Flash Memoir: Foundations

build it first and build it strong and then have the courage to mess it all up

Welcome to another installment of Loss and Finding Home, a real-time flash memoir of the complete gut and remodel of our 1950s California ranch-style home. Answering the questions: What does it mean to be home? Who makes up a home? How do you build a home when there is always someone missing from the dinner table?

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Previously on… Loss and Finding Home I talked about the challenges of living in a house that doesn't feel like home. Today is all about building foundations

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Hello friends,

It’s been a minute since I gave an update on the remodel. Mostly because after demo all that was left was a big pile a trash and not much else. We left two walls standing, but they were so rickety it turned out to be more work to try and reinforce them than to just tear them down and start fresh. All that was left was a few sticks of framing around the electrical panel.

We also tried to save the OSB subfloor that was likely original to the 1959 house. OSB is a sheet of engineered wood that looks like paper machete and sits between the floor joist and whatever you’re using for flooring (wood, tile, carpet, etc.) If you have a squeaky floor, the subfloor is probably to blame. In the old house, I had our squeaks memorized. There was one right in front of where we put the crib in the room that first belonged to Peyton, then Aiden, and lastly, Tatum’s. I knew exactly where to step so as not to wake a sleeping baby. 

We had a bit of rain, and the layers of wood started to shred, so we had to trash that too. A new subfloor means no squeaks.

With the rain came mud and puddles, and I said goodbye to our front lawn. Nick dragged the kids to help haul lumber, sort metal pipes, and pump water from puddles.  

If ever there were an image that defined one of the primary differences between my children, it would be this. Owen cringed at the mess, and Peyton was knee-deep in it.

The new house has a mixed foundation of both raised and a concrete¹ slab. 

The concrete contractor took about three weeks. They dug trenches for the footings and used form boards to construct a mold. One moring at 8 am a noisy concrete mixer was in our driveway and the property was buzzing with activity. It’s an interesting process that seems to rely heavily on proper preparation because once that concrete is poured into your mold, the clock is ticking. It was so cool to see how fast they had to be to keep the slab smooth. I watched them tap out the air bubbles and scrape the surface clean the way a banker might ice a cake.

That weekend, right before Christmas, we all went to the house to check the progress. 

I loved how clean and smooth the slab was, and I started to worry I might spoil it. The further we get into this process, the more narrow our options are. There’s no going back once everything is under a few feet of hardened concrete. (Well, I guess you could always go back, but you’re going to pay for it) But what use is a pristine slab of concrete? Sure, it’s strong and a good place to start, but there’s also not much else. 

Same as in life... 

Earlier this month I celebrated 16 years of sobriety and it felt like a big number. I'm not really on fire for my sobriety. I don’t go to daily or even weekly meetings. I don’t have a gaggle of people to sponsor, but I’m not checked out, either. I stay current with a few friends in the program, and I stay honest with myself. I'm just good. Basically, I have 16 years of foundation.

This week, COVID hit our house hard, picking us off one by one, just when I was starting to gain momentum on my goals. I was frustrated, thinking, “This isn’t the 2024 I ordered.”I threw myself a bit of a pity party, but once I faced the reality that I couldn’t outrun a virus, Nick sent me to bed, and I surrendered to what my body needed: rest.

When I returned to my computer post-Covid fogg, I still had dozens of tabs open filled with all the reflection and ambition you might expect from a post from the last few or the first few days of the year. 

Rather than close the entire window and scrap the idea of a “New year, New me,” I read them instead.

Rather than make me feel like I missed some arbitrary deadline, I felt I had permission to move the start date. 

I chose a word: Steady. 

I’m adding structure to my goals

I’m tapping out a calendar.

And I wear it all like a loose garment (another program nugget). You build your foundation first and strong, but eventually, you need walls and doors and windows, and sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. Because life, if you’re lucky, isn’t a perfectly smooth concrete slab.

This is where I am today. Thank you for listening.

xoxo,

Emily

Check out my stories on Instagram if you want to see more of our muddy mess.

Coming up… We built a house with sticks. a.k.a framing is really freaking cool!

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In case you need to start your year over too, here are a few of the posts I read that got me in the mood.

For a flashback to Y2K advice from the turn of the century read, 2000 alternative ways to get a life from

Vanessa Holden

It’s uncanny how relevant this is!

What I haven’t done this year from

While I Was Drawing

When “plan” is written in italics I KNOW I’m going to relate.

A phrase of the year from

Writing Around The Edges

to “hold everything lightly”

1. A quick note on concrete: Concrete and cement are two different things. “Cement is a binding agent made from limestone and clay, whereas concrete is a building material created through the proper mixing of cement, water, sand, and rock.” Basically, cement is used to make concrete.  To confuse the two would be the same as confusing all-purpose flour and a cake.