“This is the time of month when you get really...” Stu reluctantly stated.
“What?“, I replied? “What do I get?“
“Ambitious, honey. I was going to say ambitious about the cottage renovation.”
Just because I told him all the plans I had for the living room, laundry room, kitchen, root cellar, and new gardens, he had the audacity…
…okay. Fine. He's right.
My cottage renovation ideas tend to come in surges and this morning they were on FIRE. Too much LLV and Elevation perhaps (I can always tell when Stu hasn't been taking it. He's overwhelmed by me.). As I sipped my second cup of coffee (more espresso is always the answer for racing minds), I was listing out a few blog posts I want to write and ordering tile simultaneously on Etsy. I was also getting kinetic sand out of Juliette's hair and peeling Will's egg.
Go, Shaye, Go.
But see, there's been a thing slogging around in my brain for the past few months, stressing me out, and stealing my joy. But I finally was able to put a finger on. Three years we've been in this house. Three years we've been working on cottage renovation by remodeling bathrooms and moving around laundry machines and ripping out old stone fireplaces and building new ones and putting up ceiling planks and building gardens. We've been hustling, bustling, and breaking backs. We've worked to the bone to make this home ours.
So why did it stress me out walking from room to room? What was this weird horribly energy cloud following me around?
I adore this little cottage. But after three years of wear, and children who spend every moment of every day by our side, there's a lot that still needs to be finished. Like actually finished. FIIIIIIIINNNNNIIIIIIISSSSSHHHHEEEEDDDD.
Anyone else out there with serious finished-project-problems?
Oh look! It's functional now! Let's give up on it for all eternity.
We were able to work on the cottage renovation these past years to get the house to a particular degree of style and function. We got the carpet out of the kitchen. We got the doors replaced. We got the wood floors refinished. But I finally realized that the unsettled feeling I've carried these past few months comes from wanting to actually finish what we started. I love putting the cherry on top of a project. But so much of this work is beyond my capacity.
Though my ambitious surge caught Stu a bit by surprise so early in the morning (in my defense, I did get up an hour before him), he knew this was coming. That's the reason we currently have 250 square feet of reclaimed white oak sitting at a lumber mill awaiting it's delivery. That's also the reason we've got 235 square feet of reclaimed hexagon terra cotta tile on it's way (!!!!!!!). It's about to go down.
And by “go down” I mean we've decided to start saving up to hire professionals to help us finish this up. Project by project.
Come on. I've got a dōTERRA team to love on, a cow to milk, gardens to keep, food to cook, and children to homeschool. Plus, my knowledge about putting up trim is far outweighed by my other skillzzzz. Obviously.
There's a huge pot that's under my kitchen sink catching the drips from the pipes. The floor in our living room is just painted plywood. The walls in the kitchen are edged with poky chicken wire that needs to be ripped down. The kitchen plank flooring is worn and rotted in spots. There are no baseboards. Anywhere. My living room has crown molding. But only on half.
This beautiful space has got us this far. Now, it's time to really get it “there”.
I'm not under some weird pretense that my life and house have to be perfect. I have four children who are here all day – who am I kidding. But. We've been given means to take care of these issues. We have the ambition to do so (at least… one of us does). So dangit. It's time to grow this awkward teenage house into… well… something that's much less awkward.
That's it. House. I'm ready to take your braces off. It's time for cottage renovation stage two.
It may have taken three hours of verbal combat and a day-vorce, but we finally landed on a “way forward”. A way that will allow me to get the pot out from under the sink and the holes patched on the floor.
It involves realizing (once again) that we can't do it alone. We'll save, hire out, and do what we can to contribute. It's just the way it is in this beautiful season of life.
Years ago, a wise friend of mine advised me to “be the thing that only I could be first”. What he meant was be the mom to my children. No one else can do that. Be the wife to my husband. No one else can do that. Be the leader to my team of 15,000 dōTERRA customers. No one else can do that. Be the writer of this blog, the creator of these recipes, the cameraman for these videos. No one else can do that.
A house is important, of course. But it's certainly not more important than these. Rather, a healthy and rich home – full of peace – will enable me to do those jobs all the better.
I can tell you one thing. I'm sure I could lay a tile floor. But heaven help me, there's someone out there who will do a much better job than me.
Here! Take all my money! Just don't make the project drag on for a year and be half ruined in the process! Please!
Any home renovators out there feel me on this?
My two new favorite words in this stage of life: Help. Please.