The fun never stops

It's been awhile since I wrote about our construction. It couldn't just all work out for the best, now could it? Of course not. Because this is us and things never go right for us when it comes to construction.

A few weeks ago, we noticed a funk coming from the downstairs bathroom. (I could make a ton of jokes here, but since it's not that kind of website, I will let them go. We only talk about kid poop around here, not adult poop.) Since the only plumbing that changed was the installation of a new toilet, we suspected it was the culprit.

We called our contractor and asked him to come and fix it. And then we called him again. And again. Finally, three weeks later, he assured us he was going to give us the attention we deserved. We called him again the following week. Like how that works?

Last week, he finally sent one of his guys over to reseal the toilet. Super. Except it didn't work. It was still the home of the funk down there. We called him back. Twice.

A visit from a real plumber was arranged and he came for the first time on Monday. He smelled the smell and said he would be back Wednesday to do a smell test. He returned as promised and poured peppermint extract down the drain on the third floor. He said if it smelled minty fresh in any of the other bathrooms, we had a leak in a pipe someplace.

Great news! It only smelled like peppermint schnapps in the third-floor bathroom, which meant no leak. I am not sure if the guy really poured it down the drain or if he got a little tipsy up there, but apparently it doesn't matter. But if there's no plumbing problem, then what in the hell is causing the funk?

The plumber gave us his best guess: a dead rat. If one crawled under the house and got trapped under the bathroom floor, then we're smelling the decomposition. It should go away in 30 days. Give or take a few.

In the meantime, I won't be hosting any playdates down there.

The finished results

The Great Remodel of 2008 is mostly complete, save for a few finish items here and there. As I promised, I do have photos!

Here are the big before and afters...

Looking back



Main wall of the living room



Looking front


New staircase


Those shelves are my pride and joy. I want to make out with them and I stare at them all the time thinking how awesome it is to have such a great place to show off my books.

Now that we have been living down there for a few weeks, I couldn't be happier with the results. The pain and suffering was all worth it. The kids have a place for all their toys and now the upstairs living room and kitchen look so awesome and clean and neat without plastic items strewn about on every surface.

Just today I was sitting downstairs trying to show Emmie how to crawl on the carpeting and Jack was playing with his new kitchen when I thought about how lucky I am. Thanks to Josh for making it possible for us to expand the house and keep me home with the kids.

Now about that third-floor bathroom, there's some changes I think I want...

Something smells

For the last week, Josh and I were under the impression that the recently-remodeled bathroom downstairs had a funk to it because they didn't properly seal some sort of pipe. Or the toilet. Or something (waving my hands in the air, encompassing anything that may or may not be smelly down there).

Today, one of the guys working on our house informed us that no, the pipes were fine. It was the ceiling that was rank. You see, a small bubble in the drywall on the ceiling that we thought was old and innocent and nothing to worry about was -- wait for it -- a leak from the toilet upstairs.

Seriously. Is this a joke? Are we on some sort of weird candid camera house rehab show? Is someone going to jump out of the crack between the baseboard and the floor (that would be the result of the half-inch drop we've experienced in the living room since the sill beam was replaced) and yell "surprise" and give us a whole new house?

No? Well, that sucks.

So we had to shut off the toilet on the main floor for the next week until they can replace the seal and let it dry. Yes that would be the bathroom Jack uses to pee several times a day and now he is all in a tizzy about it not working and crying "Pa fick it! Pa fick it!" Translation: Grandpa fix it. Because my father-in-law is a super genius and can fix anything (seriously) and Jack knows where it's at when it comes to getting his potty repaired.

In the meantime, I am just putting my fingers in my ears and singing "lalalalala" and ignoring the whole affair.

So in the spirit of ignorance, here's some pictures of my kids! Together! Which never happens anymore because Jack acts like I am the papparazzi and he is Lindsay Lohan.


Raw sewage in the ceiling? We love it!

Almost there

I know you all want to see pictures of the remodeling and I promise I will post some soon. But I want everything to be done and put away down there before I take my bee-you-tee-full photos.

And we're not even close right now as the bathroom is still torn up and empty. As in, there's nothing in there but the tub and the subfloor. We waited all day for the guy to show up to start working on it and he called at 6 p.m. to say he got stuck in traffic and would be here tomorrow instead.

Thanks for the notice. I love waiting around for nothing.

So bear with me. Just think, in a few more days I won't have anything else to crab about because it will be done. Then I guess I can start complaining about the upstairs bathroom, which is the last bastion of untouched wilderness in the house. One that will remain untouched until we forget how painful this remodel was and get sucked in again.

It's a miracle

We have carpet.

It is even better than the initial color.

I think I might weep.

Color me pissed off

So after bringing the wrong color carpeting to my house on Friday, Empire assured me they would bring the correct color the very next morning. The installer's exact words were, "We can pick it up at the warehouse at 7:30 and be here right after that."

Imagine my surprise when at 9, 10 and 11 a.m., there were no installers at my house. I finally got on the phone at 11 to find out what was going on and was informed by a phone operator that my account had a notation that the new carpet they picked up at the warehouse was also the same (wrong) color, so they didn't even bother loading it on the truck. They also didn't bother calling me to tell me that.

Because it was a Saturday, my sales guy was not answering the phone and there was no one who could do anything to alleviate my situation. Translation: there was no one who would listen to me bitch.

After many phone calls and assurances of money being rebated (yes, I just made a new word) and a call to a general manager, it was decided the carpet would be installed this morning.

I met the installer at the door and told him we might as well start this event at the truck because I needed to see the carpet first. I joked on the way there that if it was wrong, I would be causing great bodily harm to him.

Hot damn, it wasn't the right color AGAIN.

I couldn't make this stuff up, people.

Because we need this carpeting and we just can't stomach screwing around with it anymore, we had them send over a salesguy with the samples and we picked something entirely different.

So help me God, if that carpet comes tomorrow morning and it is wrong, I am going to physically shove the entire roll up the salesperson's ass.

Of course it's not right

We ordered carpet from Empire (yes, the annoying "588-2300 Emmmmmpiiiire" jingle people) for the basement, with the guarantee it would be installed three days from when we ordered it. We specifically told them we wanted it today. It was the whole reason we went with them versus the other guy.

The told us they would arrive anytime between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. Of course, we waited all day and they showed up at 4:30 p.m.

AND OF COURSE, THE CARPET WAS THE WRONG COLOR. Of course it was. Because nothing about this godforsaken remodeling project ever goes right.

So now they have to bring the correct carpet tomorrow morning. Can you sense my love for this development?

Continued travels

We shook all the sand out of our swimsuits, rinsed off all the sunscreen, packed up the car and left the lake today.




But our tour of Wisconsin is not over yet! Because the drywall is being installed at home, it's too dusty to take the kids there. So we went to my parents this morning, where the wee children were scheduled to stay for the weekend anyway so Josh and I can celebrate our anniversary and attend Lollapalooza. I believe the traditional gift for four years is Radiohead tickets, no?

The sucking money pit that is my life

In a brilliant stroke of luck, all four of our tires needed to be replaced this week. While we were on vacation. Add this to the never-ending escalating costs of The Great Remodel of 2008 and you have two unhappy people.

However, work has resumed in our absence and things are moving apace. We no longer have the fear the house will fall down, as it has been shored up and the termite-crumbs that were the main sill beam are now brick.

I snuck home for two days yesterday with Emmie, leaving Jack at the lake with Grandma. Emily has her six-month doctor visit tomorrow so we came home a day early to inspect the progress on the house.

There was a great deal of banging and drilling and at one point, the water had to be shut off. I can report the fireplace and spot for the TV above it have been framed out and my built-in bookshelves should be framed tomorrow. The cable has been strung and all the speaker wires are in place. The insulation is finally going up on the walls and the staircase is fully framed out, waiting for the steps. There is not a single sheet of drywall left in the downstairs anymore either, as we elected to take the kitchen downstairs totally out and make it an office. Nothing like changing the scope of the project for the umpteenth time -- it's only money, right?

We had always planned to just put a door on the kitchen down there and leave it as-is, just in case we want to sell it as a two-family eventually or, God forbid, the economy goes so far in the shitter that Josh loses his job and we have to rent the place out again. But then we decided the kitchen was crappy anyway, and we would need to replace the cabinets and countertops to sell it or rent it. Since we have no office, we had them take it all out and re-drywall it.

I leave for the fine state of Wisconsin once again tomorrow, where I will continue my waterskiing escapades. I really should get some video of these attempts and post them for your enjoyment. I did get up on the first try and went about 50 feet upright on two skis before biting it ass over tea kettle when I tried to lean too far back. But showing that would require me revealing myself in my swimming suit and we don't want to scare any small children, so let's just not go there.

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire

OK, so the title of this post is a little misleading. Perhaps "in danger of falling down" would be a better term, because seriously, WHAT MORE COULD BE WRONG WITH THIS SUCKING MONEY PIT I CALL MY HOME?

We saw a few water spots in the ceiling of Jack's room over the last couple months. Which looks a lot worse in print than it does in real life. There weren't any actual drips, just light brown spots. It started as one, and now there are four distinct spots. So we asked our contractor to have a roofer come over and fix it.

The original thought was it was some bad flashing around the chimney because the shingles were in great shape.

The roofer took one look at it and pronounced the shingles were indeed in great shape. But the boards underneath were warped and rotting and we have no water or ice barrier underneath. So a complete tearoff is the verdict, with repairs to the plywood sheets and rafters.

Let me remind everyone once again, we've owned the house three years. Three years ago, when we bought this place, our inspector said the roof was in great shape. Oh really?

Looking at the bright side, we now have identified major problems with both the foundation and the roof. There's not much left outside of that, so I guess all the surprises are over.

Chaos theory

A few weeks ago, back before we started the Great Remodel of 2008 and the subsequent Extermination of the Termites, I made an conscious decision to stop managing the clutter in the house.

I figured we were already in chaos, but it would only be two weeks, so I just let it go. Josh and his dad embarked on a little fence project (remember the fence that we never closed? And our car got broken into? Well now the fence slides! And we close it all the time! Progress!) and the toolboxes and drills and screws remained in the dining room. Isn't that where you store your toolboxes? No? Oh, must just be Josh.

The dining room table was covered in baby gear and winter coats we never took upstairs as well as the various travel items we use in the car every time we take a trip. You know, Elmo DVDs and hop hop (bunny-shaped) crackers and the like.

The mess then started to take on a life of its own, migrating into the kitchen. It looked like the post office threw up all over the island and the five laptops (yes, FIVE) were taking up every available inch of counter space.

Jack went to stay overnight at Grandma and Grandpa's house today and when he left, I took one look at the mess, which was compounded with toys covering the entire surface of the rug, and said uncle.

I conducted our quarterly toy purge, boxing up the less-loved ones and making sure the remaining items fit securely in the toybox. I then started at the very back of the house and moved my way forward, cleaning and organizing everything in my wake. I almost sorted Emmie into the "to recycle" pile, but she squawked with displeasure so I guess we'll put her in the "to keep" pile.

Three hours later, I had the house looking like new. Just in time to start construction again next week. At least if the house falls down, the neighbors won't see our winter boots are still by the back door.

New tenants

This morning we found out we have new tenants downstairs. They apparently don't mind the fact there are no walls or a ceiling. They also like that it's quite dark. And they're staying for free.

Oh yes, my friends, we have termites living with us. As if we didn't have enough problems with all the old termite damage, they're aiming to make more. Or actually make less of our house by eating the whole damn thing.

I sat with my head in my hands this morning as a lovely man told us there is not enough of the sill beam left on which to try the epoxy fix. And then watched in horror as he removed a rotting piece of fascia board on the corner of the house and uncovered real live termites.

My next move was to the phone, to call Terminex. They sent someone right over and for a cool $1,600 they will evict our new tenants tomorrow morning. The Terminex man told us he's seen worse, but our case is pretty bad. But if they're in our house, they're likely in all the houses near us because the termite can range 400 feet from its nest to find food. The nest could be anywhere, he said, but we all know with our luck it's probably smack dab in the middle of our house. He's seen active infestations in a number of houses in our immediate neighborhood, though, and said the 2-square-mile area around us is a termite haven.

Clearly the termites like the overpriced real estate and nightlife as much as the rest of us.

We might want to stock up on brownies, however, so we can use them as an excuse to visit all the neighbors and tell them the great news: since we're exterminating, all the little homeless termites will be looking for a new home. And their buildings are the prime targets.

Remodeling our remodeling

You might recall this week was the beginning of our downstairs remodeling project. Our contractor got his crew started bright and early Monday morning, tearing down the walls and ceiling. Let me give you a little before and after action.






Let me also show you the weird popcorn ceiling someone slapped up there in a past remodel.


Three years ago, right after we bought the house, we had a contractor come over and look around and he said he would definitely take that ceiling down and redo it. "I wonder what's hiding under there?" he mused. But of course, we weren't even close to doing anything with the downstairs at that point and we promptly forgot about it and got our renter in there and all was well for three years.

DUM DUM DUMMMMMMMMMMM... cue the scary music.

Wanna know what was hiding under that ceiling?


Massive, horrible, terrible, god-awful, our-house-is-falling-down termite damage.

Oh yes my friends, our house really and truly is falling down. The termites, which were discovered by a previous owner (we're talking about you ANDREW GREENE and TIM GREENE) and eradicated, left a swath of chewed beams and joists in their wake. But that one board looks brand-spanking-new in that photo, you might be thinking. Well that would be because they sistered the floor joists with new boards (in a halfass way, of course) and covered it back up. A carpenter told us the boards couldn't be more than four years old, based on their condition and the condition of the screws they used.

The sill timber holding the front of the house up is almost completely eaten away. The front of our entire three-story house is pretty much being held up by the 2x4s that you screw drywall into.

I will never forget the sound of Josh's voice when he delivered the news to me over the phone. I am not exaggerating when I tell you all the air left my lungs and I felt like I might be sick.

After a slight hesitation, our structural engineer friend told us it was safe to at least live in the house. It's not like this is something that happened yesterday, and we've been living with it all this time just fine. He said unless a tornado whips through, we should be OK. We have been having some mighty crazy weather lately, however.

Ideas for fixing this little problem, based on the extent of damage on the first floor, ranged from shoring up just the basement wall to taking 10 feet off the front of all three floors and rebuilding the front of the house. That would also require us to take the roof off. Remember when I joked this remodeling project wouldn't leave me with snow falling into my bedroom? Apparently, I was psychic.

However, we think we might have found a solution involving someone called the Rot Doctor and an epoxy product he created to harden and replace damaged wood. We are in contact with some people who are familiar with the process and should know more next week.

Perhaps I should check and see if snarkyconstruction is taken because this is going to be something worth documenting. Obviously, the actual basement remodeling is now on hold while we figure out how to keep the house from collapsing.

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Emmie rolled from her back to her front today. This is momentus for two reasons.

First, she abhors being on her stomach with the passion normally reserved for religious zealots. You put her down and she is smiley for about 45 seconds and then the fuss begins and soon she is so upset I just swoop in and pick her up because listening to her cry raises my blood pressure by about 70 points. So I am not sure why she would voluntarily flip herself onto her tummy, but she did.

The second reason is she is now, in theory, mobile. And we wanted the basement remodeling project done before she was mobile. So we really need to get past the stage we are at today, which involved demolition of all the drywall downstairs. I actually see the brick on the outside of this house from the inside of the house. It's kind of urban-loft hipster, except not. Because it's not cool, it's just messy.

Also, an update on Jack and his sickness. He's still sick, Running around playing and generally acting like himself. We took him to Grandma and Grandpa's lake house this weekend and he had a great time. No more vomiting, but wowsa, those diapers are DISGUSTING. Poor kid is so traumatized he won't poop anywhere but in his diaper in his bed, so he ends up wandering around saying, "Butt hurt. Poop bed." I finally put him in his bed for a few minutes this morning, which produced the desired result, and he seemed to feel better for a while. But we're still on Dehydration-Watch 2008 here. So far, no one else has gotten sick. You know I just cursed myself by typing that.

Room to grow

Remember when I was on bedrest oh-so-long-ago and we gutted the first floor of our house and created an additional bedroom upstairs? And remember the fun it was of living through a remodeling project while pregnant?

Well we're about to start another gut remodel project. Remodel v2008: now with children!

We're converting our house to a single-family dwelling in two weeks and as part of that project, we are tearing down the walls and ceiling in the lower level, installing some new supports so the house doesn't fall down, putting up all new drywall and dropping a new staircase. Oh and my most favoritest part of the whole project: built-in bookshelves and toy storage. Because the downstairs, my friends, will be for the children and the toys. And the first floor will be rightfully reclaimed by the adults in this family as a plastic-free zone.

What's that you say? Didn't I learn my lesson last time about living in a house under construction? Pfft. This is going to be cake. At least this time we have a refridgerator and a stove. And there shouldn't be any snow falling into my bedroom through a hole in the wall where the chimney used to be.

For the newer readers, true story: we lived here for six months with neither a fridge nor a stove. My problematic cervix meant I couldn't leave the house or even walk downstairs. My mom made me grilled cheese and french toast on an electric griddle on top of the ironing board in the hallway. And we stored all the perishables in a little college dorm fridge. There was a lot of pizza consumed. It was good times.

I am hoping the whine of the tablesaw is a nice complement to the white-noise machine we use for the kids when they're sleeping. And there's nothing dangerous about a toddler being around a gaping hole in the floor is there? Jack does have a little hardhat and tool belt and tool set. I think I shall put him to work. We need some crown molding installed and I think he's ready for compound angles.

Playing cribbage

Tonight was the first night we put Emmie to sleep in her crib. I am not sure why this seems like such a big deal, or why it merits its own blog post, but apparently it does. I remember being so sad when we transferred Jack to his crib in his own room, but now I know better and I forsee a baby sleeping next to me in my bed in about four hours.

You see, I am guilty of being a part-time cosleeper. And it's not because I am pro-family bed or a believer in cosleeping reducing SIDS or anything like that. It's simply because I am too damn lazy to get up, walk down the hall to Emmie's room, carry her to our room to change her diaper and nurse her in the glider and then carry her back to her own room and swaddle her up and get her re-settled in her crib.

For my selfish purposes, it's simply easier to grab her out of her crib and bring her in our bed to nurse her and let her sleep next to me, popping on and off the boob for the rest of the night. I do like my sleep and it seems I get more when I do it the lazy way. Also, her wailing when I change her wakes Josh up and reminds him why we need to convert this house to a single-family dwelling, pronto.

You might ask why I would have to do all that back and forth business in the middle of the night and the answer would be because Emmie's room is still the guest room for the near future. (See: converting to a single-family dwelling). Because a crib and a bed are all that fit in the small space that is our nursery, the changing table and glider live in our room. So poor Emmie really doesn't have a nursery right now. Just another way the second kind gets the short end isn't it?

Hopefully we can rectify this situation in June. We're planning to take over the lower level of the house, which will give us a rec room and another full bathroom and a guestroom, which means we can move the guest bed out of Emmie's room and into the official guest room downstairs. And that means no more middle-of-the-night stumbling around hither and yon for changing and rocking.

In the meantime, we squish four people and 2,784 acres of toys into the space we have. And if you were thinking about staying with us any time soon, I hope you like your sleep fractured by a whimpering baby two feet from your head. If you are lactating, would you mind just whipping out of the boob for a quick feed? Thanks much.