So after I stopped just short of threatening to put a contingent offer on a bigger house while Ryan was at work, Ryan suggested we make some of the improvements we've been wanting to make to this house sooner, rather than later. Like, I could tile the kitchen, he said. Really? I wanted to know. It's a big job, are you sure you don't want to get a guy? He was visibly offended by the mere suggestion of having a total stranger come in to do work on the house, so I said I would LOVE it if he would tile the kitchen. So that's how I ended up sitting in the van drinking a milkshake with the kids at 8:30 at night while a forklift deposited an entire pallet of ceramic tile into the back.
That's also how I ended up holding James while the menfolk pushed the fridge into its new home in the dining room. Next to the island, which was also relocated. The kitchen was now a construction zone.
Because *this* is exactly how I want my dining room to look for the last couple months of pregnancy, when my need for a neat and orderly house reaches clinical levels.
And apparently, not eating in the kitchen means you can eat freaking ANYWHERE YOU WANT in the whole house, despite me carefully prepping the dining room table for daily use with some scratch resistant pads, a vinyl tablecloth, and many, many threats about being careful with the nice table. You should see the wood on our kitchen table. It's like we run a home for troubled youth. Also, this couch is now covered in jelly. Thanks for your contribution, James.
The kids continue to be extremely helpful with the tile work, when I can no longer contain them in the living room side of the house.
Despite the slight inconvenience of having the kids eat three meals a day over carpet and having a living room like a Cambridge three-family packed with undergrads, things are looking AWESOME in the kitchen. In addition to the tile, Ryan has painted the kitchen green, in his free time. Which, as it turns out, is between midnight and four o'clock in the morning. Some people might call this nesting. I call it, my husband is AWESOME.
Here's the view looking the other direction, where you can see just how lovely the green looks when compared to what I refer to as the horrible beige/pink non-color that the last residents painted on top of what appears to be GREEN PAINT, probably in the name of staging. Staging fail! Also, to review, we had BROWN vinyl flooring, BROWN cabinets, and BROWN walls. This house was built in 2005. I am just saying what is with all the brown. And how did we live like that for five years?? Now that we have tile and green walls the cabinets look really pretty. Where there is not food stuck to the doors. I will work on that one day.
And when Ryan told me he'd need to take the plumbing fixtures out of the adjoining bathroom so he could tile in there I informed him that we would not be reinstalling the fugly pedestal sink that I have never liked and that we would be buying a real vanity with a cabinet to put in its place. Because we are having a girl and girls need bathroom cabinets, if you know what I mean.
Watching that sink be carried off to the garage was like getting a massage. The new vanity sat in there for a couple of days so we could see how we liked it and I'm not going to lie to you, I spent several minutes sitting on the lid of the toilet admiring the pretty dark stain, the brushed nickel hardware, the clean white counter, and thinking about how nice it will be not to keep a basket full of girl products out in the middle of the bathroom floor after the baby is born.
Sunday, Ryan took the toilet out of there. When he got down on the floor to scrape the old silicone caulking off he recoiled in horror and said "Bec? I think I know why you can't ever get the pee smell out of here." O.M.G. Apparently silicone caulk absorbs urine. You're welcome. The toilet is in the back yard. I'm hoping it will be back in the house soon, so I won't have to go upstairs to go to the bathroom, but I think Ryan is enjoying giving the HOA the finger too much and will draw it out until the end of the week. In the mean time, the kids are making do. Charlie gleefully reported to me after work that Wes pooped in the compost bin this afternoon.