Kitchen reno is OVER!

I should be writing about our summer, the kids' camps, hanging at the beach, or, wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

BOTH OF MY CHILDREN BEING IN SCHOOL FULL TIME EVERY DAY AND I CAN FINALLY CLEAN AND SEW AND RUN ERRANDS AND BREATHE AGAIN!!!!!!!!!

. . . but instead I'm going to type about a crazy big project that we are so very proud of . . .

our AMAZING new kitchen!

Oh, wait.  That's old funky kitchen.  

Not the worst I've ever seen and so grateful for its size and cabinets and functioning appliances.  Let me take that back . . . grateful for the parts that were functioning.  The garbage disposal laughed at me when I tried to turn it on, and the bottoms of some of the cabinets said, "Are you kidding me?" as I gently placed heavy iron skillets on its crumbling old boards.  The main floor of the house did not have central air, so the window on the far right was holding a disgusting old window AC unit that had seen better days.  Shelves were falling in the fridge and lights were saying buh-bye on a daily basis.  The electrical was so old school and weak that lights blinked at us every time the microwave was turned on.  I know it was just flirting, but, y'all, our kitchen was tired.

Here's another angle the day before she was laid to rest.  Don't mind the little dude in the corner working away on reports.  Needs that umbrella in case the kitchen springs a leak.

And another angle so you can see the dining room through the really cool old butler's swinging door.  The previous owners were pros at entertaining and loved to keep the kitchen closed off from their gorgeous dining room.  The Darbys must entertain to a much more casual crowd (usually kids with popsicles and magic markers), so we have only used the dining room once or twice.  And that was for storing mail and such.

And this was the sad excuse for a mudroom and pantry.  The door on the right was originally a very narrow broom closet, but it was the only space we could use as a pantry.  It held about two boxes of cereal and a few packs of applesauce squeezers.  If you live in a cold weather area, you understand how painful it is to dress your littles in snow bibs and big coats and boots and hats and scarfs and backpacks while they are all on top of you and then they fall and bang their heads on the corner of the pantry and then one opens the door to the garage and you're just so freaking claustrophobic and burning up from your own wool scarf that you want to scream!!!  If you don't, then consider yourself lucky.  This. Space. Sucked.

   

Clint and I knew this kitchen had more to offer, so we searched through Houzz and Pinterest and zillions of copies of Southern Living (because this Mississippi girl wouldn't dare take decorating tips from, say, Midwest Living.  Ew.)  and finally came up with a plan.

But have you ever seen the two of us attempt to put a nail in the wall?  It's painful.  After some interviews and research, we settled on a local contractor named Joh Proeh who helped us make those pencil sketches on the back of a letter from Mimi's school a reality.

Aaaaaaannd,



drumroll please . . .

I promise it's the same space . . .

Hard to believe, right?

Remember the big wall that was between the kitchen and dining, room?  She's gone now, and I love feeling like we can stretch out.  Ahhhhh . . . 

It's wonderful to have family visit, and we can all sit in the dining room and kitchen and still have a conversation.  But chances are we're all talking at the same time and not listening but at least we're all together :).

My favorite little spot of clutter.  Baskets for junk and cookbooks along with some fun books. 

The view my children have when sitting at the island.  Play-doh and markers and Legos and mess stays on that side and Mommy stays on the other.  Amazing.

Oh, how I love that pot filler.  I've only used it a couple of times, but it is just so pretty.

Just a quick note -- we chose man-made counters that look similar to marble because marble in a kitchen is gorgeous but just stupid for my family (so I put the pretty marble tiles on the backsplash instead).  I chose the giant apron sink with no divider because I loathe cleaning a huge serving dish while banging it against that unnecessary divider.  

Mommy's space.  Do not enter.  Unless you are getting your own plate and snack and cleaning up your mess.  Then you're totally welcome (but make it quick, right?).  See the dining room in the back.  Looove how it is open to the kitchen.

I'm in super deep love with my appliances and we didn't spend a fortune on them.  GE refrigerator, stove, and microwave and they have all the features that I had on my insanely long list.  I loved seeing the Abt salesman's face when I listed off everything I needed in an oven and stove.  He turned to Clint and said, "Is she always this high maintenance?"  But, y'all, gas stove with removable griddle and electric oven with warming drawer that is totally like having a second oven?  I can't believe so much fits into such a tiny space.

My perfect little triangle of preparation.

Now you can see the dining area a bit better.  Look at all that natural light.

And remember that stupid excuse for a mudroom?  We fixed her.  And I think little black puppy loves the cool tile floor (that will hide all the funky mud and snow and sand that is tracked in my house).

Looky at all that storage for all of our crap!  And we have a lot of unnecessary crap.  The cute little bench opens up to hide all of our yucky shoes.  There's nothing I love better than a place to throw clutter when guests are coming.  You think I'm clean?  Just don't look in my cabinets . . . 

The new and improved pantry.  She and I are BFFs.  

And she is NOT EVEN FULL.  Plenty of room to hide things!  Woohoo!

Oh, and we had this precious secret garden behind our house that was difficult to access.  We couldn't be happier that we tore out this wall (remember it was three small windows) and added this huge sliding door and patio.  If the kids and doggy are bugging me while I'm drinking my coffee and stalking social media (come on, you do it too), then out the door they go.  Fantastic.

In the end we updated electrical, added central air conditioning to the main floor and basement, tore out a wall and added sliding doors, added a brick patio, tore out the kitchen to the studs, added new wood floors, and removed the wall between the kitchen and the dining room.  WHEW.  Thank God that's over.

All of this took about seven weeks (pretty quick, right?), and we were smart enough to get the heck out of town for the first two weeks of demolition.  I can't emphasize enough that this was not easy -- it was ROUGH on us with the children.  We ate an insane amount of take-out, used a fortune in paper plates (I'm sorry, Earth), and had to wash dishes in a tiny bathroom sink.  There was a lot of dust and a lot of clutter, but once we actually had appliances, running water, and a counter top, I decided that I wasn't going to kill anyone.


If you're about to embark on a kitchen reno, pun-lease feel free to ask me anything -- why I chose the appliances I did, the counters, the lighting, whatever.  Why do the crazy research when you can just ask me?  If I had the time, I might write a small book on this whole process because I learned so much invaluable information.  Oh, wait, the kiddos are in school full-time so maybe I do have the time . . . nah, on to project Sew Until I Go Crazy.  More on that later . . .  

Loooong Winter

I'm ready to get over winter, so I'll get through this post in a hurry and will stop being so bitter.  A lot of pics and a little talk . . .

First real ski trip to Park City . . . 

The happy and brave couple . . . keeping it real on the greens.

You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day . . . 

The snow.  O. M. G. the stuuuuupid snow.

Ice skating like it was her J. O. B.

Learning to ski.  Loooooved watching this one be so brave.

Ski buddies.

Thumbs up after a fall.  No biggie.

Serious crash at the bottom of a run.  I yelled for her to make pizza with her skis, and she yelled back, "Noooo pizza!  I like french fries because I can go faster!!!"

And she didn't even care that she completely splattered into the snow bank.  Never laughed so hard in her life.

I might frame this pretty face.

What every toy in our house that hits the floor now looks like . . .  

Trying to teach her some manners.  "No chewing on toys, Rubster, or you won't get a sticker on your chart."

Little black puppy loves the snow as much as the kiddos.

My badass play group, er, moms who like to go out for drinks group.  I just had to take a pic of the beautiful kids who brought us all together.  Love, love, love these people.  And I know the pics in the back are so not centered.  Don't ask . . . 

Sweet boy no longer uses his pacifier.  And it makes me sad.  

Lost her first tooth!  Has since lost another . . . 

"Mommy, I fly to the moon!"  Just come back before dinner . . .   

Mimi loves a selfie.

Future snow boarder hunk.

"See, Mommy, it's magic."

My three faves.  

Wait, let's make that my four faves.  This dog completes the family.  

Such an old soul -- obedient and loving and super smart.

This family is officially moving on to spring.  Warmer weather, leaves on trees, pollen annoying our sinuses, and long bike rides.  More of that soon (I hope).

To Appreciate the Summers

People often ask me how we can stand the dreadful Chicago winters.  Why would you ever want to put yourself through that?  What the heck are you trying to prove?

Because of the summers, that's why.  My word, if you haven't experienced a Chicago summer then you are missing something glorious.  The city absolutely wakes up and comes alive.  I know we are now in the burbs but the experience isn't much different.  Outdoor dining, lush green trees, parks filled with baseball and children's squeals.  Going to the zoo without sweating through clothes, playing on the lake shore without being miserable.  We do have our hot days, but they are nothing compared to those I grew up with in Mississippi.  And everyone seems so much nicer and happier.  I know that the more ferocious the winter is then the more I will appreciate the summer.

As I'm waiting for my car to be serviced right now, I finally have time to update the blog -- and I discovered that I had already begun a post that was too difficult for me to finish.  No words but just a lot of photos of this . . . the darkest part of my winter.   

One cold Saturday morning in January our little guy woke up grabbing his neck and crying.  He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't move, he wouldn't eat, and he wouldn't drink.  Maybe just a neck spasm so we watched him.  Not long after waking up he took a nap.  And when he woke up, we immediately knew something was very wrong.

He kept drifting in and out of sleep, wouldn't sit up, and felt sweaty and clammy and cold.  After a quick call to the pediatrician, I took him to the ER where he continued to lay limp in my arms.  While trying to stand him up for and x-ray, he fell over on me sound asleep.  

The nurses suddenly began covering their faces when coming into our room, and the resident confirmed my suspicions -- 

I have to be honest with you.  This looks a lot like meningitis.

Mack's temp was at 96, his white count was high, he was white as a ghost, he didn't want to be moved or touched, and he hadn't had a wet diaper in far too long.  He barely even protested as the nurses inserted the IV or as he was strapped into a stretcher for the ride to the children's hospital downtown in an ambulance.

And somehow I remained just a calm as I am while typing this right now.  I avoided updating anyone other than my husband because I didn't want to explain what this could mean, and I barely even updated him.  I asked a few close friends for prayers because I knew both Mack and my husband and I needed them.  I held Mack's hand and tried to keep my mind blank.  He was up to date on immunizations and that's the most I could have done.  Worrying couldn't change anything.  

A few years ago I heard a story about a baby girl in Memphis who went to bed a little fussy with a low grade fever and then didn't wake up the next morning.  Bacterial meningitis.  I remember a guy at my high school being in class one morning and no longer being alive the next day.  I wasn't stupid.  I just wanted to not think about that.

When we arrived at Lurie Children's Hospital, the residents had already been briefed on Mack and his sensory issues.  They spoke with me in quiet voices and squatted down to his level to attempt interaction with him.  They were patient and gentle and did exactly the right things.  A young resident with tattoos and a Captain America t-shirt asked me to join Mack during the spinal tap to keep him calm.  I did as I was instructed and luckily Mack fell asleep right before the procedure, which my pediatrician told me later was the most perfect lumbar puncture sample she's ever seen.

Throughout the night I snuggled up next to Mack and was awakened often by yellow gowns and masks that only exposed eyes.  The tattooed resident came in sometime and let me know that it was all clear.  There would be more tests to run but it was probably not bacterial meningitis.  

And this is when I could finally feel again.  Could finally cry.  Could finally think about what this could have meant.  How in the hell did I not lose it at the ER?  In the ambulance?  When I could barely keep his eyes open?  While a long needle was stuck into my 3-year-old son's spine?  How did I not completely explode?      

The prayers, the kind thoughts, the love.  I felt them all, y'all.  Thank you.  I knew about them and I felt God's presence.  I certainly have my doubts occasionally as every thinking human does, but I do have faith.  

Many more tests were run and he was given antibiotics just in case.  The fluids also helped, and Mack woke up smiling the next morning. 

After a few hours he was putting together puzzles on the floor and singing his ABC's.  

And showing Woody the city and the frozen lake.

He kept pointing to the tall buildings and saying, "A big, big house."  

He returned to crazy energy Mack way too soon.  The doctors and nurses kept telling me he was the most energetic kid they've ever had.  This is a big, busy hospital.  And I had the most energetic kid ever . . . someone should have given me a prize.  Oh, and they also said he had the best hair so there's that.

It was amazing to see how Mack tolerated this all so well.  He carried his monitors around the room like it was no big deal.  

Once the doctors felt there was nothing contagious going on, we were finally able to get out of the room (Thank. The. Lord.), and Mack took the play area by storm.

This little guy had everyone scared to death and then made a full recovery in no time.  We all agreed this was probably a bizarre virus and probably not something fatal or contagious.  I don't know what I would have done without the amazing residents and all the prayers.  Those residents were so thorough that it surprised the mess out of me.  You know I Googled like an insane mom does, and they had it all covered before I could even ask the questions.   

And this dark, scary moment in my life made me love and appreciate my little sunshine even more.  He's so cute and funny and sweet, and he loves me sooooo, sooooo much.  He relies on me and needs me.  And I have this scary memory to think about every time the going gets tough with his sensory issues.  

  

So I've chosen to appreciate this awful experience, this terrible time in winter.  I didn't have to clean the house or prepare meals or taxi my children around to school or therapies.  I was able to snuggle in a tiny bed and stare at his pretty little face.  It could have been much, much worse.  And it makes the good times even sweeter -- my winter made me appreciate my summer.

Finally home after five days . . .

. . . and then that night he had a terrible stomach virus.  Sheesh.  At least he had a little black puppy to comfort him.

Helping me appreciate the summer, right?