This is what my kitchen looks like normally:
I haven’t even shown you the worst of it. The floor is ripped up, there’s half eaten food on the counter, kids dodging in and out, a father-in-law heating tea in a corner, and me hurriedly trying to paint the walls before I head out of town to Houston for Mom 2.0.
The end result will be phenomenal, but right now? I’m trying not to scream.