*How To Dress Your Nest When You're 21*
Roger and I had been married for 9 months when we decided to try to get pregnant. Although the doctor said it would probably take months, 3 weeks later we had a positive pee stick. Um - okay. I had been working at a bank, but with this news, I knew that my days were numbered. As soon as the baby was born, I would be staying home, which meant not only a big change for me, but also a big change in our monthly income.
A few months before the baby was born (we had no idea that it was a she), the house talk began. It was something that I didn't think we could afford, at least not after I stopped getting a paycheck, but Roger was persistent. He went ahead and crunched all the numbers with my grandma, who was a realtor, and came back with the news: the mortgage would only be $200 more than our current rent. So in January of 1997, 3 weeks before Sierra made her appearance, we moved into our first house. And no, unloading a moving truck 9 months pregnant will not cause you to go into labor. Unfortunately.
We were in heaven. A 3 bedroom, 2 bath, 1428 square foot home that felt like a mansion coming from an apartment....what would we do with all that space?? As it turned out - the usual. Even though back then I didn't know what usual was.I painted this yuck red brick fireplace white the night before I went into labor. A year later I would lose a fingernail when Roger drilled through it while building this mantel. Note to self: no DIY involving power tools after 1 am. Or your husband. If there was ever a tornado, that "window" I made out of mirror tiles would've been the last thing standing. It and the 3 tubes of liquid nails that attached it to the wall. You can tell that Brendan was still a baby when this photo was taken: we still have fish. Alive. Me and the color red have always been BFF's. For anyone who has ever asked how it's possible to get projects done with small children in the house, here's my answer: I don't know any other way.
with laminate. And while we were at it, ripped out all this tile garbage (note the dark gray grout that I never finished painting under the window. See, I've always been a cheater.) Replaced the tile back splash with solid surface and drywall.
The bar stools are at the counter instead of out in the garage. Another sign that Brendan was too small to get into any climbing trouble.
Not that he ever did.We loved this house, and it killed me to leave it after being there for over 6 years. But somehow, 4 children later, what was once a mansion had turned into cramped quarters, to put it mildly. How does that happen?