I’ve been spending a lot of time with my Dad, and it’s pretty great.
After a recent attempt to sell our house, we decided to stay, with the caveat that we’d renovate the kitchen. My Dad, a self-employed carpenter, is at the helm. Our kitchen was small, but we’d gotten used to it’s small-ness. Much of the feedback from potential buyers was that the kitchen was too tiny, and we’d kind of forgotten it was.
It was also ugly. It had fake (ew) oak (double ew) cabinets and square, cream-colored tile countertops and backsplash (triple ew!). Hello, early ‘90s.
For years now, my Dad’s asked, “When can we tear that wall down?”, nodding toward the kitchen wall to the dining room. As soon as we knew we were staying, we were game.
We kicked off the project on a Friday night trip to Ikea. Dave, my Dad, and I headed down to the blue and yellow monolith while my mom watched our girls. (Thanks, Mom. Nothing productive happens in Ikea with two kids underfoot.)
Dave and I have a pretty compatible style, and are not super fussy. My dad advised on what was possible in our space. With a few loops around the kitchen department of an amazingly barren Ikea, we picked out cabinets and countertops. We even found a table we’d like to round out our floorplan. My Dad has installed many Ikea kitchens and can figure out the calculations in his sleep. No fretting over measuring once here. Besides, we were waiting on design concepts from my buddy.
We didn’t pick up the cabinets yet, but left excited that this was actually happening.
The following weekend, my Dad requested we clean out the kitchen cabinets so demo could begin, and he clearly stated he doesn’t do this. My good intentions were waylaid by a toddler up all night with an ear infection, and Dave leaving for a weeklong work trip the next day, plus all the crap necessary to managing a house. Save for a few spices my girls transported to the dining room, the cabinets remained untouched. Guess the demo would have to wait.
The next day, my dad texted a photo of that wall down while I sat in all-day technical training. I anxiously sat through the afternoon, dying not to race home and see the work underway.
A perk of working from home is that I can watch my Dad renovate our house. He is such an amazing wealth of information. Plumbing, structural, electrical, materials…. he is an infinite font of talent and wisdom. If I seem in awe, it’s because I am. I wish I picked up more of his knowledge, but for now I just pop down from work to pick his brain, and to take pictures of my Dad and the progress. I’m happy that he is helping to rebuild our home.
Recently he found a new, large window at a salvage spot. I’ve been adamant about getting lots of light in our new kitchen. In one day, he cut open a hole in the back of the house, replacing a tiny window with this lovely one. We have no walls, no floor, or ceiling, but the daylight has already transformed the space.