Last October we bought our first house. After living on the third floor of various elevator-less apartment buildings for years, I was more than ready to have a door on the ground floor and a washer and dryer to call my own. We love our house. It was built in either 1928 or 1935 and has charm oozing out of every crack of its uninsulated walls. The kitchen, however, was less charming and more disturbing.

Sadly, we didn’t take enough before photos. Here’s all I have:

As soon as we got possession of the house, we gutted it.

Here’s what the kitchen vomited into my backyard:

And here’s what it vomited into my dining room:

When we first planned the kitchen redo, we decided to keep the back door in the kitchen, where it originally was. It was pretty difficult to fit in enough cabinet and counter space around three doorways and a huge window, though. Here’s what we came up with:

Oops, right? It just didn’t work. I had good intentions with the double-level cabinets. I’m tall, so reaching into them wasn’t a problem, and we had planned to put all our small appliances in the cabinets right at counter level, with outlets for them within the cabinets themselves until we learned that that was against code. So I ended up with no counter space, no room for coats, boots, hats, scarves, and mittens in the winter, and a funky cabinet arrangement.

After our third little boy was born in April, Mr. Teatimewithmandy re-gutted the kitchen, moved the back door out, and re-arranged the cabinets. We repainted and put up a bead-board backsplash too.
I think we got it right this time.

I love it now, and am so happy with what we finally ended up with. I can tell you one thing for sure. I don’t plan on gutting the same kitchen twice in less than 12 months ever again.

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