Death to Mold (How we handled what we found in the kitchen).

September 24, 2007 | Category: This Old House

The picture I posted of the kitchen mold and mildew has gotten me quite a few emails and comments, mostly asking what we did about it.

Our son is allergic to mold, dust, Autumn, and most laundry detergents. Usually his reaction is to be cranky and have a rash and some post-nasal drip.

Occasionally, though, he spikes 105 fever, breaks out in hives, and can't breath and off we go to the hospital.

SO when we saw what was underneath the cabinets and walls of our kitchen, CD and I had a profound 'Holy Crap!' moment. 80-year-old dust and mildew is not unexpected, but then again - who can be prepared for what we found?

After locking our son in his hermetically sealed environment with filters going an mach speeds, we consulted the Internet and our family doctor about what to do.

Short of doing a complete gut removal of the room (which we did with the back room of the house but couldn't afford to do again) here's the consensus that we followed.

1) We scrubbed the bejabbers out of everything with a bleach-based solution. This was disgusting. CD did most of this, bless him.

2) Painted everything with Kilz Primer. We looked into other Eco alternatives, but Kilz has the availability and reputation we needed.

3) For the top coat, we used Sherwin-Williams for the whole kitchen. It was pricier that the Home Depot stuff, but we really wanted the mold-inhibitors and the anti-microbial properties.

I don't know if this helps anyone else, but there it is - what we did. (Man, do I need coffee!)

Calling All Anecdotes

September 21, 2007 | Category: Well, That Was Random

Over at A Mama's Rant: Chicken Soup for the Soul Needs SAHM Stories there's a bit about how the publishers are looking (and are willing to pay for) stories from stay at home mothers.

Before and (sorta) After: The Kitchen.

September 20, 2007 | Category: This Old House

OK, as much as this makes me squinge.- I'm always so nervous to post pictures of our home because, well, after more than 6 years of living in a house that has been under renovation (yes, there has ALWAYS been something in construction) I'm terrified that people will say - 'Oh, THAT'S how you LIVE?' or something like that. (Especially since we do about 90% of the work ourselves.) So, please be gentle. Um, please.

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This is the kitchen the day we moved in, February 2001. The woman who was moving out was mid-divorce with 2 teen-aged boys. It was a heartbreaking situation, and I have long respected her for how she got this old, stained, warped house absolutely scrubbed clean.

Having lived with that yellow linoleum floor for 6 years - I can tell you that it was never this clean again.

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This is how it looked after we were settled in. It is basically a hallway from the front of the house to the back door. The cabinets had all been made by hand in the 40's (about 15 years after the house was built). Sometime in the late 70's, one of the owners had a counter top made out of pressboard and a kind of thick tinfoil application.

Of course, by the time we moved in all the appliances had changed over the years so nothing really fit where it was.

Notice that CD bought a dishwasher and a free-standing cabinet for it, which he installed in the space where the previous owners had had room for a tiny table.

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By 2003, we'd bought a new fridge and a new stove - neither of which "fit" where the old ones had been. We also upgraded the window to something that, you know, opened.

CD went ahead swapped the refrigerator and stove spaces, so now the fridge was at the back. This made it easier for him to run the piping for the in-door water and ice dispensers, too.

(That's the beloved Elia, by the way.)

That was how the kitchen looked for the next 4 years. Cluttered, mismatched, never feeling clean, and never enough space to do anything practically.

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The demo of the real part of the kitchen began in June, 2007. Our neighbors to the side, who we would pick up and move with us if we could, offered to help.

With a saws-all, a big ol dumpster in the driveway (they built a chute from the window to the dumpster), crowbars, and sheer force of will they completely ripped the place apart in 2 short afternoons.

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It took me much longer to pack it all up than it did for them to break it all down.

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What was underneath was... disturbing. This is an old (1920's) stucco house built before the introduction of vapor barriers and proper ventilation.

We found just acres of black mold and dust.

After the demo, we went in and cleaned (wearing masks and gloves). Gallons of bleach. Replacing boards where we could, and then painting the whole thing with a special paint that seals away allergens.

That said, CD couldn't breathe properly for weeks.

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The first part that was done was the left-side of the kitchen. While we were waiting for delivery of the cabinets, we removed the 80's flowered wallpaper, and painted (oi! choosing neutral paints was actually hard). Once we laid down the new floor along the hallway, this looked good.

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The upper cabinets went in first. With the two friends helping, CD got the (Maple, tall) cabinets mostly up in about a day.

The lower cabinets took the better part of 4 weekends. First, because the floor had to be laid and leveled. Then because the plumbing and electrical inspections both had to be done twice to correct some faults the house had and finally because that 3-drawer cabinet was on back-order.

We kept the layout basically the same, just much more streamlined. After all these years, we'd realized that this was the most efficient use of the space.

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There's still a lot to be done - the faucet is halfway in, to be finished tonight. The walls are being finished by a handyman who will be here this weekend. CD will put the doors back on, and do the trim work, as well.

Those soffits are gone, and everything painted more neutral colors. That makes it feel so much bigger already.

So that's where we are now. A couple of weeks from being ready to put it on the market (only uh...4 months behind schedule?). I'll post more pictures after the weekend....

(See link 'continued' for a couple more random pictures.)

Continue reading "Before and (sorta) After: The Kitchen."

You Live, You Learn

September 18, 2007 | Category: In My Life

I have been toying, pretty seriously, with the idea of creating password-only entries. I wish I'd had the foresight to know that someday, having my real name attached to posts about blogging naked would be a real damper on my professional life.

Yeah, OK, seems obvious now.

The other day, I discovered a prospective employer read this blog. And despite the fact that I go to extreme lengths to respect the wishes of those I work for and live with in regards to privacy and intimacy?

Just the fact that I have a personal blog was enough to scare him off.

I don't know what this means to the Facebook generation, although maybe not much - since Facebook like Twitter, etc, is much more in the moment.

On the one hand, it took a lot for me to stick my flag in the dirt and say - this is ME. This is who I really am. I stand behind each word and each story and each post.

On the hand? Dude, I need a J-O-B. I need to work.

It absolutely destroys my creativity and honesty to be self-censoring each word and comma because something might be unacceptable to someone.

But what the hell is the alternative?

Meanwhile, the counter top guy will be here in a couple of hours and I'm thinking... shower? Clothes? Probably good idea.

The Passing of Those We Do Not Know

September 16, 2007 | Category: Not The Nightly News

James Oliver Rigney, Jr, better known as Robert Jordan, died today.

I never met him.

He was a highly decorated war veteran, good ol' boy and graduate of the Citadel. He was a sailor, a nuclear engineer, a husband, and best known as a writer.

My husband got me into his books back in the day when we had time to read them. And this gentleman's books? Needed TIME.

They are, of course, known as the Wheel of Time series.

They are rollicking sagas - fiction and fantasy. Over the years, they have inspired me and made me laugh and think and exhale loudly as I turned the last page.

A man I'd never met. But I'm sad to find he's gone from the world. And my husband, a little more.

All I have is a sword, and a war I cannot win, but I can never stop fighting. - Lan, The Wheel Of Time

The Kitchen is Coming! The Kitchen is Coming!

September 14, 2007 | Category: This Old House

Both the cabinet people AND the counter top people called today to say that by next Tuesday, I will have... a kitchen!

With a working sink and countertops and drawers for silverware and EVERYTHING.

Color me giddy!

Inconceivable

September 13, 2007 | Category: In My Life

I looked at the bills today, and what is left to be done to sell the house.

Then I sat Bear down with a maze book and did the inconceivable.

I applied for a full-time job.

If I get it, I will be thankful. I will work my ass off to be successful. And I don't blame anyone for the situation. I'm not a victim. I stand by every choice I have made that has brought me here. It's not the government's fault that being a stay home parent is a luxury. It's not society's fault that I hate the idea of daycare.

It is what it is. And we do what we must.

But that didn't stop me from laying my head on the table and trying not to cry. Quietly, so he wouldn't hear.

Vizzini: He didn't fall? Inconceivable!
Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Maggie Bear

September 12, 2007 | Category: In My Life

Last fall, we lost Zazzoo. He was our elderly cat, and we were sad but also at peace. He'd been sick, and passing was a relief for him.

When he died, we told out remaining cat, Maggie Bear, that we wished she would stay with us a little longer. At 21, she is truly a grand old dame. And at 21, she is also the living embodiment of so much history.

She perked up a bit when we got Sara the Big Fluffy Dog. But now it's clear that was an Indian Summer... a short idyll before the winter.

We are losing Maggie Bear. Of all the bad news we've had lately - this is the most expected.

And yet, the worst to face.

Secrets and Lies

September 11, 2007 | Category:

There's been a lot of buzz the last few days about moms spilling how they parent high, drunk, tired. How how they escape from the tedium and endless need to be patient in ways that shock. And how they say that others do it...but just won't admit it.

Yeah, I get that.

But then again, no.

I don't.

I was a fairly uninhibited woman once upon a time. I slept in clean rumpled sheets as late as I wanted on Saturday mornings. I kissed the ones that made my insides churn with lust.

I went to Greece on a whim, and crashed my motorbike into a man's yard. Then stayed for dinner and a sly sunset, watching the stars over glasses of wine.

I have no regrets.

But the day I became a parent, I knew my place in the pecking order was irrevocably altered - at least for the next 18 years.

Maybe because I was in my mid-30's. Maybe because Bear was born after so many almost-babies died. Maybe because... I dunno. I don't know why.

I don't know why I always knew it would be hard. Sometimes even impossible. And that I would need to be sober, grounded, and sometimes even on my knees to get it done right.

Here's my secret, and I know I can't be the only one. Sometimes I hate being a mom. I hate it with a passion. It's a frigging nightmare at least once a day.

But I never hate him.

And I never hate me.

And I never wish it was easier.

Nothing worth it ever is.

I know that sounds like I am being willfully ignorant of the realities some parents face. Or judgmental of the choices other parents make. And neither of those things are true.

But sometimes I feel like people make it seem that parents who do their best, fall into bed with not enough sleep, and get up to do it again are somehow Pollyanna's who deserve to be mocked.

And it pisses me off.

Homeschool School

September 10, 2007 | Category: Mother to the First Power

One day you're jumping killer waves at Old Orchard beach in Maine....

Then, a few days later, you're at your first day of "Homeschool School".

Lucky for me, most of my neighbors homeschool.

It's a movement, a trend, a fad. And I don't know what it means for this generation of schoolkids - but for me, right now, it is fantastic. Because it means that I have lots of mentors and programs to pull from for help.

One of them is a once-a-week enrichment program that gives Bear a day 'at school' to have Gym, Art, Science Experiments, even Drama Club with a bunch of other homeschool kids.

He gets all the stuff I can't give him - like social interaction with his peer group - in a way that supplements what we're already doing at home.

Bear told me last week, sandy from the beach and mulish, that he didn't want it. Would hate it. That I couldn't MAKE him go.

Then, as I dragged him away from the huddle of other 1st and 2nd grade boys after the day was done, he said 'Mom! You never told me that it was a Homeschool School!'

'Oh, does that make a difference?' I asked.

'Yeah!! This is great!'

And, for the first time in 2 years, I relaxed about Bear's education.

Who lost the nipple cream?

September 09, 2007 | Category: In My Life

Some weeks ago, I had a Girl's Night Out with the women of the Mom's Blogs just before Blogher.

Afterwards I gave some of the out-of-towners a ride to their hotel.

I strongly suspect that someone lost a jar of flavored nipple cream when they were retrieving their swag bags, etc. from the trunk.

(Strawberry, btw.)

Either that or my husband's look of utter confusion and bugged-out eyes as we were cleaning his car yesterday are worthy of an Oscar.

Hyperventilating as I glared at him with the offending jar in my hand, he swore he had NO IDEA how FLAVORED NIPPLE CREAM got in the trunk of his car.

Eventually, we backtracked enough events to decide what must have happened.

Returning to his normal respiration, he took the jar and looked it over.

"As long as we have it..." he said with a smile.

The Sun Turns Around, The Earth Turns Around, and Then You Are 7

September 06, 2007 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Every year, on the anniversary of the day he was born, we pull Bear into bed with us and tell him his birth story.

This morning, he woke US up. Too excited to be 7. Too excited to start his day.

"Tell me!" he insisted, diving under the covers betweens us.

"Tell you.... what?" I teased.

"About the day I was born!" Bear exploded, laughing and squirming.

Maybe we started the tradition because Bear had been a high-risk pregnancy. I am what they so tactfully used to call a 'habitual aborter'. They don't know why - whether it's my Lupus or my blue-green eyes.

But either way, it started on January 12, 2000.

"You took a test?" he prompts.

"I took a pregnancy test," I agree.

What I don't say is that I'd had my period the week before, so it was an insane thing for me to pee on a stick. But I'd had a very vibrant dream and I just felt.. I should.

"It was positive!" he grins. "That was me!"

Back then, we were excited but also confused and afraid all at once. I called a friend on the way to work - a woman who'd had two 'miracle babies'.

"I don't know what to do," I cried in bumper to bumper traffic.

"Get yourself to the doctor. Now," she insisted.

A few hours later, CD and I stood and shook after my exam waiting for the doctor to tell us the news.

He handed us some pamphlets about miscarriage and said that it didn't look good. I was spotting heavily and he sighed a lot as he spoke.

He scheduled an ultrasound, and made us promise not to get our hopes up.

We lied.

We went home and sat together on the couch.

We waited.

"On January 14, 2000, we heard the most beautiful noise you can imagine."

"Thudda-thudda-thudda-thwudda..." CD rumbles.

"Me!" Bear cheers.

We nod in the dim of the morning. Then 226 days of bedrest later (plus 10 days of great health sometime in May).

"You and Daddy went on a trip to California and I swam in your tummy in you and you were in a pool on a roof of a hotel..." Bear fills in.

"The Intercontinental," CD agrees. "My work flew us all out because I said I couldn't leave mommy."

"Or me," Bear reminds him, seriously.

"And then, on September 6, 2000, after a day of laboring and trying to get you born, the doctors told Daddy and me that you couldn't wait anymore.

"So at 3 PM, we went into a special room and 52 minutes later they took you out of my tummy by your feet.

"You stretched out into the world.You reached out and grabbed the doctor around the neck. She had your handprint there for hours."

(Yes sweetie, you slapped the doctor...)

"Your dad cut your cord. There was extra blood in there that is very special and the doctors took that to help others."

(From the very start, your birth blessed so many...)

"After they wrapped you up, your daddy got you and held us all close together. We all finally got to meet the baby with the powerful heart."

(You had dark blue eyes and big cheeks...)

"The nurses and doctors wanted to take you to the nursery but they just had to wait until I was stable before your dad consented to leave my side."

(No, Bear, he was never going to leave yours.)

"Hours later, when I woke up in Recovery, your dad brought you to me again."

(...and then we were a family.)

"On the day you were born, it was warm. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds. A doctor walked with your tiny handprint on her neck. The Cubs were winning in extra innings. Jane Addams would have been 140 years old...

"And a miracle happened."

Was I the miracle?

Yes, Bear. You were. And you still are.

Down Memory lane....
2004
2005
2006

Home Again, Home Again Lickety Split

September 05, 2007 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Well, I forgot my blog password on this trip. You'd think I'd have it memorized - but in truth, my home computer does. So when my laptop gave me the ol' blink-blink I'm-WAITING at password prompt, I was completely lost.

We're home.

And if I may be petty, just for a second, may I say... I won't miss Chicago traffic. Wherever we end up - unless we move onto a median strip in L.A. - will have less traffic and for that reason alone I bounce with anticipation.

Each summer, the hardest part is always the last 50 miles.

From the moment we saw the 'Welcome to Chicago' sign to the moment we turned off the car in the driveway we were in excruciating bumper-to-bumper and CD and I just looked at each other and knew we were thinking the same thought.

"I hope the house sells fast"... (you know, once we actually get it on the market.)

We may still love the neighborhood. The art glass in the living room that glows in the afternoons. The walk up to the park on a soft night.

But we are DONE with the traffic.