Offer Accepted.

Well I haven’t written publicly about this because, frankly, I didn’t want to jinx it. But it’s time.

We put an offer in on a house last week and it was accepted. We are currently in 45 day escrow.

Needless to say, I’m freakin the heck out, man.

It’s been a total roller coaster of emotion. Home prices in this area are EXORBITANT. It’s no joke. I told my Texas bff Mel about the house and her reaction was, “well the house is adorable!, but the price makes me sick to my stomach.”  me too, Mel, me too.

Fact is, we simply cannot—not ‘do not’, but cannot—leave or move very far. We’re moving 3.4 miles away, and that alone is a massive adjustment that I can barely stand. I don’t want to leave this house. I love my little house. I love being in the house where so many memories of my daughter flood my mind every time I turn a corner. I don’t want to forget those memories, those fantastic minute moments that together culminate into a tapestry of her life and love. That’s all I have left of her.

And now I have to leave it. I’m not handling it well.

We are so effin lucky to be able to qualify for that much$$. True, We’ll be house poor and won’t be able to remodel for a very long time, but so what. Brave gets to stay in his school, Ben doesn’t have to drive 30 min each way to surf, and I don’t have to find new environment to function. I’m functioning well—dare I say, thriving—where I’m at, and even though one of my top 5 Strengths is Adaptability, I do not take well to this kind of change. esp to a smaller home.

BUT! the house is CLEAN. I’m talking, very very very clean. It’s older and small, but it’s CLEAN and was lovingly taken care of. The owners are genunely kind patriot Americans, a veteran, who accepted our VA loan, who have lived in this house for 41 years! and they are model homeowners. The home has gentle calm energy. (Exactly what Ben and I don’t have.) We are beyond lucky. This house on this street truly is a gift from God.

Yet, to my surprise, I am still deeply struggling.

I love my bright yellow bedroom, my large closet, my narrow, but amazingly high functional kitchen, my perfect laundry room. The three places I literally spend more time in than any other. I’m fighting the current of downsizing (it’s only 1200sq ft, yippppes.) and am slightly terrified to be locked into that kind of house payment $$ every month.

But the backyard is private, gorgeous, easy to maintain, and I can meditate and do yoga without a homeless person staring at me from atop the hill. Ben says it reminds him of Arizona with all the palms, and I think it reminds me of Coronado, where the happiest most carefree years of my life were had.

So naturally, Ben and I got into a massive fight Day 1 of escrow. right on time baby!

We were sittin’ around, chattin’ it up, lively and excited, cuddling on the couch, looking at photos, brainstorming, being open and honest, having a super productive, naively optimistic “future of us” talk, when BAM!! outta nowhere! it just happened. and it ALLLLLL started when the subject of what to do with the 3rd bedroom came up.

My first thought, “I want a guest bedroom so people can visit us.” (People person extrovert.)

Ben’s first thought, “I want a home office to build my business and study alone.” (Isolated introvert).

and it just slowly brewed into a raging fire from there, culminating into Ben’s brilliant comment of: “Well if Amelie were here, babe, obviously we wouldn’t be having this conversation—it would be brave’s room, our room, and then Amelie’s room.”

my face fell.  I gave him the “LOOK.” oh you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about, we’ve all seen it, esp on the faces of emotionally charged (fine, dramatic) women. the friggin LOOK. The LOOK that says with no words, I got two words for you, and it ain’t happy birthday. Silent, I just glared at him.

his response, “oh, so I’m the asshole because I’m just stating the obvious.”

my textbook of what NOT to say response, “No darling, you’re the asshole because you’re the ASSHOLE.” and I proceeded to go off from there…ending in me having the mic drop last word then bawling in Amelie’s room and him coming into make amends and reconnect.

This is the type of conversation I cannot believe I even have to have in life. Our first ever home, first time entering the real estate market and making the massive financial leap into adulthood, and all we can think about is: NO More Amelie’s Room. I could have moved 30 minutes East and bought a home with 4 bedrooms and not even had this conversation probably, but we just couldn’t do that either. It’s a, what Ben used to say, “Catch 22 Situation Man” (yes, he intentionally got the number wrong to intentionally and amusingly confuse people).  and we need to navigate through it, hopefully with no more uses of the word a$$-hole.

For now, we are in ESCROW and I pray the reality of what to do with a third bedroom is realized. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, people say. And this house IS a gift.