When Granite Countertops Aren't As Cool As They Seem.

This is kind of hard for me to write. I never want to come across as this miserable, ungrateful, blob of human whininess and discontent. So please understand that I always speak from my heart, and my heart has been a bit unsettled this year. In fact, it's been thru more than all of my previous years combined. So here's more of that honesty you've come to expect out of me...

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Almost two years ago, we put our first home up for sale.  

 

Soon after we initially bought it, (years prior), we felt sick about it. We knew, after a better understanding of one another, that we didn't want to live in a "cookie-cutter" neighborhood, in the middle of NASCAR country, and five feet from our neighbors.  

 

Add to that fact, we had countless massive tumbles down the stairs [via the children], and two of those incidents ended up as ER visits and required stitches. We couldn't wait to move. I mean, we couldn't WAIT!!!  

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I was always embarrassed of my kitchen in that house. I would see my "old friends" show pictures of their homes and kitchens and think "someday, I want granite countertops like they have...". In fact, I rarely had anyone over because I hated the countertops that much. I just was embarrassed. 

 

The countertops were HORRIBLE. Cheap. Bleach white. (Why...I will never understand...) Anything red spilled on the counter, it would leave an impossible stain. They were Formica.  They were so hard to keep clean. I was never proud of my kitchen, except when I had a fresh bouquet of flowers overpowering the ugliness of the countertops. 

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When our house sold in five days and we found (what we thought was) our dream house back here in the woods, I was floored when I saw that the kitchen was the only room that was updated. And...there was granite. The granite I always wanted.  

 

I knew, for a FACT, that if we moved here and I had this kitchen, that ne'er a dreary face it should see.  

 

So this year has taught me several...well, thousands of things, actually. One being, I was insanely more happy with both life in general (and motherhood) back in the neighborhood house with stark-white, stain-gripping, cheap countertops than I have been here, with my dream kitchen.  

 

And for the record, it is not easier to clean. In fact, I find it more challenging than before.  

 

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Aside from that, I realize that {truly} happiness is never, ever found in what we think we should have and don't. I may have my kitchen, but I traded those countertops for no bathtub, no mirror, and a time capsule for a shower in my bathroom. I also have partially painted rooms and those accordion like closet doors that pinch your hands everytime you aren't perfectly careful shutting them. (And let me tell you about some pain...)  

 

I say this, I'm putting this out here, because maybe you're discontent in where you currently are. Maybe you're looking at others thinking, "if only...". But don't. Please don't. Because life isn't about our comfortableness, our wishes coming true, or seeing ourselves as happier in another setting altogether.  

 

Case in point, my best friend, she doesn't even have countertops in her kitchen. Nope; her countertops have been sheets of plywood for years now. I know she won't mind me telling you this because she doesn't seem to care much. It doesn't stop her from being the most giving, hospitable, amazing, loving person on the planet. She welcomes others into her home, she's not embarrassed, and she sends more meals out to others than she actually makes for herself.  

 

So, I then consider all of the times that I could've opened up my home and didn't. All of the times that I could've made someone a meal, but didn't because I hated spending time in that kitchen. We also ate out more than we should've because, well...you get the picture... 

 

The thing is, as I reflect on my life in that house, I wish I could go back and have just one more dance party with my sons in that kitchen. One more hallway filled with piles of clothes on laundry day because the laundry closet was exactly that, a closet. I wish I could watch my son climb that ONE single tree in our backyard one more time. Because now that one favorite tree has been replicated 1,000 times in this yard. 

 

Having coming to a full knowledge of these things, I'd gladly give back my granite kitchen for a flight of stairs and a closet for a laundry room if it meant that I could have my zest for life back. I would trade it in a hot second.  

 

But since I can't trade it, I'm going to have to find it here. And I'll look at your photos of your kitchens, old cabinets, and countertops and hope that you are content with just that. Because, I think your kitchens are just beautiful. They truly are. And I hope your lives are even more so, because you could really care less about some granite. 

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