Kitchen Remodel: Let's Gut This Baby

Oona is just copying the expression her mother wore all Memorial Day weekend.

Instagram and Facebook told me most of you spent the long weekend cooking out, going to the beach, watching parades and making all kinds of merriment. (My neighbors celebrated by shooting off fireworks after midnight every single night. When did Memorial Day fireworks become a thing?! I PROTEST!)

We chose to spend the weekend watching Matt do this:

And this:

We're building a new kitchen! Mostly Matt is, while I keep his children from their deaths in the middle of the construction site that was once our very, very green kitchen.

As much as I love watching my husband rip things up with crow bars and sledge hammers, watching with the kids (who were alternately terrified by the noise and fascinated with the most dangerous power tools,) was painful. It was dirty. It was noisy. I cried at least once a day, and then felt guilty because - new kitchen! So exciting! But man-oh-man, when you've got a baby not quite walking and a three year old who wants nothing more in life than to get his hands on a table saw, and those clouds of plaster dust to battle and no working kitchen for the time being...things get ugly fast. 

Speaking of ugly...

Wallpaper! Matt gifted me the job of removing it. I promised I'd try to get to it during the 5 hour window in the middle of the night when all the children manage to synch their circadian rhythms and sleep at the same time.

We found some neat little bits and pieces from past residents. The milk bottle top is my favorite. The flower is an old fridge magnet!

By the time night fell on Monday night, Matt had things cleaned up enough to get us by for the rest of the week.

He even covered up the rough sub-floor with brown paper for us so we don't get splinters in our feet. 

This is our kitchen for the next couple of months. Not too bad of a set up...except for the microwave being at baby-eye-height. In the last 24 hours a doll and a rubber ball have been saved in the nick of time from microwave death. 

Prayers appreciated.