Monday, April 2, 2012

Twenty-Five Bucks in Trinkets and Beads

Tomorrow, I will become a woman. I met with my very first real estate agent last week to begin the process of finding, and then purchasing, our very first house. I very nearly died.

Neither my husband nor I have ever bought a house. We decided to mortgage our educations instead. We did not follow the proscribed steps to adulthood with which we were raised: go to college, get married, get a job, buy a house, have kids, buy a bigger house, buy a mini van and so on. Our route looked something like this: get married, go to college some, move across country, go to college some more, move to another state, go to college some more, have kid #1, finish college, move across the country again, get a job, move across country again, have kid #2, pay on student loans forever.

Since I am the one with the most time on my hands, it has been tasked to me to do that which frightens the tar out of me. Tomorrow our real estate agent with very expensive hair is picking me up. I will ride around town in her moderately expensive car hoping I don't smell like last night's cheeseburger and look at houses. This makes me so nervous I feel like I might vomit said cheeseburger in the footwell of said car.
This is roughly what we can afford in our current neighborhood.
Photo courtesy of The Morgue File

Remember when there was a housing crash? Well, Seattle doesn't. Sure, the houses went from astronomically overpriced to appallingly overpriced a few years ago, but the Chief Lou put it best when he said: "It seems a little strange to think of a quarter million dollars as an incredible steal."  And that is precisely what we are looking for: an incredible steal. You see, we have these kids. They like their schools. I like their schools. The PTA has grown accustomed to my face. The fact that we are renting in a neighborhood that is really populated with more well-to-do (or at least more fiscally organized) people than we are never really occurred to us when the jBird took her first gleeful steps up the hill to kindergarten at our neighborhood school. We're "live in the moment" kind of people. This moment is distinctly uncomfortable for me.

I am a vagabond at heart. The six years we've lived in Seattle is the longest I've lived anywhere since I was 13 years old. I have no hometown. There is no house with my childhood bedroom still intact somewhere. Home, to me, has always just been whatever structure contained the people I loved. Like the early Native Americans, the notion of owning land is somewhat foreign and preposterous to me. I am hoping to run into a like-minded soul who will sell me some prime real estate for twenty-five bucks' worth of trinkets and beads. I probably have that much saved up in my couch. Yet, in spite of my protestations, I long for paint colors that I picked out. I want to be able to rip up carpet if it smells like a dog. I want to build a chicken coop and raised garden beds. I want to change out an ugly faucet if my heart desires it. I want to settle. My vagabond heart will always want to wander, no matter where I live, but my traveling shoes are wearing thin. I have these kids, you see. They like their lives. I like their lives.

So for them. Tomorrow I will put on my grown up pants - the ones without holes, the ones that don't fall down as much, the ones that feel a bit stiff and uncomfortable - and I will choke back the rising gorge of cheeseburger and fear and I will look at houses. I will look at houses so that they can have a home.

26 comments:

  1. I will keep you in my heart, TL. House hunting is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. I just know you'll find the right place for you and these kids.

    I relate to the vagabond identity. I lived in the Denver area for 13 years, but had probably 6 different addresses in that time. It was the longest I'd ever spent in the same time zone, let alone state. We were in the same house in Phoenix for 5 years and it about drove me off the edge.

    Have fun with it!

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    1. Thank you for the encouragement, M. It will all sort out. We have a remarkable way of landing on our feet and being pleasantly surprised with the opportunities we are provided.
      The control freak in me just doesn't like that I can see ALL of the options ahead of time.

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  2. Good Luck TangledLou!! I am both envious and sympathetic. I too long for paint colors that I picked out and perhaps even that some day there will be a, if not childhood, but college years bedroom in a home somewhere. Yet I too long to wander, and I suppose for now at least, wandering is what I'll do.

    Congratulations on getting ready to settle down. It takes courage.

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    1. I know you understand the vagabond thing. I was just thinking the other day that for folks like us, the change we fear is of things not changing quite so frequently!
      I will look for something with a "cavernous attic" for you. :)

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  3. What a scary terrifically awesome time, TL! Your children have wonderful parents :)

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  4. You're going to find the perfect little nest. I just know it. Deep breaths. Don't panic.

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    1. Thanks, Jane! I am keeping panic mode on the down-low for now. It frightens the monkeys!

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  5. I remember when I bought my first place - exciting and stressful and panic-inducing and wonderful, all rolled up into one. Even amid the fear and trepidation, I hope you have some fun with the process and find a delightful place for you and your family to call home. All the best!

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    1. I will have some fun with it. I just have to get over the initial horror.
      Thanks for your well wishes.

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  6. "I have these kids, you see," gave me goosebumps. That is how I have thought of my life decisions for the last 16 years. My traveling shoes have been hung up since I found out we were having a second baby.

    We've bought two houses in our marriage, this second is the last. I told the kids they would pack us up and move us to a nursing home from this very place. They laugh, but I'm serious. I'm settled and it feels right! Hope you find your right spot!

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    1. I really don't see any other way to make decisions with these little people around. I can't even imagine making a choice that wouldn't also benefit them!
      This may be the last time I move, too. It seems to get exponentially more complicated each time!

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  7. I'm crossing my fingers for you - good luck! :)

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  8. Why is it the really rewarding things in life are so scary? It's a great step for you and your kids.
    My parents never owned a home until I was 22 years old. My husband's parents still live in the house he grew up in. I feel a bit jealous of that. Your kids are lucky to have parents who understand the importance of roots.
    Good luck!

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    1. My husband & I are in a similar boat. I will say, however, that my roots were in my family and in my faith rather than any particular place. Part of me wants my kids to understand that, too. Another part of me wants to see them graduate with the kids they went to Kindergarten with.

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  9. We don't own a home either. For awhile, we rented a little house while all around us, the little houses were razed and mansions were built (these little homes were built on very larish pieces of land). It was uncomfortable. I never wanted to have the richies into my house. One time a Lady Rich came in anyway and I was mortified. Good luck to you! It's worth it for the paint colors alone.

    Love,
    Vesuvius In White Walls

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    1. I very much relate to this. A few of jBird's "friends" don't like to come over because our house is "too small and old". Turds.
      I am very much looking forward to painting every room a different bold color.

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  10. You'll find the perfect place--the one that welcomes you home the moment you walk through its front door. And you and yours will build layers and layers of lovely memories within its walls. It will be just right, and you, in your grown up pants, will make it happen.

    Oh, and remember that the real estate lady works for you, not the other way around. If she's worth her salt, she'll make you feel at ease and guide your cheeseburger-smelling self through the process so that when you look back, you remember it being a wonderful adventure.

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    1. Well, hug your neck. Thank you for such kind and calming words.

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  11. Oh, these grown-up things can be so damned intimidating, can't they? Wishing you luck in your search--and don't forget to take notes. They'll be useful one way or another. ;)

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    1. I was just thinking this yesterday as I jotted "NO! Dumpster in front yard" in my little notebook of dreams.

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  12. You precious woman. I want to reply to every single sentence, but in a nutshell, best wishes. Truly. xoxo And I vote passionately in favor of the birdhouse! Looks like a perfect writing cabin, right? Keep us posted. xoxo

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    1. Thank you, I'm kind of partial to the birdhouse, too!

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  13. I hope it went well! Looking for a home is simultaneously nerve-wracking and completely exhilarating. So exciting!

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    1. It was less excruciating than I expected (of course) and kind of fun. It was also a little bit disappointing, but I know we're only getting started.

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