Sigh, I still get that first-date feeling every time I walk in the room.

Anyway– I can’t tell the backsplash story without starting with the countertops. Countertops aren’t cheap, but I got lucky one afternoon, getting a bunch of black granite tile for about $1.25 a square foot.

I had leapt at the granite, without considering the backsplash. Imagine (and laugh– go ahead, it’s funny–now) my surprise and JB’s annoyance when I vetoed every single tile sample for the backsplash. Most them gave the kitchen that Tuscany look. I’m not a fan, being neither Italian, nor a patron of the Olive Garden. Now, give me a piece of subway or glass tile– that’s my look. Even the subway tile didn’t look right, unless it was custom glass subway tile (cha-ching!). So, we both kept coming back to stainless steel. Okay, but at $120 for a 30×30 sheet? I just…couldn’t.

For a year, I walked the aisles of home improvement and salvage/re-use stores, just looking and thinking. I spent an hour in the roofing section, trying to convert large rolls of flashing into a backsplash.

Then came the day I found the solution. And that is the DIY high, what keeps me going back for more each time: $9.34 per 24×36 inch sheet compared to $120 per 30×30 inch sheet? Um, yes please.

A few small words of caution. This is professional grade stuff; the edges are sharp– get some heavy duty gloves. And good tin snips. Cutting out the holes for the electric sockets looked like it sucked– JB’s job, what with all that superior upper body strength.

Beyond that? Easy. We glued it to the wall with paneling caulk stuff rated for wood and metal. Maybe even cement and moon rock, I can’t remember.

The cardboard and painters tape accent pieces? Those were the templates for the tile that would someday hide the sharp cut edges. I’m guessing you could sand the sharpness away, assuming you cut a straight line. With tin snips. I’m almost certain that it’s not possible. Those cardboard pieces stayed just like that for 6 months. Then, around the time we tiled the master bath, I grabbed a few sheets of the 12×12 mosaic tiles and silicone caulked myself a new border. No need for thinset since they were sitting on top of the metal. I hadn’t intended to grout, but tile without grout looks strange, so we fixed that another night.

Total backsplash cost? It took 6 sheets of the metal, so $56 plus tax + 3 of the tile sheets, which cost $4 each, $12 plus tax. Which means that we did the whole project for less than what one sheet of the other stuff would have cost.

Tomorrow the boys (all 3 of ‘em) and I are going to finish the crib-to-lego-table project. Then perhaps I’ll get the cabinet handles installed. Again. Don’t ask– when it’s done, I’ll tell you all about it.

I have had this nonsense from the Gnomes episode of Southpark going through my head for days. You’re welcome.

Oh, and the actual point of the post, which is to tell everyone (in my best Australian sham-wow voice) that lives in the internet how YES, you CAN have a BRAND NEW KITCHEN for a the low, low price of $63.00 and many a few hours of sweat equity.

The first step is, of course, to do some internet research (I mostly used pinterest and BHG and gather your supplies based on your decisions. I did most of my shopping in the basement, thus this assortment of preparatory items cost me $0. But if you aren’t a hoarder, you’d need to get a degreaser, sand-paper, oil-based primer, rags, and foam rollers. I did have to buy a few packages of foam rollers ($13).

Next you will remove and label all of your cabinet doors, handles, and hinges. My kitchen has a large foot print, without as many cabinets (by choice). I labeled the top row of doors with letters, the bottoms with numbers. I’m not sure why– but it made sense at the time. Phase 1: Collect Underpants, right?

Lay something down on the ground and wash the cabinets with a degreaser. I used a TSP product because it was–say it with me, “already in the basement”. Otherwise I probably would have used warm vinegar and water. Note, all the internet advice for cleaning cabinets recommends a TSP product. I also sanded out here, rather than in the basement like normal. We have 3 different electric hand sanders (…why?), so I picked the one on top, and sanded.

Sit down and stare at the jumbled mess inside your cabinets. Berate yourself for allowing that which is behind closed doors to be in such disorder. Start calculating the number of hours that have been wasted from retrieving–and returning–pans to their part of the stack. Wonder why you aren’t storing all baking, spices, oil and vinegar in the lazy susan. You know, where you can reach them. Plan to make a different plan while you are priming the doors.

Appropriate all flat kitchen surfaces for priming. You could use the basement, but then you’d have to clean all the dog hair and dust first. *shudder*

Gaze in joy at the primed surfaces, right before leaving for a children’s museum that will be hosting no less than 10 elementary school classes on field trips.

I did several coats of the primer to make sure nothing would bleed through. Once everything dried, it was time to start on the finish coats.

Lightly coat with paint (I used Benjamin Moore’s Low VOC Natura paint–$50– in Super White). Let dry. Sand (280 grit). Wipe (fancy folks use tack cloth– I used a damp cloth diaper).

Rinse and repeat until you are satisfied with the finish.

Re-attach the hinges and the doors.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Now, part of any home improvement project is how much time it will actually take. Well, I always think it will take an hour, and JB always thinks it will take 4 months. Somewhere in between is the real answer, but I needed data.

I could add all that up for y’all, but I promised the Small People a hot wheels track. Like an hour ago– whoops. Y’all are smart though– you can do the math, right?

For yes, declareth the masses– she embodied all that was Cheap and Skin-Flinty. But, lo, she couldn’t deny the appreciation of the expensive items she scorned. And I’m not talking Home Depot/Pottery Barn expensive. I’m talking custom-made, one-of-a-kind, hipster-magnet-boutique. I’m not a hipster, by the way– but the boutique stores I sort of adore can generally be found right smack dab in the middle of a hipster nest. More’s the pity.

My point is that in order to have many of the things that I want– and not out-price my neighborhood–I needed to learn how to do it myself. Beyond that, the raw truth is that I get off on these adrenaline-laced, disaster-turned beauty projects, because it breaks up the minutiae. I got off on these adrenaline-laced, disaster-turned success projects at my for-pay jobs, too. It’s how the ADHD brain keeps itself from pinging into neverland. Or something. All I know is that a bored me, is an unhappy me.

So, people shouldn’t eye-roll so much when I consider making my own pendant lamps because I kinda like these from Home Depot, but now they are sold at Home Depot which means everyone will have them… and… dude, seriously they are charging how much for various sized glass bowls, upside down with a light bulb? Re-alllyyy?

Okay, so the price picture blows– my phone has heard me talking about an upgrade and it is protesting in a most unbecoming manner. But the ones I liked best were $100 bucks each. I’m not paying that for a glass cake bowl and a light bulb.

Then I googled “how to DIY a pendant lamp” and there it is: Instructions. Inspiration. Originality. Done intelligently, the first one is inexpensive– just to see if you can, and the second one can be fancier. This DIY lesson, by the way, took several expensive failures to learn. For example, 2 years ago I bought a $150 worth of fabric, notions, pattern, etc. for an uber complicated renaissance faire costume. Yeah, it’s still waiting for me.

Anyway, I guess my point is that, yes, the internet is full of a vast amount of horrific misinformation. However, every yin has its yang, and that same internet also contains an entire lifetime of useful knowledge. Criminy, you can practically get a college degree via youtube videos. Essentially, if you can think it, someone on the interwebs has probably tried–and blogged– it.

You wonder– is she actually done?!
Done is often such a subjective word, don’t you think? It’s like perfect– can the pure meaning of those words exist in the world of paint or furniture placement? No, really– JB wants to know if done exists in someone else’s house.

Ahem. So the answer is no, I’m not done. But I’ve met the first major milestone– a working kitchen, with many, many coats of beautiful brilliant white paint.

There are handles to rehang and another coat of paint (hmmm…sharpie?) around the counter-tops. Speaking of molding– we need some around the top of the cabinets. And to add the furniture feet at the kick plates. And to paint the door (quick, no one look up– so don’t wanna paint that popcorn ceiling!)

But not tonight.

I’m also going to move two of our bookshelves to surround the big dining room window, adding cabinet doors at the bottom to mimic a built-in look. Which means more sanding/priming/painting.

But not tonight.

I want to add beadboard inserts to replace the current panels in the cabinet doors (paint the beadboard after cutting, then it’s just a simple glue-caulk-quicky top coat type of install). Yes, I did stare at a package of wood shims for 10 minutes, trying to decide if they could be turned into some facsimile of beadboard. Then I stared at the dremel kit and considered.

JB googled the instructions for involuntary commitment of spouse.

Thankfully, none of that is happening tonight.

The computer-armoire-turned-food-pantry needs more shelves. All the cabinets either need shelves or vertical stacking systems. Maybe some pull out drawers. Both the kitchen and dining room windows need new curtains.

But not tonight.

I want a new dining room table– round this time. Which would then free up the current table to be scavenged for parts. That I plan to turn into a mini-kitchen island. With a pot rack. On wheels.

But not tonight.

Why? Because last night, what you saw up there looked like:

Me? I set up a hard deadline by hosting my mother-in-law’s birthday dinner here today. For 11 people. Why? Because I’m not stupid organized enough to fall for those soft, internal deadlines. I need the adrenaline-fueled energy that can only come from a looming event requiring the use of whatever space is currently deconstructed.

I’m supposed to run–5.5 miles. Anyone want to take the over/under on whether THAT happens tonight?

But I did at least find the inspiration for the design– what great paper! Yes, it did occur to me to use it as wall paper accents in some of the panels. Yes, JB did threaten to lock me in the bathroom if I came within 10 feet of the kitchen with wallpaper paste. Now all I have to do is narrow down the accent color. Bright turquoise blue? Shhh… orange?

So, version history of this kitchen?

Version I
The kitchen had blue flower vinyl flooring, complimented by the light blue dining room carpet and brown wood paneling in the dining room. And the dry-clean only curtains with giant brass thingy. Yes, we did buy this house with a dining room that looked like that picture. We replaced that carpet and the vinyl with pretending-to-be-granite-tile floors.

Version 2
Look closely– beyond the christmas tree–

We tried to salvage the original cabinets with a few coats of paint–they were, after all, real wood. However, even good paint couldn’t cover the old-lady-with-bad-kitty cabinet smell. Sniffle– look how little Z is in this picture. Totally unaware I was gestating his arch nemesis– aka, little brother.

And for 24-odd months, I lived with that kitchen.

Version 3
But at about 7 months pregnant with E– and nesting like a damn pigeon in an electric store sign– we used tax refund money to sorta upgrade the cabinets. Tax refund money and the expertise of a friend’s impulsive offer to help (meh-heh-heh). At that point, basic stock cabinets was an upgrade. A smart upgrade, since we live in a transitional neighborhood (aka, homes values probably won’t decrease, but it’s anyone’s guess if they will increase). When upgrading a house in a transitional neighborhood, one must be very careful to temper personal taste with common sense.

Was the kitchen okay, as is? Yeah, I guess so. It wastes a ton of space and it’s not very user friendly for the Small People. The Small People who really, really want to help do things– like unload the dishwasher and set the table. They are already hanging up their own laundry thanks to my installation of wire shelves and a closet rod within their reach. I feel wrong by not giving them what they want with the helping thing!

So, between pinterest, a lives-in-my-computer friend/DIY person, and the desire to use my children for manual labor, I began to get motivated. If y’all didn’t know, an ADHD person with their meds and motivation can do amazing things. Include in that a husband who leaves the country for a week, kids that go to bed at 7pm, and same ADHD lady who can’t burn off any of that gee-gee-gee-gee energy by running, and you end up with this.

By the way– don’t think I’m ignoring the children– most of this good-times-fun happened during naptime or after bed. The other little bits? Well, never underestimate what can be accomplished in 20-30 minute spurts. Of course, there was also a casualty– RIP dish drainer that was in the oven during the preheat cycle. You had a good run.

As of tonight, most everything has had its second pass of the top coat, so the painting should be done tomorrow. That’s the real bitch with painting cabinets– it takes time (most of it of the drying/preparation variety) to do a good job. But after the last bit dries, the really fun stuff is next– building!

This was the little story that JB and I (snort, who we kidding, it was I, all I) included on our wedding announcement. Sweet, hunh?

Now, that I rediscovered the thing a few hours after screeching for him to bring me crowbar? Just amusing.
That he brought me the crowbar, with the only comment delivered being a reminder to not accidentally knock a hole in the wall? That’s trust– trust I haven’t necessarily earned.

But, hey, when I did this to the wall, in a different room, a week later, I had it patched long before he got home!

Why is the trust so impressive? Well, I ask you all– do you know what your couch looks like under the fabric and foam?

I do. I absolutely know that most couches are made of a few pieces of wood and some really strong cardboard. Why? Because I took a reciprocating saw to our old one once, just to see.

Any-hoo. I needed that crowbar because I was doing my own version of Habitat for Humanity for the homeless stuff in our house. Mostly mine. And the Small People. Not much of it is JB’s. That’s the issue with DIY (and ADHD). A person needs supplies if they are going to craft their own environment. An ADHDer goes and buys those supplies, shoves them in a drawer, laundry basket, box, bag, or closet which promptly wipes stuff’s existence from working memory. Then, while frantically looking for a missing plastic shark for the Smallest Small Person, she opens up a box, and it’s christmas all over again.

I can’t even claim this behavior is new– I’ve always been this way. Which is probably why I hooked up with a guy who moved the totality of his belongings in a Saturn Coupe, whilst I needed a 17 foot uhaul.

Then the hoarder and the minimalist had two children, whereupon they realized their stuff spreads like kudzu over a southern telephone pole. And just like kudzu, you can metaphorically burn that shit to the ground, only to step on the sharpest part of a lego brick which is lying in mocking repose right next to your bed, the very next morning. True story: I threw away a plastic kazoo 17 million times– before finally crushing it to death in the driveway and throwing it in the neighbor’s trashcan. Never underestimate the staying power of a cheap (yet costly in its annoyance factor) toy.

I started with some free wire shelving and some not-so-free tracks and brackets (why, pray tell, are those damn brackets $3.50 each? Because if you don’t want the shit to fall down, you have to buy them, that’s why). And technically those shelves were installed a few months ago– just not correctly and were being held up with duct tape, which just isn’t safe.

Thus it went from this:

to this:

Ahhh— I might not be able to get a whole room of my own, but dammit I made myself a writing nook–as per my not-resolution resolution’s list to write more. And no nook would be complete without my Quixote, ready to tilt at some windmills. And all the old shoe boxes I decoupaged, thus saving them from JB’s need to throw away the things I’m saving finishing the planned upcycling project.

One mess done, one giant one to go.

Before anyone starts doing the cough-laugh thing whilst whispering “bless her heart” to themselves… I know. I feel the same way about the tent portion of the bed tent. The images on the inside? I traced what they wanted from that google place onto leftover scrap material, added some acrylic paint (and some glow in the dark paint) and was done in an hour. JB did the Millennium Falcon, after he fell to the floor laughing about how my version looked like a penis with some sort of testicle disease.

I had many,many dreams for the bed tents (damn you, pinterest!) But dreams are dreams and reality is, well. Life.

Dream: You wait until the last minute (December 21st…) for stuff like this, while blithely waving your hand, saying, “it’ll take me an hour– tops”.
Reality: Your youngest child will puke that night followed by your oldest, 48 hours later. In between they will seek your love and attention. You will feel like a douchebag for ditching them to sew. You sigh and sit with your children. As it should be.

Dream: You will decide to wait until Christmas night, since you know you are getting a new sewing machine.
Reality: Sixteen seconds after you get motivated to unpack the new toy, you– and the rest of the street, oy he’s loud– hear your husband vomit. He will then spend the first 2 days of vacation either holding down the couch, or sitting really still on the floor watching cars spin on a track. I must pause and give some love– he was made a strong effort to play enough with the kids that I wasn’t bombarded the entire time.

Dream: Your husband is finally well enough to take kids away from the house for a 3 hour window. You can finish the tents!
Reality: You realize that the very reinforced window is crooked as hell. You will also realize that the up-cycled bed sheet is so old that ripping out seams is not an option. You nash your teeth, figure out a way to hang the monstrosity in the living room window and stare at it for 2 days.

Dream: You’ll just start over, you think.
Reality: Your kid has already said he didn’t care about the crooked window. If you start over you are in direct conflict with the “not everything has to be perfect”** life vibe you keep preaching.

Solution: You do your tracing thing and hot glue gun the pictures over the crooked window, which will now face the wall. Then you glance at your shiny new sewing machine and the now-hated bed tent. You feel the weight of the already heated glue gun. You hot glue gun the rest of it– sewing be damned.

**will resist urge to obsess about making upgraded bed tents. will…resist…**

JB and I tried for all of 5 minutes last night, (while watching South Park reruns; we par-tay on New Year’s Eve round here) to come up with some witty replacement. To Do list– heavy on the witty, yes?

In no particular order.

1. Go camping
2. Run a half marathon (me, maybe JB)
3. Read more than 3 popular fiction books (JB)
4. Read 5 of those classic books that I totally pretend to have read because I was, you know, an English major for awhile and therefore would never, ever read the cliff notes instead of the novel. {cough}
5. Learn how to make at least six four interesting dinners eaten by anyone with working thumbs.
6. Stop considering how neat it would be write down some of those random story ideas and actually just do it.

True story: you know what they call an embarrassingly untalented published author? Published.

7. Be *in* more pictures. I have a hard-drive’s worth of fantastic photos–of everyone else. Me? Um, I looked for a picture of myself one day… Yeah, I need proof of both my smiling presence for all this family fun I plan. Otherwise I’m just the byotch that packs the snacks. That’s not okay.
8. Stop. Wasting. So. Much. Of. Everything. Okay, so this applies to me certainly– I am no icon of frugality. However, in this house I’m the least offensive of the water/electricity/food waste folks. I kinda want to plant little microchips in all three of them programmed with the Joshua’s voice from WarGames*. Instead of “shall we play a game” it would murmur “shall we turn off the damn lights”.
9. Clean up at least one toy on New Year’s Day (Zach)
10. Drive a race car and ride a dolphin. Tomorrow (Elliot)

*If you got the WarGames reference without following the hyperlink…well, I think that adds cool points to a person, but I equate geek and cool points. So.

I’m already getting brownie points for being in-pictures. Here’s one of JB showing me affection (in public, people).

So, if talk of vomit offends (or nauseates) you, click the back button with all due haste.

Words I will say a lot: puke, vomit, poo. Not because I’m just a mom and my life has lost all meaning; but because I am their mom and seeing them vomit makes me ache in that special place.

The place of, “oh hell, here we go again” and “argh— please don’t get any of that on me!” and “dear lord, you could at least try to hit that giant trash can next to your head!”

First off, and I mean this in just the nicest way. When I see kids dropping like flies from various viral complaints around the holidays, Ms. Grinchy The Suspicious assumes that some asshat mom chose to bring her known-sick kid out in public, because Darling Precious would be oh-so-disappointed to miss mall Santa and we mustn’t disappoint Precious!

The more benevolent side hopes that is was just clueless mom, like me. See, E had this puke 3 times, cry a lot, virus with no fever a few days ago. After 24 hours symptom-free, to include wall-climbing and couch-bouncing, I happily sent them both to Gram’s house to bake cookies this morning.

Thus, I find some benevolence in my soul that perhaps it wasn’t asshat mom, but didn’t-know mom. I mean, the Z was fine, all day, until 14.6 seconds after putting the iPad away I heard him puking in the bathroom. Barring spit-up, I don’t think he’s puked three times in his life before tonight, and here we are on number 4.

And, doubly-poor kid, Z’s a through-the-nose puker. Which is always gross, but coupled with him being my sensitive to all bad smell’s kid? Lucky for him I watch all that crime drama… I smeared vick’s vapor rub under his nose a la’ crime scene investigators.

And in case you were thinking, “but wait– I was also promised poo!” don’t despair. I spent most of the afternoon/early evening cheering/massaging/threatening a constipated E. To the tune of singing songs about the Poo Choo Train needing to leave the station. All while weighing the appropriateness of introducing him to Mr. Hanky. And giving my first ever liquid suppository.

This. This is the glamorous life I was seeking when I was a childless party girl. Though, to be fair, it’s not as if that life was vomit-free, either. Oh, tequila shots with my bosses. Good times, blurry memories.

That said, a more-eeyore person would be all holiday bummed. Not me, not yet. One, there’s no fever/body aches, which means no flu. Two, I can apply Occam’s razor to E that his issue is from dehydration and lack of exercise — and not the potentially deadly bowel obstruction link that I had just clicked on webmd, when Z let loose on the top bunk. Three, both my kids having rocking immune systems, and they both dig my anti-nausea (but not the sinus sooth) hippie tea. Four, my husband doesn’t have it yet. Because, really, a puking husband is worse than 2 puking Small People.

I had a conversation with a believer friend (sorry, SWR!) about why non-believers shouldn’t celebrate Christmas (or Xmas, or Krismas, etc.). I’ve been involved in debates about the appropriateness in supporting (boycotting) businesses based on their insistence for including (excluding) the word “Christmas” this time of year. Meh- I don’t go out of my way in either direction just because of a phrase. Now, if you are an asshat company like Chick-fil-A, that’s different. If you happen to be an asshat company that also uses eggs in their nuggets when you have egg-allergic children, even better for maintaining my boycott.

**Weep, I really loved chick fil a. But pinterest might have saved me from my sadness. **

We are a family of nonbelievers. Well, two of us are nonbelievers; the Small People, currently strong believers* in The Santa, will have to decide on their own spiritual flavor. But my non-believing self simply adores (until about now– right this moment, I’m sort of done with the whole thing) all of the hoopla surrounding the very pagan celebration of this time of year. Why? Look outside. December is a grey, depressing month. Often cold, though here that is not often met with snow. This year it’s just grey and hot. Which is also depressing.

**By the way, the eldest of the Small People is still a quasi-believer, despite last year’s abrupt murder of Santa. “By baby Jesus, no less. I say quasi, because he’s skeptical partly because of the murdering thing and partly because he’s hold enough to have philosophical conversations with his peebs.

That tree? The mistletoe? That yule log? Those holly wreaths? All of them originated long before christianity. A nice smelling tree and/or yule log makes total sense if you are of European decent– where the winters were long, the days dark, and the mass of people stuck in the same building were ripe with the funk from being inside. Oh, and especially if your heat was provided via fire, and you could possibly have need of dry wood. All of this I explained to the oldest of the Small People, which led to my also explaining that there was once a time when people had to carve bowls out of rocks, instead of buying them from Target.

Him: “But that’s gross, Mom. Animals pee on rocks.
SL: “Yeah, they didn’t have soap either. Or cars. Or glass. Or google.
Him: No google? But how did they figure out how to make the rest of the stuff without google?”

**grin, that’s mah boy.”**

In general, I don’t much care about the why of people celebrating. I’m very much of a do-your-own-thing-until-you-get-snotty-about-me-doing-my-own-thing type of person. Or until you try and pass legislation solely motivated on your thing. That ain’t cool.

The definition of the reason for the season is a personal one, but the origins? Not open for so much interpretation– and what does it matter? For heaven’s sake, if you want to decorate your tree with a thousand glass baby jesus ornaments, I could care less. But judge ye not my tree filled with ornaments like this:

There’s enough holiday cheer for everyone. Except for those (and there are way too many) struggling just to pay their bills and feed their families. They could use some holiday cheer from all of us.