I returned home from my trip to Quad-ville to the news that we begin breaking ground on our house on June 6th. As in a week from tomorrow. I can't even begin to describe how I feel about this. It is such a mixed bag of emotions.
We've been working and waiting to get to this point for almost three and a half years. When we made the decision back in 2005 to buy 5 acres from my parents, we knew it would take awhile to get here. In the meantime we've been renting and watching house prices continue to climb, to the point where there would be very little out there that we could afford without peddling vital organs on Ebay. We've been holding our breath, existing in limbo, waiting for that proverbial green light to get started.
And now we're there. And it's causing me unprecedented anxiety.
My husband is usually the one stressing about money, managing it very carefully and conservatively, investing it, watching the stock market, and encouraging us to go without extravagant luxuries (i.e. vacations) in order to save. I've always been the one reassuring him that we'll be fine, that we'll figure it out, that everything'll be okay. Now those roles have been reversed. Probably for the first time in almost 10 years of being together, he's having to calm me down and reassure me that it will all work out. I see those large numbers on his spreadsheets and loan applications and I start to have palpitations. I see bids for things like septic systems and I start to twitch nervously. It all makes me very scared.
As I've told him, what scares me about this project is that we'll end up WAY over budget. Not just a little, but ALOT. Enough to force me to have to work more. And I've already shared how I about feel about working. I just fear being so indebted to this house that it drastically changes our lives. Or else we get it built, can't afford it, and have to turn around and sell it. Which would be very profitable, but that's beside the point. I want to live on THIS piece of property, which will be next door to my parents' property. I want lots more days with my Dad, enjoying life and living out our dreams. I want my kids to have the kind of freedom and adventure that I craved as a kid. Damnit, I want what I want. (Hmmm...spoiled much?)
We went out to the property last night to go stake out the building site and cut the grass, which is already waist-high. The kids had a great time tromping around, playing in the dirt, and catching bugs. On a walk with Grandpa, they discovered a puddle full of "poggywogs", as Zoë called them. I'd packed a picnic dinner for us and my parents, who joined us, and we sat out there and dreamed, talking about where to put the garden and our chickens. After dinner, Sam and Daddy went to play baseball in the grass, and sitting there watching them summoned up the dream of them someday playing ball on a big lush green yard, with me sitting on the back deck watching them in the twilight, listening to the crickets singing and the hawks calling. I also dream of cool fall evenings around a crackling outdoor fire, hearing the owls and the coyotes off in the woods, roasting marshmallows, then hauling sticky, sleepy kids off to their beds. Ach, I want it so bad I can practically taste it.
I told my husband that I want nothing more than at the end of this project for him to be able to tell me "I told you so". I want to live out there, put down some roots, grow some memories and our kids, and not worry month to month about the mortgage. We don't live extravagant, materialistic lives now, but I don't want to lose the ability to go out for pizza on a Saturday night.
We've been working and waiting to get to this point for almost three and a half years. When we made the decision back in 2005 to buy 5 acres from my parents, we knew it would take awhile to get here. In the meantime we've been renting and watching house prices continue to climb, to the point where there would be very little out there that we could afford without peddling vital organs on Ebay. We've been holding our breath, existing in limbo, waiting for that proverbial green light to get started.
And now we're there. And it's causing me unprecedented anxiety.
My husband is usually the one stressing about money, managing it very carefully and conservatively, investing it, watching the stock market, and encouraging us to go without extravagant luxuries (i.e. vacations) in order to save. I've always been the one reassuring him that we'll be fine, that we'll figure it out, that everything'll be okay. Now those roles have been reversed. Probably for the first time in almost 10 years of being together, he's having to calm me down and reassure me that it will all work out. I see those large numbers on his spreadsheets and loan applications and I start to have palpitations. I see bids for things like septic systems and I start to twitch nervously. It all makes me very scared.
As I've told him, what scares me about this project is that we'll end up WAY over budget. Not just a little, but ALOT. Enough to force me to have to work more. And I've already shared how I about feel about working. I just fear being so indebted to this house that it drastically changes our lives. Or else we get it built, can't afford it, and have to turn around and sell it. Which would be very profitable, but that's beside the point. I want to live on THIS piece of property, which will be next door to my parents' property. I want lots more days with my Dad, enjoying life and living out our dreams. I want my kids to have the kind of freedom and adventure that I craved as a kid. Damnit, I want what I want. (Hmmm...spoiled much?)
We went out to the property last night to go stake out the building site and cut the grass, which is already waist-high. The kids had a great time tromping around, playing in the dirt, and catching bugs. On a walk with Grandpa, they discovered a puddle full of "poggywogs", as Zoë called them. I'd packed a picnic dinner for us and my parents, who joined us, and we sat out there and dreamed, talking about where to put the garden and our chickens. After dinner, Sam and Daddy went to play baseball in the grass, and sitting there watching them summoned up the dream of them someday playing ball on a big lush green yard, with me sitting on the back deck watching them in the twilight, listening to the crickets singing and the hawks calling. I also dream of cool fall evenings around a crackling outdoor fire, hearing the owls and the coyotes off in the woods, roasting marshmallows, then hauling sticky, sleepy kids off to their beds. Ach, I want it so bad I can practically taste it.
I told my husband that I want nothing more than at the end of this project for him to be able to tell me "I told you so". I want to live out there, put down some roots, grow some memories and our kids, and not worry month to month about the mortgage. We don't live extravagant, materialistic lives now, but I don't want to lose the ability to go out for pizza on a Saturday night.
So, for now, I'm relying heavily on faith. Faith in my husband, faith in the Good Lord, and faith in myself, I guess. I need to tell myself what I've been telling my husband for years: we're smart, resourceful, hard-working people and we'll figure it out. We're alot better off financially than people who are 20 years older.
It'll be okay.
3 comments:
Keep reminding yourself that it has to "look" bad before it can be better. Those numbers look bad now but they point towards something good - your new home!
I can't focus enough right now to fully read your post (see my blog), but I wanted to let you know that I am so excited for you that this is finally becoming a reality.
Your hubby is a good man, and it sounds like he's done all he can to predict the future for you both (budget wise, anyway!).
So you live with plywood floors and garbage bag doors, and have to pee in a hole out back if you go over budget... how bad is that? heh,heh.
Just enjoy the journey! Nothing worth while comes easy!
Post a Comment