D.E.M.O.L.I.T.I.O.N.

We're dreamers. We love designing. Thinking up stuff. Our idea of a great getaway is staying in an old town and walking through historic neighborhoods.

So when T took a job in this town we now call home, we both readily agreed we wanted to be in the oldest area we could find. It's not that old. Most of our neighborhood was built in the 40s. (There are a few homes that date back to the 20s, but they're in a very rough section of town and have been chopped up into rental apartments.)

And...we knew we wanted a "fixer-upper" for a good deal. A home on the larger side, so we could stay put for the long haul...if necessary. We agreed we'd be okay renovating as we went.

Anyway...I'll save the story of how we wound up in the home we're in for another post - 'cause really, it deserves it's own! But, I will tell you that the second floor of our home was originally attic space. Back in the 80s it was converted to living space. Shortly after that, an addition was put on completing the upstairs. The only problem is that the builders either didn't take into account, or totally ignored the fact that the beams in the attic weren't designed structurally to support a living space. And so, some of the upstairs was sagging. BAD.

* above pot was rather loose. For the last six years, guests and children were instructed to sit directly on the seat. No wiggling aloud. hee hee. I'm not kidding.

Over the course of the last year we set aside funds to tackle the backyard/garage. However, as the time to begin demolition drew nearer, we decided we wanted to get the house itself finished, and then tackle the backyard/garage.

And so...we decided we'd start in the upstairs bathroom. We could close off that area and we have three baths total, so we'd be just fine living without one for a while.

We gutted. It's been so fun! The kids helped. Oh the delight on their faces as they swung hammers and crowbars into the wall and ripped off sheetrock and threw the debris out the window. FUN! (NOTE: we carefully selected which walls they could "take out", making sure they wouldn't run into wires, etc. The window they chunked debris from was "head height" for them so they wouldn't accidentally fall out, and we were beside them and working with them every moment.)

We got down to the floor in the bath and discovered something...the floor in the bathroom and adjoining guest room had been laid at the same time, and then the wall dividing the two spaces had been added. So...we'd have to gut the guest room as well, in order to repair the floor...which is really what started this whole thing. It was sagging. Because of not being properly supported.

Pre-gut.

When the children saw the vanity going down the steps, they cried!

So we gutted the bathroom, made sure the dividing wall wasn't structural, and took it down.

And began gutting the guest room...

Well now, we got the carpet and pad up and found out...the floor was a MESS! We'd suspected we might need to jack it up and add some support...our suspicions were confirmed.

How does one go about doing such a thing?

First you take down your chandelier in the room below...that would be our den...and then you tear off trim around the steps...and then you cut into the sheetrock on the ceiling of the den around the steps so you can figure out what you're dealing with. You assure your wife she'll get a flat ceiling out of the deal. She gets emotional. The husband gets excited. She gets teary, he encourages her. The children peer down from the top of the steps and in utter shock mumble, "oh my goodness. Oh my goodness!" Then you look at each other and say, "for better or for worse" and you rip into it.

You find out the ceiling is made of tongue and groove pine paneling. You entertain thoughts of making said repairs and keeping the paneling exposed.

You tear off more sheetrock and decide leaving the paneling exposed isn't a good idea.

You marvel at the fact that at one time someone painted that ceiling light pink. And you cringe as you feel dust and debris rain down the inside back of your shirt.

As a woman you suppress the tears as your freshly mopped floor is buried beneath a blanket of dust and debris...and you remind yourself that this is an adventure and you thank God for such a talented husband and thick plastic to protect your bookshelf and sofa.

You finish tearing it all down. You thank God your husband is an engineer and is constantly devouring books on building. You marvel as he explains how he jacked up the house from below, put in a giant support beam, secured it with concrete blocks, and then built a jig (T - can I call it that? I know that's a woodworking term, but really, could you call that contraption a jig?) which allowed him to jack up the second floor directly on top of the support beam below the first floor, and then put in two columns supporting the beam that's lifting the second floor. Oh, did I mention the builders cut through some support beams and NEVER RE-SUPPORTED them when they put in the stairs? That MIGHT be why that area of the second floor sagged so badly. T designed, I did as I was told. "Hold this. Hand me that. Etc." (Except...once T calculated how thick the support beams needed to be to span the width of the room, he was stumped on how to conceal the beams...thanks to my rabid magazine clipping and ever dreaming mind, I came up with a plan...a coffered ceiling!)

I have yet to upload current pics. Suffice it to say, we've got the one support beam you see above, plus two more that run the width (rather than length) of the room.

We've been a bit busy.

Since jacking up the second floor, doors that used to be "stuck" and required a strong arm to open/close, as well as cabinets that functioned in the same way, are now opening easily...crazy! Who knew?

Three kids, two dogs, shift work, and some major renovations...let's just say I've had one mini meltdown and we've seen the Holy Spirit work in our hearts in some AMAZING ways over the last few weeks.

We're learning to laugh a lot. By choice.

We've got furniture in some weird places right now. Things aren't going to fit where they were before, due alterations in rooms...but it's good. I'm always moving things around anyway.

Rollers, Weddings, Bedding, & Jello

We were going to a wedding. Sister wanted her hair rolled. So Little Man did, too.

The wedding was in the afternoon on New Year's Eve....they had dancing. Sister wanted so badly to dance. She begged T, who agreed. He took her hand to lead her to the dance floor, but she pulled the other way. They danced in the back corner...where no one would see.

Little Man, on the other hand, wanted to dance front and center. He asked a seventh grader to dance with him. She agreed. Brave boy. Sweet girl.

Post wedding, we rushed the children to bed and began packing for yet another wedding. The clock struck twelve and I flung soapy dishwater off my hands, ran and laid one on my man, and was back to washing dishes. You know, exciting trip prep.

We left early the next morning, swung through Mom's neck of the woods, forced her into the backseat with the children, and were on our way. (I'm only half-way kidding. She said she wanted to sit back there.)

It was a great weekend. It was the kind of weekend, with the kind of people, who make you want to love Jesus more. We got to see family we rarely see, friends from high school, one of whom had a profound impact on my walk with Christ, as well as a precious couple T's parents had introduced us to a few years back. And I got to hang out with the groom's sister - who. I. Love!!!

And oh the wedding...ok, not so much the wedding - the festivities were all beautiful and very well done, but it was the marriage - the people getting married - who made it so amazing. God's mercies and fingerprints, His providence and kindness and creativity are all over this relationship. He orchestrated events at just the right time to bring these two people together. Watching their story unfold has been thrilling!

So many people watch the bride as she walks down the aisle. I tend to watch the groom. His face says it all. Cousin was beaming. It brought tears to my eyes.

But let's be honest, as awesome as it was, traveling and weddings and hotels and a 5 year old, 2 year old, and 6 month old can be a bit exhausting. Let alone any attempt at maintaining a schedule! T's parents were down the hall from us and Mom stayed in an adjoining room. Oh what a blessing! Sister and Little Man slept with Mom, while T and I hunkered down with Little Bit. I mean really, what a blessing!!!

Let me share the moments preceding the family photo. I'm not entirely sure how all of this happened, but for the first time ever, I donned my "I'm an official mom and have had three kids" attire (read me: spanx) beneath my dress and was making a last minute attempt to nurse Little Bit. While I was attempting this, Mom was trying to dress Sister, who was close to melting down over her tights and shoes (that we TRIED ON and agreed upon AHEAD of time to avoid just such a melt down - she has seam issues.). JJ (my MIL) was dressing Little Man who was being his completely insane self. A bridesmaid came rushing through the door and forced a screaming baby we'd never seen into my Mother's arms and muttered something about the baby making the bride cry and to "just take him." Oh, the look on my Mom's face. And then I looked down and realized I was merely holding the tie to my dress, not the dress itself. The dress was at my knees, and there I was in all my glory for all to see. I glanced at my MIL, who had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. It was like a few minutes of pure insanity. INSANITY I tell you. Sometimes I can laugh at the "adventure" and craziness of it all. Other times, I stress. And nearly lose it.

Btw, I doubt you noticed, (but I did!) - I didn't do a whack job on my bangs. I don't have bangs. That's new growth. Nearly all my hair fell out after having Little Bit. Lovely. Whatever.

Which brings me to just how awesome it is having a big five year old sis help feed baby!

This was my wedding bouquet. It was so beautiful! I love, love, loved it! All whites with a hint of green. I loved my bouquet. But, it's falling apart. So...I took one last picture, and reminded myself I have what is most precious and beautiful about that day (my marriage), and I chunked the bouquet. But first I took all the ribbons off and washed them and put them away just in case one of my girls wants to use them one day...I'm really not sentimental.

Someone has been begging me to teach her how to sew. Like, BEGGING me. So we pulled out the fabric and discussed what to make. Her ideas were a bit lofty. You know, things like dresses and pajamas for Little Man. Stuff like that.

I was more up for some, uh, straight seams. So I pointed her in the direction of new bedding for her doll bed. She got excited.

We did some measuring and cutting...a little pinning...we tried this fabric with that one and so on and so forth until she had exactly what she wanted.

Then came the exciting part!

Using the machine!

I had her do it all...from turning on the machine to checking the stitch function, to lowering the presser foot, to pressing the pedal. She was scared at first, but quickly warmed up. And sped up. - Yikes! It was so much fun.

And so...

rewarding!

*Disclaimer: We didn't do the canopy or pillow.

Recently, we had a GRAND dessert. Oh it was a hit at our house! I made jello pie. Do you know what that means?

I made jello and poured it in a glass pie dish and wha-la! Jello pie! (Even made the husband laugh!)

And our children...oh the glee and delight on their faces!

They each had an entire slice all of their very own.

And oh, sweet Little Bit!!!

Merry Christmas!

Backtracking a little more...Christmas Eve found us curled up in front of a toasty fire, built by the husband, and watching lots of movies. Little Man was recovering from a throw up bug. Our crowd was rather slim. Our little fam, T's parents (JJ & Grandpa J), and my mom.

T's brother and the grands were supposed to join us Christmas morning, but Grandma was a bit under the weather, and being that it was Grandma and Grandpa's SIXTIETH Christmas together, Grandpa opted to spend the day with his bride, rather than make the drive, so T's brother came solo.

Our morning began early. We gathered in the den while T read Luke 2. Sister sat on his lap, Little Man curled up on JJ's, and Little Bit slept the morning away...

When we let them in the Living Room, I watched a precious scene unfold.

I would have made a run for my stash, but not Sister.

She was far more concerned with what Little Bit had received.

She even suggested Little Man check it out with her.

Together, they oohed and ahhed over all their baby sister would be sure to LOVE!

Swords were a hit this year.

I believe each child received three. Somehow, they've ALL wound up in Little Man's room. He's rarely without one in hand. In the bathroom. In the bed. Outside. In his closet. You know, there are a LOT of bad guys out there. Yea, he's pretty much ALWAYS got a sword in hand. He's also known to holster them using his pull-up. Classy.

I meant to serve cinnamon rolls for breakfast. However, due to my total attention to details like, say, bread rising times, we ate them for more of an early lunch. That's ok. They were worth the wait.

Sister got a baby doll her first Christmas, so it was only natural that Little Bit get one this year. Several weeks before Christmas, Sister helped pick the baby. Keeping it a secret nearly killed her! She was so excited to finally give Little Bit her gift!

Little Bit loves baby Penelope.

We spent the afternoon making play-doh ice cream, burgers, and fries. Yum.

After serving a scrumptious play-doh meal, Sister sat back in her chair, surveyed her gifts, and commented, "you know mom, we just don't deserve any of this."

That was a precious moment, as we got to talk about the ultimate gift we don't deserve...Jesus Christ.

And now, I leave you with a photo of my Army Man, who's "gonna kill all de bad gu-uys" in his camo, with his Transformers' sword and armor...Sister has grown quite accustom to keeping one arm up - in defense.

First Taste

Let's backtrack to the 21st of December...

I know, I know. You aren't supposed to start with Mixed Grains. They were a gift and we had them. She was fussy...I was afraid she was hungry. The doc says it was probably her ear infection. Of course, we didn't learn that until after the fact. Regardless...

Five days shy of the six month mark...

Big Sis insisted Little Bit would like it...

I don't think Little Bit was so sure.

Little Man helped feed her, too.

She liked it.

A lot.

We all took a turn.

Uh-huh.

Mmmm...those fingers!

Of course, since then we've broadened her horizons. She's eating like a champ! She knows when it's time and those little legs go to kicking, her fists go to pounding, and she makes the funniest "uhhhh-ahhhhh-gh" squeal!