All I want for Christmas is a room of my own
We didn't buy a house today.
We came awfully close. Like, the two amounts on the table were within $10,000. But they wouldn't come down, and we were at the very, very limit of our comfort zone.
So we are back at square one, at nothing, and it's getting starting to get colder ... for both playgrounds and housing markets.
You know, the terrible thing about this whole process is that in order to put an offer on a house, you really need to decide that you want to live there.
For me to do that, I need to see it.
I need to picture Christmas morning, with a fire burning and stockings and the tree goes in that corner. I need see myself rocking my baby to sleep in that room, looking out that west-facing window, while the sun sets. I need to smell dinner cooking in that kitchen, while the kids colour at the table, and I'll be able to keep an eye on them, because we'll knock down that wall.
In order for me to sign my name, I need to give my heart.
Other people don't work like that, but I do.
And so when you get the call that says it didn't work, it's destroying.
They don't like the price and it doesn't matter to them what you'd have to give up to even pay that much.
They don't know that you swore to give up iphones and sushi and decent haircuts and real lattes and expensive granola and so many other lovely things in life because you knew deep down that the RIGHT neighbourhood for your kids was worth so much more than those things.
They had a number and it didn't match and that's life.
So there's no more to say about that. We should be grateful, I suppose, that we have such a lovely place to stay while we wait for Fate to play its course. And that we're not going to be living on a street with such a long name. And if Nathan ever drops his gd nap and I get to leave the house, I still get to have lattes.
If I can ever find a decent coffee shop to call my own.
Here's a hit of the babies:
Nothing like a clean babe from the bath:
Hi Mom! Look what I got from the garbage!
Nathan in his Rowan sweater:
Uh, Parker, don't look now ...
Mistake #1: Thinking that tying pipe cleaners around Mela's whales would make them fun to carry. Who knew they'd turn into deadly marine nunchucks?!
Mistake #2: Turning my back on the cupboard with the cookies (sneaky fox!).
Mistake #3: Letting the kids play with pots and pans while Mama waits to hear about the house. Turns out that clanging lids might be the loudest sound on earth for one with frayed nerves. Although, they were pretty cute together.
We came awfully close. Like, the two amounts on the table were within $10,000. But they wouldn't come down, and we were at the very, very limit of our comfort zone.
So we are back at square one, at nothing, and it's getting starting to get colder ... for both playgrounds and housing markets.
You know, the terrible thing about this whole process is that in order to put an offer on a house, you really need to decide that you want to live there.
For me to do that, I need to see it.
I need to picture Christmas morning, with a fire burning and stockings and the tree goes in that corner. I need see myself rocking my baby to sleep in that room, looking out that west-facing window, while the sun sets. I need to smell dinner cooking in that kitchen, while the kids colour at the table, and I'll be able to keep an eye on them, because we'll knock down that wall.
In order for me to sign my name, I need to give my heart.
Other people don't work like that, but I do.
And so when you get the call that says it didn't work, it's destroying.
They don't like the price and it doesn't matter to them what you'd have to give up to even pay that much.
They don't know that you swore to give up iphones and sushi and decent haircuts and real lattes and expensive granola and so many other lovely things in life because you knew deep down that the RIGHT neighbourhood for your kids was worth so much more than those things.
They had a number and it didn't match and that's life.
So there's no more to say about that. We should be grateful, I suppose, that we have such a lovely place to stay while we wait for Fate to play its course. And that we're not going to be living on a street with such a long name. And if Nathan ever drops his gd nap and I get to leave the house, I still get to have lattes.
If I can ever find a decent coffee shop to call my own.
Here's a hit of the babies:
Nothing like a clean babe from the bath:
Hi Mom! Look what I got from the garbage!
Nathan in his Rowan sweater:
Uh, Parker, don't look now ...
Mistake #1: Thinking that tying pipe cleaners around Mela's whales would make them fun to carry. Who knew they'd turn into deadly marine nunchucks?!
Mistake #2: Turning my back on the cupboard with the cookies (sneaky fox!).
Mistake #3: Letting the kids play with pots and pans while Mama waits to hear about the house. Turns out that clanging lids might be the loudest sound on earth for one with frayed nerves. Although, they were pretty cute together. 
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