husband built our home.
he dug the footing, framed it, did the electrical work, laid the tile, put in all the doors and trim, and a bunch of other stuff.
our names (except for bo christian) are written all over the studs.
sounds romantic doesn't it?
well, he didn't build it for us.
he built it for us to live in for 2 years and then sell.
it never did sell. we were stuck.
i never wanted to build this house and for years i didn't even like it.
we were living in a little house that i liked - husband had built it too.
i couldn't keep it clean. i couldn't imagine keeping an even bigger house clean.
the sweat equity in this house was not worth it to me from the beginning.
all i saw was my man was never home and i had 4 babies to raise by myself
while he built a house that wasn't for us.
(that sweat equity is worth almost nothing now.)
yes, i picked most of the things out in it.
but, i didn't pick them out for us. i picked them out to sell the house.
we've had lots of arguments over this house.
but, they never amounted to anything.
the arguments weren't worth our time or energy since we are in this forever.
a few years ago i started liking my house.
it started becoming a home for us.
i learned a home is so much more than a house plan, address or decor.
the house became more to me than just a mortgage payment and a roof over our heads.
i started changing small things to make the house more me.
i painted. husband put up shutters for me and moved cabinets around in the laundry room.
my boys have beat up the wood floors (and a bunch of other stuff) with their toys.
a few months ago husband ripped out a door. he didn't like the way he put it in the first time.
my friend left him a note on the door frame. i *love* that missing door.
our home isn't perfect or anything you would find in a magazine, but it does tell the story of us.
it tells the story of how a husband can build a house. a house that a wife didn't like and eventually it became their home.
i am thankful for our home.
