How much is too much?

Eight years and counting...but have no fears. You probably can’t build a house in a year and accomplish enough of the work yourself to earn the right to claim “I built my home.” On the other hand, you certainly don’t have to spend twelve years undertaking every single task to earn those bragging rights.

I grew up in a crowd of people to whom the phrase "We're building a house" did NOT translate to "We're having a house built." You did not say the first phrase unless your hands were callused and you did not say the second phrase unless you were trying to sound a bit snooty. Of course the question arises, how much of the work earns the status? Lately I find far too many people commandeer the first phrase when it’s strictly the second one that applies, in order that they may sound more “in-touch” (but I won't sink my teeth into that bone of contention right now).

Now of course I married a man who has taken the build-your-own notion to an extreme. Thus the eight years and counting. That and a whole lot of “life” happening. But as I said, I don’t think you need to undertake every aspect to earn the bragging rights or to feel you are truly vested in your home. I will, of course, give you all the juicy details of our home-building experience by-and-by, but for now a summary.

First, the extremes to which Kevin has taken the build-your-own philosophy. Unless it involved heavy-equipment or required licensing, we’ve done it (often with a little help from our friends!) And we have been present and accounted for on every bit of work. We cleared the lot -- from cutting down trees, hauling firewood, sawering logs and burning brush to hauling stones and moving dirt. Kevin drew the blueprints (with a final consultation from an architect). He cut the timber frame in our urban back yard (and later moved it to our country lot with help from a neighbor). I cheered as water first spewed out from our well. We harangued a neighbor (and his father and brother) as they built a stone retaining wall, excavated our foundation and put in our septic field. Kevin formed the footings and foundation walls; we poured the concrete (no, thankfully we did not mix the concrete ourselves.... we did have that brought in by the truck-load!). Kevin stripped the forms (and saved all the wood he used to build them). And so on and so forth; you get the picture.

As for the “life” happening, between the two of us there was a pregnancy and child birth (guess who did that one!), a couple bouts of pneumonia, three major career changes, one major surgery, a multi-day hospitalization, a cancer diagnosis and treatment. Not to mention three major apartment renovations (and an endless array of the ordinary tasks associated with having responsibility for five additional toilets, showers, kitchen sinks, heating systems, etc.), or the months of preparing habitable locales for the equine members of our family, or all the expected and unavoidable things that go on in life regardless of how much house building you have to do.

So, if we were to rewind the world and do things in a more expeditious manner, we could shave years off the project. Hire an architect, contract out the foundation work, buy the timber frame (or choose a quicker building method), sell the two rental properties, forget the horses, and eliminate the health issues. Of course we made those decisions with thought and reason (except of course the health issues; we weren’t consulted on those), in the pursuit, as Mallory describes it, of “sheer joy.” Which is, of course, the only reason you should undertake the building your own home.

Thus my point, finally. Give careful consideration to how much of your life you want to give over to your home building. And unless you’re single with no kids, this ‘you’ includes all of your immediate family. It’s hard, all-consuming work, but if it brings you that “sheer joy,” it is worth the struggle. As Norm Abrahms would say, “Measure twice. Cut once.” Consider until you reach absolute certainty. Believe me, when you’re on lineal foot 3,126 of clapboard and you’ve spot varnished, primed, installed, puttied, sanded, caulked and double top coated, with another 4,258 lineal feet to go, it can be tough to see the bright side. Best to know for certain that you’ve already thought the whole thing through and this is, really and truly, right where you want to be.

To get us started: Why Build?

Chatting with a client named Joe at work one day, the subject came 'round to house building. Turns out this gentleman and his family recently bought some rural property with plans to build a house. "Do you have a few minutes?" he asked. "Could you share some insights?"

What a golden opportunity to hear myself talk! But in the end all I managed was a rambling epic ode to eight years (and counting!) of modern homesteading, which I fear may have left Joe feeling a bit commitment-phobic on the home-building front, without providing any real insight. So this is my attempt to make amends by providing a more thoughtful, and slightly more balanced answer. Read on Joe - and other aspiring homesteaders - and consider yourselves warned!

There's much to be said for not building your own home. It costs more than buying a home. It takes up all your time. It's complicated. It means you have a perpetual To Do list hanging over your head. It does not fit well into our world of bank, insurance and building regulations. It fills your finger nails with unending grime, your hair with tangles of wood chips, your mouth, ears, eyes and clothing with permanent coatings of sheetrock dust, your arms with multi-hued layers of paint and your underwear and socks with sawdust. It leaves your hands calloused and your ankles scarred with concrete burns. The shear scope of details generally makes your brain smolder, often even erupt into flames. It frequently gives you headaches, often causes acid reflux disease, and has been known to cause arguments between otherwise mild-mannered spouses.

So why? Why climb Mount Everest? "Because it's there." For some there is simply an intrinsic drive, an internal vision that must be expressed. Why paint? Why sing? Why write? Because it's there, inside us.

"So, if you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won't see why we go. What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life. We do not live to eat and make money. We eat and make money to be able to enjoy life. That is what life means and what life is for."
-- George Leigh Mallory, 1922

My insight? Ask yourself first, is it there, inside you? If you look at the mountain and are filled with yearning, take on exactly as much of the climb as you are driven toward, as will give you that sheer joy. Maybe you do feel called to climb Mount Everest. Go for it. But maybe there are only components of the process toward which you yearn; find a way to answer those calls and hand the rest off to someone else. Do what sings from your soul. Because if the struggle to accomplish building your home does not bring sheer joy at the summit, well, there's just not much point in the climb.

My insight for the spouse? Remember this word: Vested. It's a good way to feel. No, not the down version (although depending on the locale and the season, down-vested is a good way to feel, too). Vested in your home. The more you become involved in the construction of your home, the more you feel vested in that home. Your home will be infused with your DNA (and that of your spouse) quite literally through the blood, sweat, tears and layers of skin that you will leave embedded in it. It will consume much of you. Likely you will never have that "sheer joy" your spouse experiences. But over time, if you allow yourself, you will become vested in your home in a way that other people are not. It is the knowledge that this is your home. It is a connectedness, a sense of being anchored. A feeling of commitment, of rightness. It is a sense of history that you have written with your spouse, family and friends. It is, like a good marriage, a quiet, deep, abiding joy.

I admit, plenty of people, including several neighbors, think we're a bit nuts for undertaking the entire project ourselves. Be prepared for the comments; not everyone sees the mountain as something that needs to be climbed. Hey, there is no good reason to climb Mount Everest either. But it is there.