How I (Re)Found My Husband

We bought a house.

To anyone who knows us, no more need be said.

But, to avoid a cranial implosion, I must elaborate.

My wonderful husband has decided every year since we moved into this money-pit of a nightmare, that we are moving. Every spring has brought with it the stress of having to pack up the entire house so that it can be staged for viewing. We look for a new house, usually find one that he likes, talk to a realtor, torture the children with box after box of now-hated belongings, and then, miraculously, mortgage-guy puts an end to the whole mess.

Then we unpack. Everything. And put it all away again. And I catch the children avoiding eye contact with Dad for months afterward.

Last year, we didn’t even unpack the last 60-ish boxes. I haven’t a single knick knack in the house. No pictures on the walls, no candles, no fake flowers, no hand-made Mother’s Day gifts. I’ll admit that the dusting has been easier, but the house looks like anyone and their brother could be living here. I’ll also admit that there are a few boxes in the basement that aren’t coming with us…

So this year, when Dad decided we’re going – again – I morphed into Mama Bear and refused to pack a darned thing. Wouldn’t let the kids do it either. If he brought so much as one empty cardboard box from the liquor store into the house, I would cut him up in tiny pieces and pack him into it. So there!

He went looking at houses anyway. I felt bad that he was looking by himself. He looked so dejected. (Okay, and I guess I didn’t want to leave him to his own resources, either. Who knows what he’d come home with…)

I compromised. I told him that if he was going to do this, he had to narrow his search to the ideal house. Get us a pool. And an ensuite bathroom – no more running down the hall in the middle of the night. And a driveway! A huge backyard. Close to the kids’ schools. Our favourite neighbourhood. And at least one hundred thousand less than what we’d been looking for in the past. No stairs. And you know what? I want a cul-de-sac. A deadend court. No traffic. The kids can play outside. Secluded. Private. Quiet.

In the back of my mind, the guilt built up again. I knew this house didn’t exist. But he was so excited to have me along on his mission. I love him. But sometimes I do things to him that make me feel bad. I knew this was a wild-goose chase.

My surprise, then, when he came to me the next day with the house, was so obvious, even to him, that he clued in to my devious plot.

Yes. This was it. The perfect house. Really? Who’d have thought?

So we went to see it. And fell in love with it. We could move into this place and do nothing to it for 10 years. (One child has asked us for the gift of no more renovating… Poor kid.)

In the end, there were only two problems. It is three rooms too small. Sure we could convert the garage to make up some of that space. That would mean more renovating. Which would likely be a huge selling point for the kids to move out as soon as they’re ready. But then, once they’re gone, there’s plenty of room. Problem solved. Hmm. I can live crowded for a couple of years. I’d have a pool. And a huge backyard. And peace and quiet. This problem gets better with time…

Then we got to mortgage guy. I figured that, here we finally have something we want, and he’s going to bring us back to reality. But no. Mortgage guy shows us how to get this place, and keep the other as an investment property. Meaning we would have some kind of retirement plan – a first. And some hope for our financial future. Five kids – four of whom have special needs – can really wear away at your finances. This sounded good. Unlikely, but good.

As karma would have it, good or bad, mortgage guy came through. We signed with the lawyer yesterday, close in three weeks. Our whole lives have turned 180 in under a month. And while we haven’t had a minute to think about it, discuss it, or decide if we really want to do this, the truth is, we have discussed it. We’ve talked about this on and off for the past five years, since we adopted the kids and moved here. And because we had done all that talking, we’ve made this decision as one mind – each knowing instinctively what the other wants/needs. There wasn’t time to think. We’d have lost the deal if we’d waited even another hour. We’ve moved quickly on this, together, and are back on our game.  Stress has always brought us closer together.

We are now practically fused at the hip!

There’s something to be said for taking a chance. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

2 thoughts on “How I (Re)Found My Husband

  1. This was great! I do something similar to my husband every spring. In August, I usually develop a list with things to fix by the next spring, so we can do it all again. This year we had a surprise (I say this with a wince), we actually got a formal appraisal done and found out our house was 300sqft less then what we, and the county assessor, thought. Gravy. Needless to say,…9 years later we are still here. Good luck to you…and congratulations!


    • Thanks for your comments, Andie!
      You said, “Needless to say,…9 years later we are still here.” I think the key word is ‘we.’
      I worry at times that I might push too hard to get things just so.
      But then he’ll lean over and whisper those wonderful three little words that mean so much, “I’m still here.”
      And all is good.


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