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FeedBehind the Scenes
Living through a remodel means surviving mess and chaos—unless you’re a kid
By Maggie Shea
Photo by Alex Steinberg
My family had front row seats to a unique performance last year. Who knew that destroying and rebuilding a kitchen, plus creating an owners’ suite and mudroom would be such fascinating entertainment? And a huge headache, of course. It all began one quiet September morning. We were having breakfast when we heard a low rumble outside. All four kids—Sean, Anna, Elise, and Cecilia (ranging from 2–9 years old)—ran to the window to watch a huge semi unload an even huger Caterpillar and a speedy little Bobcat in front of our house. They could barely contain themselves. They went completely berserk as the next truck drove up and deposited a mint-green Port-a-Potty by the side of our garage. Thus began the long, loud parade of contractors and the messy process of breaking down and building back up that is remodeling.
My mud-loving kids ran off the bus that afternoon to a dream come true: two enormous dirt mountains left by the excavators. We got rid of some of it with a “Free Black Dirt” posting on Craigslist. As pickups trickled into our backyard and made tiny dents in the twin mountains, our little ones and their friends had a blast cave-building, sledding, “dirt boarding,” and swinging from Mt. Remodels’ peak on tree-bound ropes.
The perks kept coming. When carpenters Ben, Ethan, and Will began framing the addition, my kids skirted around their workspace, yelling “Hi! Bye!” and falling into hysterical laughter when they got any kind of response. These friendly young men were not only tolerant of the kids, but they left a pile of scrap wood and dozens of nails each night. More toys for the older kids. The pile was transformed into tiny houses, big forts, swords, ladders that reached into trees, fuel for bonfires, and, cutest of all, wood people clothed in felt and adorned with sequins.
Less entertaining byproducts of the project (to me): The stove moved to the dining room, and the living room became home to the fridge, microwave, kitchen table, old kitchen cabinets, and countless brown bags of dry goods. The project seeped into unexpected areas of the house: Plumbers were in our bedroom closet and electricians knocked on the upstairs hall walls, seeking studs. Dust invaded every nook and cranny, food sometimes tasted like paint thinner, and, by the end of many days, my nerves were shot. My husband Tom and I lost sleep over the amount of money that flowed out. I had nightmares about our house falling or burning down (that was after the steel beam welder suggested my kids and I leave the premises for the day while he did his fiery work).
Despite all this, we never felt lost at sea. Small signs of progress and a large sense of humor helped us muddle through. It also helped to have a few talented captains and a good map for the voyage. Architect Robert Gerloff won our trust and the job of designing given our limited budget within a few minutes of our first meeting. General contractor Dave Styba came with sky-high recommendations, and we now know why. Dave bent over backwards to accommodate us—he worked out problems quickly, kept progress steady, paid attention to details, and generally knows his stuff.
Photo by Alex Steinberg
In April, the carpenters returned our dining room to us, with the bonus of a gorgeous set of sliding doors and windows opening up a wall-length view of our backyard. When the granite counters went in, the kitchen blossomed into a stunning space that quickly became the center of our busy lives. Ron Altenburg, a talented carpenter who also happens to be married to our son’s first-grade teacher, created the mudroom’s wall of custom cabinets. The mudroom—with its column of in-boxes, four large lockers, dozens of hooks, and durable tile floor—makes life with four kids much more manageable.
By spring, memories of the constant buzzing and hammering and hours spent hunched over the basement washtub washing dishes were already fading. It seemed strange to be in the house with just the kids. They actually missed the “old days,” as my son called them recently, when the crews arrived at 8 a.m. sharp each morning.
At the end of it all, I realized I have an answer for my daughter’s question about Ben and his colleagues: Perhaps the workers are kids at heart, with lots of grown-up skills. Now that the dust has cleared, we smile as we remember their amazing abilities and whistle-while-you-work ways, and we’re thankful for the beautiful space they created for us.
Questions to consider when choosing a builder
Have frank conversations. Ask past clients about their experiences. What was it like having the builder around? How well did workers maintain the job site? How close did the builder come to the initial cost and time estimates? How was communication? How would the client rate the quality of construction?Ask tough questions. How historically accurate are the builder’s estimates on costs and schedules? What is the builder’s process for dealing with unexpected problems and change orders during construction? Are the subcontractors’ fees marked up? If so, by how much? How many jobs does the builder have underway at one time?
Get the details on labor. Who will be doing the actual work? Who would be the lead carpenter on your project? How much of the work is subbed out? How long have the employees and subs worked with the company? How will the project be supervised?
—M.S.
(Compiled with help from architect Robert Gerloff)
Architect, schmarchitect?
Why we wouldn’t have done it any other way
A guide through the maze. Architects see the big picture, solve problems, act as the homeowner’s advocate, and explain the myriad details involved in this overwhelming process.
Divine design. Our architects designed a new kitchen that is strong on both substance and style: There are ample spaces for storage, cooking, eating, and hanging out. Traffic flows well. Plus, we love the artsy features: the light beam, a “cloud” over the island, and transom windows between the kitchen and mudroom.
Knobs and fixtures, ad infinitum. Choosing from the hundreds of possible products is daunting. Our architect got to know our taste and budget, then narrowed selections to a manageable number and either showed us models or photos (sparing us dozens of trips to Home Depot and the like). Most choices were made and written into the construction documents before a single nail was hammered.
Competitive bidding. Architects can produce a detailed plan independent of the builder, and homeowners can use the plan to get more accurate and competitive bids from multiple builders.
The master plan. Our architects created construction documents that spelled out everything, from the dimensions of the rooms down to fixture specifications and even the preferred joist caulk. Every subcontractor also has a copy of the plans so that everyone is on the same page.
—M.S.
Maggie Shea is a Minnetonka freelance writer.
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Great Story!