Saturday, May 31, 2008

Design of our Life.

Mr. Husband says this isn’t the worst stress that we’ll ever encounter. I question that sentiment—having kids cannot possibly be as hard as deciding whether or not to suffer for a year or two due to the fact that we really, really, really want a certain hardwood floor in our new house. No way. It felt like a ball of sin rolling around in our bellies; we felt like we were cheating on something—like we were diving under the gate and into Mr. McGregor’s garden. That’s how stolen the very moment was—the moment when Mr. Husband told the girl “yes, we’ll do it.”

These are the moments that are filled with dashes. No other punctuation will do—only the abrupt dash that highlights and accentuates. It’s time for sexy punctuation—the dash is sexy at its most grammar.

First of all, it’s a stress in itself that we have to kill half a good afternoon for work to visit the design center. Weekends? Has anyone heard of weekends?! We planned ferociously so that we would not waste more time than is absolutely necessary. (Yes, we planned.) We didn’t realize until the end of our appointment that we have to come back for another appointment to do faucets, wall coloring, lighting, and appliances. That’s unfortunate. We’d hoped to wrap everything up with a tiny red bow in one meeting. More stress. Kids can’t possibly throw wrenches into plans like this. No way. I don’t believe it. But then, if they do, that must be the fun kind of wrench—the monkey wrench.

We went over our budget. Of course we did. We knew we would, but we had these total pie-in-the-sky dreams that we might not. Those silly dreams that wake you in the early morning when you know they cannot possibly be reality. A dream that made us think that we could design our dream home for a price that was not only economical but also a bargain. Ha. No way. Monkey wrench.

Much to my dear boss’s horror, we designed a nice dark house. The kitchen will be dark where the lighting will give off a glow. There will be corners of glow that will invite us to read and laugh. Sure. Our cabinets are a dark cherry that is appropriately named “Merlot.” Our backsplash is dark brown tile with the standard Uba Tuba granite. We had many granite choices, but no other granite has such a fun and fantastic name. There’s a musical note and an instrument in that name—what could be better?

There were little things that Mr. Husband decided upon that reminded me of why it’s so darn fun to be with him—he likes fine things. He always says, “you get what you pay for” and he’s pointed out time and again when he’s been right. We put money into big, dramatic items like hardwood floors, cabinets, and undermount sinks. The undermount sinks in the master bathroom is an extravagance, indeed. But he did it. He’s the one who finally said, “let’s do it.” And I’m the one who jumped up and down clapping at his good decision. No more beard hair floating around the outside cranny of a sink—No more. It’s as if I just received the right to vote. It’s a big day for me. Now if only we can add a couple of robots to do the general cleaning. Perhaps we haven’t gotten to that part in the design review. Perhaps it’s still coming. Robots.

We walked away from our design review over budget and totally pleased with ourselves. While we went over Mr. Husband’s budget, we are completely inline with my budget. I told him how much it would cost to achieve the house we wanted. Now he believes me. It will all be fine. So we might have to wait another five years for kids. Do you hear that sound? It’s the sound of my mother and my mother-in-law’s hearts dropping like a sonic boom. They’ve created a wormhole with their desire and I just opened it. Monkey wrench!

The house we are planning is the house of our dreams right now. We’re very lucky to have this opportunity—and our mothers should not worry that we won’t fill this opportunity with kids. Babies. A baby for everyone. I think we’ll go ahead and have eight kids. Oh, wait … we got the level three wood floors and the level two cabinets. Ok, so how does half a baby sound to the grandparents? I think that’s all we’ll be able to afford since our house will be so smashingly-super-can’t-contain-it-awesome-spectacular. Maybe part of the kitchen or the undermount sinks will crawl up on your lap at Thanksgiving. That’s warm and fuzzy. Granite often is.

Our life got a little bit better last night as we let our stomachs unwind and uncork. We wrapped up in each other and remembered why we are doing all this—why we are planning for the future.

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