I’m superstitious.
I wish I weren’t (I think it’s stupid). I fully understand that just saying something isn’t going to make it happen. And yet, I knock wood. I know that purchasing baby items before a baby is born doesn’t sabotage a pregnancy. And yet, I didn’t have a single diaper in the house before my first born came home from the hospital. I worry about ‘jinxing’ a situation by talking about it so I keep quiet until I’m sure of the outcome.
So I didn’t mention that we were selling the Mistress until the contract was signed and the deposit was sent.
It’s a sad moment for us.
We live in a small unremarkable house in the suburbs of New York City and we don’t particularly like it. We are tied to it because of commitments we’ve made and we accept it for the most part and make ourselves comfortable. The lack of space hasn’t much mattered to me because I knew that six acres of lovely fields and woods were waiting for us someday in Southern Vermont. And you all know how Niall feels about the house. (At times I’ve wondered who his true love was.) But we’re currently a one income family for all intents and purposes and the one income isn’t enough to support two homes.
There are always choices to be made.
Could I put the baby in day-care and work full-time and possibly make it so we could reasonably hang on to the house? Probably. Do I want to? No. So we have made a choice to give up one dream for holding on to another. It was hard to get here. We tried to make it work and frankly, we made it worse.
We’ve been up there weekends cleaning and clearing and making the most of the time left.
These canning jars were all found in the basement of the house when Niall bought it in 1991.
Many were filled with tomatoes (at least, that’s what they appeared to be—no one tried them to be sure). They date back to the early part of the century and are tinted varying shades of blue. We used some of them as vases to hold wildflowers on the tables at our wedding. Now they sit all in a row along the tops of our kitchen cabinets. I hope one day we can pack them up and bring them back to Vermont and have them line the shelves of a different house.
The closing is scheduled to take place in the upcoming weeks and it’s a relief. A weight has been lifted and we know it’s the right thing to do. But it’s sad and hard and I wish it could be different.
I tell myself with a lump in my throat: we do what we have to do to make it work.
And I hear my mother’s voice saying: this too shall pass.
{ 25 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m so sorry that you have to let it go. I loved seeing your pictures of it and dreaming of being in a place like that one day myself. We too are in an unremarkable (small, cramped, no storage) kind of house in what is now a distant suburb of D.C. But like you, I would rather stay home with my kids right now than work to support larger expenses. I’m glad you feel good about it though, that’s got to make it easier.
And hey, you got some AMAZING canning jars out of the deal! I love that picture.
Sometimes it’s tough to be a grown-up and make those kind of choices. Good for you that you were able to do it. At this point, I think my own dad would quote Kenny Rodgers, "you’ve got know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em."
thanks for sharing your story.
Jill
Oh jeez. That’s a tough one, but in the end you made a wise choice. And I’ve got news for you, working full time is not a cheap proposition when you are a mother, one word OVERHEAD.
I know this is tough or Niall, but someday you’ll look back and talk about "your first house" in VT.
What a tricky choice to make. I don’t envy big decisions like that at all. Lately school has been good and I’m enjoying it (even more this week when class was canceled!) but I’ve been repeating your mother’s phrase a lot!!
Oh wow. I feel for you. I hope that your heart can be happy wherever home is . . .and that you are able one day to make your dream of living in a home with lots of air and space a reality.
- donna
When we moved from CO, we sold the cabin that we owned out there, too. In a way, it was a tougher choice than the choice to sell our house and move to L.A. However, the reality was that the likelihood of us getting back out there and using it very often was just something that was not going to happen. As a family, we still miss it. Even though I know that we made the right decision, there are still many times that I wish we hadn’t had to make that decision at all.
Oh sweetie… Sometimes I’m glad we’ve never owned a house on Squirrel Island just because that means we’ll never have to face selling it. It’s a heartbreaker. But things are shifting and someday they’ll shift you into a new house… maybe in Portland?
I’m a mom of two boys as well, although mine are now grown. I hope to encourage you in your difficult decision. I never had to give up something big that we already had…we just gave up having big things in order for me to stay home full-time and raise my boys while my husband was the sole provider. It is a decision that was difficult in the day-to-day many times but one that I am so glad we stuck with. Both of our sons have expressed their gratitude.
Bigger than that…it is investment in relationship (the only thing that lasts). No matter how beautiful something is that you can own, it can never match what we can give to each other of ourselves. I don’t know if you have a relationship with Christ but I do, and this is where my strength came from to persevere and the memory now is one of my greatest earthly joys!
I hope you got a price that truly reflected all the blood, sweat and tears that went into making it a home.
Andi
I feel for you dearie. hugs, support, and vibes for fabulous things on the horizon.
A sad moment for you and your family….but one door closes and another opens – hold onto that thought!
Your mom’s mantra is a good one – I hope that you are able to see through this soon enough. Now I understand all the recent trips to the mistress. xo
I’m sorry that you had to sell the house; it looked amazing. It can be hard to sacrifice something you really love, but it sounds like you made the right decision. Good luck with everything!
I’m sorry! Darn. That’s such a hard thing, to let a dream go. But as it was said up above — when one door closes another one opens even though it’s hard to really believe in that as that first door shuts…
When I got married I owned a "fixer Upper" I loved that house. and the garden. But we sold it and I moved to the house my husband had during his first marriage for financial reasons. It was paid for and I didn’t have to work any more, make the best right?
Then my DH decided we could move, he was ready to let go of the house his kids grew up in.
We found a house that had some of the best features of "my house" … but with out the headaches. I love it here.
Light moves thru it in a similar way and it is a similar size and shape. I miss my beadboard closets that ran the eaves though.
I’m sorry to hear that you had to let The Mistress go, but I bet you both made the right decision for your family right now, and that’s what really matters. Good luck, and don’t stop dreaming about a home in the country; if it’s really what you both want, then you’ll have it someday!
I love the Countesses take on when you will look at this as your "first house" in VT! Like a first love maybe, lovely and nostalgic with a place of its own in your heart, but not one that diminishes the house you WILL have in VT some day!
A hug to you.
And I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE those bottles! Gorgeous!
I’m so sorry that you have to let go of the Mistress! I had always hoped to meet her!
We are making tough decisions these days as well and I will tell you that I don’t like it one bit!
I’m hoping to find a place in Maine or New Hampshire that we can rent periodically–and not worry about landscaping, pipes freezing, mice infestations and other lovely homeowner woes.
I’m sorry that you have to give up that house. It’s gorgeous and you’ve put so much work into it.
"This too shall pass" is something I find myself muttering to myself a lot.
Personally, I always think there is a reason behind what we do, we don’t always see what it is right then and there, but over time…
a tough time for you both, i’m sure. i have a feeling that this is the right thing for you and your family right now. take good care.
i’m sorry. it would be very difficult to give up something so special. your choice would of been mine though. being there for your kids i mean. you never know, another great opportunity could be just around the corner:)
There’s something about the juxtaposition of that particular image (the colored jars) with the story. It’s got the art therapist in me just chugging away at it. I see that you’ve made that image into your banner as well. It’s very evocative, as jars go! I’m going to be munching on this one for a while.
Sending good vibes to you, friend.
Oh wow…that must have been such a hard thing do to, I can’t even imagine! I’m sure it must be all for the best even though maybe it doesn’t seem like it? Big hugs to you all…
A little late on the game on this post, I am. (And I apparently feel the need to speak like Yoda.) I found you through Victoria, definitely a kindred spirit.
This must have been an extraordinarily tough decision, beyond all the obvious reasons. I don’t care how often I spout the mantra about doing what is necessary, some days it still just sucks. Our family is having similar discussions and we go in circles and can’t come to any conclusions. I admire you for that. Even if it means letting go of something else.
I’ll be back, thanks.