Our home renovation project has only just begun, but we’re already in for an adventure. This week, the team discovered asbestos tile in the upstairs bedrooms, hidden under carpet, which they said they’d never seen before in a bedroom. Gross!
We, of course, had no idea it was up there, and thus our asbestos abatement bill continues to expand (as the nasty stuff also exists in the closet walls and on the exterior of the house). But we know that we’re in good hands with our builders, so we’re trying to breathe and remind ourselves that this is the work of renovating old houses: There’s a lot hidden beneath the floors and walls that you’d never know about until you start taking them all down.
Renovation seems like a bit of minor, albeit costly, archaeology. It’s interesting to discover how your house was built, decades ago by people you’ll never meet. We learned in the permit process, for example, that our plot used to be a golf course in the 1920s, which you’d never guess by looking at our plain street. This type of digging and discovery is perhaps why I’ve felt the urge to do more public record-keeping. 2022 seems fated to be an eventful year in our family’s history as we rip up and subsequently restore the humble little home that we love.
Meanwhile, Felix is fast approaching Peak Baby. He’s 5 months old and just the squirmiest, happiest little bundle. He’s cutting his first two teeth and is accordingly extremely slimy all the time. Here is being super-helpful during moving week:
And Moses is warming up to his role as a dutiful big brother. He’s guaranteed to get immediate laughs from his baby brother and enjoys stuffing pacifiers into Felix’s mouth when Felix least expects it. He’s busy with his school duties, throwing himself gainfully into the Montessori transportation unit, and requests to jam out to Cake, “The Distance,” every morning to get pumped up for school (credit due to Guion, of course, with apologies to our new neighbors).
Guion continues to have great hair and a true knack for mushroom growing. He’s cultivating massive, brain-like clumps of lion’s mane in Moses’s bedroom now. I sanction this activity, because he feeds them to me after sauteeing them in soy sauce and they taste like exotic chicken nuggets. I am at peace.
I am also getting, at long last, a cordless Dyson, at the urging of my mother and sister, who are engaged in torrid love affairs with their own Dysons. Please leave your congratulations in the comments, as I am now going to rise to such heights of supreme homemaking that I’ll gleefully embarrass myself with how often I vacuum. All our neighbors will hear from now on is the constant whir of my new pet and he’s going the distance, he’s going for speed, she’s all alone (all alone), in her time of need…
Kelsey Farson is written all over that “torrid love affair” with a cordless vacuum! Love it.
It's been a while since I've come across a Substack like yours! I've been writing here for a few months now and am so glad to find other talented writers on the platform. Your kids are so cute! I can't wait to read through your archives and tell my friends :) Cheers!