How NOT to Sell a House

I love being a home renter. The thought of my father-in-law coming to town to help us "fix" SOMEONE ELSE'S house is benefit enough (seriously love that man). But then there's the fact that we don't have to deal with pesky problems like property taxes, homeowner's associations, country club memberships, resale value, and keeping up with "The Joneses." Because, let's be honest, we'll only be here a few years and really don't care to meet the Joneses. But home ownership does have something more appealing than home rentership - and that's security. To know for certain that no one will come along and kick you out because they want their house back is very reassuring. Unless you're terribly indebted to your bank…but that's another situation all together.

l'm so thankful we no longer have to worry that our landlord will kick us out before the Air Force decides to move us back to America. We're no longer in that "danger zone" where we think we may have to live in a hotel our last several months in England - with a toddler and a baby nonetheless. So, when the real estate agent calls the house to schedule a viewing of potential buyers, I no longer dodge their calls or try to make the house seem intentionally unappealing (you'd be surprised how gifted I can be in this department).

We had a couple come by last week to take a look at "our" house, and I was more than accommodating. In fact, the house was as clean as it had been in weeks. The kitchen was clean and inviting with no decibel-piercing spin cycles coming from the washing machine. I had some candles burning rather than a trash can full of dirty diapers. And, I even went ON AND ON about what a great house it has been for entertaining. In fact, when they came upstairs to take a look, I engaged the husband in further discussion about how much we have loved this house.

I said to him, "We're really going to miss this place! That kitchen was really the selling point for me. I've thoroughly enjoyed it!" To which the husband replied, "Yes, the kitchen is where we spend most of our time! I can imagine you spent most of your time there as well."

And then I said something so unintentionally idiotic I still can't believe I said it.

"Well, honestly, I've spent most of my time here in this bedroom." And, as if that comment wasn't suggestive enough, I pointed to my enormously pregnant belly.

Insert long...painfully awkward silence.

Then this poor man slowly backed out of our master bedroom and rejoined his wife who had moved on to the guest bedroom.

I was mortified. Did I SERIOUSLY just say that? Of course, I meant to suggest that I've spent most of my time SLEEPING since my husband was deployed and I have a toddler. What it probably sounded like to him is that with a toddler, my blatant pregnancy, and my obvious lack of tact and/or judgment, I probably spend most of my time here entertaining men. But it was too late to backtrack and explain myself to this poor man. I had already made him as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

On a positive note, we've not received nearly as many calls to show potential buyers around the house.

I Love Lucy

You could call her a babysitter. Or, if you were a Brit, you’d call her a “child minder.” I just call her my angel with an English accent. Her name is Lucy, and I love her.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are “I Love Lucy” days. I sit in my office for THREE SOLID HOURS and do WHATEVER I WANT TO DO. It’s so amazing I could cry just thinking about it. Sometimes I can hear JJ screaming between bites of green beans. I hear Chief scratching at the door and barking at the mailman. I hear the dishwasher and the washing machine beeping. I hear the phone ringing off the hook. And I can also hear the sound of my sanity returning when I realize I don’t have to do anything about it.

When I emerge from my office after those three hours, it feels like I’m floating on a cloud of blissful ignorance. “JJ cried the whole time and then spit up on your shirt? I’m sorry to hear that. Chiefy ate a diaper and a pacifier and then threw up on the sofa? I’m so sorry to hear that.” What she doesn’t know is that I’m soooooo not sorry I didn’t have to hear all that!

The greatest thing about Lucy is that she is so capable. I know she can handle whatever JJ might throw at her (literally), and that is an amazing feeling. And then, when JJ goes down for his nap (usually about 30-45 minutes before she leaves), she finds something productive to do with that remaining time. She cleans up his toys, hand-washes dishes, unloads the dishwasher, folds laundry, and swaps out the washer and dryer. I’m pretty sure she’d cut the grass and give me a pedicure if I asked her to, but I really don’t want to push it.

Side note: If a baby cries in the living room, and I’m not there to hear him, does he make a sound?

Side note: No, I will not give you her phone number.