If you are aware of my other journal, "How Can People Be So Heartless," then you will know what I'm talking about.....
The other day, My husband, Matt and I went to speak to a lawyer about the contract we wrote and notarized with his grandma concerning her house. We had made this house a home, and as I look around at it I remember throwing away some of the boxes that most of my stuff was stored in for years in anticipation of a permanent home. I remember 5 months ago, smiling at my display of World's Fair Beer Cans, shot glasses, Vegas mugs, candles, and champange glasses from toasts at my wedding, on a built in shelf on the living room wall. When I walked into my son's room today to get his clothes ready for our fourth of July celebration at my aunt's house, I saw all the Spiderman stickers I carefully put around his walls, and the display of TMNT figures attached to the drop where the stairs are. It's such a cute room for a kid, I wish my mom was that creative when I was young. My baby daughter's room has purple walls and clown pictures of antique, and is completely set up, organized, and decorated as the perfect nursery, and easily converted into a girl's princess bedroom. We made a room out of a once wasted space near the back door where Matt's grandma used to store her resale items, and turned it into a dining area/study. My husband and my room is plain blue (DH favorite color), with the things I've had in my room for years, nothing fancy. But my kitchen, oh my favorite room, had so much potential, and we put so much money into it already, nothing fancy, or expensive, but now it looks like a kitchen. While grandma was still here, before we moved in, dh was painting the basement, while Icleaned the kitchen sink, all the while getting dirty looks from his grandma. It took me two hours, 5 scrubbing pads, one bottle of 409 and about 2 cups of bleach to get it clean. I've never seen anything so filthy in my life. Now it shines like a diamond on top of brand new sandstone counter tops which are supported by brand new mahogany colored, raised cabinets. Again, nothing expensive, but the way I did things makes it look that way.
When we went paint shopping, we looked first at Home Depot's "oops" paint. You know paint that's already been mixed, but someone changed their mind before they bought it. We got lucky and found all the colors I wanted for the living room and the kitchen, and they match my sofa and counter tops perfectly. $5 each can of paint, how good was that? It took me 3 hours each to paint the existing cabinets yellow, to contrast the rest of the colors. It took me even longer to peel the ugly, poorly installed wallpaper out of the main bathroom, and it's still not done. Whatever you do ladies, remember, wallpaper is NOT the way to go! The worst thing a person can do to a house that they're not going to die in is install wallpaper.
The whole house was remodeled (still not completely finished, but livable at this point) for a little more than $2,000. Not bad, huh? Well, unfortunately, that was all we had, but it was ok, because we were supposed to live here forever. The reason I'm depressed is because the lawyer said that basically our contract was allowing us to live here as long as we paid the rent, but once the old lady dies, her rotten, greedy son can protest and we have to fight to keep the house, and if she changes her will, which she probably will do, because she will never agree to make another agreement, and she will never forgive us for being upset that she promised us a roof and took it back because her loser son lost his job, again! But I'm not allowed to worry how my kids will fare when the roof caves in!
This isn't all about the roof, although that started it, this is about my husband and I working our asses off to pay grandma $75,000 and then the house won't be ours in the end..Not to mention the house needs lots of expensive repairs, that I was prepared to do should the house become ours. Since it's not, I don't see any reason to fix anything. I even feel stupid,how could I be so stupid and make this horrible mistake that effects me, Matt, my kids... my kids.
Poor Ethan, my son, who has a hard time making friends because he's borderline Aspergers, has finally made friends that not only I like, but who like him and tolerate him well I should say. I've even started being friends with their parents, and they all live practically next door. He can certainly make new friends, but it's the transition I'm worried about. I've put that poor child through so many transitions in his life so far because of my stupid mistakes. I was a single mom for his first 7 years, so of course I dated and 3 of them got serious, so those were the ones he met. One of them died (the one who was with him since he was 3 months old), one lived out of state, and it didn't work out, and the other one he hated. So he had to get used to Matt (I was much more careful before I introduced him), and luckily he took to him right away, even seemed to choose him for me. But moving around and all the fighting that went on when we lived at my mom's, has taken it's toll on this poor child, and like I said IT'S MY FAULT FOR MAKING BAD DECISIONS.
This house was a bad decision, a bad idea that now effects not one, but two kids. I created the perfect playroom in the upstairs loft bedroom, and now we have to pack it up and move in with a family member until we get back on our feet. The kids' rooms will be packed up and forgotten about for at least a year. Ethan might not even like Spiderman anymore when he gets his own room again, and Mamie will be able to choose her own style as well. I sure won't be the same, and my husband will have lost his dad, and the person who once was the only stable thing in his life, his grandma in the process. This really sucks, and I wish we would have stayed in our secure little apartment, with a bus ride to and from school, and maintainance to fix our troubles. It was a tight squeeze but at least we weren't harassed. At least no one could come pick up their mail on our screened in porch and slam the door as hard as they can to force it to break so we have to fix it. We can't do that now, my husband don't make enough money on paper, and my unemployment wears out tomorrow, not that unemployment counts as income to a housing facility.
I know it's just a house, it's just stuff, and material things are disposable. It's the family inside that counts. I know how lucky I am to be able to raise a family to be good God-fearing people, who might one day help change the world in some way. I know we will be humble, and it will make getting our own place that much more special, because good things come to those who wait. This will not break our family or our spirit, I know that, but the fact that this is something I've always wanted, a place to call home, a private dwelling to raise my family as I wish, without interference from outsiders. We have to leave our private, lovely home, and move to probably the chaotic center of the universe with 3 teenage girls and their boyfriends, and their mother who don't know what the hell she's doing, with good intentions. We give up our privacy, our quiet, our turn to watch TV, so that we can have peace in our lives. Here, at this house, we will never be free from my FIL, grandma In Law, and the evil stepmother in law, not to mention her son the prince. We must once again wait for peace, we must wait for privacy, and we must wait to use the bathroom. It's times like these that make me wish I had made better financial decisions, so we didn't HAVE TO do anything, we could do what truly made us happy.
In conclusion, I must say this, how lucky we are to have our health. Before I wrote this journal, I read another mother's journal about a little boy named Julian who just ended his battle with cancer, and I cried. I cried for the poor child's family (especially the parents), I cried for his lost life and his suffering, I cried for the fact that he will never grow up to be an astronaut, or a firefighter or something great, but I also cried because 2 minutes before I read that article, I was crying about a house. A house which is a thing, the thing that never was mine, and will never be mine. How stupid could I be to cry about a house, when at least I have my kids and they're healthy, and they'll grow up learning from my mistakes, because they're alive and well, thank GOD. I'll pray for Julian, and maybe I'll talk to one of my people in Heaven to take care of him until his parents can unite with him once again. I'm sorry, Julian, for being so selfish, I know you don't know me, but thank you for letting me count my blessings. I am still depressed, and I will get over it, but for now I'll forget about the house and I'll pray for Julian's family..God Bless!!
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