Our Farmhouse Table: Inspiration

Do you ever decide to make something that's a really useful and good thing to have, but the reason you decided to make it was, at best, questionable? The farmhouse table is exactly that. The reason I decided we needed one? You'll have to wait and look at copious pictures before I share my true reasoning.

It could be that we needed more table space. Our family now has a little one. And it's not that the little one takes up that much space at the table, but when you have a baby, and you are a military family living on the opposite end of the country from family? Having a baby means company. Company means the four person pedestal table we bought off Overstock four years ago just doesn't cut it anymore.

But that's not the reason.

It could be that we have always really REALLY wanted a farmhouse. In the country. With acres and acres of land that we could grow our own crops, raise sheep, and fish our own pond. We read a book about it once and it sounds great. (Note: if you don't speak sarcasm, you might not have grasped that last sentence was sarcastic. We read two books. And bought one. And reference it every week. (Note: that was more sarcasm, but somewhat true)). Oh, and I'm on Zillow (and Trulia, and every other real estate site)  all the time looking at houses that we could buy if ever we were to be able to settle down. My current obsession is this one:

It's a complete mess. I mean, in need of epic restoration. But in my way of thinking, someone else already did the messy part of taking it apart. Now I want to put it back together. I like broken things, because I can obviously fix them. Or so I think. In reality, I grew up hearing "Your dad will fix it" as my mom placed the broken item of the day at his spot at the table. So I grew up believing two things: 1) my mom can break anything and 2) my dad can fix anything therefore anything can be fixed. So naturally, someday when we buy a house, it will probably be a broken house. Hopefully a farmhouse.

But that's not why I wanted to build a farmhouse table. Although I believe in our dream.

So, maybe it's because I grew up with a trestle table, and I miss being able to put my feet up on the stretcher. I have very fond memories kicking my brothers' feet off the stretcher as five kids vied for the most foot room as well as the prime spot to invite the dog to sit next to you. Because if the dog was at your feet, it was sooooo much easier to feed her your zucchini. Ah nostalgia. So, yes, my new table has a fantastic stretcher that will fit in that nice big mortise there.

But no. That's not the reason.

The reason is simple. My child's current highchair has these metal legs that I am apparently blind to. I've stubbed my toe one too many times while bleary eyed in the morning while my espresso brews. And this little angel doesn't need to see mommy dancing around on one foot yelling and crying like a European soccer player (OH BURN!). Though, she does seem to think that's funny.

Yes, we could buy a new highchair. And I searched for one I liked. Really I did! I knew I didn't want one with stubbed toe hazards. Which means it couldn't... have legs? Ummmm. New mommy moment. Do they make those yet? Are the Jetsen's real? Can I get a hover-highchair? Turns out you can! Kinda.

They make highchairs that, get this, hang off the table. No feet to hurt my feet! I was one step away from the "buy now" on amazon when I read a review that said "...can't use a pedestal table". Then my brain worked again. Oh yeah - baby hanging off table with just one leg = pivot point = falling baby = bad.

Hmmm... What to do, what to do...

I've got it! Build a table!

So, yes - I clicked "buy now" and this puppy arrived:

Now all I have to do is finish building the table. Can someone tell me why exactly things take time to build? Because I really prefer instant gratification. Thankfully, I have a husband who understands handwork (who does the hard parts that I'm not a good enough woodworker to accomplish) and a baby who enjoys sitting under the umbrella and watching daddy work.

Did I marry well or what? My honey loves me enough to take a Saturday and cut 14 tenons. FOURTEEN tenons. To fit in the breadboard mortises he cut. I do love this man.

Soon. Very soon... you will see the finished table. And the worry of stubbed toes will be no more. And what a glorious day that will be.