I didn’t even like the looks of that house as an investment property, let alone a place to continue raising our family. Yet because of the way Chip does business, I quickly came to the conclusion that—once again—there was no fighting this decision. It was already a done deal. A great couple already had their hearts set on our Castle Heights home, and Chip had already sunk the down payment into that shotgun house at Carriage Square.
By this point, I had learned to adjust my thinking quickly since I never knew what Chip would come up with next. I wanted to stay comfortable, but I finally started to realize that with change comes new opportunity. Even though I was sad to leave our home, I quickly got on board with Chip and thought of all the new memories our family could make in a new place. There was a part of me that was challenged to create beauty in a house that seemed to have no potential.
Once again, we didn’t want to do renovations while we were living in a house with four little kids, so we set about doing the renovations just as quickly as we possibly could, before we had to leave that Tudor dream house behind in the rearview mirror.
The guilt I felt over not creating any space in the Castle Heights house where my kids could be themselves was still hanging over me when all of this unfolded, and I made myself a promise that I would make a special place for them in this new house. I think that was my first ever truly intentional design goal: I wanted to make this next house be much more enjoyable and accessible and comfortable for our family. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be intentional about giving each one of us our own things to love about this new house—even if I didn’t love the house itself.
So how will I go about doing that? I wondered.
I was getting more and more confident about my eye for detail, my ability to find great furniture and objects at flea markets and yard sales and to let the character of those old finds shine through in a way that made any room more interesting. But I’d been applying most of that vision to other people’s houses through our renovation and flip projects. I’d even applied it to how people would view our own home—what might look good in a magazine shoot, what people might want to buy when they came to a Magnolia home show, and what might inspire them to hire us to come tackle a renovation project in their home.
As we prepared to make that transition to a smaller house, with a much smaller yard and only one story of living space, I decided to focus in on us. How could I remodel this house to make it work for us?
I would still adhere to the things I’d learned about classic color schemes and using lots of wood and putting three-dimensional objects on the walls, even using pieces that were traditionally for the outdoors. All of those things that appealed to other people were also what appealed to me, so I wasn’t ruling anything out or purposefully thinking about making it unattractive to anyone else. I just wanted to put us first. All of us.
I started thinking a whole lot about another mentor of Chip’s, Uncle Ricky, the attorney uncle of his college friend—the one who had helped him set up the fireworks-stand business over a couple of summers. What Uncle Ricky did was create this wonderful home environment for his family. He built a beautiful house that was brand-new but looked like it was a hundred years old, and his stunning backyard made you feel as if you were stepping into a vacation somewhere far from Texas the moment you walked out onto their screened-in back porch.
He built up that backyard over many years, adding a cute little setting here and then another cute setting over there, incorporating all sorts of antiques they purchased over the years. I always loved to go there because there was always some new, interesting treasure to see in that backyard.
I don’t know if Ricky or his wife have any idea how inspiring that was to me. It wasn’t on public display or anything. Nobody but their close friends and family knew any of that stuff was there. It was just for them. But whatever they did, they did it well. And if they couldn’t do it all at once, they just built it up over time. They even named the place Teaberry Farm. Ricky had a hat made up with “Teaberry Farm” right on it, and he wore that hat pretty much every single day.
Ricky also kept a bunch of animals back there. They had chickens and goats, and he was always messing around doing something on his tractor. That part of it was a real inspiration to me. He just made life look fun. All those animals and all of those antiques were just a hobby to him. He made his money as an attorney. But he put that money to work in a way that made me want to get to a place like that one day.
All of that was on my mind as I took the kids over to that ugly shotgun house one day to start sketching out some decorating and remodeling ideas. I knew that I didn’t have a backyard to work with and less square footage than the Castle Heights house, but I was determined to be creative and to try.
The front door of that house was on one end, by the driveway and garage, and the house just shot back from there in this long, straight, narrow rectangle, with a hallway that ran the length of the house, all the way to the back door by the garage and driveway. Well, no sooner did I open the door than the kids took off down that hall. They started giggling and squealing, and then one of them slipped and kind of fell.
I was worried for a second that somebody had hurt themselves and the whole day would get off on the wrong foot. But that slip and fall made them notice that the floor was slippery to slide on, so all of a sudden the shoes came off and they were running back down this hallway in their socks and sliding straight into the kitchen. You’d have thought we just told them they were going to Disney World, they were so excited. I hadn’t done a thing to that house yet, and already my kids were having a better time in it than I’d ever seen them have in my big, beautiful house in Castle Heights.
I went into the house that day thinking I’d try to envision some paint colors and pick who would be in which bedroom. Instead, a lightbulb went on that started to change absolutely everything for me: “My kids love it in here. They can be kids. I’m going to design around that.”
Now I wasn’t just thinking about making sure the kids had a space they could love. I realized I needed to create a whole house that they could love and I could love and Chip could love. The whole place needed to be practical and functional for them so they could have fun and be themselves in their own home—and we could too.
There were two living rooms in that house, and right then and there I decided to make one whole living room just for the kids. I had this idea to fill bookcases with all of their books, and that got me thinking about what would make Chip happy and what would make me happy.
I’d have my kitchen, sure. That was my domain. I was becoming a better cook and really starting to enjoy it. But what would make that even better would be to have a garden so we could have fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and carrots to use. And how much fun would it be to work in the garden with the kids and teach them where their food comes from?
I bolted down the hallway and slid in my socks to the back door with the kids all following right behind me. Then we all went outside and looked. I realized there was just enough land on the side of the house to fence in and turn into a garden. There was even room for a pergola and a little outdoor eating area.
That night I told Chip all about my plans, both inside and out, and he got excited about the outside fenced-in area too. He said, “Can we get some chickens? I’ve always wanted chickens, like my grandfather had on his ranch.”
My response: “Why not?”