As many of you may have heard—on our podcast or via the Instagram photo we shared—we’ve just completed the biggest renovation project we’ve ever tackled: a full kitchen remodel. It was long, sometimes messy, and ultimately incredibly rewarding. Like planning a wedding, the process was intense but the result makes us very glad it’s behind us (unlike a wedding, there wasn’t nearly enough cake involved).
After learning from previous room makeovers—like our living room and dining room updates—we chose to finish the renovation before sharing the final results. Skipping the real-time blogging allowed us to focus on creating the best possible space for our family rather than chasing the next photo-op. Living in the space for a while also let us tweak details incrementally instead of rushing to reveal before the dust settled.
Now that the room feels finished (as finished as any lived-in space can be—Sherry still rearranges those shelves every few weeks), we want to take you through the planning decisions that defined the renovation. The new floor plan is the unsung hero of this project, and reworking it was one of the toughest parts. Here’s what the kitchen looked like when we moved in:
Our earlier “Phase 1” updates—removing some upper cabinets, painting trim and paneling, upgrading lighting, adding a few open shelves, painting the upper cabinets white, staining the lowers, resurfacing laminate counters with concrete, and replacing appliances—definitely improved the kitchen’s look. But functionally, the room still had several problems.
Originally, the layout was what a kitchen designer called “a perfectly nice, single-chef kitchen.” Since we rarely cooked side-by-side at first, we considered leaving the footprint intact and updating cabinetry and counters. But as our family grew and routines changed—making school lunches and breakfasts at the same time, occasionally baking with our daughter—the space felt cramped and inefficient for multi-person use.
Beyond size, the kitchen felt closed-off. The long peninsula blocked the cook from the dining table and made trips from stove to table during meals annoyingly inefficient. The prep area also felt far from the living room, where the kids usually gathered—so whoever was in charge of dishes often felt out of the loop, unable to easily see or hear family activity. That wall had to go.
Another ongoing frustration was the lack of a proper drop zone for shoes, coats, and bags. Because the garage door opens directly into the kitchen, we had been schlepping items through the kitchen to the foyer closet, dumping shoes into a basket under the kitchen desk, and generally creating clutter that led to daily sweeping and frequent tripping hazards.
We briefly considered building a true mudroom by adding a dividing wall that would create a small entry zone, moving the kitchen footprint closer to the living room. It would have provided a dedicated space for shoes and coats, but it introduced several compromises: appliances would be squeezed into awkward spots, the island wouldn’t comfortably seat all four of us, and we’d lose a window—natural light the room desperately needs. Ultimately, it felt too cramped and impractical.
Instead, we adopted the idea of a “hidden mudroom”—built-in cabinetry that conceals cubbies for shoes, backpacks, and coats right next to the entry door. When closed, the cabinets blend with the rest of the kitchen; when opened, they reveal a dedicated locker for each family member. That concept led to a revised floor plan that kept the kitchen open, functional, and bright while solving our entry storage problem.
Expanding the kitchen into more of the room made a standard 8-foot island look small. We wanted a larger island that could seat all four of us without a seam in the surface. Fortunately, long-format quartz slabs became available in larger sizes, which allowed us to specify a seamless slab for a 10-foot island that fits the space and accommodates four stools. We also added base cabinets on the island ends for extra storage—exactly what a busy family needs.
The final layout felt large compared to the original footprint, but it checks every essential box for our family:
- Significantly increased storage and prep space
- Main prep and sink area moved closer to the dining table for easier meal routines
- A much more connected kitchen and living room for family interaction
- Built-in shoe, bag, and coat storage immediately next to the entry
- A large island for eating, homework, and hanging out, with seating for all four of us
We were initially worried the work triangle—sink, fridge, stove—might feel too spread out, but in daily use it hasn’t been a problem. Thoughtful storage organization and grouping have made routine tasks easier and more efficient.
The “hidden mudroom” is simply two identical, floor-to-ceiling cabinets beside the door. Each cabinet has two doors; the kids share the cabinet nearest the dining room (each has a side), and Sherry and I share the other. Inside are baskets for shoes, hooks for coats and bags, a shelf for sunglasses and keys, and outlets to charge devices. The backs of the doors serve as personal boards for photos, calendars, and reminders. It’s been a total sanity-saver.
Next up we’ll walk through the demolition and reconstruction with step-by-step photos, including some pretty gnarly before-and-during shots showing the room stripped down and rebuilt. We’ll share more details about materials, cabinet decisions, appliances, and the mistakes we made so you can learn from our experience. For now, enjoy the finished shots and know that our mornings now include far fewer trips around a peninsula. Hallelujah.
P.S. — If you’re curious about paint colors or sources for items like rugs, lights, or furniture, we compiled that information on a single page you can reference for specifics.