The Mess
It’s a Challenge
Waist-deep into our Rocky Harbour retrofit renovation and I can’t count the times I’ve swept drywall pieces, broken crayons and random, ripped up paper towel into the dustpan. (Thanks, Dora). A melding together of toddlerhood and construction and coping. I am being tested, I think to myself. God never gives us more than we can handle; I just wish He didn’t trust me so much. Ya ok. Yet, in between the constant tidying-in-vain, there are the deepest, most profound experiences of my life. Kayaking inside the harbour at Norris Point while listening to live music at the Cat Stop and paddling towards the @NatGeo cruise ship while she docked in Neddies Harbour, watching my children play in the freshwater pond hugged in tight by the long range mountains, and getting to know some of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. Outside the house is quite honestly, idyllic.
My aunt Vicki, a now-retired realtor once told me that she and her husband, Ken, purchased their tiny Calgary home as an investment… a flipper. Upon visiting her home it was very clear that they had no intentions of leaving. “I’m a nester. I nest”, she told me through her infectious laughter inherited from my grandmother. Same, girl, same. The apple doesn’t fall far, that’s for sure, and my longing to build a nest runs in my blood. And so, amongst this ‘controlled chaos’, I’ll call it, I can see the future of this property. And she’s a beaut. I see how the challenges of an exterior clapboard-come-interior wall will be a cherished feature. I see how the quirky plaster ceilings are guiding the vibe and will be an endearing tribute to the handiwork of the original craftsman. But in the meantime, she’s rough ‘n ready. She’s tore back to the studs. She’s exposed. Vulnerable. Yes, the sheets are clean and the bathroom drawers have been organized, but, ‘my son’, as they say here, short of living in McMaster hospital for 130 days, I’ve never been challenged so deeply by my living arrangement.
I’m a work in progress
I know you’re probably looking for some kind of ‘conclusion’ to this, but I don’t have one. It’s not done yet. I do, however, have few things that I’ve learned living through our second home renovation. And for what it’s worth, I hope that it helps you in a time of transition:
Clean whatever you possibly can. I try and keep our busted up bathroom nice and fresh. She might have duct tape in the shower holding down the plastic covering up the hole that used to be the window, but my son, she’s been scrubbed. Get an exceptional broom, too. Splurge on the Oscar. You’ll need it.
Have some self-compassion. This has been the hardest one. I beat myself up for having a hard time of this all. “You brought this on yourself” the inner critic wants to say. But wise-mind steps in and says, “stand back and see the big picture.” You’ve got this. It’s just really hard to live like this right now. And that’s totally valid.
Hire a babysitter. Up the street is a lovely young lady that I have every reason to believe God has sent to us in His compassionate way. “R” comes over almost every weekend these days and allows Ian and I to step out of the intensity of the build and (onto the EmmCat usually) into a moment where we can nurture our marriage. After all, we wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for our love!
Nature. Nature. Nature. Say it with me: nature makes it better. Nature isn’t under construction. Ground into that.
Go somewhere elite. When we went to the Gros Morne Inn for dinner a few weeks ago, I jokingly said to Ian, “Wow, isn’t it nice to be somewhere that isn’t beside a pile of rough lumber.” Remind yourself that there is an end goal by spending time in a beautiful space.
Lastly, not to be outdone by any of the above points…quite honestly? Lie down. The constant stimulation of the chaotic environment is EXHAUSTING. Expect it. Stay focused on the big picture. Stand back and admire your progress. Each and every little detail adds up.
I hope to one day have more to offer in terms of a reno-survival-guide but aside from finding out which Chardonnay is on sale at Fisherman’s Landing, or patting yourself on the back for remembering to go down to the lower suite to get your wet laundry before the mildew sets in, you’ll have to just walk alongside me. It’s a peeled-back-to-the-studs, exposed ceilings and sticky subfloors kind of existence. And God willing, we will build it into something incredible. Just you wait and see. :)
