The Magnolia Story(43)

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?”

That day in that house with our kids was another turning point for me as a designer and a mom. I came to a brand-new conclusion: “If all I’m doing is creating beautiful spaces, I’m failing. But if I’m creating beautiful spaces where families are thriving, then I’m really doing something.” Doing that became my new calling.

The house really started to become a space where creativity flowed, and that set me down a new path in all of my design work. It’s not just about pretty anymore. It’s about practical. It’s about children feeling that they can be at home. From then on, everything I’d touch from a design standpoint would have that element of balance to it—where it wasn’t just aesthetically pleasing, but it also fit into my (or my client’s) stage of life.

In seemingly no time at all, we had vegetables growing and a couple of chickens laying eggs. The boys loved their room with a windmill in it, and the girls loved their fifty-dollar “princess-style” chandelier from Lowe’s that dangled from their ceiling.

The kids’ living room featured a couple of big chalkboards and a beat-up old farm table where they could get creative to their little hearts’ contents. I put some of those big old letters up on the walls of that room, spelling out “PLAY” on one wall and using everyone’s first initial in an appropriate spot. Then I redid the kitchen with a clean black countertop and white subway tiles.

I filled that home with the beautiful sorts of things I loved, from an old wooden bench to bulky antique black candle sconces and some old gates on the walls and a cool-looking old antique scale that didn’t serve any purpose other than to look old and cool.

I swear, the moment we moved into that house designed around us, I saw my family come alive in ways I’d never quite felt before. The kids were happy, and that made mama happy. Chip seemed all sorts of content to go out and feed his chickens in the morning. And I sometimes found it hard to believe that we’d had such a breakthrough as a family—and I’d had such a breakthrough as a designer and mom—in what was once an ugly, shotgun flip home.

It turned out that Chip’s reasons for moving into that home were good ones. Change was good. It was inspirational. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s the other reasons he had—the notion that maybe the economy was slowing down a bit and maybe we ought to reduce our financial footprint—that proved to be a godsend. Because just as we started enjoying our new life in that Carriage Square home, our biggest investment ever took an unexpected turn that would rip the rug right out from under our feet.





TWELVE



GETTING TO THE BOTTOM

I picked up the phone and within two words I realized this was the type of call no businessman wants to receive.

It was my banker.

“Hi, Chip,” he said. Even those first two words sounded shaky. “Hey, man, I’ve got some bad news,” he continued. “But I don’t want you to worry. We’ll get through this.”

Could there be a more chilling way to open a conversation? I couldn’t imagine what we were about to “get through,” and I was completely unprepared to hear the news he was about to tell me.

Months before this, Chip and I had basically gone and put all of our eggs into one big basket—and no, I’m not talking about the eggs we were collecting from Chip’s chickens.

Over the past four years, we had gone from being these mom-and-pop remodelers and house flippers doing one, maybe two properties at a time to tackling five, eight, ten properties at a time. The Boys had grown into a big crew, and we had become masters of our trade. The economies of scale had finally tipped in our favor. The fact that we were buying building materials in bulk meant each individual project was a little more profitable than the last.