scribblechic

Over the past six years our home has been in varying stages of controlled chaos during multiple remodeling projects. Now, as we near the end of our large projects, I find myself willing everything into a designated space.

Sifting through collections of misplaced clutter I have created a greater hodgepodge of miscellaneous items waiting to be contained. I am taking my time, trying to piece together the patterns of what gets used where, when, and by whom so that our home is functional, logical. It occurred to me yesterday that I am clinging to order because at the moment this piece of my life can be controlled.

I am worried about my children as we approach the new school year, but cautious that I keep these concerns bottled up so that I don’t project them onto my children’s expectations. Unable to pile my worries in coordinated baskets for convenient evaluation, I am rearranging my pantry and organizing extra school supplies for homework ahead.

Our final days of summer vacation are coming to an end as I prepare our home and make peace with that which I cannot control, I am containing the chaos of my heart and home.

When we purchased my husband’s childhood home we projected our dreams with bold, eager statements of change. Loose this wall, add more light, create storage. We wanted our home to be comfortable and functional, welcoming and rejuvenating. We made room around the kitchen knowing guests gather at the heart of the home. We stretched our living space to encompass the outdoors. We created work space and play space giving everyone room for themselves and room to grow together.

We settled our children’s rooms first. Each child moving into a sanctuary from the chaos of construction around them. Our kitchen consumed the first year as we merged the divided space of our main floor, opening rooms to shared space. Our family room was stripped of dark paneling and brightened with paint, the bulky dark brick replaced with a simpler wood frame. The stained siding and weathered windows were replaced; the once overgrown backyard was tamed into an outdoor living room. The bathrooms a final time capsule of my husband’s youth.

Tomorrow the kids and I will leave for a quick visit to my parents’ home while my husband flushes our dated bathrooms. Gone is the giddy excitement for change, replaced with a peaceful expectation of completion. The hours, days, and months of distraction buried within each project will be traded for more time together.

There will be no more need to search ideas, filter options, spend finances on fixtures. As we near the end of our wishes for our house, I am drafting new wishes for our time together. Thinking more of how we live in this space we have made. Investing extra time and effort into the life we have built between these walls.

The surfaces of my home are scattered with tiles and tools as my husband pieces together the final elements of projects long unfinished. I have spent most of the past week avoiding the din of progress in the unfinished areas of our home. I thought at first it was a matter of chaos, my inherent need for quiet to sift through my thoughts disrupted by the uneven intervals of the saw blade slicing tiles. Today it occurred to me I am more preoccupied by the permanence of the lingering elements. Blank slates now tinted with tones of commitment; possibility replaced with permanence. I am perpetually uncertain, navigating each choice and weighing each cost a story within a story. Peeking prematurely at a project I had long hesitated to finish I was happily surprised to find a sense of self between the elements. As we draw close to finishing the remaining rooms of our home I want to give thanks to my husband for his patience and persistence. Each paint color, tile, and floor board was placed with love for the people who live within these walls. This do it yourself home done selflessly.

I can remember my earliest moments of awkward endeavors as a homemaker. I didn’t know how to cook, didn’t understand what needed to be cleaned, and I faced creating a home with all the grace of a small child finger painting with their mother’s make-up. Years later I try harder, my husband accepts my best while overlooking occasional oversights, and somehow I manage to address the daily duties of my life as a stay at home mother with heart and humor.

This morning peering eagerly into our refrigerator in search of breakfast trappings my husband marveled at the empty shelves. His confusion inspired my own curiosity over the enigma that is grocery shopping. I began visualizing the aisles at our local grocery store, mentally shopping the shelves, trying to envision what I forgot. I shop the perimeter of produce and meats, most of my food is nestled in drawers. So what does go on the shelves? When I shared my wonderment with my husband, he laughed in amused agreement. Not so much at my way of decoding the mystery, but because I was earnestly trying to find the solution.

This problem solving phenomenon is ongoing. I am perpetually stumbling over tasks I didn’t expect and expectations that I was previously oblivious to. Cleaning beneath things that don’t move and above things I can’t see still make me giggle. Some days my job feels accidentally familiar and I secretly applaud my ability. Other days I can feel myself wobbling in my big girl shoes as I try to create a home for my family. Either way my days are equal parts made-up nonsense and elbow grease. I’m playing house, improvising daily with an endearing cast of characters.