The Remodeling Gene

Earlier this spring another friend and I had lunch at Linda’s house so we could see the amazing transformation she’d completed in her master bath and kitchen. She embarked on a remodeling adventure mid-pandemic so along with the normal stresses of a major project she also dealt with supply chain hiccups and halts. The results are exquisite. Her master bath, in particular, looks like something straight out of a magazine or home make over TV show. As beautiful as the results are, I haven’t the patience required to embark on a project like that. (I’m sure if you listen closely you’ll hear my sweet husband heartily cheering in the background.)

My mother had a strong remodeling gene. She refinished all the hardwood floors in one of our houses and seemed to always find rooms that needed repainting. Probably because she’d worn the paint off by frequent washings. (I didn’t get her housekeeping gene either!)

We moved into an older brick home in town that needed lots of painting. We built on two more bedrooms over the first floor area that briefly served as Daddy’s office. There was only a small dining room so Mother added a eat at bar in the kitchen big enough for six stools. It had two parlors connected by French doors to each other and to the front hall and dining room.

Mother complained that the parlors were too small to be functional for our large family. Her vision was of a great room open to the foyer and stairwell and dining room. She designed a drop down bar that would come out of the hollow center pillar and rest on a wooden wall carving as its leg. It was a clever design. She kept pestering Daddy about getting someone in to build what she wanted. He had a gift for letting the nattering roll off him and out of mind.

After Mother completed all the other projects and Daddy still hadn’t agreed to hire someone for the great room construction, she took matters–or more precisely–took a sledge hammer in hand and began knocking out the wall between the two parlors and removed all the French doors from their hinges.

I can’t say Daddy was surprised when he got home. He didn’t have time for shock. Mother had partially removed a load bearing wall under the upstairs bathroom. It was fortunate she hadn’t finished the job.

After a couple of emergency calls and a late night visit from the professional remodeler, steel I-beams were ordered to keep the second floor in place and the rest of the renovation was planned. The final product included a beautiful stone fireplace and the secret bar in the column. Then Mother rested a while to enjoy the fruits of “her” labor.

Maybe it’s a July 28th gene, that desire to remake things and endure the aggravation of it. Happy birthday, Linda! Happy birthday, Mother–RIP.

Hope any remodeling you tackle turns out exactly as you want and no bathtubs threaten to land in your living room! Enjoy!