fixer upper – Mama Needs Coffee

design + style, Fixer Upper, house reno, pregnancy, self care

Painted linoleum floors, postpartum PT, and learning to sit down

July 24, 2018

It has been tough to string more than couple of words together the past few weeks. The days are going by quickly and I’m shocked that we’re edging in on August, but around 3 pm every weekday, time seems to stand still, and there aren’t enough Otter Pops in the universe to hasten the coming of bedtime.

I am looking forward to a new school year, but my inner teenager shudders at store end-caps already filled with college ruled spiral notebooks and crayons. I wish for a carefree end to summer for my children’s sake, and I wish for a return to normalcy in schedule for my sake.

Both older boys have asked me in all earnestness at some point during the summer to homeschool them, and then reneged on the request when I explained that school at home would still, in fact, involve schoolwork.

I did consider the possibility for about 2 hours; I even got so far as to text a couple homeschooling friends, asking what their discernment process had been. Then Dave went out of town for the weekend and all thoughts of teaching my little darlings math and Latin were ejected from my brain by 48 hours of solo parenting.

We’ve had a good summer, and I’m glad we’ve been able to spend so much time together. I’m also glad I am not responsible for their mathematical development.

I’m trying to implement some better time management strategies to help realize some of my perennially-deferred goals. I’ve been waking up earlier than the kids most mornings and forcing myself to produce for 30 minutes or 1,000 words – whichever comes first. I’ve also strapped the trusty old FitBit back on to hit that 10k step count each day. All of the swimming and early morning gym-haunting has yet to result in any visible results to my postpartum return of form, but I do feel better when I move.

Oddly enough, my body seems to be responding better to gentler workouts. I think I am probably so depleted from back to back pregnancies that strenuous workouts were further taxing an already stressed system.

Gentle walking and stretching seem to be what my body craves, so I’m trying to honor that. The physical therapist I’ve been working with has indefinitely ruled out running, which I’m going to be honest, is actually a huge relief! It’s great to just let go of that part of my identity, for now, and embrace what is rather than lamenting for what once was. Not by slipping into depressed inactivity or anything, but by really embracing a period of physical recovery and rebuilding. And by spending a small fortune on vitamin and mineral supplements.

I’ve come to realize that I usually exert a lot of time and energy in the postpartum period beating myself up – mentally and physically – straining to “undo” something that can’t actually be undone. Whether from sheer exhaustion or just experienced maturity, I haven’t been able to cow my body into submission this time around. When I hit the wall, instead of redoubling my efforts and crashing through it, I curled up at the base of it and took a nap.

It has been pretty eye opening to be honest with myself about what my body needs, and about the tremendous personal cost of having a baby. I don’t “bounce back” physically, though when I was younger I could grit my teeth and sort of fake it.

At 35 I don’t seem to have that same resilience. But I do have a little more wisdom and lots more experience, which seems to me to be a fair tradeoff. So when the baby sleeps, I sit on the couch with a toddler and read a book, or stare vacantly into space, or sometimes do some dinner prep.

Mostly though, I’m sitting down a lot (always with intentional and improved posture!).

Stretching. Going for walks around the block with the bigger kids and not gritting my teeth in frustration that I can’t run the laps we’re making. Spending a decent amount of time and money going to therapy, and just generally investing in myself. It feels decadent. It also feels almost disastrously overdue. It feels a bit like I’m backing away from the edge of an abyss, step by faltering step, and reclaiming some ground that was (necessarily) ceded during the chaos of the past two years of home buying and selling and baby growing.

The real sign that I’m recovering and starting to get my head above water? My urge to paint has been restored.

Last weekend when Dave was gone I pulled the trigger on a long-desired flooring update and painted the linoleum in the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. I’d put the kids to bed and then creep downstairs each evening to tape and paint and after about 4 nights worth of effort (and 4 overnight drying periods) I’m just about finished with the whole project.

For around $60 bucks our lower level looks like a different house altogether, and I no longer feel like I’m peering bleakly into the mists of time while mopping spaghetti sauce off of hideous yellow linoleum. Time will tell how sturdy the “porch and floor” paint proves to be in an indoor application, but anything is better than our before pictures.

I’ll try to whip up a full tutorial one of these days for all my curious Instagram friends, but it was really one of the easier DIYs I’ve attempted.

For now, feast your eyes on the improvement:

What is the rest of your summer shaping up to look like? Are you eager for back to school time, or relishing in the last month of summer? My kids go back relatively late, as I understand, not resuming full classes until August 27th. I’ll have a second grader, a first grader, and a three day a week pre-K this year, which means I’ll be backing 13! lunches! a week! Come to think of it, summer can go ahead and stick around for a couple more weeks…

About Me, Fixer Upper, house reno

New digs + downstairs tour (and the backstory of buying two houses in a single calendar year)

August 25, 2017

After an arduous journey through the hell that is the current real estate market in the Mile High City, we were thrilled to close on a house of our very own a couple weeks ago on August 11th. I haven’t talked about it in great detail here on the blog, but the reason we sold our last home, (which we only bought August 14th of last year) basically boiled down to a whole bunch of cosmetic issues turning out to be structural issues, upon further inve$tigation. Also, mold. The mold was really the last straw. We found it in the basement in the back wall of our big boy’s bedroom at the end of a long renovation process, and we decided to call the game. We had it professionally remediated, the air tested clean, and then we put the house (and the disclosure documents) on the market.

Thanks to the incredible generosity of friends and the providence of God, we were able to spend a couple ~~weeks~~ months living in a house north of the city while a family just our size – 3 boys and a girl – served overseas doing mission work. They assured us that we were an answered prayer, as they felt comforted knowing their house wouldn’t sit vacant in their absence. We’re still pretty sure we got the better end of the deal, however, and we’re hoping we can pay that generosity forward at some point down the road.

Since they left behind their furniture and kitchen gear, it was basically like moving into an extended stay hotel or a vacation rental. We kept all our things packed in boxes in their oversized two car garage and just brought in sheets and clothes.

While the setup of this house was ideal and the generosity of our friends unprecedented, it wasn’t without it’s imperfections. It was about an hour each way to work each day for Dave, and when school was in session, I would leave around 2:15 for pickup and sometimes get back close to 5, traffic depending. So we learned to embrace the minivan’s DVD player and the art of living out of a van (but not down by the river.) Still, I don’t care if I never see I-25 again. At least for a month or two.

It also made house hunting … interesting. Once the first trimester started to ease up, I’d spend an hour or so in the morning scanning the listings, send a handful to our realtor, and then jump in the car and see a house or four before hightailing it back north to beat rush hour and/or scoop up the big kids from school. We saw about 70% of the houses with all 4 kids in tow, which was really, really fun for our realtor, St. Brendan. We walked through close to 80 houses in a couple month’s time, and we were under contract seven (7!) frapping times before locking down a very Biblical home run with our current abode. I was beginning to despair that my desperate artificial deadline which I beseeched the Lord with was ever going to be met. (I pleaded with Him: “don’t let me have to make that drive again this school year; not even once.”)

Well, against all odds, mere hours after our 6th contract fell through (#foundationissues), our home came on the market. It was listed as an estate being dissolved by the adult children of the deceased owner, who took impeccable care of it and very much embraced the 70’s whence it was built. So the windows and AC and water heater and all the serious business had been updated, but the gold shag carpet (in.the.bathrooms), yellow linoleum and faux wood panelling game was strong. (Is still strong, linoleum-wise. Embracing my inner Kendra Tierney.)

We saw the house 2 hours after it hit the market, on a Thursday afternoon, wrote an offer that night, and had a signed contract before the end of the day on Friday. We got it for slightly under asking but still a bit more than we’d been hoping to pay, but it’s in our ideal neighborhood, close to my sisters, and 10 minutes from our parish and 20 from school. Plus, at 2,900 sq feet including an unfinished basement, we’re not about to bust out of it any time soon. In fact, I plan to be buried here because after 8 moves in 7 years of marriage, we’re loading another Uhaul only if my casket’s inside.

I know some people thought we were morons for trying to buy a house in this market (and I got a few lovely comments on social media to that effect. People be classy.) But we both felt that God had more for us. And after 6 months of almost continuous respiratory and GI illness in our old house, we figured out that the mold was actually making us really, really sick. Me and the two big boys, in particular. Within a week of moving into our friend’s home in the spring, every single one of us had a complete return to health. It was actually kind of disturbing, in retrospect, because it made us realize how sick we’d really been, and for how long.

Our new house tested mercifully mold and moisture free, and the basement being unfinished was actually a bonus to us, because we could be diligent in our investigation of any possible moisture incursion and rest easy that no below-grade drywall was hiding a dirty secret.

Once we closed earlier in the month, we had a little over a week until school started, and so we rolled up our sleeves, called in our sibling and parent crew, and got to work. (Well, they got to work. I made a lot of runs to Starbucks and Chipotle and wrangled a lot of kids for a lot of long nights solo.) My husband, his father, and his brothers tore out all the carpeting downstairs, took down a hunting lodge worth of faux wood paneling, beams, and bookshelves (trust me, it wasn’t charming or paint-able) and tiled two bathroom floors. I ripped down two room’s worth of wallpaper, painted the kitchen and family room (low voc and with a mask, fear not) and cleaned. We still have a ways to go (trim, moulding, some more paint) but overall it looks like a new house. I wish I’d saved the listing pics for before shots, but I was too busy ripping carpet up the hour after we got the keys to think about snapping evidence shots. So all I have for you is some after-ish shots today. Think of them more as “work in progress” shots.

We ended up moving in Saturday, August 19th, 2 days before school began, almost the literal 11th hour of my imaginary deadline with God. Nicely played, Lord.

The downstairs has a large living room, a formal dining room (which I love because of the size of our family/extended family) a half bath powder room, a family room with a fire place and great sliders out to the backyard, and a smallish galley style kitchen with a breakfast nook. I’ll probably end up putting a small table there for a homework center/grocery bag drop zone, but right now it’s where we’re eating our meals off a folding table while a girlfriend’s talented hubby builds us a custom farmhouse table + bench set. (Local Denver readers, stay tuned for details.)

Without further ado, please enjoy some adequate cellphone snaps and the reminder that lifestyle blogger I am not. And thanks for all the prayers along the long, bumpy ride. (And thanks to our wonderful community for all the muscle and all the meals the past week. We’ll never ask for moving help again, and we owe you a Saturday or 10 in return.)

Front yard and exterior. We’re on a super quiet street and all our neighbors are in their 60’s. Introvert’s dream.

Kitchen. Definitely the weakest link, but hey, new appliances. (And I don’t really like to cook anyway.)

Grainy view of the entryway/stairwell from the front door

It’s hard to convey the scale of the yard. It’s enormous and there is sooooo much grass. Dream come true.

40 foot Blue Spruce. I foresee decking this out with about 1,000 Christmas lights in a few short months.

Blurry fireplace vibes. Gas insert means minimal actual heat but also (high fives here) minimal actual mess. I’m all about them shortcuts.

Dining room with freshly installed hickory floor. Not crazy about the color or the board widths, but the price was right. We can afford to do one room a year in hardwood I think, provided nobody needs braces in the near future. 😉

View from the living room, through the kitchen into the family room.

Blurry little half bath. Imagine painted cabinets and Evie having a place to do her makeup, brother-free, in about 10 years. Plus a place for my guests to feign belief that my boys don’t pee all over the floor. Yellow linoleum covers a multitude of sins.

Living room with new grey carpet and childhood detritus.

Brooding shot of the living room from the other angle (have I mentioned that my dumbed down smartphone is no iPhone when it comes to pixels?)

Stay tuned for the vv exciting upstairs tour coming soon to a blog post near you, and happy Friday.

Catholic Spirituality, Culture of Death, Evangelization, Homosexuality, JPII, relativism

Conform or be destroyed {but be not afraid}

December 2, 2016

No matter your political stripe, ethnicity, religion, or sexual proclivities, this one should concern you.

It’s the story of a family. Of a couple who have built an empire together, and whose concepts and innovation have almost single-handedly spurred the revitalization of a local economy and an entire community.

And their kids are pretty cute, too.

I’m talking, of course, about HGTV’s darling it-couple of the moment, Chip and Joanna Gaines, and of their wildly popular show “Fixer Upper” and the Magnolia empire behind it.

Their show, if you are unfamiliar with it, centers around showing prospective home buyers “the worst homes in the best neighborhoods” around Waco, Texas, before deciding on one crumbling property which they renovate and redesign on camera with a dramatic “reveal” at the episode’s end. The show is entertaining because while everything about reality tv is carefully scripted, the real star of their concept is their goofy, sweet, mutually respectful and supremely attractive marriage.

They like each other. They like each other a lot, it would appear, from the viewer’s perspective. And they like their children, and they like the life they’ve built together. There is friendly banter, there is teasing, there are eye rolls and sighs of exasperation, but there is no harsh cynicism. No passive aggression. No threats of divorce of ultimatums about behavior “or else.”

It’s just so refreshing.

The thing is, I think it’s as refreshing as it is because it’s real. I think they really do like each other as much as they play on TV. And it’s a beautiful witness to the joy of marriage.

Which is probably the precise reason they were targeted by a bigoted Buzzfeed writer with an anti-Christian axe to grind and a platform from which, she decided, was hers to lob grenades at unsuspecting victims from. Victims whose only crime, as far as I can decipher, is to hold a differing belief system from hers. And to hold it privately.

So basically tolerance in action.

The story gets a little weirder, though. Because the writer in question didn’t have a personal complaint about the Gainses themselves, but about the church they attend, and specifically about something their pastor preached in a sermon.

It’s pretty crazy what he said, though.

He said that God created men and women. And he quoted this radical text from antiquity called “the Book of Genesis.”

I know. Lock that guy up.

Here’s the thing. We live in a time of supposed plurality of beliefs, but some beliefs are more “free” than others. We give lip service to the concept of diversity, but the only diversity that is truly acceptable is narrowly defined and usually trending on Twitter.

Because the Gaines family attends a church that holds a biblical perspective on marriage (in line with the majority of Evangelical Christianity and the entire Roman Catholic Church, so not exactly a fringe-y minority), they are automatically cast as bigots. Excoriated for not vetting the guests on their show for their sexual behavior. Dragged into a career and life-altering witch hunt because a woman with a microphone can’t stand the idea that not everybody shares her belief system.

The Gaines family are probably hurting right now, but I very much doubt they are surprised. To be a Christian is to be a sign of contradiction in a confused and sometimes darkening world. And none of us are going to get out of it with our reputations or our egos intact. Which is a good thing. It really is!

What the Gaines family could use, however, from their fellow Christians is support. Vocal, enthusiastic support. Write a friendly message on one of their social media accounts (Unrelated: Chip retweeted Papa Francesco earlier this week.)Say a prayer for them. Drop HGTV an email saying how much you enjoy their show, or if you’ve never seen it, tune in for an episode this weekend and enjoy.

Hatred, bullying tactics and public lynchings are as old as the human race. In the era of the internet, the megaphone is bigger and the stakes are higher, perhaps, in terms of public notoriety and the heat being turned up, but in a week or two the news cycle with move on to a new victim, and they’ll be left to pick up the pieces and decide if it’s worth it to them as a family to continue to tell their story publicly.

I hope they do. But I completely understand if they don’t.

The stakes have ever been high to proclaim belief in anything, but particularly to proclaim belief in the One who made all things. Because the moment you stake your claim for Christ, you become an enemy to the world that “will hate you because it first hated Me.” We who dwell in reality, living in the world as it actually is, dwell in a place marred and scarred by actual sin. Sin, which in our time is a bigoted concept in itself (look for that storyline to play out in the not-so-distant future, coming soon to a headline near you) has actual consequences. Like pain. Division. Violence. Loss of friendships and reputation. Suffering.

But sin does not have the final word in this story. Not in the Gaineses story, and not necessarily in the angry Buzzfeed writer’s story, either. Wouldn’t it be a cool footnote in the annals of internet scandal one day to read that all this craziness ended in forgiveness and maybe even a change of heart?

Wilder things have happened.

In the meantime, do not be cowed into silence or surrender by the angry rhetoric or the public fallout being heaped upon this family. They are suffering, but they are suffering for Christ. And He can make something beautiful out of that. To be Christian is to suffer. Not because of a lack of love, but because of an abundance of it. Look to the cross.

And do not be afraid of what the world can do to you or take from you. The world took everything from Christ first, after all. And that ended rather well.

And seriously, pour yourself a peppermint mocha and get your shiplap on this weekend. A good family doing good work could use your support.

“When freedom does not have a purpose, when it does not wish to know anything about the rule of law engraved in the hearts of men and women, when it does not listen to the voice of conscience, it turns against humanity and society.” – JPII, State visit to Netherlands, 1985.