Life Lessons from a Kitchen Renovation

We’ve talked about remodeling our kitchen for years. Honestly, I’m not sure why we decided to tackle it last year, other than the fact that when we got the outside of our house painted, we asked the Sherwin-Williams consultant who helped us with our exterior color scheme to give us her opinion about colors for the kitchen.

We’d gone round and round about that for years. I thought we could choose colors perfectly well ourselves; Randy wasn’t so sure. All I knew was that the yellow hue we painted it originally, while successfully replacing the most awful green in the world, did not feel good anymore. (I’m not sure it ever really felt good, to tell you the truth. But it was better than the green.)

Then there was the tile. We have two daughters with beautiful black hair. Every strand showed up on the vintage-1987 tiles of a questionable tannish-mauvish color. Tiles that were clearly starting to show their age, along with all the hair.

Anyway, after the color consultant gave us her ideas, the paint chips sat on the counter for months. Then, round about October (or was it November?) Randy just decided to start ripping out the floor. (That’s how I remember it anyway, though my memory may be slightly fuzzy as a result of the Covid-19 quarantine.)

He bought an “Extreme Force USA” jackhammer off Amazon, violating his long-held (or did he just make it up?) policy of never buying a power tool with an adjective in its name. It was cheaper than the well-known brands, but it worked. (It also jiggled the canned lights out of the basement ceiling, in case you were wondering.)

We took December off and started the last phase in early January. Every weekend was devoted to some aspect of tiling. (Except for one weekend when the tile saw we borrowed didn’t work. That Saturday, we completely reorganized our basement storage system, paving the way for our next project—remodeling the “treadmill closet.” But that, my friends, is a blog post for another day.)

We finished everything up around the first of March. Or was it late February? I really can’t remember. I just know that the kitchen (along with the floor and trim in the entryway, mudroom and powder bath) was done before the quarantine started, and I cannot tell you how thankful I am for that.

We didn’t move walls, replace major appliances or reconfigure the cabinets. But the work still produced vast amounts of dust in many of our living spaces, which makes our kitchen renovation count as a major undertaking, as far as I’m concerned.

That said, I wouldn’t be a very good blogger if I couldn’t come up with at least a couple of posts about this project, right? HGTV fanatics know that this is really just an excuse to show you before-and-after pictures. But I think I can milk a few actual life lessons from the experience too. Such as:

• Handy husband, happy wife.

We hired an outside company install the countertops and another contractor to paint the cabinet doors. Everything else, Randy did. I helped some. I carted debris from the kitchen to the garage. And I played the theoretical harp when tiling was almost more than Randy could bear. (It happens; just ask anyone who has ever tiled 400-plus-square feet around dozens of corners and hallways and toilets, using 1-foot-by-2-foot tiles.)

• The mess is a means to the end.

I was sort of prepared for this, thanks to years of life experiences divinely designed to make me more flexible. But I was still very happy when the dust finally settled, and when, at long last, we moved our kitchen table and chairs out of our living room and back into the kitchen.

• Dust can trigger eczema around your eyes.

Need I to say more? I now have a tiny bit of empathy for my younger daughter, who dealt with eczema more seriously for several years but has fortunately outgrown it.

• Do-it-yourself remodeling projects make you grateful for grace.

If you don’t believe me, maybe a direct quote from the Remodeler will convince you: “Good thing God doesn’t accept us into heaven by how well we tile.” ~ my husband

• Taking all the doors off your kitchen cabinets exposes pretty much everything.

It definitely highlights your favorite “scarlet” FiestaWare dishes. It also presents a good opportunity to go through those cabinets and get rid of items you never use, don’t need or didn’t even know you had. (My minimalist husband wishes I had taken advantage of that opportunity a little more than I did, however.)

• Sometimes you need professional help.

When we decided to paint the outside of our house, I wanted dark navy and Randy wanted tan. We never would have agreed on a color scheme—for the outside or the kitchen—were it not for Cheryl, the Sherwin-Williams color consultant I mentioned earlier.

• First choice may not always be the best choice.

In the case of our kitchen, this was definitely the case. The white we ended up with on our walls makes the space feel much more warm and inviting than earlier paint samples, and while the countertops we finally chose don’t sparkle like the quartz I originally wanted, they do tie all our surfaces together in the best way possible.

• Sometimes you just have to live with the squeaks.

I don’t mind squeaky floors. I think they add character, actually. (That might have something to do with the fact that I grew up in a turn-of-the-20th-century farmhouse.) Randy, on the other hand, does mind squeaky floors. And he goes to what some would call extreme measures to get rid of them. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t.

Which brings me to my final lesson:

• Perfection is not the goal.

In home remodeling, and in life. We do our best. But good enough is good enough.

• • •

Are you wondering what the kitchen looks like now? Click here for some of my favorite “after” pictures, along with some final thoughts about the completed project.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.