As you can imagine, life gets pretty busy when you move your family from suburbia to the country. I had all sorts of crazy ideas in my head that I would blog our way through the renovations of a 130 year old farmhouse and move and yet.. here we are, 7 months later (almost to the day) and I haven’t said a word, let me try my best to lay it out there for you.
We got our keys to the farmhouse on the beautiful first day of Spring, we went straight to work. The kids and I ripped out carpets that had to go and Hubby got working on a few electrical and plumbing things that needed to be done before we could rip out the kitchen and bathroom. Our first night ended in exhaustion but the carpets were gone and we were ready for demolition.
Our Saturday started off with a team of three guys doing some great demo on the kitchen and bathroom. It was tough as both were installed as though they would last a lifetime. And although the kitchen and bathroom served the previous owners well with their five (or six) children we couldn’t imagine working in the space that they had used. The kids and I continued our carpet ripping and then got started on painting the flooring underneath. We wanted to seal in any odors or whatever may have been in the plywood from the previous owners before we got to work on installing our own floors. Our work continued into the Sunday, getting as much done as possible before the teams arrived.
Monday morning dawned bringing us a chilly -25C, the flooring was delivered and the painting team were on site. Things got moving pretty fast, which was good because we were under a deadline of two weeks until we moved out of our old house and into our new house.
Over the next week, we painted and the upstairs carpet was installed and we decided to go with move in day #1. We moved everything from our upstairs bedrooms and downstairs tv rooom into their new home.
Our second week at the farmhouse saw the installation of the hardwood flooring, painting of the downstairs studio and living room, laundry and coat room. As the flooring guys were rolling out we were rolling in with the remainder of our belongings.
I am not going to lie, moving at 44 is a lot different than moving at 33. Every single box is heavier and each stair is harder to climb. I swore I would never move myself again, but silly me listened to Hubby when he said it would be easy. Well, it wasn’t. With both of us exhausted from the farmhouse renos and final packing of the old house, it was a sheer miracle (and a little help from Mom, Dad and Sarah J) that we were able to get it done. Thankfully the truck rental company called and told us to keep the truck overnight as our last load was left in the truck while we collapsed from exhaustion for a few hours of sleep.
As our first dawn at the farmhouse rose over the back fields, we knew in our hearts we were home.