Brave new world

I've been all over the place about what to write. Probably because all of my stuff is all over the place, and I have clothes and hygiene products on three floors due to the re-moving into our house a week and half ago. I do not deal with clutter well. In college and law school I would clean my entire dorm room or apartment and do all of the laundry and grocery shopping (Ramen? Check. Diet Coke? Check. Takeout menus? Check. Chocolate covered espresso beans? Check.) before final exams because otherwise I could not study because the mess would stress me out and I would have to clean it, thereby not studying, thereby stressing even more. Controlling? Type A? Me? Hence, because my stuff is scattered, I am scattered. I'm also only half-assed or maybe even quarter-assed effective at doing anything about it because most of my day is spent tending to this precious little monkey.
But we're getting there. Everything almost has a place in the kitchen. Except the damn can opener, because we can't find any of them. We are sure we had at least two when we left the house, and now we have none. Every other kitchen gadget known to man, yes, but a can opener? No. U cannot has can opener. I refuse to buy a new one because THEY HAVE TO BE HERE SOMEWHERE. Somewhere.

We're learning to live in our house all over again, because it's kind of the same, but also really different. We have more space in some places; less space in others; and a new little resident and all of her belongings to find room for. Since our basement is now actually nice and not creepy, we can't just chuck everything down there haphazardly anymore. This means Organizing. Lots. Necessitating a trip to the Container Store and two (2) shopping carts(!) full of boxes, bins, and baskets. We're getting there. Rather than complain about less space in certain places -- like in our accidental new bathroom vanity, because the old vanity which had all kinds of nifty storage space was mistakenly thrown out -- I am trying to be Zen and use it as a reason to have less stuff. We are mercilessly sorting, tossing and donating. We're like our own "Clean House" show, except that we actually want to get rid of the stuff and aren't deranged clingy pack rats like the people on those shows. We have a few weak spots: me = model and toy horse collection from childhood; Seth = allll the history books from allll his history classes in college. But Progress is being made.

I oversaw the removal of the beige rental furniture from the rental apartment last week, and it was a surprisingly emotional couple of hours. We brought Helene "home" to that apartment, we did so many of her first things there - baths, smiles - and we spent many hours playing, cuddling, napping and nursing in that apartment on that rented furniture. I got weepy at saying goodbye to the place where Helene spent her first sleepy newborn days with us, where we graduated from being a couple and really became a family.

It was a simpler life there, a bubble of babyness, in that small apartment. Very few of our clothes and personal items were there (well, with the exception of the piles of baby things)- just what we really needed every day - and the few rooms of the place revolved around Helene at their center. It got more complicated when we moved home to our creaky, drafty, beloved old house, packed squirrel-like with our hoards of boxes and books and cherished tchochkes, all the accumulated furniture and belongings of our lives until now.

Though it feels undeniably good to be home, worlds are colliding a la George Costanza as I work to mingle my pre-baby life with my post-baby life. Some observations: (1) "Lady Chatterly's Lover" now shares my bedside bookshelf next to Dr. Sears' "The Baby Book." (2) I had to resist the urge to use the baby bottle brush to wash a residue of cognac out from our brandy snifters (but it would have been just the right size to fit through the narrow mouth of the glasses!). (3) I now lay on the living room rug for Tummy Time with Helene with a Reidel glass of vidal blanc in my hand.

So we're still working on finding new places for everything, and our place in the new everything, figuring out how to live with Helene in our half-new house, fitting all the puzzle pieces together again in a new picture. The weather has been warm, so Helene and I strolled to the dry cleaners, where they'd missed us and they oohed and aahed and tickled the baby so much I was kind of afraid they would steal her. Then we walked to one of our neighborhood coffeehouses for an absurdly caloric milkshake because, hey, I'm nursing and I need calcium. Helene snoozed in the Ergo on the way home as I walked slowly to watch the afternoon light on the detailed woodwork on the rowhouses in the blocks near our house. I turned the last corner, and brought Helene in the door of our old-new home, our own new world.

The long renovation goodbye

It's really, truly, for real almost done. After so many conversations with our contractor that were the renovation equivalent of "are we there yet??" we seem to almost be there. A few strong words and almost-temper tantrums were required. We appeared at the house on Saturday with a cadre of (amazing, wonderful!) friends who'd volunteered to help us move the mountains of boxes back to their assigned places in basement and kitchen and to move some furniture around. We kicked the guy out who was working on the backsplash in the kitchen, dusted out cabinets, and started putting things away. I think our contractor knew we were serious then. Our friends schlepped boxes down the stairs and teetered on stepladders to wipe construction dust from shelves while Seth and I discussed punch list items with the contractor, and I intermittently nursed the baby, who supervised the whole production. But this is it. We are moving in this week, come shelf readjustments and leaky faucets. (We have some of both - the mudroom hooks and shelves were made for someone who is 6'6", not 5'3", and our kitchen faucet was somehow leaking quite copiously all over our very goddamn expensive kitchen cabinets yesterday. Great. Just great. Seth did some freaking out and ranting. I just smiled. Teflon. I am Teflon. Nonstick, but toxic when pushed to my limits.)

Upstairs bathroom. A serious improvement over the previous version.

Mmm, shiny!

Mmm, granite!

Holy crap, look at all that garbage. Our yard used to look, uh, kind of different.

Change the location of that toilet paper holder or I'm setting the baby loose.

Oh right, our HOUSE

Huh. Yeah. We did have this other Really Big Thing going on in our lives. It was eclipsed by the lovely daze of New Babyness which comes with Massive Sleep Deprivation Haze mixed with Total Emotional Overload and Inability to Get Dressed (Even In Yoga Pants) By Noon or to Get Anything Else Done.

So, we have remembered that we haven't always been cocooned in this modern beige high-rise apartment, and that we do in fact own a quite nice 1895 Capitol Hill rowhouse that is being renovated within an inch of its life. After calling Seth about shower heads and paint colors on the day Helene was born, our contractors considerately left us alone for about a week when Seth tersely explained, "Can't talk now. Had BABY." But now they actually want decisions on stuff so they can, you know, FINISH OUR DAMN HOUSE.

We went by the house today with some paint chips so we could choose paint colors for the powder room and sun room. (We actually spontaneously LEFT THE APARTMENT today for AN ENTIRE HOUR. BY OURSELVES. While Grandma Fran watched the baby sleep. We are living on the edge here, let me tell you.) If I weren't still in a slight stupor from days of not-quite-enough-sleep, and didn't have a still slightly sore C-section incision, I would have been goddamn jumping up and down and howling with sheer ECSTASY over the fact that OUR KITCHEN CABINETS HAVE BEEN DELIVERED. I did what I could with excitement, and tried to stay well out of the workers' way so they could WORK (faster, please??). We were told by our contractor that once the cabinets were delivered, it would be three weeks to completion. It had better fucking be, or I am no longer responsible for what cranky postpartum hormonal female velociraptor-esque rage that could be unleashed.

But Progress. There is Progress. Light at the end of the tunnel. Hope, and all that crap.

Kitchen - all drywalled and just waiting for our pretty, pretty kitchen cabinets.
Random sort of angle showing the basement bathroom. Still needs a sink. I hope I actually like the paint color. I almost don't care anymore.

OMFG, the basement looks almost DONE. Like an actual, like, room, in an actual, like house, that people, like live in and stuff. Except for the albatross, I mean gas meter in the left hand corner. This thing is supposed to be moved to the exterior of the house. This little project was started in, oh, June. Somehow, our contractor's people broke the old, crusty shutoff valve which is a little bit of a problem when you're working with flammable noxious fumes. Our contractor was not amused when I suggested painting it shiny fire-engine red and keeping it as a decorative element. At least I know he wants to get rid of it about as much as I do.
And the back of our house has returned, all new and improved. With a nice deck and non-deathtrap stairs too.
We are soooo, close people. We keep telling Helene what a great house we're working on for her. Just think of all the new and improved rooms she'll be sleepily oblivious to.

Ur chaos - let us show u it

I had a conversation the other day with one of my bosses in which he asked about how the baby's room was coming along. I said that we could not do much because our house was "under construction." With a skeptical look on his face he asked me what I meant by "under construction." His eyebrows went up further with every minute that I talked, describing the various phases/stages/incarnations of construction all going on simultaneously in our house. I think he got it after that. So, for your viewing pleasure - the total house chaos.

Dining room.

Living room, looking towards the front door.
Living room, looking towards the dining room/kitchen.
Kitchen, looking towards the back yard.
Second floor bathroom.
Guest room/baby's room. Note superabundance of pink baby clothing and baby accessories in foreground.
Master bedroom. We thought they were going to have to knock a hole in the wall, but they think they aren't, so that's a plus.
Hallway and study.
On the brighter side, the back of our house is no longer gone. We love it. It looks great. Really, at this point, anything that is done and looks like a house is great. Our standards are very, very low. I didn't even have the energy to cover the basement. It looks much the same as last time, and is full of drywall and carpentry equipment for the upstairs. One of our contractor's employees does keep asking about my due date, which is nice, but then he asked whether the baby could hold off for a couple of months. I'm taking that as a joke.

Framing, bathroom and closets, oh my!

Look! Our new bathroom!

I swear that's what it is. I probably got you all excited, because you were expecting actual tile and fixtures and walls and stuff. Sorry. But progress is progress. You can see where the walls will be, and where the plumbing will go (hint: the white tubes sticking out of the floor = plumbing). We find this terrifically exciting. I admit it requires a little imagination. It's great to really be able to see where everything will be.

Lest the other parts of the basement feel neglected, here are some photos of all the framing going on elsewhere. In the left-hand corner, you might be able to see some shiny new copper pipe, and a fancy 3/4 turn valve handle. This is our main water line for the house, replacing an ancient, mineral-encrusted faucet and lead service line. We're very excited to have less-contaminated water that one may even be able to drink right from the tap, without reverse-osmosis filtering first.
Framing for the utility closet on the left. The white whale/albatross of a hot water heater will soon be gone forever, replaced by a sleek little wall-mounted on-demand tankless heater, so we can be all chic and European and not run out of hot water by the end of the second shower! (Note to all consumers: before buying major appliances such as hot water heaters, etc. do a Google search for any ongoing class action lawsuits affecting said major appliances. Turns out our hot water heater is a worthless piece of crap, yet Lowe's continued to sell it even as thousands of people were suing over its crappiness. We did get our spare parts which were our due award as part of the class. I'm sure they will look lovely on the scrap heap next to the hot water heater tank.)
A closet! A real live closet! Wow. Seldom-used camping equipment and old paint will reside here in resplendent organized storage someday.

And back to the bathroom for a moment, if I may. This shot was taken a few days later than the ones above, and if you look on the left, you will see a pale green panel. This covers the giant hole in the wall that is soon to become the bathroom window, filled in with opaque glass block to filter in the southern light that comes in on that side of the house. Imagination here, people, please.

Meanwhile, back in the yard. The plants are doing just fine on their own, and growing like mad without me to bother them. This year just does not seem like the year to care about the garden. I do sneak back behind the construction debris to cut herbs once in awhile, and I'm always shocked at how much they've grown. It's done nothing but be alternately wet and sunny this spring and summer, and hasn't been too hot, so the plants are flourishing. So are the weeds, so don't look too closely there. If you squint, it's all just a big blurry lush green loveliness. Next year we'll try for pretty and a bit more well-groomed.

So long, and thanks for all the fish, Part 2

Or, the urban raccoons of Capitol Hill strike again.

The other morning, Seth let the dog out into the backyard, and the dog went berserk, running around, barking, sniffing, whining. The neighbor's dogs were doing the same thing. Then, our neighbor told Seth that we had a new resident on the block: a smallish raccoon that had taken up residence in a niche between our two rowhouses. It appeared to be a smaller, and different raccoon than the one that turned the neighbor's fishpond into an impromptu sushi bar a couple of months ago.

Our neighbor called the local humane society to see if they could come capture the raccoon, since none of us are that crazy about mammals burrowing into our houses, or giving fleas & ticks to our dogs and kids. The humane society's response was that they do not come out to capture apparently healthy wild animals. If we wanted it trapped, we could do it ourselves or hire a private trapper (I'm just imagining a Dog The Bounty Hunter for animals kind of guy showing up on the front steps).

So, our neighbor is trying Plan A, the "Have-A-Heart" humane trap:

Cozy and inviting, eh?
Comes with room service! Delicious, well-aged sardines!

So far, no luck. Perhaps a bowl of goldfish (and not the Pepperidge Farm crackers) would be more enticing?

Progress!

The renovation of the basement is visibly progressing, which is exciting.

Seth and my friend Betsy examine the construction. Note the 2x4 framing - this was holding up our entire house for a couple of weeks until the new, super-slim and svelte steel support posts could be installed. The new slim steel posts replaced the very bulky brick ones that the house was originally constructed with. You can see the old ones here.
Last week, this cement truck showed up in front of the house. They brought the cement in through the front window in wheelbarrows.
And voila! A new cement floor. And, uh, some water. We, um, assume this water issue will be remedied.
The roughed-in plumbing for the shiny new full bathroom that will be going in the basement! Take note, future house guests - your own bathroom.
The new, level cement floor in the other end of the basement (facing the front, street side of the house). Note the shiny, streamlined new red support post. And look! Building materials! Framing starts this week.

So long, and thanks for all the fish

We have raccoons on Capitol Hill. At least one, anyhow. A big, fat furry fella clambered his way into my neighbors' backyard and went fishing in their little Zen waterfall fishpond, making quick sushi out of their Last Surviving Goldfish.

I just have so many questions. Where did the raccoon come from (Rock Creek Park? Virginia)? How did he get to Capitol Hill (bus? taxi? hitchhiking?)? Why did he come to Capitol Hill (Adams Morgan was too loud?)? What is he eating (other than unlucky goldfish)? Where does he live (a studio at the Congressional Apartments? The lush lawns of the Capitol grounds?)? How does he get along with the alley rats?