Renovating with a Toddler

I was originally going to do a Thanksgiving post, but then realized the majority of our holiday was spent on the renovation project, for which I am truly grateful to have finally started (and will be even more grateful when it's DONE). We did have an early (11 am) dinner out at a nice restaurant with my in-laws. It was sort of a weird arrangement, but that's a post for another day. And actually the early time worked better for Nathan's schedule and also allowed us the freedom to spend most of the rest of the day on the house.

So what exactly is it like doing home renovations with a toddler underfoot? And by "doing" them I mean quite literally, we are doing them ourselves. No contractor. No paid tradesman. Just my hubby, my father-in-law when we can convince him to help out, and me. I'm pretty sure we're crazy. It isn't exactly how we'd planned to do it. But that's life right? So here we are, smack in the middle of holiday season with my family coming to visit in less than a month and we're completely remodeling our upstairs living/dining room and kitchen. Meanwhile, we have a 22-month old. And both work full time. Yes... crazy. Let me describe:

A Day in My Life Right Now...
Wake up. Get toddler out of crib and check that he has socks. Contemplate putting shoes on him in case of a rogue carpet staple or wood splinter from the now carpet-less sub-floor. Decide I don't feel like arguing with a toddler first thing in the morning (he's VERY strict about not wearing his shoes in the house) and hope that the shop vac picked up all the staples.

Put toddler on couch with cup of milk and TV on (we've thrown all the rules about TV time out the window during the renovation - you gotta do what you gotta do). Shuffle over to makeshift "kitchen" and pour coffee.

Toddler is off the couch and has managed to retrieve an empty(ish) can of pepper from the recycling "pile" in the corner (there is no bin right now because there are no cabinets in which to stash said bin). Ask nicely for toddler to give me the can, but he shouts "NO" and runs madly in circles shaking the can. I can hear traces of pepper dust rattling in there and picture him somehow dumping it into his eye. In need of a distraction I pick up the toy car he's been obsessed with for days and try to get his attention. Toddler looks at me like I'm crazy. Why would he want his car when he has a FANCY SHINY CAN instead?

I sit on the couch and try to count the number of body parts that ache after yesterday's projects, which included helping tear down a wall (which is great for stress management, by the way). I'm up to 4 or 5 when I see toddler has abandoned the pepper can and is instead pulling magnets off the refrigerator. Fine by me. Until he makes a beeline for the open air vent (a.k.a. hole in the floor) with a magnet in each hand. I yell STOP and spill my coffee a bit as I race to intervene (good thing there's no carpet to stain anymore!). Toddler intercepted and now quite angry (as only a toddler can be).

Fast forward to mid-morning...
Breakfast is over and toddler has been incessantly pleading to go outside. I'm game. It's sunny with a projected high of 50 degrees today (a welcome break after several days below freezing already). Compared to the dust, chaos, and random staple/splinter potential inside, the melting snow and mud outside sounds great. We head outside and manage to stay there until lunch. Success!

Fast forward to late afternoon...
Toddler is up after a much-too-short nap and crying for no apparent reason (other than being still tired most likely). I barely had enough time during his micro-nap to rush out to the garage and do another coat of stain on the test piece of wood for the new built-in china cabinet we're building. I had hoped to sit on the couch and zone out for a few minutes afterward, but the screaming toddler had other plans. We head back outside while it's still daylight.

We play outside for another hour and then in the basement after that. It's less dirty in the downstairs family room (which isn't technically part of the renovation) but it's kind of cold and a little cramped with all the extra furniture from upstairs packed into a corner. Toddler finds great joy in throwing as many toys as possible behind/under said furniture.

We head back upstairs and I attempt to "prepare" dinner. The stove and microwave are still hooked up, but I just spent the past 2 days prepping about 20 meals worth of freeze-ahead crock-pot dinners for when they're disconnected, so I'm really not in the mood to cook anything. Toddler and I each will get a plate of strawberries, cheese, and sliced meat (hubby's on shift tonight).

While I'm slicing strawberries, toddler is running around inspecting things like the hose on the shop vac, the now-empty cabinets (which are super-fun to bang closed), and ah yes... Dada's tools. Yesterday he picked up a crowbar and started down the hall with it. Dada told him no, that's too heavy, and took it back. He's now squatting on the floor pointing at a pile of crowbars and yelling "heavy!" I agree and remind him not to touch. He scampers back to the "safe" side of the room where there's currently less going on in terms of demolition.

I slice cheese for our plates and realize it's a little to quiet on that side of the room. A split second later toddler comes back into view - his arms full carrying Dada's large drill (with a pointy metal piece attached). He's saying "heavy" again and looks quite proud to be carrying the drill. I grab the drill - knowing I'm risking a tantrum - and ask instead if he would like Mama's drill. Yes, I have a drill and no it isn't a toy. But mine is much smaller and lighter and doesn't have any bits attached currently, so relatively un-pointy. Toddler miraculously agrees to the swap and I hand him Mama's drill.

I return to making dinner and a few moments later catch sight of him walking around the room saying "make a hole" and putting the drill against wall and floor. I'm secretly proud that he knows what it's for and also kind of amazed. After dinner, toddler wants to play with some blocks on the floor. He builds a tower and then picks up one of his plastic toy tools (his "hamma") and proceeds to pound on the top block. He's holding the "hamma" backwards and there's no convincing him to turn it around. But still - he totally gets the concept!

A bit later, I'm trying to put things away and toddler is beginning to show signs of being tired (like clinging to my legs and periodically laying on the floor to "nap nap"). I ask if he wants to take a bath (yes) and then tell him just a minute while I refill the water pitcher. I have my back turned for all of 2 seconds doing that and he somehow snatched a bottle of soy sauce out of the refrigerator door while I had it open. How can they be so fast!? I take away the bottle and toddler proceeds to start a fit rather close to a pile of drywall dust. Good thing we're going to take a bath!

Fast forward to present time...
Toddler has been asleep for almost 2 hours now, thankfully. I had every intention of doing something productive as soon as he went to bed, but instead I've eaten a bowl of microwave oatmeal, purchased a Groupon, looked at descriptions and reviews of kitchen appliances online, and now written this post. It's still early by most people's standards (i.e. before 10 pm), but I think I'm calling it quits now and going to bed. After all, tomorrow will probably be another long day. Might as well get some sleep while I can.   

Babies

Lately it has seemed like people all around me are going through another baby phase. Several people who were pregnant right before/during/or after me are now having - or about to have - number two. Others are talking about it. And I'm getting the question all the time now: "So... are you guys going to have any more?"

It doesn't feel quite like it did before. Sure there's a little bit of a sting now and then. And yes, sometimes I want to smack people (especially those who KNOW what we went through and yet still ask as though we have complete ability to control the outcome). But overall it's more of a dull ache as opposed to a sharp pain. The thing is, I've changed. Not by choice, not even by intention. It just sort of happened. Of course we'd like more kids, and we will explore those options when the time comes. But the time isn't now - for many reasons. And even so, if another baby isn't in the cards for us, I think we'll be okay. I'm not saying we won't be sad about it, but I am saying I know we'll be okay.

The whole experience of dealing with infertility has forever changed my outlook. Instead of simply noticing that someone is expecting, I find myself wondering how she got to that point. The more that I've opened up and shared my experience, the more aware I've become of just how common fertility and pregnancy-related issues are. Maybe it's because some people have sought me out to express shared feelings. Or maybe it's just because I pay attention more to the quiet signals that point towards someone who is struggling.

A co-worker skips an office baby-shower/potluck. Is she avoiding it for a reason? A story in the news catches my eye - some celebrity figure is expecting twins. Could it have been from fertility drugs? Scrolling through my FB newsfeed, I cannot help but note the number of lives around me who have also been touched by some aspect of the infertility spectrum... miscarriages, adoptions, treatments and tests. Maybe just seeing and knowing how prevalent these issues really are makes it that much easier for me to hear when things go right for others?

I'm not really sure where this post is going. I just felt compelled to acknowledge that as much as I'd like to be doing the baby thing again (if not now then in the somewhat-near future), I know it may not happen. And that's okay.

Happy Halloween!

I have started (and failed to complete) several posts lately. Why? Partly it's just lack of time. Fall is typically our busiest season of the year (birthdays, anniversary, fall traditions, travel), and this year had been no exception. Partly it's been lack of motivation. I think of a topic and start to write about it in my head, but by the time I try to actually write about it, all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch HGTV. Or sleep.

And the rest of it? I don't know. I think I have just been going through a writing slump. I need to get out of it. I miss being able to process thoughts and experiences through writing. It really is therapeutic for me. But it isn't something I can force to happen.

So until I am over this slump, I will post these and call it a day: