I was just sat here talking to Mark, and confessing how down I feel about this slice of the internet at the moment.
I feel like I’ve fallen so behind at everything I used to love! Do you remember my weekend posts and my videos? Maybe not. But I do. I loved doing them. But now I’m lucky if I have the energy to ramble away at you about my pregnancy.
I used to write crafty posts, I used to share my interior ideas, I used to take photographs, I used to share beauty tips or techniques, I used to do a lot of things.
And so, I decided to come on and open up my laptop and at least try and do something about it. Not that I have many ideas of what to write about.
But I checked my drafts, and I found these old photographs. They can’t be too old. Maybe six weeks or so ago? I know it has to be around that, as Bill’s hair doesn’t look like he’s been dragged through a bush (boy needs a haircut).
What these photographs have made me realise is how much has happened in the past few months and how, actually, it’s okay that I royally suck at things at the moment. As I didn’t realise how much things have changed. I didn’t realise quite how much we’ve been doing behind the scenes. And how hard we’ve worked.
That tea towel there was one I bought ages and ages ago, before our kitchen was just an idea in my head. I actually had no idea how it would turn out. My Pinterest board was full of sleek units and metro tiles, but it turned out quite differently. Because, let’s be honest, I had no idea how to match my dreams to our budget. I didn’t realise, while I was pinning away, that everything costed so much.
And so while the end result is different, and I still have a huge tub of Farrow & Ball Wimborne White ready to get painting our units (someone send me some energy please?) I’m actually really grateful that we have it at all. Especially when I’m sat here and the only things stopping me from saying that the builders are ‘done’ is the pile of scaffolding outside, and a bulb that doesn’t work in our extractor fan.
This used to be our floor. I stubbed my toes a lot, as I missed the dips, or the chunks of plaster, or the occasional nails left behind. I used to feel so bad that poor Bill had to walk through this. Or the cats. And it made me want to shut the door on the kitchen unless we really needed to use it. We had this for about a month or so, in the end. And by the time it went – a complete surprise as we had no idea our new floor was being installed that day – I had almost gotten used to it.
I remember unpacking all of my things. I had to wash every single kitchen item, as, despite being packed away, they were all dirty and covered in dust from the renovation work. It took me a very long time, in between feeling queasy. And I remember doing it and working so hard, just so I could impress Mark when he came back from the football.
I remember when the walls were peachy plaster. And the room just seemed one big mass of browny shades. And much darker that I’d ever seen it before. Mark has painted every inch himself, a few coats, every weekend in between work. It took him such a long time. But I’m so proud of him. I used to sneak in and watch him paint, in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, his stomach showing as he reached a high spot. And I think I loved him the most in that moment, because he wouldn’t let me do a thing. And he didn’t even need me to ask. He just did it. And things like that make me appreciate him.
I remember the bags of cement on the other side of the room. Bits of plasterboard, a bowl of nails, skirting and pieces of wood. A dusty chair, a broken table. Mess in one corner, that we could turn our backs to if we really had to.
In the last few weeks, three parts of our home have been leaking. Which really made me fret, especially when electricity is involved. We couldn’t do a thing about it. We need to repaint two of our rooms as a result, which isn’t so bad. But at the time, I have to admit, I was pulling my hair out.
The radiator exploded, which has added to our final bill, taking us over budget, and also meant that we had to bin several towels that were stained black from the murky water that sprayed all over the kitchen. Gosh, when I write it down it sounds absolutely hilarious! It really wasn’t. I have cried a lot recently. Really ugly, snotty, pregnant lady cries.
I have to say that, while we have lots to do, and I have no idea how we’re going to do it all before this little girl arrives, and I’m pretty sure that my blog will slide even further into the mess it’s in, I do have one positive.
It appears that I am a bloody miracle worker with broken washing machines. Sure, I got more water all over the kitchen floor (must be my ‘thing’), but my tip is – always check the filter. And don’t trust tiny toddler socks – the little buggers will block anything.