Here’s the thing: I never set out to become a renovation guy. Three years ago I was just another product manager staring at our sad 1970s Colonial in Smyrna, Georgia, wondering how the hell we were going to make it livable with two little kids running around and a bank account that definitely didn’t scream “HGTV.”
Fast-forward through one gutted kitchen (designed twice), a primary bath that taught me more about grout than I ever wanted to know, and living-room built-ins that still make me smile every time I walk past them. Somewhere in the sawdust and late-night YouTube rabbit holes, I realized something important: good design isn’t about expensive stuff. It’s about thinking clearly before you buy, cut, or install. And that’s exactly what this blog is for.
The Day I Realized My Day Job Was Secretly Perfect for Renovation
I spend my weekdays at a SaaS company breaking down user problems, running A/B tests, and making trade-off decisions. Turns out that same muscle works wonders at home. When we bought the house in 2020, I knew exactly zero about tile, trim, or why certain lights make a room feel like a dentist’s office. I learned the hard way—by spending too much on the wrong vanity, painting paneling the wrong white, and watching a contractor ghost us mid-project.
But here’s the good news: you don’t need a design degree or a six-figure budget. You just need to slow down and think like a user (in this case, your own family). That’s the entire premise of Ethan’s House Blog. Not aspirational magazine homes. Real suburban houses where kids draw on freshly painted walls and coffee tables sometimes stay plywood for eight months.
Not everything needs to cost more. Some things just need to be thought about more.
What This Blog Is (and What It Definitely Isn’t)
This isn’t another perfect Instagram feed where every project looks finished in 48 hours. You won’t find mood boards with $800 throw pillows or designers telling you to “curate your negative space.” What you will find is honest storytelling from someone who’s actually lived with the decisions.
In the Room by Room category you’re in right now, I’ll walk you through complete room makeovers—before photos, the plan on paper, the reality once demolition started, the budget (every single line item), and the stuff I’d do differently now that we’ve lived in the space for months or years.
You’ll also get The Detail—those tiny choices (switch plate height, grout color, cabinet hardware pull length) that make the difference between “meh” and “this feels good.”
Budget & Trade covers the money side nobody likes talking about until the invoice arrives. Real Life is the messy truth of renovating with toddlers underfoot. And Shop Talk is where my furniture-flipping habit gets to shine—tools, thrift finds, and products I’ve actually stress-tested.
My House in Real Life
Picture a 1977 Colonial in suburban Atlanta. Original wood paneling that made every room feel like a 70s basement. A kitchen with zero counter space and appliances that sounded like jet engines. A primary bath with a pink tub that somehow survived until 2022. Two kids: Leo (now 5) who thinks every power tool is a toy, and June (now 2) who treats open shelving like a climbing wall.
We did the kitchen first. Drew it up on graph paper like good little product managers. Ordered cabinets. Then realized the layout didn’t work with actual human traffic patterns once the kids were running through. So we redesigned it mid-process. Cost us time and money, but the final version? We love it. And I’ll tell you exactly why in a future post.
Same with the primary bath. $8,200 all-in. I’ll show you the spreadsheet. Spoiler: we saved money by doing some demo ourselves and learned the hard way that certain “budget” fixtures aren’t actually cheaper once you factor in callbacks.
The Product Manager Approach to Home Design
User Research First Who actually uses this room? In our case: two adults who like to cook together, a five-year-old who wants to “help,” and a toddler who will inevitably spill something. That changed our entire island design.
Prototype Before Committing We taped out the kitchen layout on the floor with painter’s tape and lived with it for a week. Best decision ever.
Iterate Ruthlessly That first white paint on the paneling? Too cold. We repainted nine months later with a warmer tone. I’ll show the side-by-side.
Measure Value, Not Just Cost The $32 decorator switch plates? Worth every penny. The $650 light fixture that’s identical to the $89 Amazon one? Not so much.
I’ll keep coming back to this framework because it works. It’s how I went from overwhelmed homeowner to someone who actually enjoys the process (most days).
Why I’m Writing This Now
Because when I was googling “1970s colonial renovation with kids” three years ago, I mostly found either million-dollar flips or overly polished influencer content that made me feel worse about my own house. I wanted the middle ground: a peer who’s done it on a normal salary, made expensive mistakes, and is willing to show the receipts—literally.
This blog exists so you can skip some of my dumb decisions and make smarter ones. So you can feel excited about your house instead of hating the parts that don’t work yet. So you can have friends over without hiding the plywood coffee table (we still have it, by the way—it’s surprisingly sturdy).
What to Expect Going Forward
Every Room by Room post will have:
Before & during & after photos (yes, the ugly middle stages too)
Budget breakdown
What I’d change now
The specific lessons that only come from living with the space
I’ll admit when I got it wrong. I’ll call out products that looked great on paper but sucked in real life. And I’ll celebrate the small wins—like the day we finally replaced that pink tub and the whole bathroom felt ten times bigger.
If you’re in your 30s or 40s, juggling work and kids and a house that needs love but not a total gut job, welcome. You’re my people. Pull up a chair (or a sheet of plywood). Let’s make your house easier to live in without losing your mind or your savings.
The journey is messy. The results are worth it. And the thinking-through part? That’s what I’m here for.
— Ethan
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