next time prepared to talk about our jobs. As part of this assignment, we also needed to bring one object that symbolized our jobs. A nice fellow student in her 40's swiftly commented, "Oh, so like if you're a mom you could bring a diaper!" "Si," said our teacher. (Upon which I process for a minute...Ah yes, the diaper, glorious symbol of motherhood!) 

Now, I will not deny that being a mom means dealing with poop. Moms deal with literal and figurative crap from their children quite a bit. In fact I will boast here that at least the literal variety of defecation doesn't really phase me anymore, as long as it's coming from my own children. But would I choose a DIAPER to represent my career choice? Absolutely not! A POOP RECEPTACLE is not an appropriate symbol for MOTHERHOOD.

In fact, just before this incident happened, I had just written down some of my motherhood goals to give more purpose to my life.* Nowhere on my list was anything relating to diapers. So...what did I bring? I chose to bring a pack of ABC flashcards. Then in class, in my best Spanish, I explained how I am a teacher. I am a teacher because I am mother. I teach my children many things. I teach them reading, writing, cooking, and to speak Spanish. I teach them about morality, finances, gardening, to enjoy nature and traveling and about various school subjects. At times, my job is difficult, but it's also interesting and rewarding. And that's where my vocabulary ran out.

I like being a mom. It's not my whole life, but right now it's a lot of it. And it's not a poopy job.



*My Motherhood Manifesto

Teach them to love books
Teach them to love learning
Teach them to love the outdoors
Teach them to work hard
Teach them to eat healthy
Teach them to handle finances well
Teach them another language
Teach them to love the scriptures

Book Club Blues

I love my library. I love that it's 90 seconds from my house. I love that it's pretty and huge. I don't love the librarians, but the children's librarians don't seem to hate kids, so that's a nice start. Anyway...my friend is starting up a book club. I love books. I love getting together in small groups. I would probably love a book club. And yet, at the thought of joining a book group, (club sounds so 12-year-old-ish to me, like the Babysitters' Club), what do I do? I panic. Is joining a good idea? Can I handle a once-a-month commitment? Are the other members going to be a bunch of crazy conservatives? (I can't remember if this is the friend who compared Obama to Hitler on Facebook.) Is this club going to be an excuse to snoop around each others houses and impress each other with our snacks and feel bad about ourselves when we don't compare well? What if no one likes the book I pick?

 

Lame.

 

Me, I mean. Why am I such a worrier? Tonight I went to the first session of a Spanish class at the local rec center. I haven't been to a real class in a while, so last week I was stressing. What if the teacher is scary, what if I can't remember any Spanish, what if I'm the only one there and it's awkward, etc. Then I took some time for a re-think. I love learning. I love the first day of class when the teacher talks about logistics. I love a clean notebook and a fresh pencil. I really want to learn Spanish.

 

This is called "shaping your narrative." The way we tell stories about what has happened, is happening, or is about to happen changes the effect of those happenings. For example, the other day my siblings and I were up at my parents' house talking about epic road trips, in particular the epic-ly bad family road trips we have been on. These included trips with puking, portable toilets, leaving the vehicle to try and hitchhike home, gross hotel rooms, being rained out of camping at 3 a.m. and spending the next day sitting in a laundromat, etc.

 

We could have told these stories with a conclusion that family road trips are a bad idea and we will never do them with our own children. But we shaped our narrative with a humorous twist, and as a result, fondly look forward to similar character-building experiences with our own kids. (I think.)

 

So back to the Spanish class, I shut down my worrying. I changed my story from "Lady who hasn't been to school in a while timidly attempts to learn" to "Lifelong student gets chance to pursue passion."As I admitted to my husband, I was walking down the hall to Spanish class and had these frantic last minute thoughts of "Why did I think signing up for this was a good idea? I don't like new things. I would be happy never trying a new thing in my life," but it turned out really well. The teacher was a nice woman, not a pretentious know-it-all RM, the class had six students, the perfect size for me, and I was one of the better speakers there so I didn't feel dumb!  

 

I read somewhere recently that as immortal souls, we fear becoming stagnant. Motto for the new year: I will try new things!

 

 

 

Burning the Kitchen Down

 

 

 

 

Let me preface this by saying that I've never liked gas stoves. I know professional cooks prefer gas stovetops, but perhaps professional cooks have never experienced the joy of cleaning a flat stove top over gas burners. Or more importantly, considered THE DANGER OF HAVING OPEN FLAMES IN YOUR KITCHEN. !!!

 

I always thought that people who burned down their kitchens were idiots, but now I'm having to reconsider...perhaps they all just had gas stoves.

 

So here's what happened. You know when you turn the gas to a stove burner on, and the lighter doesn't catch for a sec? So it goes *click*click*WHOOSH and flames shoot out when it finally catches because of the extra gas that has come out? Yesterday that happened as I was starting some water boiling. No big deal. I grabbed some salt for the water and looked back at the stove.

 

Apparently, the *WHOOSH had ignited one of those highly flammable plastic bread bags that was sitting on the countertop by the right side of the stove. Aaah! I started pouring salt on the flames jumping around and trying to flick burning debris off my beautiful wood (!) countertops onto the stove. Then the flames ignited my crumpled bacon grease-coated paper towels I had just wiped the stove off with... (I'm sure I was just about to throw them away.) Thoughts: Not the wood countertops! How flammable is the varnish they're coated in?

 

The flames were dying when I glanced over and saw the large roll of paper towels that was sitting on the back burner of the stove halfway covered in flames. Agh! Maybe people who burn down their kitchens are idiots. Why did I put a gigantic roll of fire-starter on my stove? The girls gathered to watch and Cici gave dramatic high-pitched shrieks as I grabbed the towel roll and ran over to the sink, blasting the flames with water. Still holding the salt, I ran back and sprinkled the smoldering bits of paper towel and bread bag on the stove.

 

Then I just stood there for a while and gazed at the post-apocalyptic scene on my gas stovetop...mounds of burnt salt and charred remains floating ashy bits into the air. Cici came over to comfort me.

 

Cici: "Do you need a band-aid? You look like you need a band-aid."  

 

Thank you, Cici.

 

 

*I told Austin I lit our kitchen on fire. He was nice enough to ask if I was okay, but I know what he was really thinking was: Are the wood countertops okay? The answer is yes, only the salt I poured on the flames got burnt and not the countertops. My white cabinets weren't damaged either. It's a Christmas miracle.

 

 

Kitchen Reveal No. 1!

Okay, here's a quick review of what the kitchen looked like when we bought it...

 

 

note tile and lighting...

as well as funky cupboards and absence of upper cupboards...

 

hot dog sink still baffles me...

and finally the butler's pantry.

 

Much later...

 

*By the way, I would have to say that Austin really impressed me in the interim with what he figured out how to do in the kitchen. Recessed lighting, electrical, installing countertops, plumbing, undermount sink, etc. Underneath his suave exterior lies a rugged handyman.

 

Ta-da!

Hey, a real kitchen!

 

With lovely custom walnut countertops that everyone said was a bad idea... 

 

a classed up butler's pantry,

 

with the old chimney brick exposed for character. And for memories of the toasty bird skeleton.

 

This is Kitchen Reveal number one because there is still more to do. Backsplash behind the stove and kitchen sink, open shelving on the wall by sink, and definitely baseboards. Just finishing touches. Still, I think of the people without homes in the Philippines and can't be anything but grateful. Especially for a sink and a stove. Until you go without those two things for a month you don't realize just how nice it is to have them.

 

Fully Operational

I'm pretty sure that tomorrow my kitchen will be fully armed and operational! We got the countertops and sink put in on Saturday and will put the stove and dishwasher in tomorrow. Then...pictures! So, what have I been doing without a kitchen sink, stove, or dishwasher for the past month or so?

When we decided to just bite the bullet and move into our work-in-progress house, I had visions of me using my crockpot, toaster oven, and electric griddle to whip up home-cooked suppers, doing dishes in the bathroom, and spraying pots and pans clean in the hose outside. Glamping, remember?

Well, I still haven't found the box my toaster oven is in, and my griddle, which I did find, is missing its cord, which is probably in that same undiscovered box. These are just excuses, though. The truth is that I've had no time, energy, or desire to make homemade meals and wash my dishes in my bathtub.

People ask what I do without a kitchen, how I manage. My answer depends on who asks. Okay, to everyone but my mother I tell the truth: we eat out a lot. Like every night. Normally I feel guilty about eating out if we're not on a date or something. I wasn't raised that way. I think I ate out with my family twice before I left home for college, not counting McDonalds on road trips. I know that home cooked meals are cheaper and much more nutritious...and yet, we still eat out and use disposable dishes for the rest of our meals. That is how we are managing. I do feel guilty because it's not healthy or cheap, but also not guilty because hey, I don't have a kitchen. So, a breakdown of our daily menu:

Breakfast: Mini-Wheats or Oatmeal in microwave plus gummi vitamins
Lunch: Ham sandwich or Peanut Butter and Jam sandwich, chips, and carrots

(Do I ever get tired of eating the same thing for breakfast and lunch? Not really. I like consistency. In college I ate Malt-o-meal every morning for an entire semester.)

Supper: (Criteria are, can't be too pricey, too hard to take kids to, or too far away.)

Little Ceaser's Pizza (Austin used to hate their pizza. Mysteriously it has grown on him and he now likes it. Plus it's really close to our house.)

Wendy's (Really like their new pretzel hamburger thing, which is a little pricey but so good.)

Cafe Rio (Anything pork. Starting to get expensive though now that the free kids quesadillas aren't filling up our kids.)

Panda Express (Orange Chicken and Sweet Fire Chicken)

Arby's (Roast beef sandwiches for the girls and I, and then Austin has a strange infatuation with their chicken strips.)

Annnnd that's pretty much our rotation. To tell the truth, not having to cook supper or do any dishes for a month has freed up a lot of my time to work on the house and do things with the girls. It's been kind of fun. But it's gotten to the point where we're really sick of eating out. Really sick of it. Too much of a mediocre thing, I guess.

Wonder Woman

 

Some days I feel like Wonder Woman.

Some months, actually.

This past month especially, because in October I fought the good fight each and every day.

I've introduced my kids to the joy of raking up leaves and jumping in leaf piles. I've thrown together a birthday celebration, complete with homemade cake. I've sewn and put together Halloween costumes. I've drywalled, I've painted, I've laid flooring, I've taken kids to swim lessons, I've spent time with family, I've kept my house clean, written in my journal, volunteered at school, been social with other moms and church members. I've shopped for Christmas, walked my kids to school almost every day, gotten up with multiple kids multiple times on multiple nights, gone visiting teaching, sent letters to missionaries, etc., etc., etc. This month, my kids have called me the best mom in the whole world, and the worst mom in the whole world. (That's how I know I'm doing my job right.)

 

About the only thing I feel bad about is that I haven't gotten a good nap. As soon as the renovations are done (next week?!), I'm for sure getting that done. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                 

   I still have a plywood floor. My kids still don't sleep at night. I still only have time to wash my hair once every four days. But I am...Wonder Woman!                                

                                                  

 

Little House on the Prairie

 

 

New playhouse in backyard. Note Welcome Bear by front door.

 

***

 

 

Here we are, having breakfast in our lovely new kitchen. Note the classy wood floors and custom "stacked wood" countertops. I find the hand textured wall treatment particularly fetching, as well as our trendy café seating.

 

Here's the other side.

Yes, we are a long way from done, and we are still living in a construction zone.

Still, I think it looks much better. I just might be turning into an optimist.

 

Lately Sammy and I have been reading Little House on the Prairie. I love it. I don't remember reading it when I was little, but it's an interesting look at real pioneers, and it's really helped me with our move last Saturday into our ongoing renovation. I would compare our life right now to luxury camping, (glamping) but we're indoors and it's not luxurious. It does feel like camping though. You'd have to come visit to get the full picture. However, whenever I get discouraged about not having a kitchen sink or countertops or a nice bathroom, and I look at all the work left and start to feel down, I just think about how Laura's family just picked a spot in the middle of nowhere and started putting log walls up. No windows, no door, dirt floors, etc.

 

They would have loved to be in the house that I'm in now. They would have loved having a microwave and fridge, indoor plumbing, sturdy walls with a door and floor, and a fluffy Persian cat wandering their backyard instead of a circle of wolves. You know, pioneers are awesome, even if just for serving the purpose of making me feel good about my cushy life.

 

I really want to enjoy this time close to family and fun activities now, and not wait until my house is perfect to have a great life. It's definitely a balancing act between working on the house and taking care of the three girls, too. I made the goal this year to be more flexible, i.e. not always have to do things my way, and I think a new baby, move, and renovation are really helping me accomplish this goal. Humans are hardwired for struggle, and when we are stretching our capabilities we are really alert and living life despite dealing with difficult things.  

 

 

Charlotte is flexible. Her favorite activity--playing with her toes.

Destroying a Very Large Purchase



 

It's very stressful to renovate a house. We spent a lot of money to buy a cute little house then promptly started to destroy it. WHAT HAVE WE DONE?? 

Our living room (before)

Our kitchen (before). Hey, it actually looks pretty good in this photo. It could be the dim lighting...or the devilishly attractive female with the screwdriver.

 

But in the cold light of the flash...it's another story.

 

The other side of the kitchen. Note that one of the sinks is the size of a large hot dog. Who does that? 

 

Relaxing in our new kitchen

 

Laundry room off the kitchen

 

 

Demolition reveals a boarded up chimney that contained coal remnants and a toasty bird skeleton that Matthew relished showing Kellie and I.

 

So our first priorities are the kitchen and the floors. Those two things seemed good to get out of the way before we actually moved into the house. The floor refinisher starts tomorrow on the hardwood throughout the house, so that's one thing out of the way. Then we need to level the kitchen and dining room floor and pick an engineered hardwood to put down. We spent days getting up the Spanish tile, which was grouted to the cement board which was glued and screwed to the plywood underneath, so we might hire someone at this point to do the leveling.

 

The kitchen is interesting too. I think the chimney connected to the original kitchen stove, and the original kitchen was what is now the laundry room. I'm putting cupboards in the laundry room that match the new kitchen and taking out the sink behind the door and making it a pantry closet, basically turning the laundry room into a butler's pantry. Actually I just like saying "butler's pantry." I'm not sure if my laundry room qualifies as one. I'm a little nervous about the kitchen.

 

The basic idea

Except I don't like farmhouse sinks, or faucets that are hard to clean. Or those door pulls. Austin wants to go with white subway tile, but I worry that it's too much white. Plus everyone these days is doing a white kitchen with white subway tile. Too trendy?

We have a lot of decisions to make...any input is appreciated.