The Destruction Hath Begun....

So, this is how we started our twenty-ninth year of marriage: tearing out a kitchen.

Yesterday morning I took a few pictures before we got started. My husband was kind enough to let me take my time. He knew I was having a hard time with it. I don't know what it is: this house does that to you. I remember the woman who lived here before us crying as she unloaded all her items from this kitchen, and having to say goodbye to the house when it came time to pack up THAT room. A mom spends a lot of time in the kitchen. And she thinks a lot while she works in there, too. So I guess we all bond with our kitchens! And if the kitchen is the heart of the home, that's what tugged at my heart yesterday morning was that bond I feel with the kitchen.

Thinking on her feet, my daughter reminded me on the phone that morning that I would want some pictures to keep. So.... I got out the camera, took the different views, then started to unload the contents of my whole kitchen into boxes and totes.

I said my good-byes. (I'm serious. I never start a project out in this house without some sentimentality. I'm getting teary now!) I remembered how I watched my oldest two kids catch the bus (or get home) from the window here, watched my husband pull in with the truck after a day at work.

After she became a driver, I watched my daughter pull into her "parking spot" right in front of the window over the sink, relieved that she made it home safely once again.

As I cleaned out the drawer that held the dishtowels, I found a couple of my youngest son's bibs from his babyhood. The hot tears fell again. I remember spooning the food in that hungry little mouth while his chubby fists slapped the tray of his high chair. Those days were such happy ones, caring for an innocent little guy. Those then turned into the ones where we sat on the floor and played with his Fisher-Price ABC magnets on the fridge and those changed into the kind of sunny days that found me setting him up to coloring in a coloring book with beginner crayons in a "big-boy" chair at the table.

My mind went back to more warm memories, the days that I home schooled my son from kindergarten through fifth grade here at this table; that alone is reason enough to cry: we had some wonderful times together learning, both of us.

There are sweet memories of me on the floor with the kids as we played with the dogs, all of them loved very much, most of them long gone, now. We celebrated holidays, birthdays, carved pumpkins all together on top of newspapers spread on that table, frosted hundreds of cut out sugar cookies, did dishes at the sink while I watched the snow fall, watched deer cross the road as I peeled potatoes, heard the call of a pheasant through the screen on a gentle fall day, watched as the farmers around us worked their fields with the excitement that only harvest can bring. I remember cool fall nights as we all worked together to package the venison from a deer that one of the guys was thrilled to have gotten out behind the house.

Yes, there's been lots of living in this kitchen.

But times change. Things go bad, get crooked, are worn out. Drawers stick and become impossible to open, doors become irreparable and won't stay shut, paint peels, and electrical outlets become out of date and dangerous. Lighting becomes too dim and impractical. It's time, past time, really to make it all new again. And so we began what will be a big project here at the farmhouse.

We ripped out the heart of our house, so that we can transplant it and make it better.

The first bang of the hammer on the old plaster began the mess of taking it all down that would last for two days...and it ain't over yet, but I thought I'd take plenty of pictures to show you our progress, and hopefully one day soon, you will see a metamorphosis: the result in a new "farmhouse kitchen" because of of lots of hard work by my husband, mostly, (sainted man that he is) and with our help he can get this turned into a farmhouse kitchen with all the modern amenities. Today he/we deconstructed all the stick-built cabinets and then worked on getting all the rest of the plaster off the walls.

We set up a makeshift sort of kitchen in our attached garage, with an electric grill and fry pan, dishpans, my pie safe with the basic dishes inside and crates and totes full of the rest sitting in stacks for when it's all finished and we can move back in. Mealtimes will be VERY basic for awhile. If it cannot be done in an electric fry pan or grill, or cooked outside on the grill...guess we won't be having it!

Let me just say this about my long-suffering husband. Owning an old farmhouse was NOT ever his dream. It was mine. We both wanted to live in the country, but he never has said "OOhhhhh!" when he saw a pretty old farmhouse.

But I can tell you that if it were not for THIS man, I would not be able to live this dream. Men who know how to DO THINGS on a house are a marvel to me. This man doesn't let much get to him. He works diligently and is not as in love with this house as I am, and yet does it all anyway. He only turns the air blue every now and then, and I can't say that I blame him. NOTHING is level. NOTHING goes smoothly. NOTHING ever turns out like we think it will. We have to accept compromises on what we THOUGHT we could or would do. We have to make do sometimes instead of making it like we want it.

But I enjoy working with this man I call my husband very much, and we have made a lot of memories working as a team in each and every room we've redone. It's been eighteen years...and we've had something going on almost all the time.

And, thankfully, this kitchen is the last room this poor man will have to totally break down and start over on in this old house. He has my undying respect and thanks for putting up with me and this old house for so long. I am so glad that he isn't afraid of hard work and that he loves me enough to help me make a dream come true. If it were up to him, we'd be in a new build that didn't require this sort of work!

He remembered a doo-rag he had, and got that out to wear because the dust was just a-flyin'! The weather was very pleasant, and we only had to open the window for a nice, cool breeze. Unreal for the middle of July!

Here he's standing on what's left of the old counter to get the plaster off up near the ceiling over the sink. I helped with cleanup of the cupboards as he ripped them out and hauled the pieces outside...and got to help a little bit with the ripping down of the old plaster. He's like an old pro at it, and I am as bad about handling a crow bar and hammer as I am about properly throwing a baseball: I do it like a GIRL.

Tomorrow I have some shopping to do: I need to get a faucet, light fixtures and stamped tin for the ceiling. I also have to stop in at the countertop shop and look at materials and get someone scheduled to come out and measure for countertops.

My long-suffering husband took a week of vacation to get this going. We have a bet going about how long it will take. He says it will be done before the tomatoes are ready to can. I hope so!

It sure looks pretty sad right now! Doesn't this make YOU want an old farmhouse?