I always joke that I have “too many kids,” and honestly, that sentence tells you everything you need to know about how Bella Vista began: real life was already full, and somehow Luis and I still chose to build something bigger.
Back before Bella Vista had a name, it was just the two of us doing what most people do when they are trying to keep a family afloat. Luis worked full time at the union doing commercial drywall. I worked part-time at an automotive shop, squeezing my hours into the window when the kids were in school. Mortgage. Three kids at the time. Sports schedules. Normal life, but with the kind of exhaustion you learn to wear like a hoodie. Then Luis had an idea.
Let’s Start A Company
I remember it as him basically not leaving me alone about it. “Let’s start this company,” he kept saying. And my response was immediate: absolutely not. Not because I did not believe in him, but because I understood what was on the line.
You do not just leap into a business when you have a mortgage and kids and a steady paycheck. You do not just quit your jobs and hope paint work shows up in time to pay the bills.
So we did the only thing that made sense. We did all of it at once.
The Wilsonville Years
Luis would finish his union shift, then head straight into a side job. Sometimes it was painting apartments for dirt cheap down in Wilsonville. We lived in Vancouver. So it was not “a quick job after work.” It was a second workday that started after the first one ended.
I would get off my job, pick up the kids from school, grab food, and drive down to Wilsonville too. The kids came with us. They were little. We would be there all evening, the whole family, painting together until late. I think about those nights like a mix of grit and survival. The kids and I, working around bedtime, doing whatever needed to be done. Six days a week. Sometimes seven.
At one point, Luis finally called it: he needed Sundays. He needed one day where we were not in work clothes, not in a job site rhythm, not running on fumes. Sunday became sacred, not because we were resting perfectly, but because we were trying to stay human while building a business.
Those early years are not the cute version of entrepreneurship. They are not the polished “boss couple” content. They are the version where you do not have spare energy, you have only momentum. The kids hated it sometimes, and I do not sugarcoat that. It was a lot. But we did it anyway because we wanted something different than the life we were trapped in. We wanted time. Control. Freedom. Something our kids could actually see and learn from.
We Grow, We Breathe, And Then Covid Flips Everything
Slowly, Bella Vista grew. We brought on employees, many of them family. The workload eased just enough to breathe. And then COVID hit, and everything flipped.
Commercial work slowed down hard. Residential demand, on the other hand, skyrocketed. Luis had been tied to commercial drywall, and suddenly, there was not much to do there. My dad was one of his bosses, and I remember having a conversation I never expected to have: “Dad, can I have Luis this week?” And week after week, the answer was yes. Residential was keeping us afloat. Bella Vista needed him. Eventually, it stopped being “this week” and became full-time.
A year later, I hit my breaking point with my own job. I loved the people I worked for. I loved the stability. I also did not want to have the uncomfortable conversation where you say, “I am leaving.” So I stayed longer than I should have, juggling everything, burning out quietly.
Then one day, I ripped the band-aid off. I quit.
The Park Bench Epiphany (Aka: Wait, Is This What Midday Feels Like?)
And on my first day free from my job, I had this simple moment that made me realize what I had been missing. I was having lunch in the park with my kid at noon. Noon. Just sitting there, in the middle of the day, not rushing, not clock-watching, not trying to cram a whole life into the edges of a schedule.
I had an epiphany that a lot of working moms understand instantly: you do not realize how tightly your life has been squeezed until the pressure finally releases.
That was 2021. And from then on, I was fully in Bella Vista.
The Honduras Moment That Made Me Cry In A River
But the part that really shows you what we built is what happened after that.
Luis is from Honduras, and he has always returned to visit family, sometimes for a month at a time. Early on, I felt hesitant about it, not because I did not want him to go, but because I could not imagine myself ever having that freedom. In my mind, the business needed me. It was not feasible. Somebody had to be there.
Then my business coach asked the simplest question: Why not?
I took that seriously, even though I did not believe it was possible. She told me I would hire an estimator within months. I nodded, but internally I was thinking, no chance. And then it happened. I hired someone. She is still with us today. And because of that one hire, I have now gone to Honduras three times for a month at a time. One time for five weeks. There is a moment I describe that still gets me.
I am sitting in a clear river in the mountains of Honduras, texting my estimator about a check deposit. My oldest son overhears and goes, “Wait… you are depositing money right now?” I say yes. He pauses and realizes what is happening. His mom is sitting in a river, not working on a job site, and the business is still running at home. You could see the lightbulb go off in his head.
That is the moment I connect it for him. I remind him of the old days: getting out of school, grabbing a pizza from 7-Eleven, working until 10 at night. The days the kids hated. The days that felt endless. “That’s why we did that,” I tell him. “So we could get to this point right now.”
That is the Bella Vista origin story in one sentence. We worked like that so our kids could eventually see what building something looks like. Not just the grind. The payoff. The freedom. The point.
Me And Luis: The Voice And The Craft
Bella Vista is a painting company, yes. But it is also a family story about choosing the hard road early so you can have options later. It is about going from pizza in the car after school to sitting in a river in Honduras while the business runs without you. It is about being a mom, a wife, a business owner, and still being able to say, “I work when I feel like it,” because we built the systems that make that possible.
Luis’s story is not “I launched a brand.” It is “I paint, I provide, I work hard.” English is his second language. He is reserved. He does not love networking events. He would happily paint and go home. I laugh about it because it is true. He is the craft. I am the voice. Together, we are Bella Vista.
Why This Matters To How We Show Up In Your Home
And if you have ever wondered why I care so much about doing things the right way, why I talk about prep like it is sacred, why I want homeowners to make smart decisions instead of rushed ones, it is because I know what it costs when you do not have margin.
Bella Vista was built to create margin. For our family. And for the people who trust us with their homes.
