Shortly before closing on this property I was hit with the undeniable urge, desire, command to renovate this property for my birth mother. If you’re just joining us and don’t know how this came to be, catch up here.

This decision changed the course of my plans for the home. Since I would know the person who would be living here I was able to personalize and customize it to her tastes, a liberty a home-flipper isn’t customarily allowed. Flips typically are neutral, vanilla to maximize appeal. But this time, THIS TIME, I would get to do some fun things. Maniacally steeples fingers and arches eyebrow.

As I said in the last post, I learned that her favorite color is blue- specifically turquoisey aqua types of blue. I wanted to incorporate this into the home somehow, without painting all of the walls bright blue. I was also going to be decorating the house so I had some room to run here. She lives alone, so I wanted the home to feel feminine. A she-shack. A bachelorette pad. All of the fun choices you would make if you weren’t subject to the judgey eyes of man-folk.

THE EXTERIOR

Before:

After:

The exterior changed in increments.

Stage one: new roof, who dis?

I selected a dark charcoal shingle for the new roof. I knew it would pair well with the changes I planned to make to the exterior. We have a friend from church with a roofing crew, and Kevin loosely explained to him that I was remodeling this home for “a relative”- the full truth of who the relative was being too long and complex and oversharey for two men engaging in a quick five minute phone call. Nevertheless he heard “relative” and blessedly gave us his rock bottom price to replace the roof. I am beyond grateful for this.

Stage two: paint!

To keep costs ultra-low I handled all of the exterior work myself. I limewashed the brick using Romabio limewash in the color Avario, purchased from Home Depot. It takes one coat (for real) and I was able to do the entire house with quite a bit leftover. A five gallon bucket (what I purchased) costs around $80. A very inexpensive makeover.

Limewash is made from slaked limestone that has been crushed and mixed with water and pigments of color to create a putty. It comes as a chalky clay-like substance. Because it is a completely natural product it has no smell, which is a welcome alternative to paint. (However, the chemical properties of slaked lime can make your eyeballs go blind, so wear goggles to protect your peepers.) You add water to achieve your desired consistency, which is dependent upon what look you’re wanting to accomplish. Many people choose to blast the limed brick with a water hose after applying to wash away coloring to achieve an antiqued/aged brick look. I like this look a lot, but it wasn’t what I was going for on this particular house. I wanted more of a solid white painted brick look, so I kept the consistency a bit thicker. There are measurement ratios on the product’s bucket, but I found them to be pretty off and eventually just added until I had a pancake batter-like consistency. I used my electric drill with a paint mixer attachment to mix up my solution.

Using a large masonry brush (I purchased Romabio’s brand of brush, but any masonry brush would do) I applied a single coat to all of the brick. The lime dries in a chalky matte finish.

I experimented with using a paint sprayer to speed the process, but the lime mixture is thicker than paint and kept clogging the sprayer. The time I spent unclogging and cursing the sprayer and feeling sorry for myself negated any time spraying would have gained me over brushing.

Stage three: accessories

I built shutters for the front windows and stained them a rich walnut.

It should be noted that I spent this particular weekend away from my husband and children eating pizza alone and listening to the audio version of Girl, Wash Your Face. If you ever need a good book to empower you to paint a house, this is your book. You’ll feel like you can and should paint the entire street of houses. Also, order yourself a thin crust pizza with jalapeños. You’ll burn off all of the calories by climbing up and down that wretched ladder. Girl, wipe your face. You have pepperoni grease on it.

I hired a painter to paint the eaves and trim. I’m a messy, horrible painter, and clean lines are not friendly with me. I chose the color Dove Gray by Sherwin Williams for the trim. It’s a nice medium to light gray. Exterior paint colors always wash out slightly, so go a shade darker than the color you’re aiming for.

The front door was changed out for a more modern style. This is my go-to flip house front door. It’s from Lowe’s and runs just under $300. It works on nearly every house. I wanted to use a bright, cheerful front door color that would pop and grab your attention since it’s tucked around the corner. It’s also your first introduction to her signature aqua color. I changed out the house numbers over the garage, and a cute cottagey gooseneck light fixture was the finishing touch. (I’ll add a shot of the front door and light fixture. I don’t have one on my camera roll.)

LIVING ROOM

Before:

After:

What a change! The look I was going for was a homey, feminine, cottagey she-shack.

This room received new paint, new flooring (my favorite budget friendly, durable, pretty luxury vinyl plank), and the star of the show: this semi-flush mount beaded chandelier (from World Market). The walls are Sherwin Williams Gray Owl, and the trim is Snowbound, also SW.

I bought the TV stand (dresser) off of Craigslist, made a couple of repairs to the broken drawers, painted it with chalk paint (I used Annie Sloan’s duck egg blue), and added new hardware from Hobby Lobby. The rug is from Target, the couch is from Ashley Furniture, and the pink wingback chairs were my parents’. The brass picture frames are from Target, and I blew up close-up shots of my boys to fill the frames and surprise her. She loved them.

Before:

After:

Look at what a difference opening up the wall between the two rooms makes! Here’s a “during” progress shot:

During:

KITCHEN AND DINING:

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

I wanted this kitchen to be fun, a little quirky, and a lot feminine. The kind of kitchen that doesn’t take itself too seriously. I decided to paint the lower cabinets aqua, her favorite color. To keep it from looking like my toddler designed the space I kept the upper half very monotone to balance out the unexpected bottom: Alabaster white upper cabinets, white subway tile with white grout, a white sink (recycled from another home remodel- FREE!) and white faux marble countertops. The mullet of kitchens: business on the top, party on the bottom. The brass cabinet hardware and faucet give it a modern edge.

Can we talk about these countertops for just a second? These countertops are laminate. Lam 👏🏻 i 👏🏻 nate 👏🏻 . I am beyond impressed with how far this product has come. I ordered them from Lowe’s, custom cut to my measurements, and they arrived a few weeks later ready to be installed. They cost less than $300! And they look like marble (you’re not going to fool anyone into thinking they’re actual marble, nowhere close, but if you don’t enter the situation trying to then you’ll be happy). I kid you not, I luh luh luh luhhhve them and want to make out with them.

I bought the small dining table from Amazon and the metal bistro chairs from Target (online). This fun capiz chandelier is from World Market. The large brass mirror is from Hobby Lobby and is ridiculously heavy and difficult to hang alone (she speaks from experience).

I bought all of the appliances from my favorite hole-in-the-wall secondhand appliance shop in a dicey part of Oklahoma City. There are bars on the windows and guard dogs inside, and if you pay in cash to help them avoid the IRS they give you a hefty discount. It looks like the kind of place that sells drugs and prostitutes too if you’re in the market, but I’ve never confirmed. The place is legit, and I’ve become very fond of the gruff, no nonsense owner. He seems to like it when I call eleven times in one week to ask if they’ve gotten in any stainless steel refrigerators. (One of these times he simply barked “NO,” and hung up on me, but I think it was just a bad connection probably, maybe.)

MASTER BEDROOM

Before:

After:

I had new carpet installed, the walls and trim were painted, and a new ceiling fan was swapped in.

I got this amazing tufted navy velvet bed from Amazon along with all of the bedding. The side tables are from Hobby Lobby along with the lamps. The blue and white prints are from Target. If you have navy decor in your home run, don’t walk, to Target to get this amazing set of tapestry-esque prints! Target hit a home run with these guys. I have them hanging in our master bedroom at the lake house too. (Maybe one day I’ll do a lake house tour post? I didn’t “flip” it, so I don’t know if anyone would want to see that, but I designed the interior finishes and fixtures. Maybe if I’m ever hard up for content? Things to think on?)

I would desperately like to eventually make this room a touch more feminine for her. The velvet texture on the headboard reads as luxurious and softens the space in person, as does the preppy seersucker duvet cover, but overall the room feels more masculine than I like and seems somewhat disjointed from the rest of the house. It bugs me. In due time.

BEDROOM 2

Before:

After:

Again, this room saw fresh paint, new carpet, and a new ceiling fan

The bed was mine from childhood that I was not currently using. I had sanded down the cherry wood and painted it black several years ago. It was one of my very first DIY projects, and I used it in the guest bedroom at our first house that we rented when we got married and moved back to Oklahoma.

The bedding again is from Amazon. She wanted to set this room up to be a playroom for the boys so I found this fun, oversized dog artwork from At Home. It’s quirky and whimsical, perfect for a child’s space. Look at his little cocked head!

BATHROOM/LAUNDRY ROOM

Before:

After:

I chose this fun, retro style black and white tile for the floor. I love that it makes a little flower pattern, another subtle feminine she-shack element, without overtly screaming “OVARIES!” in your face.

Before:

After:

The vanity cabinet that I originally purchased arrived broken from Home Depot. I was able to return it, but I was in a time crunch before she moved in and didn’t have time to wait for another to be delivered to the store (it was a weird size that they don’t keep in stock). I wanted the vanity to be black, which was a tall order given the uncommon size. I scoured my favorite local discount shops and in the final hour found this cool floating vanity with a vessel sink from Jameson’s (a discount store in Yukon that I adore. They even let me rummage around in their warehouse trying to find something that would work. They’re seriously the best!) This particular wall mount vanity was a heavy, gnarly beast that took all of one plumber and two painters to install while I directed. After, while sweating, through pants, they said “please don’t ever make us hang another one of these.” “Shhhh. You know not what you say. Turn and behold it’s beauty,” I said reverently. They were less than impressed. Whatever. I spray painted the satin nickel hardware champagne brass to keep the room’s finishes cohesive.

The vanity light, toilet paper holder, and towel hooks are from Amazon, as are the double shower curtains (which came in the most adorable flamingo printed packaging. I’m a sucker for cute packaging). I DIY’d the floating shelf over the toilet. The round brass mirror is from Target.

BACKYARD

Before:

After:

This photo was technically taken before I finished painting the exterior. A good mowing was all that the yard really needed. She had asked if she could put a swing-set in the backyard for my boys to play on when they visit. One of the houses that I am currently renovating had a mobile swing-set left behind by the previous owners that I plan to bring over to her house when the weather gets a little warmer. I found a Cozy Coupe car on the curb that someone was throwing out and cleaned it up for the kids to ride on the patio space. One man’s trash is another hoarder’s treasure.

THE END?

I would imagine this the part where you want to know the continuation of the story: the happy ending. “What is the status of your relationship with your birth mother now?” Answering this question took some soul searching. I feel like the fairy-tale ending movie version would showcase me running in her door, unannounced, saying “mommy, I’m here for a visit!” The cameras zooming in on our extended embrace. But the truth is this: it’s a hard and complicated thing trying to form a bond, essentially from scratch, with a birth parent.

It feels like an insult or a dishonor to the parents who raised me to fully embrace our relationship. My mother who raised me has Alzheimer’s now, and two years ago we had to place her in a memory care unit at an assisted living center. Her memory has only very recently faded nearly to black. She recognizes me very infrequently now, and my kids not at all. She gets exited to see me- she recognizes that I’m her people, but she doesn’t know me specifically.

However, before this fade to black she ended every- and I’m not being exaggerative here- EVERY phone conversation with me, and in-person visit, with this refrain: “you know you’re my daughter just as much as the other girls are, don’t you? I couldn’t love you any more, not even a little bit more, if I had carried you in my own body. You know that, don’t you? I couldn’t be even a bit prouder of you if you had been in my stomach. I couldn’t love you any more. You’re no different to me than the other girls. You are my daughter.” For 33 years, until her memory was completely lost, she told me this. To the point where I rolled my eyes in a “yeah yeah yeah,” type of way as we got off the phone. I took it for granted. Once, about 3 years ago one of my sisters overheard this exchange as my mom was on speaker phone, and after the call ended she asked incredulously, “is she always like that with you? Always so loving? Does she always say those things?” “Every single time we speak,” I answered.

So, how do you reconcile a life that you lived under the care and love of one set of parents with this old but new person? How do I recognize her for what she is when I had a mother that rocked me back to sleep every two hours as a newborn? When I had a mother who kissed my cuts and scrapes (which were many as the clumsy child that I was)? When I had a mother who held me as I cried over the first kiss I was wanting, but that never came from my homecoming date? When I had a mother who held my hair back and whispered soothing sounds, despite her conservatism, when I came home drunk the first time I tried Boone’s Farm, claiming to have been given a “bad Advil” from a friend, as I vomited? To have a mother that I was so excited to be a Nana to my kids,  but unexpectedly was shattered by the cruel joke that is Alzheimer’s?

I felt like God was giving me and my boys a gift. Their Nana was gone. She would never get to be the amazing grandma to them that she was to my sisters’ kids. Kevin’s family lives in Texas (our boys love Kevin’s family FIERCELY. They’re absolutely AMAZING grandparents, and the boys ask about them, especially their MawMaw daily) but after my dad’s passing and my mom’s Alzheimer’s we were left with no grandparents for the boys HERE. It felt undeniably like God working in our lives when my birth mother wanted to have a relationship with my kids. And even more so when she proved to be amazing with them. Were we being given a person who could be a grandparent to them when my mom could not? And if so, what was my role in all of this? What attitude was I to adopt? What misgivings was I to let go of?

My son came home from school a few weeks ago singing a song that I had forgotten about from my own childhood: “Going on a Bear Hunt.” In this song, the singer is in a quest to find a bear, and on this journey encounters many obstacles. Through the course of this journey they encounter some tall grasses, a lake, and some dense mud. We learn that there is no way over, under, or even around these obstacles, and that the only way in achieving their ultimate pursuit of the bear is through passing *through* them, as uncomfortable and difficult as it may be. How many times in life is this the case? To get to where you need and want to be you have to pass *through* the hard stuff. You have to confront the really ugly and uncomfortable things. At the end of the song, the bear is found in a cave, the goal is achieved, but now the singer is frightened and running away from the bear. Even in this frightened chase the singer must STILL pass *through* the difficult obstacles to run safely away.

I had been running from my birth mother my entire life. I hoped to erase her altogether in pursuit of a normal life by resolutely naming my family “my parents” and my aunts as “my sisters.” I’M SO NORMAL. I’M SO MIDDLE CLASS AMERICAN. NOBODY LOOK AT ME. But all the while I was heaving around a mountain worth of baggage. Was the only way to let it all go to go THROUGH IT? Even though I was running away from it did I still have to go THROUGH it?

Sometimes God puts us in uncomfortable positions. Sometimes he makes it inescapable for us to do things that we do not wish to do. Sometimes he forces us to perform an act of love that we do not wish to perform.

Are these acts of love sometimes, just maybe, not completely for the “lovee,” but actually intended for the somewhat reluctant “lover”? Maybe they’re intended to strip us down and have us give everything of ourselves to take us THROUGH IT so that we’re left exposed and bare and raw and open to be filled up with something new.

I found myself in this position while remodeling this house for my birth mother. I didn’t know what the outcome would be be. I didn’t know if this would heal me or any of my broken parts. I didn’t know how to proceed, but I gave myself to it.

Back to the original question, “what is the status of your relationship with your birth mother now?” I don’t know how to answer that question specifically, other than to update you with some real life happenings. She has lived in her new house for 5 months now. She is so proud of her home and beyond grateful for it. She tears up often when she tries to find words to express her thanks. I don’t need that, but it works away at my heart. I let my boys, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, stay the night away from us, WITH HER last weekend. In the bedroom with the dog painting. I’m not exactly trusting when it comes to my kids, so please hear the volumes that this speaks. They all had the best time ever. She made them pancakes for breakfast in her cute kitchen when they woke up at 5:30am. She couldn’t have been any prouder. While we were alone and sitting together having an adult conversation without kids, my husband said to me, “I can’t put my finger on it, but something is different about you. You seem… deeper, but also maybe lighter? You seem like your faith is different too. It seems stronger.” We sat together and talked about what could have spurred this change. The change came around this time, around the call to remodel this tiny little house for this very specific person.

So, I don’t know how to explain our relationship, other than to say that it’s complicated. She’s trying; I’m trying; my kids are giving themselves 100%. We’re all going THROUGH IT.

Read the doozy of a back story here.

I found out about this home from our massage therapist and friend. She told me that she had a client whose son-in-law was looking to sell his mother’s home after her passing. I knew very few details about the house, but I was interested, and so I arranged to meet with him to view the home.

When I pulled up and got out of my car at the house I heard a male voice from behind me ask with surprise, “Courtney Doyle?” (my maiden name). I turned and the guy I was meeting was actually a boy I had gone to school with since kindergarten. I knew and remembered his mother actually. It was an odd coincidence, and one that I that I think brings our story full circle: the home that his mother lived in and was happy in for years would ultimately be passed on to my *mother* for a fresh beginning. Even though I didn’t know at the time that this would be the fate of the little house.

THE EXTERIOR

I didn’t happen to take a true before picture of the exterior before beginning demo. So this photo is after I had already begun, with my big rented industrial dumpster in the drive. Try to see past it!

I loved the exterior of the house. I just heard every one of you collectively go “say whaaaat?!” Skeptics. All of you. Skeptics. It may not look like much to you, but I could immediately envision the orange brick painted white with cedar shutters, and gray trim. I visualized a charming little white cottage. I was crushing hard. Stick with me kids, you’ll want to buy up all the ugliest houses because you have been bitten by the “BUT IT HAS POTENTIAL” bug.

Here is an example from Romabio’s Instagram page of a home of similar size, elevation, and era, with almost identical brick, transformed by limewash:

Look at that! They changed nothing other than paint, and it completely transformed the look and feel of the house. It went from awkward teenager in headgear to the moment in every 90’s and early 2000’s teenage rom-com where she rips her glasses off and is actually seriously cute underneath all of that.

The only thing that I didn’t like and couldn’t change about the exterior of this home was the location of the front door. It isn’t on the front of the house. It’s tucked within the porch, perpendicular to the street.

WHY THO? 😑

I knew that this would be a visual challenge and needed to think of a way to draw attention to the actual front door and decrease the dark, dismal abyss vibe that it gave off from the street. That porch looks like a place children get abducted. MUST REMEDY.

The roof would also need to be replaced. This was going to be a huge budget eater, and all of my numbers had to be modified to allow for this.

LIVING ROOM

View from the front door looking in:

The carpeting had been removed, and someone had begun scraping the popcorn ceilings in the house. I LOVED both of these things as it saved me from two labor intensive steps. SCORE.

There was a rectangle of sheetrock missing to the left of the front door that would need to be replaced and patched. There is a little coat closet visible here in the far right of this shot. I imagined this as the TV wall and began building my living room plans around it.

This is the view standing in the kitchen/dining looking into the living room. I knew immediately that I would remove part of this wall to open the two spaces up to one another.

Like so:

Can’t you imagine what a difference that will make?! (Spoiler: it makes a huge difference. Heart eyes.)

KITCHEN AND DINING

Remember, this is an 800 sq ft house, so there is no room for an official dining room! It’s more of an eat-in kitchen with the space under the chandelier serving as the dining space. That little spot would be perfect for a small table and chairs. I originally planned to keep the existing chandelier and just spray paint it white, but I wound up finding a fixture that I loved too much to pass up, and it would ultimately find its home here.

The overall layout of the kitchen was great. The cabinets (excluding the cabinet doors) were in good condition, and there was even a nice little pantry/broom closet.

My plans for the space involved removing the tile and replacing it with new luxury vinyl plank (waterproof!) flooring that would continue from the living room to create a more cohesive, seamless look. The goal with small spaces is to use any and all tricks to make them look as big as possible!

At first glance I planned to paint the existing cabinets and cabinet doors, but I would come to find that many of the cabinet doors were in poor shape. I would have a cabinet maker create new cabinet doors based off of my measurements. (Guys, this is the easiest way to remodel a kitchen if you, like most people, can’t afford a full gut job. It cost less than $800 for all new shaker style doors with hidden hinges for this kitchen, and it totally transformed and modernized it. Plus you don’t have to sand each door down before painting them- added mega bonus!)

I would paint the walls and the cabinets, get new hardware, install a pretty backsplash, new appliances, and a new kitchen sink and faucet.

I initially planned to keep the existing countertops. They were an inoffensive light colored faux butcher block vinyl, and I liked them. Alas, though, I found that the countertops and backsplash were one married piece, and the countertops were damaged beyond repair when removing the backsplash. Womp womp.

MASTER BEDROOM

The master bedroom is one of only two bedrooms in the house and is the slightly larger of the two. It has two good sized closets (not pictured, one of which is a nice, deep walk-in).

The popcorn ceiling had been scraped in the room already. I would remove and replace the carpet, paint the walls and trim, and replace the ceiling fan. Pretty simple and straightforward, just like I like it.

BEDROOM TWO

The laminate flooring was badly damaged in this room and would need to be removed. I would replace the flooring with carpet, paint the walls, ceiling and trim, and replace the ceiling fan. Easy as pie.

THE BATHROOM/LAUNDRY ROOM

Again, we’re in an 800 sq foot house here. The single bathroom and laundry space are combined.

Suffice it to say that everything in this room would go, including that fur down header over the vanity.

I would replace the vanity with something new and cute, install new faucets, and a new mirror. I would move the vanity light to the wall, above the mirror instead of keeping it mounted on the ceiling fur down.

I was sad to discover that the bathtub had a big hole in the floor and would need to be replaced. I would replace the tub and shower with a new all in one kit because the budget did not allow for the beautiful tile surround that I wanted. Boo. Can I please get an unlimited budget sometime?

I would pull up the linoleum flooring and do a fun retro black and white tile, paint the walls and trim, replace the bank of laundry cabinets with new ones as these were broken.

THE BACKYARD

It was a jungle in its former life.

I didn’t have big plans for the backyard. The fence was in good condition, and there was a nice slab of concrete for a patio table. Some mowing and weed whacking would take place, that was a given, but other than that plans were minimal.

I quickly made an offer on the house which he accepted, and we moved forward with the closing. I didn’t know at that time that I would wind up flipping the house for my birth mother. This wouldn’t be revealed to me for a few weeks. Once it was, I began to look at the house in a different light. I wanted to really personalize the home in a way that I haven’t been able to do with previous houses and likely wouldn’t be able to do again. I began to think of color schemes, and asked in an awkward first-date like conversation what her favorite color was. It was blue. Teals and turquoises and aquas, to be specific. I began to think of ways that I could give her a space of her very own that she would be proud of and that would reflect her personality. Of course, this required actually getting to *know* her personality on a deeper level, something I had previously been closed off to. I quickly realized that I would potentially be changing more than just a house here, more than just tile and paint. Maybe in this journey I would be changing the framework of two people’s hearts.

Stay tuned next week as I reveal the afters! I can’t wait to hear what you think of this cute little “cottage!”

Well, that’s a loaded and dramatic title.

My fourth flip house was something a little different, and much closer to my heart than houses 2 and 3. It was a journey I never expected to take, and one that has changed me and many of the pieces inside of me.

This is going to be one of those overshares.

Takes off shoes and lays down on couch. Settles in. Steeples fingers. Thanks for having me. It’s going to get weird in here.

I don’t habitually refer to her as “my birth mother” or anything that dramatic, but I also don’t refer to her as “mom” or “my mother” either. I don’t call her anything at all mostly; if anything I will refer to her by her first name.

That’s because the relationship between us is new. We’re in uncharted waters, and everything feels strange and foreign like we’re wading through mud in a dense fog. Neither of us really knows what we’re doing or where we’re going.

The story is this: I was adopted and raised by what are biologically my grandparents. When I talk about “my mom” or “my parents” (as in Flipping my Parents’ House here) this is who I’m referring to (or “to whom I’m referring,” if you want to get uppity). On that note, when I talk about my sisters, I am referring to what are biologically my aunts.

Upon my entry into this world my Birth Mother was not at a place in her life where caring for me or raising me was feasible. And so, my parents stepped in and offered her a solution. They offered to adopt me and begin raising me but to let her stay close by and step in when she was ready, if she chose to.

She chose not to.

There are a lot of issues that are too personal to share here, despite the fact that I’m not naming names. It feels like a betrayal to try and explain all of her circumstances and feelings from my own point of view, which I admit is wildly skewed. All I can fairly share is my own perspective and experience and how this story has affected me.

Adoption is great. Adoption is amazing and wonderful and a gift from God.

Adoption, when you are aware of and living in the same home as your biological mother throughout the course of your young life, is weird and confusing. Our bedrooms shared a wall at my parents’ house. She worked nights and lived in my parents’ home throughout my early years. She was so close I could touch her. But she didn’t want me. At least, that was my childhood deduction.

Despite having wonderful parents who stepped in for me and doted on me and loved me as their very own, I still felt an unsettling shadow of unwant looming over me, lurking in a corner behind me. I never felt any intense longing for my birth mother specifically, but I vividly felt the sharp sting of rejection from an early age. I knew when I was quite young that the mother who birthed me didn’t want me, and being around her on a regular basis served to drive this point home to me over and over again.

As human beings we are intrinsically wired to seek love and acceptance from our mothers, and mothers are born with the desire to lay down their lives to love and care for and protect their children. My perception was that there had to be something wrong with me for her to not want me.

(Please hear my heart here. I know as an adult brained human that not every female was *meant to be* or has chosen to be a mother and that many women choose other options such as adoption for their children when they find themselves pregnant, and this gift is beyond description. I do not wish to minimize the journey of or the gift that is another woman’s choice of adoption for her child. Please hear my feelings described here from a child’s eyes and heart.)

That early feeling of rejection and unwant has shaped the core of who I am today. Thanks to this I am a people pleaser. I *need* to please people and to have them like me, to palpably feel them love and accept me. That’s a fun sentence to type publicly. Woof.

If you are somewhere out there in the world and you do not like me, but you think that it has escaped my attention: it has not. Please know that I have already obsessed over it endlessly and daydreamed of a scenario in which I have won you over, and we are now the closest of friends. Is this healthy? Of course not. Exhausting? Yes. Creepy? Absolutely.

PLEASE LOVE ME.

Let’s go deeper since we’re already having so much fun here. You know how some women have Daddy Issues? I have what I can only coin as Mommy Issues (trademark, copyright, publish this in all the text books; cite me, pay me all the royalties.) I felt rejected specifically by a woman, a mother- the most important woman in a person’s life. Because of this women terrify and intimidate me. I feel an overwhelming need to be accepted and liked and loved by other women.

I’m sure this is the source of my social anxiety if we’re really getting down to it. I do well enough with my written words, but I assure you that in person I’m far less dynamic or interesting (don’t get too excited here, I am aware that the descriptors “dynamic” and “interesting” are a stretch for my written word even). The fear of saying something that could be perceived as undesirable or unlikable paralyzes me. I’m quite certain that I often come across as a cold fish or vapid or intensely shy or just generally lacking, but it’s simply this loop holding me back: say the exact right thing or say nothing at all.

As an added bonus I have a subconscious, perpetual fear of my established female friendships ending at any given time when they decide that they no longer want me.

What can I say? I’m a treasure. There will be a signup sheet to become my friend at the end of this post. Don’t all rush to apply at once- I don’t want the server to crash.

The message in this overly detailed declaration of public humiliation is this: I’m a little broken.

But that’s my favorite thing about us- humans. We’re- all of us- just a little bit broken.

None of us have made it to this point in our lives without some dents and dings. We have different things that break us, different stories that shape us and hurt us and harden different sectors of our hearts, but also wounds that light up sectors of our hearts like Christmas trees. Wounds that make us tender and compassionate and forgiving. Some of our wounds are, in fact, our gifts.

My wounds make me a better mother.

I felt like I was waiting my entire life to become a mom. But when I finally became pregnant, after all of the struggles it took to get there, I was consumed with fear. What if I didn’t love or want my baby? What if I inherited this gene that made me not want my offspring? What if the cycle repeated itself? As happy as I was to be pregnant I was absolutely terrified, and I prayed every day for God to help me love and want my baby.

But as it turned out, loving my baby was never something I needed to worry about. My love was so instant and pure and deep and full and natural. It helped to heal some of the brokenness inside me.

It was at that time, six years ago, with the birth of my first son that my Birth Mom asked if she could have a relationship with him. Record screech. I felt immediately defensive and suspicious and on edge and unsure. What could I expect? What if she tried it out but didn’t want him in the way that she didn’t want me? What if he became attached and she said, “this isn’t for me,” and walked away? I would be damned if I let my son experience that heartache and rejection. Mama bear be fierce. I don’t care who you are- hurt my babies, and I’ll claw ya dang eyes out.

But God worked on my heart. Despite a mile high wall it had built up out of resentment and bitterness and mistrust He let it open just a crack. He let it soften just a smidge. He let it be just a little bit vulnerable. Just enough to give this relationship a shot.

For the last six years she has been in our lives. Mine and my sons’. She visited once, and she kept coming back. Almost every day for the last six years she has visited my kids. She is faithful. Next to myself and my husband she is my boys’ favorite person on this planet. She is so proud of them. The look on her face when she is with them could make the Grinch’s tiny heart grow three sizes.

We have had only one short conversation in the past six years about our past, our history. She tells me that she lives with great regret about her choices. She said with tears in her eyes that she didn’t realize that her life would forever be altered when she made the decision to allow my parents to take me and adopt me.

What if she wasn’t the villain in my story after all? What if she had a narrative of her very own, full of her own brokenness and hurts that shaped her path? What if her brokenness and her choices were, in fact, my gift?

This was a hard pill to swallow, but what if I stopped judging her for just a split second and tried to actually love her as a fellow broken human?

Woah.

Don’t mistake this for a story of forgiveness. Simply put, in my newfound self-actualized, mature state I realize that she has nothing to be forgiven for. She made exactly the right choice for both of us on that day all those years ago. My life would be dramatically different than it is today had she not. This is a story of hearts being changed, hurts being healed.

35 years ago it wasn’t time for our story, and that’s okay. It is now.

Out of the ashes and all of the brokenness comes something new and living, something unexpected and different, unconventional even, but exactly perfect.

She is sixty years old, and she has worked as a night time stock person for Wal-Mart for the past 20 plus years. She is a hard worker. Her body aches, and her hands are visibly swollen and crippled with arthritis, and still she would never complain that her loads are too heavy. The person I once thought she was is changing and morphing the more that I learn about her. Because it is really only now, in these past few years, that I have allowed myself to learn anything at all about her. It should be noted that she is an intrinsically GOOD person. I am learning that she is kind, and she is generous. She has little to give, but she would give you the shirt off her back or her last twenty dollars. Not the universal/rhetorical you- but YOU, an unknown stranger reading this. Anyone. Without blinking an eye. She has worked hard, and she doesn’t have much to show for it by way of material possessions. And she’s okay with that.

So, on that note, she has never dreamed of owning her own home. It didn’t seem feasible, not for someone like her.

So, why then, when I came across a small, 842 sq. ft, two-bedroom, one bath house, couldn’t I get her out of my mind?

Why did she pop up anytime I made my plans to flip it? Why did something stir inside of me, urging this home in her direction?

I purchased the home for a great price and after repairs and improvements stood to make an excellent profit on it. At my after repairs price point someone would snatch it up in a heartbeat to make it into a rental property. It was going to be a quick, cheap, in and out job.

WHY THEN COULDN’T I STOP THINKING OF HER IN THIS HOUSE?

You see, God whispered, and I found excuses not to hear. So He spoke louder, more firmly… and I covered my ears. So He nudged me… and I turned the other direction. I had a million reasons why I could not, should not, would not do this. A million reasons why God could not be commanding me to do this very uncomfortable, strange thing. I wanted to start a business with this newfound passion, and the first rule of business is that you MAKE A PROFIT. I could not already be asked not to do that on only my fourth house, and not for this woman who rejected me and didn’t want me. NO.

Sure, her relationship with my boys was great and all, and I was becoming very wise in my old age and learning to understand her journey, but don’t start thinking that I had completely laid down all of that resentment and bitterness and hurt. Just when you think you’ve unpacked all of that ugly stuff God goes and commands you to do the very thing that reminds you that you are, in fact, still schlepping it all around.

So, no, God. Firmly, adamantly, I WILL NOT DO THIS. [Picture me in full teenager mode here yelling this and stalking off to my room and slamming the door and cranking some very emo music on my stereo and flopping dramatically on my bed to lay and think of all the reasons why I was right and God was wrong.]

So God got quiet… or so I thought.

And then, one Sunday after church, Kevin and I were sitting in our living room relaxing. Not quite napping, but not quite parenting either. You know that in between zone where you’re mildly cognizant of the little people around you maintaining life and appendages, but you’re off the clock? Parenting is closed for today. Please stay alive on your own. Make good choices.

Out of nowhere Kevin burst out, “Every time I think of the small house I think of [her]. I can’t explain it, but I feel like we’re supposed to do this for her.” He waited a very tense pause where he looked at me a little wild eyed, ready to be defensive, very unsure of how I would respond to this outburst. He and I had not discussed this- I hadn’t told him that I had already been having the same stirrings on my own heart. Because again, let’s be real here: she and I are not exactly to the braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys point in our relationship. Things are still very awkward and new at times.

You see, God didn’t go quiet, He outsourced because I wasn’t listening. While I was busy pouting and ignoring Him He was busy whispering to someone who would listen because He had a plan. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that God had set this like a ten ton weight on both of our hearts. It confirmed what I already knew: this little house was always hers, God was just waiting for me to realize it.

I was shy and nervous when I called to tell her about the house. To ask her if she would even be interested or consider something like this. She has only ever lived in a small apartment and has always been content with that. To my surprise she was open to the idea. Then, within days she was EXCITED about the prospect. She asked shyly if she would get to have her own driveway. I said, “you will get to have your own garage!” She asked if she could put a swing set in the backyard for my boys. The Grinch’s heart grew three more sizes.

And so it began: instead of flipping the small house for a profit I was renovating it with a specific person in mind. A person with whom I had a tangled and complicated history. A person with whom I was building something new.

Out of the ashes comes something living.

*Follow along in the coming weeks as I share the before and afters of this special little house. Spoiler alert: she lives there now, just over a mile from our house, so she can visit our boys frequently, and she tells me that she has never been happier.*

Cherry Lane has sold, but I did want to share the photos of it staged to sell to show how much decor can change a house.

In case you’d like a quick re-introduction to Cherry Lane, click here to meet my old friend, click here to see the plans I made for her and click here to see all of the before and afters.

I don’t stage a house exactly as I would decorate it if it were my own home; I’m not fully decking a house out. Instead I try to keep the decor to a minimum, simply using it to highlight what I consider to be the best features of the house. I want to show buyers how furniture could work in a space and to give them a narrative for each room so that they are able to picture themselves making memories in the home. Personally when looking at houses, I don’t like to see them staged. I prefer them empty, clear of all the things that distract me from what I could and would do with the space. But I’m in the minority there, so alas, I stage.

Without further ado here is Cherry Lane, with jewelry on.

EXTERIOR

This is a reminder of the home’s exterior. All that I added here when staging was a front porch rug that you can’t see in these photos. When staging a home to sell, my own past personal homes included, I always purchase a new, clean front porch rug that has the word “Home” on it. Simply the word “home” by itself, or “welcome home,” or “home sweet home.” Some version of that but always with the word “home.” This is critical. It’s my master manipulatory trick to plant the word HOME into the buyer’s brain cells before they even enter the house: THIS IS YOUR HOME. YOU ARE HOME NOW. STOP SEARCHING. I have absolutely no objective evidence to show that this trick works, and exactly zero persons have ever said to me, “do you know why I bought one of your houses? It’s because of the front porch rug. It straight up hypnotized me, you evil genius. I would have bought a different house altogether if it weren’t for you and your meddling staging.” But in my head it’s a thing,

ENTRYWAY

I simply added a cute bamboo mirror here in a wood tone that compliments the lighter wood toned floors and the living room ceiling fan (visible in the next photos).

LIVING ROOM

When staging a house I come up with an imaginary family that I could see living there, and I stage the home according to their personalities and tastes. It’s a marketing strategy. Who are you marketing this product to? Who do you see buying it? Picture actual people. It may be real life people that you know, or maybe made up people, but most importantly come up with their age and demographic. Then market/stage the product for them.

Some of the fixtures and finishes that I put in this house were a bit more trendy and edgy, so naturally I pictured a young hipster family living here. The dad wears a beanie and incredibly tight jeans and has facial hair that would make Abe Lincoln blush with envy. The mom has some rad arm tats and lavender hair. They met at Paycom, obvi. Their two kids have names like Rainstorm and Ichabod, and though one is a boy and one is a girl they have matching haircuts and dress androgynously so that you don’t gender stereotype them, so naturally you don’t know which is which. (Spoiler alert: I totes gender stereotyped and gave Ichadod a room with purples and pinks, which we all know she loves.) My overall theme for this house was a very liberal take on what I shall call “mid century mod meets boho junaglow.” Well now she’s just making stuff up.

I love this living room. If that wasn’t clear from my previous posts about this house then hear me say it now: I love this living room. And I know, I know, if you hear me say “arched fireplace” one more time you’re going to set my blog on fire. But looooooook at that cute arched fireplace. Squeal. Ugh. She kills me.

This particular living room can appear tricky when empty. It is long but on the narrow side, and there are not enough walls to place furniture on- which I love, but people get spooked without defined furniture placement walls. If this was my personal house I would float the couch with its back to the entry way, facing the fireplace. But for staging purposes and realty photo purposes that chops the living room in half. It visually annihilates the view from the front door to the fireplace. Staging vs real life. What a bummer. Also, the asymmetrical fireplace here can make you go “huh.” while scratching your head when trying to picture how to decorate. Hear my cry: YOU MUST STAGE THE TRICKY ROOMS! If no other rooms, stage the tricky ones alone. If you even remotely feel confused by a room, STAGE IT because I can promise you THE BUYERS WILL BE CONFUSED BY IT ALSO. And if they are confused by a room it will lower their chances of buying. Especially a room as important as the living room. So get creative and come up with a way to arrange the furniture in an inviting way to show that it can be done.

In my personal situation I own a single, neutral staging couch that I move from house to house. Because homegirl doesn’t have an unlimited staging budget. So I have to make it work in whatever home I’m staging. I just change up the accessories from my “accessory inventory.” Part of my budget for flipping each house is a very very very small fund dedicated toward staging the house. I have staple large items: a couch, kitchen table, beds and nightstands for the bedrooms, etc, that I move from house to house, and I reuse a lot of accessories, but I have a small fund with which I purchase some items to stage that particular house. Items that will highlight an architectural detail or give a pop of color or interest to an otherwise bland room. It is very strategic and always always, in my opinion, worth the money that I set aside out of my reno budget.

I wanted a cool color scheme for my hipster family. I went with green. I chose some mid century mod looking accent chairs because this family is cool, guys. I internationally incorporated several bamboo elements like the side table sitting between the accent chairs, and many of the shelf accessories, and the largest mantel piece. The bamboo tone of these items compliments the ceiling fan and draws your eye toward it, because it’s one of the great, unique features in this living room. NOTICE IT, PLEASE.

As for the rug- just whatever. Eyeroll. Nothing haunts me like a rug that is too small for a space, and I do it every time. I will never have the staging budget to buy appropriately sized rugs, okay guys? Just avert your eyes.

But look at that fireplace. Hey girl, hey.

Again, I don’t stage shelves as I would decorate my own personal shelves. The point is to get a SMALL AMOUNT of stuff on them to carry a color scheme through the room and to say “hey, we’re decorated,” but not to overwhelm the space. You want plenty of walls and shelf space for the eyes to rest so that buyers can see that there is plenty of room for all of their things.

KITCHEN AND DINING

This is my trusty, neutral staging table that travels from house to house. It was actually our dining table in our rent house. When we moved into our rent house while our house was being built our old dining table wouldn’t fit in the small dining room. I got on Wayfair and bought the cheapest small table I could find. No sooner was it delivered and set up in our rent house that I stole it to use for staging. I moved our beat up, slatted outdoor patio table into its place, and my family was like 🤨 They dealt.

I had some dining chairs that would have worked in this space, but they were more farmhouse-y in style, which I love, but it just wasn’t what I visualized for this space. Because hipster family. So I went on Amazon and found this set of mod Eames style chairs for crazy cheap. They fit the boho mod theme much better.

When staging a dining room, I set the table. It’s a visual cue to allow the buyers to picture themselves seated around the table as a family eating in the room. I keep it very simple and neutral and inexpensive. Just enough of a visual cue to whisper “your cruelty free zoodles will taste good here, and Waterfall will actually tell you all about his day at school around the table in THIS dining room”.

I purchased these bar stools from At Home, and I seriously love them. They’re really good quality and so comfortable. If they fit my home’s color scheme I would have used them in our personal house. I love them in this dining room and know I will come back to them for future flips. I like how they don’t compete with the cabinet color, and how the dark metal legs bring out the darker colors in the backsplash pattern.

I styled the floating shelves with green elements to tie into the living room color scheme and to bring a pop of color into the kitchen. I used some black and white stacked bowls and a black and white planter to compliment the backsplash tile. I kept the shelves simple, but the few items used make a big impact.

Fresh flowers (peonies, my fav) and some natural wood cutting boards and bamboo utensils add a touch of warmth and life to finish off the space without being overly aggressive.

MASTER BED AND BATH

My master bedroom staging is pretty lackluster and minimal. My staging budget, again, is small. I have just enough furniture in the room to say “hey, you could make a third baby in here.”

My staging furniture for this room consists of an inexpensive, neutral colored headboard, a fold up bed frame, and a blow up air mattress (staging hack!). I always use white bedding so that it looks clean and fresh. The nightstands were in our old guest room before we moved and wouldn’t fit in our rent house. They were a Home Goods find, and they’re really just the best nightstands. I love them in person. Some lamps, art hung with command strips, and a pop of color with a throw pillow and blanket, and that’s all she wrote. I do love how the headboard shape mimics the shape of the mirrors in the bathroom. That was purely a happy coincidence as I already owned the headboard.

I keep bathroom staging very simple. I always use a white shower curtain and white towels. I put out some pretty soaps in pretty soap dishes and let the amazing floor tile and rockin’ mirrors do the talking from there.

BEDROOM 2

Ichabod’s room.

The twin size bed is my son’s bed from our previous house. I love it and find that it works in almost any room, with any decor.

I purchased the inexpensive wall canvases from HomeGoods. I love a big piece of bright, quirky art in a kid’s room or playroom.

BEDROOM 3

Waterfall’s room. Although he’s never slept here. They cosleep. He’s 11.

This was my oldest son’s crib and then became my youngest son’s crib after we painted it green. I love it so so much. So I use it for staging because I’m not ready to not have it in my life anymore. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

When staging, again, I like to put some pops of bold color since my walls and trim will always be neutral. I keep the bedroom staging very very simple. We don’t need full bedroom sets to get the idea- just enough to say “here’s how you will use this room. Doesn’t it feel homey?”

HALL BATH

I JUST got done saying that I always use a white shower curtain when staging bathrooms. Well. I did in here, but when I got it hung it just washed out. I knew it wouldn’t photograph well in realtor photos so I traded it out for this simple, striped gray curtain.

I again added white towels, pretty soap, and in this room some greenery because the countertop space allowed for it.

BACK PATIO AND POOL

I phoned it in here. It had been a long day, and my kids were crying for me to come home, and I needed to go. So I put out our personal patio furniture that we were using at our rent house, and called it a day. Just enough to say “hi hipster mom and dad, you can totally sit and enjoy some dope local craft beer while delving into that Bukowski novel out here after Waterfall and Ichabod go to bed.”

THE END

So there you have it. The staging of Cherry Lane. What do you think? Are Waterfall and Ichabod living their best lives here? What are some of your favorite staging tips? Let me know in the comments!

And then she disappeared from the face of the earth for four months.

And then she came back and wrote a blog post completely unrelated to home renovation, the very thing we all signed up to read about. Eyeroll, amiright?

But it’s my blog and I’ll blog what I want to, blog what I want to, blog what I want to (obnoxiously sung to the tune of It’s My Party. I’m sorry. I promise I’m ashamed of myself.)

Today we are going to talk about mental health. Mental unhealth. Broken hearts and broken brains. I will argue that this post is in fact extremely relevant to this blog because this is the very place from which it was born. It was born out of a post-miscarriage broken heart turned (let’s all say the ugly Voldemort-esque word together): depression. I didn’t label it before, only alluded to its presence as my “very dark time,” but that’s what it was. It was a period of crippling depression. And two months ago I found myself on its doorstep once again.

It is important for me to purge this post from my head space because there is a stigma about mental health. We are all aware of it. I think it is dangerous and potentially life threatening in some cases. And so I write and tell my stories in the hope that maybe one single person will actually take the time to read it and relate and get some flipping help for their brain. One broke brained sister helping another and all that.

So let’s do this.

I experienced my second surprise pregnancy and then surprise miscarriage two months ago, the day before Thanksgiving. I was twelve weeks pregnant, and my heart was shattered. I came absolutely undone with pain. And I was terrified. Terrified of slipping back into the dark void that I found myself in 7 months prior, after my first miscarriage, where I felt nothing and everything all at once. In the days following this second loss I looked at my doctor with terrified eyes full to the brim with tears and said, “please help me. I can’t go back to that place. I have two little boys I have to be there for. I cannot disappear on them again. How do I not go back to that place?” She said gently, “I think it’s time we consider medication for a short time. An antidepressant.” Blech. That gross, taboo word.

But this wouldn’t be my first time on brain drugs.

Though depression isn’t my jam I’m no stranger to mental unhealth. It would seem that depression only comes after the passing of womb babies for me. But anxiety? Yaaaaaas Queen (are we still saying that?). Anxiety is my jam. I will get all up in some anxiety and roll around in it.

I imagine it went something like this when I was born: after some time of contemplating the menu of life before me, my little baby self finally made up her mind: “I’ll have the social anxiety with a side of hypochondria and panic attacks of unknown origin, and for dessert I think I’ll go with the unlimited sleepless nights spurred by memories of embarrassing things that I did fourteen years ago. Oh and why not (treat yoself girl!) go ahead and give me some of those anxiety induced stomach ulcers too- I hear they’re divine.”

I may not seem at face value like a person who struggles with social anxiety. And that’s because I’m really really good at faking it. (I will accept my Oscar gladly and keep my speech short.) Part of that can be chalked up to my marriage to an extrovert who loves to be around people and do things. Bless him. I recognized early on that I had to get my life together and make some compromises because never leaving our home, sadly, will not work for him. The other part of this can be tied to the fact that I am extremely self conscious of the facial anatomy that I was dealt in life. It unfortunately, without conscious intervention, settles very definitively into Resting Bitch Face. This is my nightmare and my cross to bear. As a person who *must* feel liked by others (we’ll get into that in a coming blog post. It’s a real treat)… to give off the first impression that I DO NOT LIKE OTHERS?! WHY!? Whyyyyyy meeeeee????? It’s an actual physical handicap and should be recognized as such. We need bumper stickers and a ribbon and a month. “RBF, Searching for the Cure!” In an effort to combat this, when in public I am hyperaware and go to great lengths to painstakingly contort my facial parts into a welcome mat that conveys approachability and joy (because despite what my face says, I actually do love life and people). Eyebrows up, mouth slightly open with the respective corners turned upward into a smile. Now nod and blink often so you don’t look like Nicole Kidman during her dark period with Botox. Check check check.

I go off on the RBF tangent for a reason. Because anxiety and depression don’t look a certain way. They don’t have a face, they don’t dress a certain way. They don’t mope around dressed in black wringing a handkerchief in their hands. And they’re highly evolved and adept at hiding themselves in plain sight.

Anxiety is present in the life of nearly every member of my extended family, male and female. Anxiety doesn’t discriminate; it is a nasty beast of equal opportunity. I have had moderate to severe anxiety since childhood. That being said, it reached new, unfathomable heights that could not be ignored after my second son was born.

Postpartum depression is a concept most of the world is relatively familiar with. Ask almost anyone and they can vaguely describe the symptomatology to you. But postpartum anxiety is its lesser known, hard to nail down cousin. Because having a new baby is a nerve wracking experience for every single person it would arguably be *abnormal* to experience NO fear or anxiety in the early days of dropping the bomb of a new little one into your now sleep deprived life. My understanding was that true postpartum anxiety was anxiety surrounding and related to the baby. Anxiety and fear over keeping the baby alive: is he breathing, is he eating enough, is he sick? For me this was not the case. I had little to no baby-related anxiety. But I was a wreck. I was having multiple panic attacks nightly, to the point where I was afraid to go to bed. The panic attacks spilled over into the daytime, and I was afraid to leave my house. I was subconsciously picking and chewing my cuticles and surrounding skin into a bloody oblivion. This is not normal behavior. I was a shell of a person. If you could draw a picture of fear and anxiety upright, walking around in the world, it was me. My family got on the phone to one another and ultimately held an intervention culminating in these words: seek help, or else. And ultimately I did. But not for my anxiety.

My son was 3 months old when my postpartum anxiety hit its peak, and what brought me in to see my doctor at long last was not anxiety, but stomach cancer. Because did I mention hypochondria? It turned out that my stomach cancer was actually a stomach ulcer. (The first of three that I have since had). I had given myself an anxiety induced stomach ulcer, the pain of which I had never before experienced. My doctor looked at me and my raw, bloody fingers, frazzled hair and face, ankle shaking my foot back and forth with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, for less than 30 seconds and said “I think there is something deeper going on here. Are you okay?” No. I was not okay. I explained all of the things that I had been feeling and asked, “could this be postpartum anxiety? Is this maybe what that term means? Maybe what this is?” Yes, you dummy. And so I went on an anti-anxiety medication. I was on it for a short time until my hormones regulated and I was able to attempt to and then ultimately wean off of it. And I am forever and ever and ever amen grateful for that medicine. It brought me back. God bless it.

That decision to accept anti-anxiety medication was remarkably and indescribably hard for me. Because you guys, before this I was SMUG about mental health. Mental health, mental schmealth. I have lived with anxiety since childhood and I was functioning, overcoming, doing just FINE. Add to that the fact that I am a chiropractor and a Christian. Woah. Wait. How are those two things even remotely related to this conversation, you ask? Both of those cultures for me helped to shape the stigma that mental health is and should be manageable without the introduction of medication.

We chiropractors are crunchy, if you didn’t know that about us. It is a large part of our philosophy that many to most physical and mental health related issues can and should be managed with diet and exercise. And for me those two things truly do dramatically influence the level of anxiety in my life. I exercise regularly because it is *necessary* for my mental health, and diet is also key for me. You know the line from It’s a Wonderful Life: “every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings”? Well every time an antidepressant gets prescribed in the world an advocate for natural healthcare DIES. Picture them eating dinner with their family and then abruptly killing over mid-sentence. It’s a very taboo subject and the course of much debate in my field.

On the matter I will go on the record saying that I believe that antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs are WILDLY overprescribed, BUT THEY EXIST FOR A REASON AND THANK GOD FOR THEM WHEN THEY ARE PRESCRIBED AND USED CORRECTLY. There are no amount of minutes of exercise that I could have added to my day or gluten that I could have cut from my diet to pry me from the anxiety riddled spiral that I found myself in after Roman’s birth, and again none that could have dug me out of the trenches of the depression that I was in after my first miscarriage. THE END.

On Faith and Mental Health: I am a Christian. My faith is an integral part of my life and being. I do not exist without it. It is woven into all facets of my existence. And so, that being said, there was a large part of me that felt *ashamed* in my faith for allowing my anxiety to spiral out of control and then for depression to ravage me. What did this say about my walk with God? Why wasn’t I able to “give it all to Him”? Why wasn’t I able to find joy in all things? There are verses upon verses about being anxious in nothing and about finding joy in everything. Why had I failed in this? Please read this carefully: my doubt and disappointment during these times wasn’t in God, ever- it was in myself. I felt that I was struggling with anxiety and depression because I didn’t have enough faith. Because I was weak. Because I had failed. Please listen to me if there is even one thing that you take away from this: NO.

IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH ANXIETY OR DEPRESSION IT IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE AN ACTUAL CHEMICAL IMBALANCE IN YOUR BRAIN.

Sometimes that imbalance is manageable with diet and exercise and meditation and prayer and faith and therapy. Sometimes it is not. And in those times that it is not I believe that medication has a place and that it is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s time that the stigma gets put to bed.

And so the girl who started a blog as a means to pull herself out of a deep depression stepped away from her blog to avoid a second deep depression. After this second miscarriage I decided to take a step back from everything. I Konmari’d my life. I touched all of its components and if it didn’t bring me joy I set it down. For a while nothing other than my kids or my husband brought me joy. So that’s all that I kept in my life. Slowly, I started to experiment with picking up other items and felt joy in them again, so I added them back in. Only just now have I felt that spark again to write and to blog, and even more recently to renovate houses.

The 1928 farmhouse? It has been sitting empty for the last 3 months. Last week I picked the reigns back up because I felt the spark of joy in its prospect again. This week renovations have resumed. I am excited to once again sculpt something from the ashes of this home’s past. And in that I find myself once again rising up from my own ashes and finding beauty.

There will always be fires in our lives; all we can do is continue to rise up out of them and find life and beauty among the ashes.

First, I’m sorry for the delay. I promised a reveal two weeks ago! We went to Disney World, and I’ve been playing catch up ever since.

Now, without further delay, I present you with The Cherry Lane House, Before and After.

The Exterior Before and After

Hello, lover.

The love that I thought I had for this house when I first met her absolutely pales in comparison to the love I grew for her during and upon completion. Did she give me troubles? Many. Did we fight? Sure. Like any great love, did I sometimes want to break up with her and forget I ever met her? Of course. But my love for her was ultimately too strong to stay mad for long.

I first introduced the Cherry Lane House HERE and I talked HERE about the epiphany that lead me to believe that this home had distant Spanish Revival influence, so I took that inspiration and rolled with it… gently.

I decided to give the faded, dull exterior a fresh coat of white paint. From the beginning I referred to the house as “white,” but in reality the color was somewhere more along the lines of “sad and depressing beige.” The color I chose is Shoji White by Sherwin Williams, and it’s just the most perfect exterior creamy white. It’s not stark white, not beige white, just perfectly soft and creamy. Feasting your eyes on Shoji White is like being a hugged by a cloud. (You just sighed dreamily, didn’t you? Or was that me?) The house’s brick mortar is the heavily over-mortared dripping look (which I love as it can offer so much depth and character to a home). I felt sure this would be problematic to paint around, so I had a painter do this job professionally. I’m very pleased that I made this choice as I am certain that I would still be there painting that exterior by hand myself, probably until the end of time, surely long after all of my loved ones were dead and gone. It came out great, worlds better than I could have ever done, and now I get to watch my children grow up.

It’s hard to tell from these shots, but the trim work before was hunter green, which I didn’t hate and think could have looked nice freshened up, but it just wasn’t the look I was going for. The brown roof had been replaced in recent years and was in perfect condition, so I was locked in with a color scheme in The Browns… not my favorite color family. But I Tim Gunned myself, shouting, “make it work!” and ultimately chose Urbane Bronze for the trim, garage door, and front door as it is a very friendly, moody, dark gray color with warm, brown undertones- hence the “bronze” component of the name. I also had my painter paint the edging of the front windows Urbane Bronze to highlight and play up the arches. I love how it makes the front windows pop.

Landscaping was very low budget and minimal, but it makes a big impact here. There was an existing brick planter bed on the left side of the house that we filled in very minimally.  Some height was needed on either side of the large arched window to anchor it and add balance, and some low shrubs went in under the window to fill in the center. The front porch area had pavers buried under mountains of dirt. Those were a nice surprise to unearth. I love how welcoming and approachable they make the front porch area seem. (I somehow don’t have an after shot of this, but imagine feeling very welcomed and smiling a lot.)

I replaced the front door with this arched panel front door to continue the arched theme. The existing front door was hunter green and paneled in bold, heavy squares, and the hard lines were so very out of place on this exterior. I prefer clean lines as a rule, but this house was a departure from my typical personal style and it challenged me to push myself in a different direction. The new arch panel front door compliments the arched windows and plays into the Mediterranean/Spanish vibe that I was inspired by. Finally, I envisioned oversized lanterns in black or dark bronze on either side of the front window to pop against the white brick. They’re like face jewelry for my pretty, pretty girl. Earrings, but on her cheeks. Prettiest cheek earrings I’ve ever seen, fancy lady. Catcall.

Come Inside

ADIOS PASTEL FLOWERY WALLPAPER!

This ashy oak colored luxury vinyl plank flooring extends throughout the house, everywhere but the bedrooms and master bath.

Luxury vinyl plank flooring is referred to in the biz simply as “LVP.” Guys, I was so sad when I realized that all of these flooring guys were actually in fact NOT trying to talk to me about the latest episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and the *REAL LVP*, but just trying to upsell me on flooring. I thought I had found common ground and shared interest in this male-dominated world, but no. They’re all “laminite is crappy, but LVP is the best,” and I was like “I KNOW, SHE’S MY FAVORITE TOO!” Imagine my disappointment when I broke down that acronym.

Anyway, LVP flooring is affordable, extremely durable- arguably the most durable flooring choice on the market- and also waterproof. This makes it a great selection for bathrooms, kitchens, and laundry rooms. I love this stuff and will most likely use it for all future flips. LVP is the real MVP in my book. I mentioned in my last post that I regretted not ordering a darker flooring, but I’m happy with how this choice came out in the end. It makes it so bright and light and airy in these front rooms. (It reads a little darker in these photos, but it’s actually really really light in person.)

All of the walls throughout the house are Repose Gray by Sherwin Williams, and the trim is Snowbound, also Sherwin Williams.

Living Room Before and After

This living room though. I love how it turned out. It is absolutely flooded with natural light, and I just want to sit in the center of the room and get all of my vitamin D here for the all rest of my days.

The modernization of the built in bookcase was probably the biggest hiccup in the whole remodel. I envisioned pulling the entire bookcase and back paneling out and revealing behind them a brick wall that had been covered, then installing what would appear to be “floating” wood shelves horizontally over the brick. But this is not HGTV; this is real life. During demo, when we went to pull out the shelving unit and back paneling… THE BRICK ABOVE THE SHELF SPLIT INTO A PYRAMID SHAPED CRACK AND STARTED TO COLLAPSE. (And there was of course no brick behind the paneling, just like there are not actually “beautiful original hardwood floors” lurking under every piece of carpet.) Greatest heartbreak of my life. And, I will admit , I was super melodramatic about this event. I did not play it even a little bit cool. So many words flew from my mouth like an actual real life sailor, and I believed the world to in fact be ending.

But we were able to push the shelving unit back in, add a support piece of wood that reads as trim to the eye, reinforce the unit, caulk the brick back into place, and move forward with the addition of the “floating shelves”. Drama aside, I love how it turned out.

I had canned lighting added in the living room ceiling, so I chose to do a simple, minimal ceiling fan in a lighter tone to compliment the flooring. And finally, I chose a rich, darker stain for the ceiling beams, floating shelves, and mantel. (But only after originally choosing to stain them (they’re cedar) a natural cedar color. It was a most poor decision. They were orange and screaming at me “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” It looked like the summer of seventh grade when I experimented with Sun-In in my hair. So orange…)

Kitchen and Dining Before and After

I of course removed the two pony walls that broke up the arch separating the kitchen/dining from the living area. It made both rooms feel instantly larger and airier.

This kitchen though. She’s pretty sassy. Heart Eyes. Let’s get closer.

YESSSSSS. The kitchen is my favorite part of this entire house, and I have been waiting to show it to you!!!! Biggest transformation to date.

Let’s break down all of the changes that happened in here. First and foremost I obviously ripped out that ugly drop down decorative fluorescent light ceiling and the obstructive bank of upper cabinets over the bar. I could have stopped with those two quick, easy changes and the kitchen (happily) wouldn’t have recognized its own self in the mirror. But I wasn’t ready to stop there. I had big plans for this kitchen. I wanted it to be unique and ultra cool, with a subtle Mediterranean nod. The backsplash tile was my wink at Mediterranean backsplash tile, and to keep it hip and make sure we didn’t fall down the slippery slope of Grandma’s kitchen with our patterned backsplash, I painted the upper and lower cabinets two different colors. I love this look. It dominates my Pinterest account right now. I chose Sherwin Williams Snowbound (same as the trim throughout the house) for the uppers and Sherwin Williams Urbane Bronze for the lowers.

Where the upper cabinets were over the bar I added two floating shelves in Urbane Bronze. I kept the light fixtures and cabinet hardware brushed nickel and pretty simple so they didn’t distract from the backsplash’s leading role.

I removed the cabinet over the cooktop and chose to go with a sleek, minimal, modern look stainless steel vent hood. I replaced the existing cooktop with a professional looking gas cooktop.

This kitchen is my happy place. But we must move on.

Master Bedroom Before and After

Before: bedathroom. (bangs head against wall at the mention of the name)

After: Master Suite. (Relaxes shoulders and defensive posture brought on by the mention of the word bedathroom)

I closed in the opening and added a sliding barn door track. I kept the actual door minimal and modern in style and painted it Urabane Bronze. I removed the laminate flooring and replaced it with carpet. I chose Sherwin Williams Urbane Bronze for the walls and Sherwin Williams Snowbound for the trim.

Master Bathroom Before and After

I replaced the single vanity with two light gray individual vanities. I chose these morccoan arched top mirrors to go over the vanities, and I love how the color compliments the floor tile and the color of the sliding barn door.

I chose this black and white tile for the floor for a fun punch of pattern. I mentioned in my plans post that I wanted to introduce a patterned floor tile on this end of the house in keeping with the Mediterranean vibe I was getting from the house.

I ripped out the entire master bath toilet/shower room. It all needed to be replaced, just period because ew.

I love how the marble look shower tile creates a relaxing spa feeling and doesn’t compete with the floor tile.

Bedrooms 2 and 3 Before and After

These two rooms got carpet, fresh paint, new closet doors, new ceiling fans, and new door hardware. And sadly, so sadly, I removed the Live Laugh Love vinyls from the wall in the Yellow Room. If you want them… they’re at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, and I’m worried about you. This is an intervention. Sit down.

Jack and Jill Hall Bath Before and After

It all came out. It just allllll caaaame oouut. The seashell sinks, the built in corner medicine cabinets, the yellow shower wall tile. All of it had to go. Except for the tub, that puppy is solid cast iron. But everything else has to go and my skin is crawling looking at the befores. This room was nasty (boo) but now it is not (yay!).

I chose the same 16×24 marble look wall tile for these shower walls that I had chosen for the master bath shower. It’s a clean, relaxing look.

I kept the hall bathroom fairly simple. I replaced the vanity with this gorgeous gray, marble-topped beauty. I continued the LVP (not Lisa Vanderpump) floors from the rest of the house. It keeps the look clean and simple and makes the hallway look long and lovely.

Backyard and Pool Before and After

Take a moment to appreciate every beautiful crystal clear, sparkling blue pool that you have ever seen or swam in. I for one have always taken them for granted.

Pools are monsters. Soul sucking, time stealing monsters.

They are, by default, actually black. Or green black. Or foggy green black. And also frog infested. Dead and alive.

They are not blue and sparkling by default.

After having the vinyl liner replaced and most of the filter/motor/pool equipment (something I had budgeted for and came as no surprise) I thought that the pool would just be blue and sparkle like magic. I actually believed this to be the real life workings of the world. I was so young and naive then.

It turns out that to make and then maintain the blueness of a pool you have to live your life part time at your flip house and you cannot go on vacation to Disney World, and you must say things to your children like “sorry mommy missed you riding your bike without training wheels for the first time. I had to go backwash the pool for the hundred seventy nine billionth time today.”

But here she is. We have made it to the other side, and I will not let her turn back to Black Death water again.

I had the entire dining room window bump out replaced. The siding was rotting, and it, along with all of its insulation, needed to be replaced. Much better.

So, what do you think?? Did it turn out like I planned? Was my Mediterranean inspiration a hit or a miss?

I started staging the house yesterday, and will wrap that up in the next day or two. I will share the photos of the house staged next! It’s already completely changed the feeling of the house, and I love it even more now (I didn’t think that was possible, but turns out I had more love in my heart to give to this house). She goes on the market this Friday with an Open House next Sunday!

Let me know what you think of her!

I said in the “Meet the Cherry Lane” post that I wanted to go in a slightly different direction with this house, and that’s because it’s a different architectural style than I have dealt with thus far. Bear with me here.

In central Oklahoma the majority of our homes are ranch style. The homes that you see being remodeled on Fixer Upper are almost identical to many of the homes in our region. White cabinets and shiplap walls and subway tile is fitting for ranch style homes. Thanks to Joanna Gaines, they go together like peanut butter and jelly.

At first glance the Cherry Lane house could pass for ranch style with its long, low exterior profile and its internal layout. But something about it kept giving me pause. The combination of the arches and the white exterior… something about it looked almost… Mediterranean. Stick with me. Can ranch style homes have arched windows? Yes, absolutely. But the white brick with the squished mortar gives off a stucco-esque vibe, and that, along with the repetition of the arches inside and outside… it finally hit me. Guys, this was a ranch style house that went to visit its cool older cousin in Southern California and came home Spanish revival inspired. The house equivalent of getting a single ear piercing or a tattoo.

Check out these Spanish modern or Spanish revival style homes. (These are obviously not my images. They’re from google. I am just a brand new baby blogger and do not know how to source my images yet. Feel sorry for me.)

I dropped Cherry Lane there at the end. You thought she was one of the Spanish Mod inspo photos for a sec, didn’t you? 

Now check out these moody interiors that are giving me all the inspiration alongside some shots of Cherry Lane so you can get a feel for where it’s headed:

Below: living room inspiration- arched windows, focal point fireplace, dark ceiling beams, large open archway to the kitchen, Below that: Cherry Lane

Can you see it???

Can you picture my darling Cherry Lane in these homes if you squint?? I didn’t even have to squint. I had made up my mind. We live in suburban Oklahoma- I am aware that we were untouched by the Spanish revival, save for some pockets of older neighborhoods in Oklahoma City- so I know that by all definitions, this home is not a true Spanish revival home, EVERYONE CHILL, but the inspiration is there. Someone involved with the design of this home was inspired by Spanish revival or Mediterranean style, and I was not about to smear the walls with shiplap and deny this home its true heritage.

It was a home out of place- a square peg in a round hole- and though I was already in full blown love I fell a little deeper, infatuated with this beauty who dared to step outside of the box and be her own self.

So now that I had put my finger on it, where was I to go from here?

I had already ordered the flooring for the house before I had this epiphany and wasn’t able to change it, otherwise I would have gone with a dark wood flooring. I wanted badly to do dark trim-work throughout the house, but I couldn’t afford what it would take to replace and stain all of the trim.

So, locked in with light flooring and white trim-work, I searched for other ways to highlight Spanish style influences for this home. I couldn’t go full blown Spanish modern convert with terra-cotta tiles and a crazy-town Mediterranean tiled kitchen backsplash, because, hi, I still had to sell this house in suburban Oklahoma. How could I subtly and tastefully incorporate some design features that reflected my Spanish inspiration? I decided that I would focus my efforts on the master bathroom and the kitchen.

MASTER BATHROOM PLANS

I would do a patterned black and white tiled master bath floor. As luck would have it, patterned “cement” tile floors (I would use porcelain to avoid the scratch happy headache that comes with true cement floors) have come into popularity in recent years so this choice shouldn’t be off-putting or look out of place to potential buyers. They’re Mediterranean influenced without many people even realizing it. Sneaky. And the big kicker for the master bath: I found these AMAZING Mediterranean style mirrors to go over the vanities. In Emeril fashion I just shouted BAM!

Look at this in progress shot of the master bathroom coming together.

SHUT YOUR MOUTH. I’m talking to myself here. No really, shut your gaping, drooling mouth, Courtney, you look like a fool.

KITCHEN PLANS

The kitchen is the heart and soul of the home. Spanish style homes highlight this fact by playing up the backsplash. They scream at you: look at me! I am kitchen, hear me roar! So I knew that I wanted to do something big with this kitchen. I was really really nervous to take the risk, because, again- hi- I have to sell these houses; they’re not just for funsies. But ultimately I decided that I was going to really go for it. The main focus would be a loosely Mediterranean inspired backsplash. I did not have the budget for real Spanish tile, and again, it would look ridiculous and out of place here in our region. I found this extremely affordable tile at my new favorite store, Floor and Decor (all the heart eyes. If Kevin and I ever renew our vows I will demand that it take place here, in the glass tile aisle).

Here is an in-progress shot of the kitchen. The new countertops, backsplash, and sink are installed, and I’ve painted samples of my paint choices on the cabinet doors (which I would be replacing with simple, Shaker style doors).

I chose this loosely Mediteranean-inspired tile for the backsplash, and to keep it modern and cool I decided to paint the upper cabinets white and the lower cabinets a dark, rich gray (Sherwin Williams Urbane Bronze- this is labelled option B in the image above). I debated back and forth on whether to embrace this two-tone look or to just do lighter gray uppers and lowers (labelled option A in the image above). Of course Negib had an opinion on this that differed from my own initially, but in the end- after I had paint samples up on the cabinets- he wound up encouraging me to take the risk and do the two toned kitchen.

Additionally, I planned to hang two floating shelves in the space where I had removed the bank of upper cabinets. They would be cedar and stained a light to medium neutral color. They, along with a cool, sleek stainless steel vent hood, would serve as a reminder that the space is modern and cool, not a frumpy old grandma kitchen with a weird patterned backsplash.

I would keep the cabinet hardware and light fixtures in the room very simple. The room was going to be pretty busy and I didn’t want to visually overwhelm it with another focal point.

LIVING ROOM PLANS

Moving into the living room I planned to once again play up my Spanish influences by first returning the ceiling beams to a dark color, and also by highlighting that amazing arched fireplace. How amazing is this arched fireplace, by the way??? IN LOVE. Feel my pulse. It’s off the charts.

Check out these Spanish Modern fireplace influences, again from Google:

I love the fireplace so much already I can’t imagine how I could fall deeper. But just wait until you see her paired with a beefcake mantel. Yum.

EXTERIOR PLANS

As for the exterior of the house I planned to repaint the brick and mortar. The “white” was looking pretty rough and off-white and dingy. No amount of power washing could make it pretty again.

The green trim would be painted dark: Sherwin Williams Urbane Bronze. I found an amazing front door with an inset arched glass panel that would tie into all of the arching goodness that the house had to offer.

Can you see it???

Do you feel all of the Spanish vibes that I am vibing your way? Or do you feel nervous for me, like it’s going to turn out like a kindergartener’s art interpretation of a lion-zebra with a turtle head? I suppose you will have to wait and see. Stay tuned next week for the reveal. Fingers crossed that this old gal accidentally gets it right on this one 🤞🏻