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Our House Was a Mess. Just Like Our Marriage.
Both Fell Apart, and for the Same Reasons. No One Took Care of Them.
In 2000, as I was expecting our third child, my (now ex) husband and I bought a house. A vast brick home in Pittsburgh with what I believed was room to grow our family even larger. I had often spoken of creating a big family, having at least one more child to add to the three we’d soon have. And he had his eye on a gorgeous grand piano that would fill one of the big rooms on the first floor. He would be able to switch from giving piano lessons at other people’s homes to having students come to our house, in doing so, making more time for our family.
The house needed some work, but we were young and ambitious, and we had big plans. We were excited to design a new kitchen, eager to save up and do most of the project ourselves. This was our second home together, so we had already had a bit of practice doing smaller projects on our first home. We were starry-eyed and energetic, like lots of young couples can be.
The first years in our big brick house were a roller coaster of trials and triumphs. A learning curve. The functional kitchen was in the basement, formerly used as an apartment add-on by the previous owner. But we didn’t care. We kept saving our nickels, dimes, and dollars for the modest dream kitchen we’d install soon. Indeed, in year three…
