Leveling a 30-year old Floor

We love our house! We love doing fixer-upper projects with our own hands and never hire out (friends don't count...they're paid in liquid refreshments and I'm certain not professionally trained). Now in this house ten years, I've had the itch to remove its circa 1980s style with the builder's grade oak trim and lovely gold linoleum that grace the floors of the main level of our house.

Here's what I was up against:

Hubby has slight OCD and noticed this raised line in the kitchen that ultimately paralyzed him from wanting to help me with this project. I got an extreme zoom of the raised spot - without the blue circle could you notice it?

He had it stuck in his head that we had water under the floor, our floor joists underneath were covered in mold and therefore we should not do anything. Logical.

A few friends noticed it, too. We all ignored it a while. Except the fact that those little divots and cuts (see that circular thing just above?) were becoming more and more noticeable and not getting clean.

Then we had friends with a toddler over. All of us were crawling on the floor playing with Toddler. I was embarrassed by what the floor showed, especially when our heads were so close to it. Ew. That's all I needed to convince hubby we needed to start.

But then he walked around with a 4-foot level and all hell broke loose. We were uneven in the hallway from the front door to the kitchen. We were uneven in front of the door to garage. We were almost half an inch off leading into the counter where our stools sat. 

Upon further inspection, floor joists were fine. No water damage, no glaring warped wood. We figured it was just age and a good rental floor sander would do the trick. Hubster did all the sanding while I was gone, but a $50 rental at Home Depot and our floor was just about ready. He cut out sections of the linoleum:

Isn't the gold linoleum lovely? I can't wait to cover it up forever!

Then came the more challenging part - under our counter where everyone hangs on stools, the floor goes down at least half an inch and there was no way new flooring would handle that much of a drop.

We picked up a bucket of Henry pre-mixed Patch n Level.

We were expecting something more liquid that a friend told us would flow on its own and be a self-leveler. This went down like wet cement. It worked fine for us and we even tolerated the smell. What didn't go as planned was darling daughter walking through the wet compound while barefoot.

She's not a toddler, people. She's 12. She's a solid kid made of muscle and sass. I had to carry her upstairs to the tub in fear she'd keep walking and spread the compound everywhere. She got cleaned up while I caught my breath and we set up barricades so she wouldn't do it again. I only swore a little.

We decided to go with a floating laminate looks-like-wood flooring I'll talk about later. You should love it as much as we do.

Oh, and her footprints are forever imprinted in this house. It was wet enough for her to sink in and dry enough to not level out.

*not compensated for where I shop or what brands I use.

#linoleum #byebyebadfloor #flooringcompound #30yearoldhouse #updatingourhome 

The Ripple Effect

We missed mother-daughter dance class the previous week. Coach taught the group more steps when we were gone so when class started daughter and I were lost.

"Just do what you know," said Coach, in an attempt to get us up to speed. Little did she know I did do what I know and damn I rocked it.

We're dancin'. 

The music is always too fast. We're cruising through the parts we do know and then we arrive at the point of the unknown. Other (normal) moms finish their part when the music stops. Not me. No. I am spinning in place thinking I've got this. During the spin I let one rip. Like full-on ripping denim sounding fart. It's something I know and I'm good at. My body's good at it.

At this point the moms are in a straight line directly to my right. The daughters are in a straight line to my left. My audible and I are the base of this V-shaped disaster with darling daughter, the understanding child of mine, right next to me, hiding her face in her hands. I see a physical ripple of mom heads turning to each other with "did she just do that?" "was that a fart?" "did that just happen?" working its way to the right with Coach at the end. She starts laughing. The daughters, now clearly understanding what happened, are screaming and pretending it stinks.

So I did what anyone should do in this situation. I yell out, "Okay! Now that we have that out of the way, can we learn the next move?!"

The way I see it you should hit any natural disaster head on.

Mother-Daughter Dance, Year Three, Day Three

Everyone who has survived two seasons of mother-daughter dance raise your hand if you're able.


I'll wait.

That's right. Me. I did. My daughter did.

We started Season Three with a bang and by bang I mean she's already rolling her eyes at me, I've already bounced her entire body to the floor off my boobs and I've got a new crowd of moms wondering what. the. hell. is wrong with me. I seriously look like the dancing overbite in Harry & Sally.


We've already blown through one coach...so far. I mean, it's the fourth night tonight, why not? The room is 87 degrees, we have daughters ranging in age from 4 to I think 25 (isn't there a cap?) and mothers of varying abilities to legally wear yoga pants. A couple moms are seasoned dancers which is bad news for the rest of us since doing the splits is still something I will never strive to accomplish.

The assistant coach has figured out my theme song to life is "Shake it Off" and thus plays it on repeat. Unable to help myself, I break into a geeky attempt at shaking mine off while a couple moms whoop at my fist pumps and darling daughter averts her eyes. She has a friend who has since joined her in misery and is also truly embarrassed by my lacking sense of rhythm. But I don't care. I'm like Harry above. Just keep dancing overbite.

Last week we had to jump with the end goal being threefold: 1) kick your heel into your butt, 2) stay in beat (5-6-7-8!) and 3) for heavens sake don't fall down. When I fall down I lose track of where I am which then puts daughter in a tizzy which causes us to giggle which ends with me crossing my legs so I don't leave a puddle.

Coach has also tasked us with practicing our sassy walk. I, of course, have not. Tonight's practice will include more "MOTHER" screams from my partner. It's a good thing "Shake it Off" is played so loudly so no one can hear my expletives.