Outdoor Renovation Evolution

I vividly remember driving over a hill and coming down past a church. A for sale sign poked out from a yard ahead. I married a realtor. The likelihood of us haphazardly driving by a for sale sign and finding our next home: slim. Something clicked when we pulled closer to the tutor gingerbread fairy princess house. Something clicked twice when we saw her price. I stood in the front yard staring at the small house full of potential. I knew it would be ours...

"I don't even need to see the upstairs," I said. "This is not it."

"Come on," he said. "Let's at least take a look."

And we did. After doing his realtor research, he brought me back again and showed me the backyard.

"Backyards this big don't exist in this neighborhood," he said. "There's so much potential here."

And then I went to an open house, heard a couple chatting about seeing the same potential and this house had to be ours.

Tonight as I was turning pages in a book in our finished backyard, I couldn't help but appreciate Kyle's talent at a real estate agent with his most difficult client to date. 

Here's the patio for the summer:

Here are some before/after pictures:

And here are the during/afters...

Because sometimes the way it should happen in your head isn't always the way it happens...

Like when you end up in the ER on the sixth day of vacation.

Stressed.

Terrified.

Worried.

Sleep deprived.

Sunburnt.

After taking your son to Urgent Care and a doctor wearing a thick gold chain says:

"He should not be on a plane. He should be on his way to Arnold Palmer Children's Hospital."

And you have a brief moment of panic where you aren't really sure if you want to punch the doctor in the face for making you feel this way or curl up in a tiny ball on the floor and sob because you're stressed, terrified, worried, sleep deprived and sunburnt.

So you call your real pediatrician and they agree: "We recommend you take him to the ER."

And you cry some more...sobs really and mainly from sleep deprivation because you aren't thinking clearly. But then you go to the hospital and the doctors are great which gives you hope. And you spend the day getting X-rays which you are terrified may cause cancer and talking with really great doctors who will end up costing thousands. Secretly wishing you were across the street alone at Disney, you are now a nodding hungry zombie.

After a long defeating day and several medications later, your head hits the pillow and you realize...

Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow will be better.

And it is. It always is.