LeBron James is one of the most recognizable sports celebrities in the world, and perhaps one of the most recognizable faces, period. He grew up in Akron, Ohio, which is very similar to Detroit. His life could have gone in a million different directions, but LeBron ended up a superstar. What I didn’t know about him, and what most people still don’t know, is that he committed at a young age to giving back. I don’t mean small gestures either, but giving back in the form of gifting millions of dollars to help kids growing up in the same challenging circumstances he faced.
I learned that the LeBron James Family Foundation wanted to provide a deserving student with a house renovation as a reward for good grades and school attendance. As I’ve learned throughout my years of doing what I do, we tend to take for granted having a roof over our heads. What I found out in Akron was what I had firsthand knowledge of in Detroit: A lot of kids didn’t have roofs over their heads that weren’t caving in or leaking. How does a child concentrate on schoolwork when their house is hazardous to live in? The foundation asked if I would assist them with a renovation. After I picked Ethan up later that day, I told him the details. I still hadn’t made any promises, but Ethan repeated, “Mom, say yes.”
Ethan and me in Akron.
The next month, Ethan and I flew to Cleveland to meet LeBron’s team. The biggest hurdle was that they wanted to do a whole-house renovation. I simply didn’t have time for that. Ethan would be in school until June, and I couldn’t take that much time off filming. Sitting there, Ethan looked at me and said, “Film it.”
“We can’t be here that long,” I told him.
I added in jest, “If we could do it in a week, it’s doable.”
The foundation’s executive director, Michele Campbell, lit up and said, “We can pull together all the trades.” We discussed the logistics, the ideas flying around. By the time we left dinner—Ethan with an autographed shoe the size of my arm, and me with a whole new idea to pitch to the network—we all felt pretty confident. I pitched the idea, and the network agreed to four episodes. It was a big house; I knew we could get six, so I set my goal at that.
That summer, after months of long-distance planning, a few quick trips to Akron to walk through the property, and countless conference calls, Ethan, my dad, my dog Lucy, and I arrived in Akron to begin the project. The beauty of it was that Michele had kept her word. She had everything covered, from landscaping to plumbing, and they were using LeBron’s personal builder, Jack Plas, as the general contractor. Jack had a legal pad and pen in hand when I met him. I thought, This is going to be just fine. At the time, LeBron played for the Miami Heat. Which, pun intended, he took a lot of heat for.
The renovation was part of a multiday celebration that would be held to announce something the public wouldn’t know until the very last minute: LeBron was moving his growing family back to Akron so that he could play for Cleveland. Knowing all this, we had to work around LeBron’s training schedule, so we had to start filming right away. Shortly after we arrived, LeBron came out of the house and said hi to Ethan first. Ethan broke into the biggest smile. Does Ethan play basketball? No. Does Ethan dress head-to-toe in LeBron-wear, and have posters of LeBron on his walls? No. But he was still in awe, and first impressions are everything. When you are famous, people love to assume and make judgments about you. Seeing how kind this man was with my son warmed my heart. We went into the house to meet the family we would be helping, and they were delightful. They had two autistic sons, which made me so thankful that Sarah and her son were en route. Sarah is like a punk-rock den mother. She’s a pretty, spunky woman, with hip spiky hair, tattoos, and a broad, warm smile, and her daughter, Jane, is autistic. In addition to being my right-hand woman, Sarah would be taking on the design of the boys’ rooms.
Shooting with LeBron.
Although the first bit of filming went great, the next day we were starting actual construction. LeBron showed up with a huge entourage, including PR people, management, and just about anyone else with two cents to throw into the mix. There were all kinds of people speaking for him, which caused no end of chaos. It quickly became apparent that if I had to go through seven layers of people just to tell LeBron to hammer that nail over there, the whole thing wasn’t going to work. So I took him aside and said, “You have to trust me. If we have to work like this, we aren’t going to be able to finish. And with all this ‘direction,’ you’re going to look pompous and stiff on camera. I want to give people the chance to see the real LeBron, the guy I see. You’re a cool guy. Let me show that on camera.”
LeBron said, “All right, Nicole,” and we kicked out everyone except a few people and got to work. I’m five foot three, and LeBron might as well be double that. One of the challenges of filming with someone that much taller is that I literally have to look up to speak to them. The short jokes came in packs of ten. I shot a lot of scenes standing a couple of stairs above LeBron while he was in the living room, simply to ease my neck. What I loved is that as soon as he was comfortable on camera, he went with the flow. The house was complete pandemonium, and we truly had to stick to our one-week deadline. That meant we were working on the home 24/7.
LeBron and Ethan with those megawatt smiles.
LeBron came and went around his training schedule. I just pretty much stayed put, escaping occasionally to walk Lucy or to sneak back to the hotel pool to meet up with Ethan. One day I arrived and he was sitting with Sarah’s son and a group of people. He said, “Mom, come here.” I walked over and he introduced me to the group and said, “They love the show. I invited them to come tour the project.”
This son of mine, a teenager in full bloom, was giving me a run for my money. He had cursed the day I was born that very morning. But he was showing me that sometimes in parenting land you just have to trust yourself. My son had been gracious and engaged with this group, who had recognized his dark hair and handsome face from TV. Instead of blowing them off, he had gone above and beyond. The next day, he showed up and said, “Mom, the group from the pool is here. I’m taking them through the house.”
LeBron himself became one of my crew. People would ask him, “What are you working on?” He would reply, “Whatever Nicole tells me to.” LeBron could buy and sell me all day long, but I took a bit of pride in knowing he left any ego at the front porch. He went from a world where everyone said, “Yes, LeBron,” to humbly admitting this was my area of expertise. He even let me teach him how to drive a backhoe.
Giving LeBron pointers.
Everyone has since asked me, “Did LeBron really work on that house?” Yeah, he did, but not in work boots. Due to contractual obligations with Nike, the man wears Nikes every day. Sounds very comfortable, but it’s not so practical in the world of demolition. We were upstairs working in the bathroom, and LeBron was helping me rip out the tub. He stepped back and all I heard was pssshhhhh. LeBron’s staff stopped breathing for a moment. The king of basketball had stepped on a nail. And this was the sound of his Nike Air popping. I took a look and reassured everyone that his foot was safe, but his shoes were trashed. LeBron didn’t miss a beat. “Nicole . . .”
I said, “Yeah?”
“You owe me a new pair of shoes.”
Moments like that are my favorites. That’s been the magic in my show since day one. Real moments. The tile in that bathroom was great, but it’s the human story—LeBron James, about to make the comeback of his career, almost wiped out by a nail while renovating with me. Although it’s quite funny to me, I’m pretty sure that moment shortened the life spans of his staff.
That house renovation was filled with joy from beginning to end. Sarah and I worked side by side, making sure that the house was just right for this great family. Her ideas for the boys’ rooms were spot on, and watching those two kids jump up in delight at everything she picked made me realize how incredible my friends are. In addition to Sarah, Lauren was on-site and documented every bit with her camera and provided t
he best gift ever—candid family photos. I am blessed to have surrounded myself with people whose hearts grow bigger every day, and who help me make dreams come true for others.
Ethan took Jack’s caution tape to another level, wrapping the Bobcat.
Another part of the fun for me, though, had to be getting to know LeBron’s mother, Gloria. Early on, people kept saying, “Mrs. James wants to work with you, Nicole. She’s a huge fan.” I heard “Mrs. James” so many times that I expected a little old lady to drive up in her boring four-door sedan, barely able to see over the dash. But then one day this beautiful Porsche came screeching up and Gloria, aka “Mrs. James,” jumped out.
She said, “Hello Nicole!” and gave me a big hug that caught me by surprise. “Where is that Ethan? I want to see Ethan right now.” Then she said, “Never mind. I know what that boy looks like. I’m going to go find him myself.” That was Gloria. Full of spunk and fun, and an incredible spirit. She worked side by side with us. Gloria and my dad took control of the landscaping. Trust me when I say they were a force to be reckoned with. LeBron’s wife, Savannah, would show up with the boys to check out the house. She was so very pregnant and I remember looking at her, thinking wistfully, How has it been so long since I had a little baby?
With LeBron and his crew, we renovated the entire house in one week!
Every day, Ethan would gather with LeBron’s kids and the kids who lived in the house, and they’d get started somewhere working like the rest of us. Ethan didn’t need me to prep him or guide him. He just said, “Mom, I got it.” And off he’d go. There was a bittersweet tinge to that, because my skinny little boy with the million-watt smile was growing into a strong man who could do for himself. I could see that not too far down the road, he’d be ready to do his own thing, and Mom might take a backseat to whatever that was. On one of our last nights in Akron, Ethan joined me for LeBron’s homecoming ceremony, where I was to address thirty thousand fans. Ethan said, “You got this, Mom.” I went up onstage and tried to get the crowd going with the standard O-H-I-O chant. You shout out “O-H” and the crowd shouts back “I-O.” Only when I got up there, I shouted “O.” The crowd was silent. I was puzzled. What the hell had I done? What had I missed? Then the very sympathetic master of ceremonies came over and whispered “O-H.” As the crowd booed, I tried to save the moment with an “O-H,” but when it didn’t work, I just laughed, apologized, and moved on. Ethan looked at me with a face that said, “Oh my gosh, Mom.” He had a good laugh for quite a long time on that one. “Mom, you got booed! Like, big ones.” Everyone in that stadium could boo me, but having that boy by my side was all I cared about. One of my favorite pictures is of the two of us that night.
Filming with LeBron was more of a production than I was accustomed to (top). Sarah, Michael, me, and Ethan before my O-H disaster (bottom).
When we wrapped up the house and headed home, I had a newfound love for Akron, and a story to cherish for many years to come. Even amid all the work between Grand and the Akron house, my personal drama kept burning. Chad and I had been going back and forth, trying to make it work.
For my thirty-eighth birthday, I had asked Chad if there were any plans. There weren’t. I didn’t say anything. I hung up the phone, called Delta, and simply asked, “Where can we go tonight?” I then booked two seats on the 10 p.m. flight to Amsterdam. Not for Chad and me; my birthday date would be Ethan. Chad was a bit shocked by the news, but he was a good sport and drove us to the airport.
During the ten hours in the air flying, I had a chance to just think. There’s not much else to do on a transatlantic flight. I don’t get much time at home for quiet reflection. So while Ethan watched movies, I thought about the future. I had to accept the fact that this teenager sitting next to me wasn’t my little boy anymore. He was growing up and would be moving on, and I was going into a new chapter of my life. What did I want that chapter to look like? Did I want to keep rehabbing homes? Did I want to travel the world? Did I want to concentrate on my charitable foundation?
Ethan and I had the best time in Amsterdam and Paris. It was the first time in years that I actually had time off from work. We had been filming Rehab Addict for almost six years straight.
Our trip to Europe for my thirty-eighth birthday.
When we got home, Chad had gathered a group of friends to celebrate my birthday at the place where we had our first date. He told everyone how much he loved me and pulled out all the big guns. I even got a diamond tennis bracelet. I tried to hide my disappointment—before you judge, I’m not a woman who wants tennis bracelets or status symbols. What I wanted from him wasn’t a material thing. I wanted him to see the real me, cherish me, and celebrate me. I found an escape from this madness holding my friend’s baby on my lap and took a picture, joking around that I’d gotten just what I wanted for my birthday—a baby. The next day, Chad and I finally decided enough was enough. The vacation had made me realize that sometimes you need to let things go. Even though we’d given it a good try, it just wasn’t working. No regrets. I felt renewed and refocused. I flew to Detroit to take part in the Detroit Homecoming, a conference of expats who had left Detroit but were coming together to help renew and rebuild the city.
At my birthday party, holding my friend’s baby. I said, “Look what I got for my birthday!” not knowing I was pregnant.
I mentioned to Sarah that I seemed to be putting on weight. She just shook her head. “You don’t gain weight. I’d say you’re pregnant.” And I was. Here I had been psyching myself up to accept that I was soon going to be an empty nester. I was starting to think about where I wanted to live, and what I wanted to do now that I would be forty with Ethan going off to college.
Chad’s reaction to the news was not what I had expected and certainly not what I had hoped for. I had wanted my fabulous Mister to look at me with tears in his eyes and say what I was thinking: that this was the greatest thing we’d never asked for. But as much as I can fix almost anything I put my hands on, that relationship wasn’t something I could repair. I was on my own. I did what I always do: kept going. This was not going to be a put-your-feet-up-and-relax pregnancy; it would be anything but.
I spent the fall commuting between Minneapolis and Detroit finishing up the Grand Boulevard house.
A quick trip to London with E (left). We visited Stonehenge (right).
I watched October and November slip away, and suddenly we were into the hectic Christmas season. Ethan and I slipped away to London because I knew this would probably be our last opportunity to take a trip with just the two of us. I decided to keep the pregnancy to myself as much as possible. I didn’t talk about it in my social media posts. With any filming we did on Grand at that point, Jose and Andrew, my camera crew, shot me from the shoulders up. It became a game of how to hide the belly. At one point, Jason Sanford’s beautiful handmade vanity mirror became a prop, and I carried it through the house on camera to hide my belly for a walk-through. We slipped up only one time, in a scene with me talking to the dogs through a door. Of course, two die-hard fans managed to freeze that scene and went directly to my Facebook page to point it out.
I quickly deleted their comments. I wasn’t trying to be deceptive; I just wanted to preserve some privacy and protect my unborn baby. When you have millions of followers on social media and on television and you’re as outspoken as I am, a lot of people feel free to pass judgment on what you say and do. As a soon-to-be single mom for the second time, and juggling more work than two “normal” people should, I just didn’t need to hear some of the comments I knew I’d get.
Baby on the way.
The first episodes showing Grand aired in January 2015, but that massive house was far from finished. We were running to keep the work caught up to the episode schedule. Complicating matters was a commitment I’d made to the network.
The HGTV executives had asked me to participate in a program called Beach Flip. It was going to be a competit
ion show, where couples remodeled their beach houses with input from three mentors—David Bromstad, Josh Temple, and me. It wasn’t really my style. I’m not a staged-show type of person. But there was this fear in me that if I turned it down, I would be thought of as someone who couldn’t juggle everything. And now that I was adding to my family, I didn’t want to jeopardize my relationship with the network.
The episodes were filmed in Gulf Shores, Alabama. If you look at a map, Gulf Shores is right smack on the Gulf of Mexico. I thought that at least it would be a nice getaway: white sand beaches and plenty of warm sun. Even though the show wasn’t a perfect fit, I thought it could be a working vacation.
Getting to Gulf Shores from Minneapolis is no small feat. I connected through Atlanta and landed in Pensacola. That meant I found myself running, with my ever-growing belly and Lucy in tow, between gates in Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, trying to make my connection. But the real adventure started once I arrived in Pensacola: an hour on back roads from Pensacola to Gulf Shores. I was hoping the destination might make the journey worthwhile. I had this rosy idea that the cast would be put up in cute little beachfront bungalows with adorably cheesy seashell motifs and supercomfortable beds. No such luck. We were housed in faceless concrete-block condos with furniture that looked like it had been bought directly off the Sunday advertisements in the paper. And any illusions I had about Gulf Shores being tropically warm in February were blown to pieces as I shivered through one chilly day after another. I was pretty sure it was punishment for something really bad that I’d done in a previous life.
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