Tuesday, 30 July 2013

thoughts :: words :: waiting

frost


In 2005, with our brand new, very premature, tiny little baby boy, we made the decision to sell our house and make the move back to Melbourne. With a mere 21 months of interstate living up our sleeves, we’d had enough and were ready to fly straight back into the waiting arms of our family and friends. It was an easy decision to make.

We owned another house, the one that we had lived in before we headed off on our interstate adventure, but it was in an area of town that I didn’t really want to raise our family in, so instead we left our tenants in that one, and rented a little home for ourselves.

That’s when my blog was born… a new home in a new area, although this time with family and friends only a mere drive away, I set about creating a new life for myself. One that involved being a full time stay at home mum, learning how to cope and enjoy my new baby, making new mummy friends, and figuring out how to run a household, and soon after, getting used to being pregnant again, while still very much in this new stage.

I still remember standing in the kitchen at mothers group and mentioning that I was pregnant, my poor mothers group mums, all standing there with their few week old babies, were aghast. They were still reeling with their very recent deliveries, while I was a five months further along in my journey, and although my baby was still the same corrected age as theirs, it didn’t seem quite so crazy to me that I was expecting again. Little did I know.

Not long after this, we realized that if I wanted to stay home and raise my babies, we just weren’t in a position financially to keep our previous house, so we made the easy decision to sell it, and just rent while we were on a single income.

This worked great of a few years, but then our landlord decided to sell our dilapidated little rental house. We soon found another pretty little property to rent in the next suburb, so we packed up and moved in. A mere 10 months later the GFC hit, and our landlords needed to sell. This moving about was not how I envisaged raising my children. We were trying to provide a stable upbringing, with me home full time, and shifting them around was not part of our plan.

So we decided to buy, I’d go back to work a couple of days a week, we’d move closer to my parents who were freshly retired and willing to help us out a little. We found an appropriate three bedroom house in our price range, a suburb away from my parents, got all of the documentation sorted out, and were right to go.

But, it wasn’t to be. While having a look at our section 32, my uncle offered us his place to rent. It was originally my grandparent’s house; I’d grown up enjoying Sunday roasts, weekend sleepovers, and many family celebrations in this house. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially as it was right at this time that I found out I was pregnant again.. So this time when we moved, it was into the open arms of my family, and back into my old stomping ground, and we knew that we wouldn’t get evicted in a year or two. We’d been blessed with the opportunity to settle into this season of our lives.

Mostly it was great living this way, although at times it still grated on me that I didn’t own my own home. While my uncle is the best landlord in the entire world, and we had so many freedoms that we wouldn’t have had in a normal rental, I still craved my own house. So around once or twice a year I’d have a meltdown, we’d sit down and work out how much we’d saved. (Our kids had got used to us telling them that we didn’t have any money, although it took them a few more years to figure out that was because we were saving it, not because we were poor.) Still we weren’t in a position to do buy, the market was too expensive, we hadn’t saved enough, and we couldn’t afford to service the mortgage.

My motto became, “when the time is right, the way will become clear” and so we waited, and saved, and watched, and waited, and saved. The Domain website became one of my regular haunts.

Then, earlier this year I found the most beautiful house, one that I was willing to give up my pipe dream of becoming a photographer (which was rapidly starting to develop cracks anyway) and commit to a plan for re-entering the workforce over the next few years. We talked to the bank, we lined up our ducks, and we turned up at the auction ready to roll. I wanted that house so bad I could taste it.

At the Auction we were completely blown away, and it made me realize, (other than the agent was a lying asshole) that I didn’t want to pay that much for that house, and we’d dodged quite the financial bullet. All power to the lovely people that bought it! But by then, the wheels were in motion, we had pre-approval from the bank, we were mentally geared up, now was the time. Carpe diem.

It didn’t take us long to find another house, the kids would have to change schools, but the school that they would move to had a great reputation, and, more importantly, we would be able to walk to school, something that we haven't been able to do to date. The house was closer to my parents, it was in the bowl of a court, it had enough bedrooms, an ensuite for us, a dishwasher, and so many other things that I was all too excited about. We made our (five-years-in-the-making) snap decision to go for it, we put in our offer, and after 32 excruciating hours, it was ours..

We just had to wait the 90 days* until settlement.

* only 3 more sleeps to go!!! wheeeeeeeeee!!!!!!