Category: Rebuild

After months of waiting, revising, resubmitting, and advocating, this week felt different.

This week felt like building.

The excitement actually started when the piles were delivered at the end of last week. Seeing them stacked on our lot made everything feel real. These weren’t abstract plans or digital renderings. These were 30-foot telephone poles that were about to become the foundation of our home.

We needed 63 piles for the house and another 10 for the pool.

When the pile drivers arrived, we were genuinely excited. No anxiety, just anticipation. I was curious how it would feel inside the RV once the pounding started.

The answer? You feel it.

The RV shook. Not terrifying, but constant. I’m on video conference all day for work, and every 30 seconds my laptop vibrated with each hit. It made the washing machine spin cycle look gentle. Normally I can just lift my laptop for 30 seconds and wait it out. This was an all-day event. Eventually, I just let the camera shake and embraced the reality of driveway dwelling during active construction.

Dishes rattled. The ground vibrated. But overall, it was not as bad as I expected.

We were most worried about the dogs, so Reese and Ute went to stay with their Zio and Zia for a few days. I am certain they would not have appreciated three straight days of pounding. Our daughter was at school and missed the entire thing.

We were also watching the neighbors closely. Pile driving is loud. It vibrates not just your property but the surrounding homes as well. Our immediate neighbors, even though I’m sure it wasn’t the most peaceful few days for them, were genuinely excited for us. That meant more than they probably realize.

We did have one neighbor a street over stop by and vent about the noise and vibration. Neither Troy nor I were home at the time, so they spoke with the builder onsite. It was handled calmly and professionally. It was explained that piles are required for this type of construction. The neighbor mentioned there are “better ways” to do it.

That’s technically true. We could have used helical piles that screw into the ground rather than being hammered in. They’re quieter. They’re also at least $120,000 more expensive. For us, that simply wasn’t an option. It was straightforward math. I did feel some guilt about the disruption for others, but I was incredibly grateful the crew finished in three days instead of the eight originally planned.

Three days of shaking ground feels very different than eight.

One of the unexpected annoyances this week was much less dramatic. The dumpster was dropped at a slight angle. Not wildly off. Not careless. Just angled enough that the back corner of the dumpster hung about one foot too far into the driveway.

That single corner made the difference.

If it had been shifted over just a foot, we would have been able to squeeze by between the RV and the dumpster. But because of that small angle, we couldn’t get through at all. It was one of those moments where you just stare at it and think, “Really? This is what’s stopping us?”

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The drop-off driver was simply placing it where it fit best for construction access, not thinking about our daily vehicle choreography. And our builder quickly came out and identified a better long-term location for it going forward.

For a few days, though, we couldn’t park in our own driveway.

Thankfully, our neighbor let us use part of theirs. And Troy, in what I can only describe as a quiet declaration of territory, parked his truck overnight right at the front of our lot.

It was a small hiccup in an otherwise huge week, but it was a perfect reminder that in construction, inches matter.

And as if that wasn’t enough momentum for one week, we also officially hired our interior designer. Natalie from Dreamland Interiors is back in our lives. She helped with our master bathroom remodel twelve years ago in the old house, and it feels full circle to be working with her again on something this big.

We’ve already started appliance selections, and I cannot tell you how excited I am about the Wolf oven and gas range we’re choosing. After everything we’ve lived through the past year and a half, the idea of cooking and entertaining in this kitchen feels like joy instead of logistics.

This week was huge.

The piles are in. The foundation is literally set. The RV shook. The neighbors survived. The dogs enjoyed a mini vacation. The schedule is moving.

For the first time in a long time, this doesn’t feel like waiting.

It feels like building.

And the momentum feels really, really good.

LETS GOOOOOO!

It’s been a while since my last update. The short version is that not much appeared to be happening. The longer and more honest version is that a lot was happening, just almost entirely out of sight.

My last post was around Halloween. At that point, our house had been fully demoed, but we still didn’t have the permits needed to move forward. What followed were months that felt stagnant from the outside and exhausting on the inside.

One of the first surprises was learning that a prior builder had never obtained a proper site plan. That discovery alone forced us to step back and start over with a new site plan, which immediately slowed everything down.

Around the same time, we ran into a major code requirement tied to FEMA regulations. This wasn’t a new rule, but it is one that the City of Tampa enforces very strictly, especially after recent hurricanes. Any interior walls on the first floor below FEMA height are required to be removed to prevent future build-outs in flood-prone areas.

In our case, a few of those walls were intended only for storage. Unfortunately, they were also load-bearing.

That single issue triggered a domino effect. Removing load-bearing walls meant changes to the truss plan. Truss changes required updated architectural plans. Updated plans had to be reviewed again by engineers and resubmitted to the city. Even when corrections could be turned around quickly, the city has up to three weeks to review each resubmission. Fast fixes didn’t always lead to fast reviews.

At the same time, Tampa transitioned its permitting process to combine site plan and build plan reviews. In the long run, this is actually a better and more efficient system. Unfortunately for us, we started the process while the two were still separate, which meant navigating multiple reviewers and timelines before the transition was complete. That overlap added complexity and delay that future projects will hopefully avoid.

From the outside, it probably looked like nothing was happening. Internally, it was organized chaos. Almost daily texts with our builder and architect. Follow-ups with planners. Calls and emails with engineers. Conversations with other builders just to understand how to navigate the system better. There was a lot of coordination happening behind the scenes, even when progress felt invisible.

One of the longest delays came from the FAA. A federal government shutdown paused approvals entirely for about 45 days. When things reopened, weeks passed with no movement. After finally getting a direct FAA contact, we learned that what had been submitted was a standard request, but our home height required a different form altogether. That meant starting over.

That moment was rough. I remember feeling sick, thinking we were facing another 45-day delay. Thankfully, the contact I had connected with was incredibly helpful and pushed our approval through in about two weeks instead of the standard timeline. Our FAA approval came in the week after Christmas. Our site plan approval arrived around the same time.

One unexpected bright spot was help from a builder across the street. He offered guidance on how, as the homeowner, I could engage directly with the city. He also helped me get the FAA contact that ultimately moved things forward. It was a good reminder that sometimes progress comes from asking questions and leaning on the right people.

At one point, our builder staked out the exterior corners of the house. Seeing it on the ground was eye-opening. The footprint was larger than we had expected, and one corner ended up being only about three feet from our RV. That discovery led to additional demo work and reinforced just how tight everything is on our lot.

Looking back, I still wonder if there were moments where I could have pushed harder or asked different questions to avoid some delays and cost impacts. I also wish some of these issues had surfaced earlier in the process. But when you’re in it, you’re making the best decisions you can with the information you have at the time.

The real turning point came last Thursday when the building permit was finally approved.

I was on a conference call when I saw the text come through. I asked the employee I was speaking with for a moment because I had just received a message about permits. When I opened it and saw the approval, I had instant happy tears. She knew what we had been dealing with and was genuinely excited for us. That moment felt like a release.

The relief spread quickly. Even my husband seemed relieved, with a noticeable hop in his step. As a family, it felt like a weight we’d been carrying for months finally lifted.

Since then, things have started moving. Additional demo is complete. The lot has been prepped and graded. We’ve signed with an interior designer. The surveyor is scheduled. Contractors have a schedule, and subcontractors are lined up and ready.

There are still things that make me nervous. The proximity of the RV to construction is tight, and timing matters, especially with our loan execution coming up next March. But for the first time in a long while, forward motion feels real.

Living in limbo has been hard, especially worrying about the impact on our daughter. We’ve talked about moving into a rental, but as a family we’ve chosen to stay where we are and push through together. That decision hasn’t been easy, but it’s felt right.

One of the biggest lessons in all of this has been realizing that even when I’m not in control, I still have influence. Construction isn’t my area of expertise, but asking questions, understanding the process, and knowing when to step in has made a difference.

If there’s one thing I’d tell anyone starting a rebuild, it’s this: the process is far more frustrating than you can fully understand going in. People warn you, but you don’t really get it until you’re living it.

Today, though, I feel relief and gratitude. We’re doing well as a family. We’re moving forward. And for the first time in a long time, I’m genuinely excited about the next steps.

You’d think after a year of hurdles — a hurricane, months of insurance paperwork, builder changes, and finally demo day — that we’d be on our way to rising from the rubble.

We were ready. Plans finalized. RV life organized. Hope renewed.
And then came our next delay — courtesy of the federal government.

Apparently, because our house sits one block from a small public airport, our rebuild requires FAA approval before construction can move forward. Yes, the same FAA that oversees airplanes, flight paths, and airspace safety… is currently deciding the fate of our driveway.

And because of the government shutdown?
They’re closed.
So our rebuild is, quite literally, grounded.

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The Irony Isn’t Lost on Us

We’ve weathered a flood, a full demo, and more paperwork than a pilot’s logbook — and somehow, it’s air traffic control that’s holding us up.

I can’t help but imagine the conversation happening somewhere in Washington:

“Sir, there’s a family in Tampa trying to rebuild their house.”

“Near an airport?”

“Yes, but it’s one of those little local ones — you can see their backyard from the runway.”

“Ground them until further notice.”

So, here we are.
Stuck in FAA limbo.
Not because we don’t have permits. Not because of builders or materials.
But because our dream home needs… flight clearance.

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Finding Humor Where We Can

If there’s one thing we’ve learned this year, it’s that you either find humor in the chaos — or the chaos finds you.

So as we wait for the skies (and the government) to reopen, we’re channeling our energy into something productive: Halloween decorating.

And by “decorating,” I mean the one thing we currently can decorate — our porta potty.

Yes, you read that right.
Since we can’t build a house, we’re making the most festive construction-site bathroom in Tampa.
A few string lights, a mini pumpkin, maybe a plastic bat or two — and we’re calling it “The Haunted Loo.”

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Lessons From the Tarmac

All jokes aside, we’ve learned to let go of timelines.
We used to think of delays as failures. Now, we just think of them as… well, future blog content.

Somehow, humor has become our building material. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Until the FAA gives us clearance, we’ll keep doing what we do best — finding joy in the ridiculous, laughing at the delays, and making memories in the middle of the mess.

Because if there’s one thing this rebuild has taught us, it’s that sometimes you have to stop waiting for the clouds to clear — and just build your Halloween porta potty instead. 🎃

#TwoDogsAndADemo #RebuildJourney #FAAApprovedLiving #GroundedByTheFAA #RVLife #DrivewayDwellers #ResilienceOnWheels #HomeOnHold #TampaStrong #RebuildFlorida #HauntedLoo

If you had told us last fall that it would take nearly a full year to get to demolition day, we wouldn’t have believed you. But that’s the reality of rebuilding after a major storm — patience becomes part of your daily routine.

There were months of waiting, setbacks, and more paperwork than we could’ve imagined. We questioned our decisions, wondered if we should sell, and even looked at homes nearby. But between the low housing market and our daughter’s desire to stay in the community she loves, we knew deep down we were meant to see this through.

So, we waited — and kept working, parenting, planning, and trying to find humor where we could. (I mean, we are a family of 3 with 2 dogs living in an RV- that alone has to be funny!) Slowly, things started to move again. And then, finally, demo day arrived.

Watching the walls come down was both heartbreaking and healing. This was the home that flooded, the one that held our laughter, our holidays, and our dogs racing down the hallway. But it was also the home that taught us how to start over.

The sound of the first wall falling wasn’t sadness — it was relief. It was motion after a year of stillness.

Gratitude and What Comes Next

It’s hard to believe it’s been a full year since Helene. A year of adjusting, waiting, and doing our best to live life between insurance calls, builder meetings, and driveway dinners.

The rebuild hasn’t started yet, but for the first time, it feels real. We’re finally moving forward — and that’s worth celebrating.

A year ago, we stood in water. Today, we’re standing in possibility.

The road to demo day was long, but it brought perspective, resilience, and a few unexpected blessings along the way. We’ve learned that home isn’t defined by walls — it’s defined by the people (and dogs) inside them.

Here’s to what comes next.

driveway-dwellers family-resilience home-rebuild-journey hurricane-helene it-takes-a-village starting-over two-dogs-and-a-demo