home renovation

This is the outside of the front of the house.  I actually stole this one from the realtor's website, since I forgot to take any pictures of the outside of the house.  Woops.  The eventual plan is to replace the front door.  We are also going to paint all of the shutters black.  The landscaping, of course, will also go through some major changes.  We probably won't get to the outside of the house until fall, since so much work needs to be completed on the inside.  It is by far the roughest house on the block.  Our neighbors seem very friendly and very excited that we are doing work on the house.

I had already swept, shop vac-ed, and vacuumed before taking the photos downstairs, so it doesn't really showcase the state of things when we walked in.   Picture a lot more dead bugs (the exterminator came on Saturday afternoon . . . I set that appointment up the minute I knew we were getting the house).  I will try to get some close-ups of the carpet later.  These photos make it look so much better than it looks in person, which is saying a lot.  The downstairs has a really open floor plan.  This is the family room area, looking into the dining room.  The pass through window goes into the kitchen. We are planning on replacing all of the downstairs flooring with pre-finished hardwood.


There is a half bath to the right.


 This is looking the other direction.  The open door goes into the half bath.
 Here are some photos of the kitchen.  It's going to go through a major overhaul.  We're just not sure what that will entail yet.


 The sliding doors open to a two-tiered deck.  There is a fenced backyard.  It's a small yard, but it's a yard, and it's fenced.

 When you go upstairs . . .
 There is a bonus room over the garage.  This is going to be a guest room for now.  Eventually, when we add another baby to the family, this will also double as an office space.  (Notice I'd already started putting up potential paint samples on the walls.)


This room is going to be Kaden's spot:



This is the upstairs bathroom.  It has a tub/shower combo.

 This is our bedroom:
 And yes, that really is a pink bathroom attached to a brown bedroom.


Double vanity!!! YAY!!! (It's the little things, folks.)
 Garden tub (I am so excited for bubble baths, when I get it fully sanitized, of course).
 Shower, and door leading to walk in closet (YAY!  Not sure where Chad's stuff is going to go . . . just kidding . . . kind of).  The toilet is on the other side of the shower, before you get to the closet.
There's one more bedroom (which we will use as an office), but Kaden was sleeping in it when I took the pictures, and I forgot to get one later.  I'll have to remember to get one tomorrow.  It's a real gem.  All the walls are bright green, the ceiling is yellow, and the trim is bright blue.

Up close and personal with some of the filth (this is what Chad found when he changed the air filter upstairs.  Not sure it's ever been changed):



 I'm looking hot in my painting garb.  Also, after looking at this picture it makes complete sense why my back is in severe pain now.  What was I thinking with that posture?  

 It's amazing what a little paint can do.  It already started to feel TONS better with just one coat.


And because I can't resist, here are some pictures of Kaden "climbing the Daddy mountain" on Saturday before we went called it quits. (Have you read The Daddy Mountain? Super cute children's book.  Go read it to some little cub of your own.)

 My two best one boys:

Our beautiful ceiling fan that my in-laws bought us as a house-warming gift.  It's the same light fixture we had in our den in Kinston, and I LOVE it.  I didn't like anything better than the one we used to have, so we bought the same one.

We made a big dent, but there is still SO MUCH left to do.  I am freaking out.  Seriously.  I leave for Utah on the 24th of July, and I won't be back until August 28th.  Chad's going to be moving our stuff on his own.  Not to mention how much needs to be completed before I leave.  Luckily, I'm the only stress case in the family.  Chad seems pretty calm, so hopefully it will work out the way he is envisioning it, not the way I am.

We took a welcome rest today, since it is Sunday.  We went to our new ward (in our church we meet in congregations based on geographical regions, so we will be attending a new congregation) and loved it.  There were lots of friendly people, and lots of young families.  Kaden even stayed in nursery for the first hour without crying.  There were twelve kids in there, so lots of friends his age.  I still had to miss Relief Society (the meeting during the last hour of the three hour block), but one hour without a break down is progress.  We're excited to get to know people, and really put down some roots.

P.S.  Today, Kaden ate an apple whole, instead of having me cut it into slices.  It was a milestone.  He is such a sweet boy.  He has been a real trooper the last few days, especially considering he spent most of Friday and Saturday without any Mommy or Daddy time.  I love this little bean!

It turns out that old cliche is true. 

I once promised here that the next house I bought would be move-in ready. 

Oh, ho, ho!  How funny I am! 

Tomorrow, we are closing on a house.  Or should I say renovation project number two?  (Or number three if you count our rental property.)  Well . . . we are closing if all the paper work gets completed by the end of today.  During the two and half month process of getting our offer approved, I've been repeating over and over, "We will never buy a short sale again."  (Hmmmm . . . I feel another cliche coming on . . . never say never?)

It turns out that my husband and I are crazy.  Two gluttons for punishment. 

While looking at numerous houses, I realized what a sick person I was.  Chad once confessed to me on a drive home from a walk-through of one house that he was almost sad to think about buying a house that was move-in ready, because we wouldn't be able to leave our mark on the place.  I felt the same way, despite my vivid recollections of experiences like the ones I documented here.    That's how I knew I was sick.  Demented in the head.  Not only that, but when I saw places that were fixed up, I kept thinking, "I could do everything they've done  in here."  Neutral paint and new tile just aren't that impressive when you know how much it will cost to do the same job on a cheaper house yourself. 

Of course that's not the only factor that has contributed to our purchasing of a home requiring a ton of blood, sweat, and tears.  For one thing, I really want to stay at home with Kaden full-time, and so I'm willing to sacrifice my visions of an over-sized, perfectly-remodeled kitchen, and a giant backyard--for now.  Even though there are days when I want to pull my hair out from the frustration of enduring numerous toddler tantrums, I can't imagine not being the one who reads him his stories before his nap.  I just love watching him learn and grow each day.  If there's a way for me to stay home, I want to do it.  

Is our new house the perfect house?  Well, it really feels like it is the perfect house for our family at this phase of our life.  And hopefully, once all the renovations are completed, it will feel even more so.

I have six jars of sample paint sitting on my kitchen counter.

There's a bucket of joint compound sitting on the table.

Bring it.  We're ready. 

The butterflies have been going crazy in my tummy all week.  I'm so excited to start a new chapter of our lives.  It's time to make another house a home!  

Dear NY Times Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe,

We almost didn't go watch the fireworks on the 4th of July.  Almost.

It was over 100 degrees yesterday and nothing about sitting in the heat with a squirmy toddler (at way past his bedtime) sounded appealing.  Then, it started pouring buckets around five o'clock and nothing about sitting in wet grass from seven to nine with a squirmy toddler (still at way past his bedtime) sounded fun.

Only it stopped raining, and the sun came out, and we remembered that the North Carolina symphony was giving a free concert.  A few diapers were tossed into the diaper bag, and we rushed out the door in a very uncharacteristically spontaneous fashion.  I'm so glad we decided to go.  I don't have a single picture of the blessed event, but I want to remember it forever, because it was such a simple, happy evening.

Someday Kaden won't be a blond-headed toddler anymore.  Someday he won't live with me, because he will have a family of his own.  Here are the things I want to remember about yesterday when I am old and gray and missing my baby Kaden who is all grown up:

--We paid $5 to park and we parked in the parking lot that was the furthest away, so it would be easy to get out after the festivities.

--We pushed Kaden Fox and his stuffed fox in the jogging stroller to the park, and on the way we saw four deer jump across a stream.

--Even though it was still humid, the rain had cooled everything down to low 80s, and we even enjoyed a slight breeze.  

--Kaden threw sticks into the lake while we waited for the fireworks to start.  Some other kids let him help them feed the ducks.  Chad and I took turns taking Kaden on lots of walks to help him get his wiggles out before the fireworks started.

--The NC Symphony serenaded us with patriotic music.

--Kaden ate vanilla wafers in my lap while we watched the sunset.  He pointed out all of the colors he saw in the sky, while cookie crumbs spewed from the corners of his little mouth onto my arms and thighs.

--Kaden was scared of the fireworks at first, but then he warmed right up to them, clapping and smiling after each big boom!

--While we lay on our green army blanket and watched the fireworks, Chad whispered in my ear, "I really like our little family," and I whispered back, "Me, too."

--On the way back to the car, they were giving out free Chick-Fil-A sandwiches (the ones they hadn't sold during the concert), and I totally scored one for each of us.

--Even though there was a swarm of mosquitoes above us from the moment the sun went down, I made it through the evening without acquiring a SINGLE bite.  And we had no bug spray.  This is a 4th of July miracle, considering all mosquitoes adore my blood, but Southern ones seem to crave it with a vengeance.  

--Kaden woke up this morning talking about fireworks and how they go, "BOOM!"  He has been talking about them on and off all day.  It makes me so happy that he remembered the outing.

Happy birthday, America!  Yay for happy family memories!

I think every mom wants to give her child the best growing up experience possible.  Lately, I've been thinking a lot about what that means.  Part of that has included reflecting on my own childhood and the treasures that made it special--that is to say, the series of positive learning moments that shaped me into the adult I have become.  One night, I had a deep discussion with Chad about the thoughts spinning around in my head, and my heart was kind of sad when I was struck with a huge realization:  Kaden can't have the childhood I had.

I was not raised as a farm girl, as my dad is not a farmer, but I was definitely raised as a country girl.  There is a distinct difference between the two, and I in no way want to come across as a poser by giving a false impression of my childhood and adolescence.  Having said that, there is a certain degree of childhood freedom that one obtains from growing up surrounded by fields of wheat, corn, and potatoes, instead of next-door neighbors, regardless of whether or not your dad's job description includes driving a combine (something my dad definitely knew how to do, even if it wasn't his official profession).

And that's where my heart starts to ache for Kaden, just a little bit.  Some of my best memories of my childhood involve me being completely unchaperoned for hours at a time, whilst I rode my bicycle over miles of dirt roads; collected pollywogs from ditches in mason jars; and watched dust devils whirl, listening to the hum of the wind that constantly raged in Moses Lake, Washington.

Knowing Kaden is going to grow up a city kid has left me with questions . . .  

For example, how is he going to learn to swim, without going to Lybbert's Pond every summer?  Don't get me wrong . . . I took swimming lessons in a public pool of the chlorinated variety, but I don't have fond memories of those.  What I remember from my swimming instruction at McCosh Park is an obese, red-headed woman screaming at me and  my peers, trying to get us to float with our faces in the water, while she recited some kind of rhyme about us pretending to be starfish.  I was a sensitive child.  I didn't respond well to her teaching style.  That's why I spent most of the lessons clinging to the side of the pool in pure fear.  My memories of Lybbert's Pond are a bit friendlier:  Basking in the sun while floating on a wooden raft (the same one my friend Callie taught me to dive from when we were in Junior High), belly flopping off the notorious rope swing, and watching my mom and Brenda Goodrich back float together, laughing.

How is he going to learn to be independent and responsible, without raising sheep for 4-H?  Sure, I only did this for a couple of years, but getting up at 5 a.m. to feed those suckers?  That's the groundwork for responsibility, folks!  I just don't know if a golden retriever that sleeps in the house can accomplish the same thing . . . just sayin'.

How is he going to know where our food comes from?  Chad and I watched an episode of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution once, where an entire class full of elementary school kids didn't know what a potato was.  A POTATO, people!  They knew what a french fry was, but they had not an inkling of the reality that one came from the other.  "How preposterous!"  I exclaimed.  But now . . . I'm starting to wonder.  Sure, Kaden will know what a potato is . . . but will he know where it comes from?  Or will he think it grows in one of the shiny, labeled plastic sacks that we buy at the grocery store?

And how is Kaden going to learn to bake without Bonnie Byington teaching him to level ingredients?  She was my first cooking teacher, other than my mom and grandmas.  Brenda Goodrich was my second.  We all know that a cooking teacher other than a mom is essential, and I had the cream of the crop.  Even though I sabotaged her experiment regarding whether a made from scratch or store-bought pancake mix would taste better (by pouring pickle juice into the store-bought batter--with the assistance of her two granddaughters . . . Poor Sister Byington).     

Don't get me wrong.  I am in no way suggesting I have a desire to relocate to Smallville, USA.  I kind of always knew I would live in a bigger place someday.  I happen to be quite content five minutes from a mall.  From a museum.  From a grocery store that sells fancy, shmancy foodie-items that make me feel like a gourmet chef.  The sad truth is that the world has changed, even in the short time it took me to grow up, and it's likely that even if we lived in a tiny speck of a town on the eastern side of the mountains in Washington State, Kaden wouldn't have the exact same childhood I did.  I think that's where most of the sadness comes from--knowing there is so much more to fear in the world today. 

And so I take him to countless parks.  I push him in the jogging stroller on greenways, where for a minute or two we feel like we're all alone in the woods.

I take him to the pool in our apartment complex and watch him splash like a fish in the chlorine-scented abyss, his head bobbing above water, his arms banded with polka-dotted water wings.




I sing, "Clean up! Clean up! Everybody every where!  Clean up!  Clean up!  Everybody do their share!" while he helps me put away his toy trucks, his plastic fruit, his mountains of picture books.  I take a deep breath and try to be patient while he insists on putting his shoes on all by himself, even though they end up on the wrong feet half of the time.  His exclamation of, "I DID IT!" making me think he is learning independence, a little at a time.

I take Kaden to the farmer's market and point out all of the delectable treats we get to enjoy because someone grows them for us to buy.




I let him stand on a five gallon bucket in my kitchen to watch while I sift the whole-wheat flour to make chocolate-chip banana muffins.

And I take him to do things that I didn't get to do as much of as a kid, because I lived in a different place:

We go to an art festival downtown and look at sculptures, pottery, photographs, and paintings.



We go to the science museum and look up at the skeleton of a whale. 

We go to story time and dance while Mr. Eric plays his crazy songs on the guitar.  The songs he writes just for the tiny visitors of the Cameron Village Library.

We go to the beach and listen to the waves crashing against the shore.



And suddenly, my heart doesn't feel quite as sad, even though I still wish we lived in a safer, simpler world, where I could trust strangers just a little bit more.

What a great Father's Day weekend we had.  The weather here in North Carolina has been especially beautiful lately.  Usually by mid June I am hibernating in some dark, air-conditioned corner, trying to forget the sweltering humidity outside.  This year has been different.  We always have a beautiful spring, but this has been an especially long one, and I am loving it!

We went to Kinston to spend the weekend, so we could celebrate Father's Day with family.  On Saturday we went out to eat Indian food in Greenville for a belated celebration of Chad's 30th birthday.  (Yes, I did say 30th!)  The food was super yummy and we had a great time laughing and being together as a family.  Nana and Papa were even adventurous enough to try Indian cuisine, and they both said they surprisingly liked it.  (Although, Papa did keep wondering aloud why we couldn't just go to Chili's.)  The culminating moment of the birthday celebration was definitely devouring Joy's homemade carrot cake, which is sinfully delicious.  I think she should open a bakery that only serves carrot cake.  I know it would be a huge hit.     

Sunday morning we went to church, and Chad went to nursery with Kaden (even though it was Father's Day) so I could go to Relief Society, which was a real treat for me.  Kaden usually screams unless I go to nursery with him, so it was pretty awesome.

Then we came home and had a fabulous steak dinner to honor all of the fathers present.  And we had some more carrot cake. 

I got to talk with my grandpa and dad on the phone, since they live too far away for me to wish them a happy Father's Day in person.

Gigi entertained Kaden by letting him help her water the flowers outside, while we packed.  What started out as watering the flowers, ended up as watering Kaden.  He had the best time running through the spray from the garden hose:

We got Kaden all dried off and into some warm PJ's, and then we hit the road.  Just outside of Snow Hill we almost hit a deer, at which point we realized Kaden's car seat wasn't buckled in and felt like terrible parents.  Seriously.  After Chad swerved to miss the deer, we turned around to check on him, and he was completely sideways, staring at us with this look that seemed to say, "What's going on here, guys?"  Luckily, we didn't hit the deer (thanks to Chad's mad driving skills), so disaster was averted.  We pulled over, fixed the car seat issue, and felt so grateful we were all OK.

Chad and I have talked many times about what great dads we are blessed with, and we talked about that again on our car trip home Sunday night.  Our dads are very different, but they are both wonderful fathers.  I am so thankful for my dad and the influence for good he has been in my life.  Likewise, I am thankful for my father-in-law and the wonderful man he is.  I know it is because of his dad's example, that Chad is such an amazing daddy to our little boy.  Here are Chad and Kaden together on Father's Day: (Kaden is wearing a Sunday outfit that Chad wore as a little boy.  I'm sentimental, so I think that's pretty much the cutest thing ever.)     







I'm so glad we have a day to honor the wonderful fathers in our lives.  In a world where family values seem to be deteriorating, it's so nice to honor the men who live up to the definition of dad.