About five years ago, Dewy and I started formulating plans and setting goals to build our own home. We had both dreamed of doing that, and the idea was finally starting to be feasible, so we did what any sensible potential new construction owner might do... we pulled up Pinterest. The entire process literally took us five years from discussion to move in, but that is another post--or 12--for another day. This post is all about the fun stuff. The "why didn't anyone tell me that's what happens with a new build" stuff. You thought you would move in to a brand new house and it would be a clean fresh slate? Think again. You didn't think about all the bugs you just unearthed in your digging that are coming back for revenge? The earwigs and I are on a first name basis. You didn't realize putting in a yard would actually cost you your ticket to heaven? Why do I have to pay over $15,000 for rocks!? Rocks are free everywhere I look. And don't even get me started on the dust.
Anyone who has built a home will tell you that snags happen. Regularly. The owner points a finger at the project manager, who points a finger at the sub contractor, who points a finger at the office... its a vicious cycle. Luckily, I would say that for the most part our build wasn't a nightmare. I feel like our project manager--Matt, back me up here--would tell you that dealing with me was a nightmare, but I'm only kind of sorry. One of the snags we hit was a doozy. Like, think of the worst possible thing that could go wrong, and you've nailed it. That's right... mama's master bathtub.
For seven years now I've shared a bathtub with four boys. That's right. Boys. Never mind that it was a tub from 1986. You know the kind... you fill it up five inches, sit in it, and the water overflows out the top? Super big self esteem booster that tub. Try getting in it when pregnant. My PTSD warnings are kicking in just thinking about it. When Dewy and I started drawing up our custom plans, we agreed that I was getting a super sexy tub. Well mostly I demanded it, and he agreed because he rocks. I also said there would be no boys allowed, but one of them keeps sneaking in. You guessed it... Dewy loves bubble baths. Sorry babe. The secret's out.
As the building process was underway, we selected a tub from the list of options the builder provided. Then I found out the one I wanted was out of stock and wouldn't be available until two months after we moved in. That meant my options were to pick another one, or go two months with no tub. Seeing how I'm super patient and flexible, those options didn't bother me at all. I threw a total fit. I know, I know.. first world problem. I decided to take matters in to my own hands and hunt down my own tub from wherever I wanted. I looked at a billion websites, visited showrooms until they kicked me out for sitting in all their tubs, and racked up the minutes on Kurt's--you're a true American hero, Wilson--cell phone asking him to get contractor pricing for me on about 6,823 different tubs. I finally found the tub, and the freestanding faucet. Phew...That was almost dramatic. Crisis averted. Side note: When my sister saw the faucet with it's hand sprayer for the first time she thought it was so handy for washing dogs. Seeing as how no dog will EVER find itself in my tub, we will assume the sprayer is for washing hair. Also, the wine glass is obviously for Diet Dr. Pepper, and I usually compliment it with two otter pops. Ok fine... five.
Fast forward. A couple months ago we noticed the floor in our master bathroom starting to bubble and warp. It looked like the flooring was too tight and was starting to buckle, so we contacted Matt--sorry, you're not done with us yet--and didn't worry much about it. Then it started getting worse. Dewy was worried about water damage, because the bubble was right next to my freestanding faucet. So after date night Friday night, Dewy and Kurt ripped up my bathroom floor. You guessed it. Freaking. Water. Damage. Dewy threw a fit. I ALMOST cried at the thought of losing my tub or faucet. Kurt tried to talk us off a ledge, and Marcia watched Friends on the couch. This was one of those "no one warned me" moments. I thought when I moved in to a new house it would be problem free. I thought the plumber would have quadruple checked for leaks. Basically what this boils down to is I'm not allowed in my office until further notice, Matt is back to getting hourly phone calls from the Hodges, but it's all apparently ok because we are still under warranty. Let's all just take a minute to mourn the temporary loss of my beautiful tub, and also realize that this post just saved Dewy oodles of dollars on a therapy session.
Anyone who has built a home will tell you that snags happen. Regularly. The owner points a finger at the project manager, who points a finger at the sub contractor, who points a finger at the office... its a vicious cycle. Luckily, I would say that for the most part our build wasn't a nightmare. I feel like our project manager--Matt, back me up here--would tell you that dealing with me was a nightmare, but I'm only kind of sorry. One of the snags we hit was a doozy. Like, think of the worst possible thing that could go wrong, and you've nailed it. That's right... mama's master bathtub.
For seven years now I've shared a bathtub with four boys. That's right. Boys. Never mind that it was a tub from 1986. You know the kind... you fill it up five inches, sit in it, and the water overflows out the top? Super big self esteem booster that tub. Try getting in it when pregnant. My PTSD warnings are kicking in just thinking about it. When Dewy and I started drawing up our custom plans, we agreed that I was getting a super sexy tub. Well mostly I demanded it, and he agreed because he rocks. I also said there would be no boys allowed, but one of them keeps sneaking in. You guessed it... Dewy loves bubble baths. Sorry babe. The secret's out.
As the building process was underway, we selected a tub from the list of options the builder provided. Then I found out the one I wanted was out of stock and wouldn't be available until two months after we moved in. That meant my options were to pick another one, or go two months with no tub. Seeing how I'm super patient and flexible, those options didn't bother me at all. I threw a total fit. I know, I know.. first world problem. I decided to take matters in to my own hands and hunt down my own tub from wherever I wanted. I looked at a billion websites, visited showrooms until they kicked me out for sitting in all their tubs, and racked up the minutes on Kurt's--you're a true American hero, Wilson--cell phone asking him to get contractor pricing for me on about 6,823 different tubs. I finally found the tub, and the freestanding faucet. Phew...That was almost dramatic. Crisis averted. Side note: When my sister saw the faucet with it's hand sprayer for the first time she thought it was so handy for washing dogs. Seeing as how no dog will EVER find itself in my tub, we will assume the sprayer is for washing hair. Also, the wine glass is obviously for Diet Dr. Pepper, and I usually compliment it with two otter pops. Ok fine... five.
Fast forward. A couple months ago we noticed the floor in our master bathroom starting to bubble and warp. It looked like the flooring was too tight and was starting to buckle, so we contacted Matt--sorry, you're not done with us yet--and didn't worry much about it. Then it started getting worse. Dewy was worried about water damage, because the bubble was right next to my freestanding faucet. So after date night Friday night, Dewy and Kurt ripped up my bathroom floor. You guessed it. Freaking. Water. Damage. Dewy threw a fit. I ALMOST cried at the thought of losing my tub or faucet. Kurt tried to talk us off a ledge, and Marcia watched Friends on the couch. This was one of those "no one warned me" moments. I thought when I moved in to a new house it would be problem free. I thought the plumber would have quadruple checked for leaks. Basically what this boils down to is I'm not allowed in my office until further notice, Matt is back to getting hourly phone calls from the Hodges, but it's all apparently ok because we are still under warranty. Let's all just take a minute to mourn the temporary loss of my beautiful tub, and also realize that this post just saved Dewy oodles of dollars on a therapy session.
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