YaYa Princess

Once again, it’s been a while since I’ve written.  Sue me, it’s been busy.   You know, buying a house, planning a meeting for a couple hundered thousand people, the usual.

As always, the boy write much more eloquently than I.  Check him out at www.southboundhome.com.  Still, I have my own thoughts on this matter of purchasing a home.

The boy is right, he pulls forward like a 200+ lb puppy on a leash that sees a new spot to pee on, while I begrudening trudge behind, constatntly worried about what pitfalls lie ahaead.  Though the boy calls me a kurmudgeon, I prefer to think of myself as cautious.  Oh, I haven’t always been like this.  But I have honest concerns that if I just went along with the boy and all of his fly by the seat of his pants ideas we’d be in quite the pickle.  The truth is, I don’t particularly like being the “sensible one” (ask anyone from the past and I wasn’t also so forward thinking), but I feel the need to be.  It also has to be said that often I play devil’s advocate just to make sure he really (like really really) has thought something through. 

There is also something to be said for his intelligence.  Now, before you go trying to convince me I’m not stupid, here’s the deal.  The boy-genius level smart.  No, for real.  I, while not on the short bus, have always had trouble learning. I pick things up much slower.  It just is what it is.  So while he’s off a mile a min talking about morgage insurance, I’m sitting there with a dumb look on my face, that consequently forces said heels into the ground until I have some semblance of a clue. 

it should also be noted that the boy did somewhat ambush me with the whole pre-approval process. 

The fact is, it’s scary.  There are big words and pilot lights that go out, the house makes noises and don’t get me started on the water pressure upstairs. 

But it’s our home.  Ours.

When my mother found out we were looking she gave me total hell–”what if you loose your jobs?!”  they would ask.  Well, I’m pretty sure rent would still be due too, job or no job, much like a mortage.  Consequently the only thing that made her even remotely come around was the office.  Oh wait, I’m sorry, according to her it’s the nursery.  Oy.

But it’s our home.  Nursery or office.

And let’s not forget that I tend to be a nervous nellie.  I’m petrified of being wrong. So voluntarily putting myself into this position is a tough one.  A homeowner.  What if we screw it up?

The boy, the only one of us that’s good with numbers actually admitted to me he’s nervous.  Well that’s just a fine thing to tell me NOW.  To be honest, I have no clue what I’m doing.  I was, (and he admits this) drug into this whole house buying thing by the boy.   I would have been just happy as a clam to continue renting, not having to commit to anywhere longer than a year, none of it would be my problem. But my husband was longing for a home of our own.  And I love my husband, and want him to be happy.  And the fact is I probably never would have commited if not for him, on a variety of levels.  So just as I’m the ying to his yang, so he is to me. 

Am I scared?  Damn straight.  But it’s our life, our home, and we’re living it.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way…but the nursery will have to wait!

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