Dream This Home

Building and Maintaining your forever home.

Rollin’ Dirty

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“We’re rollin’ dirty right?  LOL, JK.  But seriously, we aren’t looking fancy tomorrow are we?”

The night before a brunch playdate and I get this text from one of my besties.

Many kidlettes have already started school but Redondo Beach starts next week, so my family is still in summer mode.

Ha!  Rollin’ Dirty…  I mean, hells yea I’m rollin’ dirty!  My whole existence was just summed up in that one text because I feel like I be rollin’ dirty every day.

Every weekday morning during the school year, I am scrambling to make sure my children have socks and shoes on their feet and they don’t look like they just crawled out of a cave.  Some days I don’t even wash my own face until noon.  Or ever…  I know, gross right?

We all have them.  Those girlfriends that have all their shit together.  The ones that are perfectly dressed and made up EVERY time you see them.  You stop by their house on a whim and they not only look perfect after a 8 hour work day but their house smells of chocolate chip cookies.  Ones baked from scratch of course.  I envy the shit out of these girls.

Because in my dreams I’m that mom.

If you know me, mornings are my nemesis.  It is just who I am.  My dear husband accepts it.  I feel like a sloth before my first cup of coffee.  There are days when my hair doesn’t get brushed until I wash it that night.  IF I have time to shampoo at all.  These days, a spritz of dry shampoo is like my best friend.

Yoga pants?  Not just for yoga class in my daily life.  I want to change my ways and be more put together…  But, secret revealed: I sometimes wear yoga pants to bed just so I don’t have to change when I drop both kids at two seperate schools located 30 minutes apart.  Then straight to… you guessed it!  Yoga class and maybe, just maybe one errand before hopping back into the minivan to pick up two kids from afore-mentioned two separate schools and shuttling their little butts to what seems like 500 activities throughout the week. By the time Friday rolls around, I’m beat.  I sleep in until the last possible second after my littles have asked me to make breakfast like, 15 times.  When will they ever just eat cereal?  So yea.  I will most definitely be rollin’ dirty.

My life is #rollindirty and I have no shame.  When this new school year starts this upcoming Wednesday, will I be ready???  Kind of…  Actually, I’m a bit nervous about my older son who will enter First Grade.  What?  When did he get so big?

So tonight, I’m wearing my “park outfit” to bed and will even sleep in my bra just so I can pick up coffees for my tribe on-the-go before our playdate at the park.  I’ll be looking fine in my yoga pants and baseball cap.  I’ll be ready to laugh with my best mommy friends and talk about life and how crazy and wonderful it is to be raising our kids the best we can.

Rollin’ Dirty.

-K

 

House Envy vs. Home Envy

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So as you know if you read my bio, my husband is a general contractor.  I am obviously biased, being married to him and all, but also from an architectural designer standpoint, he’s a damn good one. Good husband too, but in this post, I am talking about his builder skills.  Recently, he completed a ground-up build for our dear old friends.  They aren’t “old” as they are our age, just that we have known them for a long ass time.  So they are old friends.  The house is in our beloved city of Redondo Beach, tucked in the rear of a cul de sac.  It is over 5,000 square feet with a front yard AND a huge backyard.  The envy of all in this area where yards are scarce because houses are built-out to the max along all property lines.  The compound is gorgeous.  I call it the McMansion: coastal plantation style with everything a young family could dream of.  And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING.  Dreamy, state of the art  kitchen, wine cellar, butler’s pantry, indoor/outdoor entertainment spaces, 5 bedrooms, bathrooms that would make you swoon, a master closet just for her that feels bigger than my house…  I mean, the works. And people, I am jealous.  This family deserves this house like no other.  Mom and dad both work their tails off and this house is the culmination of their labors.  Years went into this house and now, as they move in, the fruits of their time and occasional tears are all coming together in a beautiful fashion.  The architect husband and interior designer wife team that they hired did an incredible job.  And my husband, though the friendship may have felt some strain at times, has walked away with another stunning build under his belt.

I did a walk-through of this house a few weeks back.  I took in the spaces with joy and anticipation for our friends and walked away with the biggest smile on my face.  They are going to LOVE their new house!  I could not be more happy for them!  I felt invigorated and inspired and with this renewed sense of awe, I drove home.  But those feelings fell away to a slight depression by the time I reached my own driveway.  I looked around… at my shack.  My home… and I felt the jealousy set in.  I couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but after a few days, I fully understood what it was.  It was house envy.  I fell into a selfish, me, me, me attitude trap and it felt icky.  “I want a new home.”  “I want to entertain with ease.”  “I want a walk-in closet just for me.”

How immature am I?  Why couldn’t I just be grateful for what I have?  Grumble grumble…

A week ago or so, I did a similar walk through of another beautiful house of another family friend.  This house was smaller, done by a reputable design/build firm in the area. It boasted thoughtful design features, gorgeous materials, a smaller but lovely backyard and it was modern, (my favored style) and the family moved in last October.  It was then that it hit me.  Envy struck again!  WTF?  But this time, it was home envy.

And here it is…  House Envy vs. Home Envy.

Let me explain.  The bigger house, the monster one which my husband built, was still devoid of life when I did the walk-through.  The smaller house, which was different but equally beautiful had been lived in and it felt like a home.  Both were new houses but the smaller one was where my heart actually fluttered.  I saw how the family functioned within the spaces,  I saw the rooms being used and how they were filled with the stylish personal touches of the family that lived there.  It was perfection.  Functional, organized, and styled to a tee.

That was my “AHA!” moment.

I will get my new house eventually.  I’m in the thick of our Building Department re-submittal so it will be a while yet, but it’s coming along.  In the next year we too will go through our own trials and tribulations of building a new house.  I don’t have house envy, I have home envy.  Because I do not desire a 5,000+ square foot house.  (I can’t afford to fill one that large, let alone clean that shit!)  But what I do want is a home. Period.  A place to decorate.  A place to style.  I want a place for everything my family owns to be just where it needs to be.  I want to organize the crap out of my life in hopes that my crazy organizing will create a home.  A home that my family can live in comfortably and chaotically happily in.  It wasn’t the walk-in closet and all the bells and whistles that got to me, it was the pang of anticipation.  Once that McMansion has haphazard toys lying about and unfolded laundry in it, that’s when it will evolve into a true home.  Making breakfasts but alas eating on the run.  Helping the children with homework and sweeping away the eraser crumbs from the countertop…  You do all those lame and mundane things in a home.  So yeah, I have home envy.  I want a home to call my own.

But wait a second…  I already have a home.  Now.  And I am grateful.  Do I need a new designer couch to make me feel complete?  No.  It would make me happy for a beat I suppose, but I look around my home as it is today and I am proud; contented in what we have here.  I sit on my unidentified food stained IKEA couch and I am already happy.  My family has already created a home of sorts here in this shoe-box and we will do it again in our new house once it’s built.  Maybe yet again somewhere else in the future?  We’ll take whatever house we end up with and create a home within it with the hopes of living in comfort and the many chaotic happinesses that are yet to come.

Keep dreaming friends, and keep creating your home everyday.

-K

Purging Toys

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My older son recently turned 6.  We didn’t have a big party for him, but he got some new toys.  Specifically, a way-to-big-for-our-house ‘Sentinel’ military plane.  Where am I supposed to put that thing?  (I hung it from the ceiing via a hook and handy carabiner clip…)

I adhore military toys. God Bless our incredibly brave soldiers that sacrifice for our country on a daily basis, but I personally am not a war-reinactment, and weapons person when it comes to children’s toys.  But alas, it was the one thing he would not let up on… So, in with the new ridiculously large plane, out with some outgrown stuff that I never cared for.

In our shoe-box house, when the kids birthdays and holidays roll around, I like to purge toys.  I did a purge in March of all our “baby toys” since the younger son turned three. Now I am faced with purge #2.  But this time it’s a little bit harder to purge big-kid toys because, well, the little one could still “grow into” them.  But that’s not the biggest problem I have.  The #1 problem with getting rid of kids stuff is their damn memories.

Does this happen in your family?  You go through bins, baskets, drawers and boxes and get rid of a bunch of useless crap and things you know for certain the children have never played with or haven’t touched in months, maybe years.  “Ahhhhh, Halleluea! It’s time to PURGE!”  It all goes to Goodwill or in the trash.  Then, this conversation happens…

“Mommmmmmmmy!  I can’t find that thing!!!”

“Uhhhh, okay?  Which thing are you talking about?  Can you describe what you are searching for?”

“You know, that white thing with the thing that’s this big,  You KNOW!!!  That thing!”

(And you, being a mom, and whom is the only person on the planet that understands your child’s non-sensical kid-speak through crafty deduction and careful attention to daily details…)

“Ohhh, you mean that tiny white Minecraft rabbit figureine with the red eyes that creeped me out and you never looked at or played with since the day you dug it out of the sand at Veteran’s Park 6 months ago?  Yea… I got rid of that.  Yesterday…”  (FRICK!)

“Noooooooo mamma!  (Sob) Oh no…  I really liked that bunny.  Why’d you throw it away?”

“Ugh.”  (Really kid? You’re killing me.)

Why does this happen?  It makes the feel good part of purging turn into insta-heartbreak.

How do they even remember those tiny bits and bobs?  Damn kid brains.  And why is it always the day AFTER you get rid of something and the trash truck has already come and gone that their incredible memories kick in?  Like a damn radar, they desperately need that very particular item like it’s a polio vaccine?

I am at a loss.  I like clutter-free.  My hands touch a very limited number of “things” on a daily basis and I don’t need the clutter!  But children are a different beast are they not? They need variety and their little hands and minds require so much… shit.  Anyone out there feel me?  How do you purge the unpurgeable?  Comments and suggestions needed.

Today, I say, continue to purge away… It’s your house.  You control what’s in it???

-K