It started with a link.
I had asked Mom to come over and watch the kids while I took Michael out to dinner. It had been a minute since we had a date, it was past due. Mom came over Sunday afternoon, and saw a house on Zillow that caught her attention.
Mom: It’s five bedrooms! And it has a she-shed!
Me, not looking: Then it is outside our budget.
Mom: It just dropped in price. Everyone would get their own bedroom! And you could use the she-shed for Mike’s office!
Me: Mom, stop saying she-shed.
Mom, whispering: ….she-shed.
I cave. Mom can be persistent. Whatever. Doesn’t hurt to look. Right?
Michael and I first started thinking purchasing a house back in 2020/2021, when it looked like we were going to have to relocate to Arizona for Michael’s job. It was overwhelming, how fast the market was flipping. When we got there, we talked to the realtor who said there were 12 houses fitting our parameters that we could look at; by the next day, it was down to two; by the time we met with her to look, there was only one. Houses were being snatched up as soon as they hit the market. It was disheartening.
The actual looking became tedious, too. Flipping through online listings, all the properties ran together. Nothing was standing out anymore, just a blur of open concepts and white walls and dingy carpet. The only time a house stood out was when it was truly odd, like a guest bathroom with saloon-style swinging doors, or a brick planter immediately inside the front door filled with wild herbs. It was all meaningless; we weren’t getting a house. It wasn’t the right time.
The other issue was of course, finances. I, as far as the credit world was concerned, did not exist. I had no lines of credit, no income, no nothing except student loans on deferment and a brief stint over a decade ago at a pet store. Banks don’t like people they know nothing about, and we didn’t want another big purchase in Michael’s name alone. We stopped looking.
As you know, we ended up not moving. We stayed in our rent house where our landlord was nice and we focused on building equity. I finished college online, getting my degree in educational studies, special education. Started working at the school, the second highest-paying job in our marriage, after Michael’s current one. We got me two little credit cards; I would use them to buy gas, wait a couple weeks, then pay it off. Do it all again the next month. We talked about maybe moving someday, but it was vague, and the talk tapered off over time. We were holding steady.
Mom won’t push me. Too hard, at any rate. She knows that I will dig in my heels and become obstinate, so she sent the link and left it at that.
What the hell. I take a look.
It looks like a nice place. Little less square footage than we have in the rent house, but it uses the space better. Got a good backyard. Big established tree out in front of the house. No stupid bushes where stupid wasps could hang out. There are two sheds in the backyard, one for storage and the other has been outfitted as an office with heating and air, internet and electricity.
Okay, sure. Why not. I send a quick inquiry about it, requesting a time to go see it. My enthusiasm is limited. Just another wander through another stranger’s house, but maybe it’ll be fun. We can get some ideas for what to do with our space, before someone else comes in and buys it.
Almost immediately, I get a call from the realtor. The house owners are on a time-table and ready to sell. No major defects on the sellers disclosure. Not in the flood zone. Do we want to come look at it at 5?
Meh. Sure. Why not?
Michael and I get ready for our date. I think I wore jeans and a t-shirt. I told him I would rather be warm than cute, I already did enough to impress him. He laughed and said fair enough.
Beforehand, we went and walked around the bookstore, killing some time. It was irrelevant to the story, but I think I would want to remember for later. But the house is over in Wylie district, so the mall is a good place to spend some time on the way.
The neighborhood is full of families with kids; it looks quiet and safe. That big tree in the front is alive and healthy.
We get there, and it is better than the listing pictures. There are tall ceilings. It is clean and spacious. There are these shelves way up by the ceiling for decoration that I couldn’t help but wonder “how does one clean up there?” There's a stone fireplace. The Christmas tree would look good there, I think. That was always Rhonda’s question: where would you put the Christmas tree?
The pantry has a door that can be locked, which is important for Grubby-Hands Gabe. Of the four smaller bedrooms, one has laminate flooring and the other three have carpet. I know exactly where each of the kids will be. There’s a doggy door. I can see Gabe wedging himself in it. A lot of my considerations were about Gabe. The other three are basically stow-and-go kids--there really aren’t a lot of requirements for any of them that are abnormal. But Gabe, we have to worry about him escaping, him getting into food, him tearing things up or destroying, his loud vocalizations making the neighbors think our house is haunted (as one bright and brave child from down the street boldly inquired one day here). But…we think he could be good here. We think he could like it here. They all would.
So we get some information, thank the realtor, and head over to Red Robin, where Michael gets to hear (what probably felt like) an uninterrupted hour of me talking about the books I have been reading lately.
It was a lovely date.
But Michael’s still got that house on his mind. A few days pass. The realtor reaches out and asks if we filled out the pre-approval application. I tell her no, we are still working on it. Couple more days, she asks again. I text Michael. It is his day off, he’s got some time.
Why not, right?
While I am trying to work on Friday, I get a text. We have been pre-approved. Would we like to make an offer on the house?
What? Umm...I guess?
The offer has been accepted! You are under contract. Would you like to hear about next steps?
I suppose so?
This whole process is feeling absolutely surreal. This isn’t how this was going to go. The bank was supposed to say “be gone, poor people! You miscreants cannae buy a house!” (Why the bank is Scottish in my head…probably because I read too much, but who knows.) And even if we were approved, they won’t let us buy a nice house. We surely have to go and look at something that says “diamond in the rough” or “fixer upper!” We aren’t “move-in ready” family, we are more “has potential”, know what I mean?
But that...it’s just the mindset. I did the math, and from our take home, the house and all it’s little costs will only make up 26%. And the strangest thing, we can do the down payment and things. Us Weardens, who had to budget and scrimp to buy a family dinner at Taco Bell a few years ago…but this might be happening.
One funny story was the bank reached back out during the underwriting with a question. They said “Mrs. Wearden, we noticed that your income substantially changed between last year and this year. Can you explain that?” I sent back a reply that said “Well, I was an unpaid stay-at-home-mom for nearly 15 years, and then I got a job. So…that probably did it.”
This all was about two weeks ago. We paid our earnest money and had inspections done. The option period came and went…
And now it looks like in June, the Abilenian Weardens are moving into their own home.
With its very own she-shed.
Wild.
--Andie
