Today I have a special Sunday post for you from my friend Meagan Francis!
You probably know her from her blog and book, The Happiest Mom. I’m honored to have her share a real-life “fixer upper” story here. Thanks for welcoming her today! –Melissa
When we bought our house, I was mainly looking for potential. Finding a home large enough for seven people on a tight budget put us squarely in the “fixer upper” category. Structurally the house seemed sound, but several cosmetic issues looked like projects we could handle quickly.
After we closed, I learned homes don’t always follow the plan. First, a retaining wall collapsed into the ravine behind the house. Then we had to divert water from the driveway to protect the old garage. The furnace needed replacing. One small problem after another ate into our modest repair budget, and what I had hoped would be quick cosmetic updates got postponed.
The two projects I wanted first — refinishing the first-floor hardwood and renovating the awkward, dated kitchen — were shelved. For a year and a half the floors were hidden under a patchwork of stained rental Berber, battered wood, and vinyl tiles. In the kitchen we did what we could: a more modern paint color to cover the hideous mint green and added some open shelving, but that was about it.
Every time I walked across the floor or cooked in the kitchen I was reminded of how much I wanted an update — how much nicer the house would feel and how much happier I expected to be once it was done.
Finally we scraped together enough money to tackle both projects at once. We stayed with my mother-in-law for the weekend while cork flooring was installed in the kitchen and the first-floor wood was refinished. When we returned we were asked to avoid walking on the floors and not move furniture back for a day or two, so we admired our new space from a distance and camped out upstairs.
Our house had been a duplex for decades and the upstairs still feels like a low-rent apartment. It now holds the boys’ bedrooms, a bathroom, an old kitchen space, and a TV/game room. The kids love having that hangout, but it’s not particularly attractive. We have plans for it someday, but it’s not a priority right now.
That night all seven of us crowded into the TV room and the boys’ bedrooms to sleep. Lying there in the dark, surrounded by ugly carpet, crumbling plaster, and dingy yellow walls, I was transported back to the apartments my husband and I lived in with our oldest children early in our marriage — places with dated kitchens and cheap rental carpet. Then, those apartments were simply what we had. They sheltered and warmed us, witnessed our family’s growth, and felt like home when they were tidy and decorated within our budget.
Over the years our income and expectations changed. I’ve come to see home improvement as similar to personal growth: you work little by little to make surroundings cleaner, warmer, and more functional, yet you also need to accept that what you have right now is enough — perhaps even something to celebrate.
Listening to my family’s steady, sleeping breaths as we squeezed together in that modest space, I realized that this was all I truly needed. The updated kitchen and refinished hardwood are enjoyable and make daily life nicer, but they are window dressing — nice to have, not essential to our family’s wellbeing.
I love the new floors and the almost-completed kitchen, and I know this house will be under construction for a long time. There will always be something I want to improve. The real trick is learning to embrace the home in the meantime, to value it for what it already provides: warmth, comfort, and a place that keeps our family together.
