Like a Dream

HISTORY

REALITY - Beautiful Big Mama

As odd as it sounds, sometimes when we've wanted something so badly for so long, a serious case of the jitters can kick in when it starts to become a reality.

The decision had been made some time ago but now we'd put 'legs' on it by meeting with our designer, Lisa. (Sorry Ikea - we were such amateurs we needed someone to hold our hand and babysit us all the way. Still love your kitchens!) She assured me, what we would get would be both functional and would look great.

But even on installation day, I was still unsure because I only ever knew this kitchen one way. For eight years I'd wiped down the 80's inspired, grey benchtops, shuffled plates and dishes into the narrow cupboards and longed for overhead cabinets. What would it be like if that all changed? What if it didn't look any good? This was unfamiliar territory.

No Turning Back

When my husband, Mr Practical (see previous blog: Seduced by Square Footage) ripped out the old kitchen just days before the new one arrived, I got nervous. At that point I knew we'd gone past the point of no return. We didn't even have a sink. Was it awkward? It was like camping without the fun of going somewhere exciting. There were dishes stacked in piles, pots and pans flung into oversized cardboard boxes, absolutely no benchspace to work on and I still haven't located the electric mixer. So, I did what any desperate person would do; I went away for the weekend!

The Transformation

At last, installation day arrived. By lunchtime, the installer had most of the cupboards in place and even with a thick layer of dust over everything and I mean, everything, from all the sawing and drilling, the transformation was well under way. The following day all the new appliances were installed and with one flick of the light switch, downlights beamed soft streams of light onto the benchtops. Sigh. I fell in love!

It was better than I had hoped. I stared for the longest time. My fingers ran along the smooth cupboard edges. I rolled the soft close drawers in and out with glee. I marvelled at the new fan forced oven which was light years ahead of my temperamental old stove and pure joy zipped up my spine. I even got up in the middle of the night just to check to see if it was real and not one of those nasty dreams that seem real, but when you wake up, reality bites.

Revelation

Standing in the new kitchen now, it's like a dream, but better because it really happened. Even the memory of the old kitchen has faded becasue it's been superseeded by something far better. But many times when I couldn't see how it was going to turn out, I felt like pulling the plug. And so it is with change. It can get messy and hard right before the breakthrough. When you swing back and forth wondering if you're doing the right thing after already giving the matter thoughtful consideration and arriving at the best decision, it's a sign that you're so close to something new and wonderful. That's the time to chill and trust and just keep moving forward. Even if you feel like freaking out - don't.

The new kitchen is a beautiful place but it's not the hub of our home, (see previous blog: 'I'm Dreaming of a White Kitchen') as I originally thought. The true hub of our home is the people - my family. Another insight.

So, when you're not sure how to get to your destination, enlist the help of someone who does know ... and have a little faith it will somehow take shape and you will arrive safely. Otherwise you'll always wonder what might have been.

copyright 2010 Philippa Vette

I'm Dreaming of a White... Kitchen

I've narrowed down the new kitchen to three styles. My beloved Ikea catalogue has doggy-ears to mark my favourite pages. It was time to set out in hot pursuit of soft-close doors, European-inspired tapware and gadget drawers that were truly designed by geniuses.

It wasn't long and I was up close and personal with my first kitchen. It was a 'kid in a candy store' moment. I knew my eyes were bugging out. I knew my mouth was gaping - I didn't care. I opened drawers, investigated sliding pantries and then I found a dishwasher hidden behind a cupboard door. I almost applauded.

I've never had a new kitchen. I once had a kitchen that crumbled like weet-bix on he inside of the cupboards and drawers and I had to dust everything off before using it. (Please don't tell me it was asbestos.)

I pulled myself away in search of another favourite and found it just around the next bend. A smile spread from ear to ear as if I was seeing a dear, old friend. I took mental pictures and tried to imagine the style in my own kitchen. Very nice.

Finally, I came face to face with the last kitchen. The silvery taps glistened in the battery-operated down light as if it beckoned me to come closer. I reached out and dared to touch the cupboard edges. Oh, so smooth. I began to purr. What had my life been missing? I was so happy, all I wanted to do was lay down in the middle of the floor and make 'snow angels' in the shaggy rug but other folk staring would've ruined the moment.

I inhaled deeply and pulled myself together. Composure girl. It's just a kitchen. But it's not just a kitchen to me. This is where we've talked about life and love and loss and we've held each other, fought with each other and kissed and made up. It's more than a venue where food is served; it's the hub of our home. It's where our hearts beat together when we rise for the challenge of a new day and where we gather in each other's arms at the end of the day.

Our kitchen is touched by the lives and stories of our family and it deserves to be a beautiful place. And with those marshmellowy thoughts billowing through my mind and my heart pulsating with renewed purpose, I left the store and headed home in search of a tape measure and sketch pad. It was time.

copyright 2010 Philippa Vette