Starting Over

I've been wearing the same clothes for the past six days. And if I'm honest with myself, I'm going to be wearing them for at least a couple more. It's not because I haven't done laundry (although, I haven't) or because they are just so comfortable (I suppose they're pretty comfy, however). It's because I can only afford to destroy one outfit.

The last week of my life has been taken over by tiling my kitchen. It's more than my kitchen, actually. We're tiling my entry way, hall, bathroom and kitchen. None of us (us = Wade, my dad and me) have never done anything like this before. We'd gotten lots of advice from people who have. And like with anything, most of it was conflicting. But we thought we knew what we were doing, and we got to work.

Ripping out the old, ugly orange tile was hard work, but kind of fun. I'd been wanting to do that for five years now, and smashing it to bits was wonderful therapy. As expected (I watch those house flipping shows, I know tearing out walls or floors is like opening a can of worms), there were a few surprises awaiting us under that tile, but nothing we couldn't handle. Even the plywood and the backerboard looked better than the old tile. I was ready, so so so ready, to get that new tile down.

We started laying the tile this past Tuesday. From the start it didn't seem right. The tiles weren't level; the grout lines weren't even. I kept going, but with each tile that I put in place I had this nagging feeling. I also felt constantly on the verge of tears. I couldn't sleep at night, thinking about all the work we were doing and I didn't like the result. I didn't want to be embarrassed of my new floor. I didn't want to spend every day looking at the mistakes we were making. As anxious as I'd been to get started, I now just wanted to be done. I started thinking that it would be easier to move than to finish this project. I would feel this panic just below the surface.

Finally, I came to my senses and had my neighbor come over to give his "unprofessional" opinion. He confirmed what I'd known all along. We needed to tear out the tile and start over. We smiled. We thanked him. We walked him out. We closed the door. I cried.

Actually, before I cried, before I could change my mind, my dad and I started carefully popping up each of the tiles. My pretty floor was disappearing before my eyes.

The tears came when my kids came up from the basement, where they'd been playing, out of the way. I realized that I'd missed hearing about Sophie's first week of school because I'd been so busy shooing her out of the way. I had hardly said anything to Max beyond "Don't step there!" And poor Lily had been living strapped in her high chair. Even though they hadn't gone anywhere, I missed them. And I couldn't (can't) stand living in this mess. I just wanted my house back. Starting over, while I knew it was the right decision, seemed to turn this into an endless project. I sat on the couch and cried while Sophie comforted me and Max held my hand. Sophie proceeded to use that as an excuse to stay up late, repeatedly coming back downstairs to "check on mom." Wade and I pulled up the rest of the tile and got ready to start fresh the next day.

I woke up the next morning with new energy. Overnight I seemed to settle into the idea that starting over, doing it right, wasn't such a hassle. I wanted to feel good about the work we were doing. I wanted to look forward to having people visit, to see the changes we're making to our home. Making it into our home. Doing it right was the only way to go.

Our neighbor came back over that morning to help us get started (again). This time, with his advice, we used plenty of thin-set. We used bigger spacers (which not only made it easier, but looks much, much better). We started in the right spot. That day we got more done than we had in the four days prior.

Yesterday and today progress seemed slow. But we finally finished all the cuts, and that was the worst part (not for me, that saw scared the crap out of me!). So, we're getting close. Tomorrow I finish with the thin-set and then we grout. I have a feeling that's going to be a pain, but once that's done we're all set! I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tiling tunnel. My anxiety has lessened significantly. I didn't cry at all today, as a matter of fact! Even without the grout, it looks exponentially better than it did one orange-tiled week ago. But, more than anything, I'm excited to get my refrigerator out of my formal dining room and back into my kitchen.