I love looking at houses. It is one of my favorite things to do. Is that odd? Maybe. Especially when I have no plans to move. I love to walk through them. I love to look at the floor plans. I love to tour the yards. I love to imagine how it would be to live in them. I don’t love making up stories for the poor real estate agents holding open houses when every person that walks through the door is the answer to their prayers. It doesn't seem right telling them, “Oh, I don’t want to buy this house. I just wanted to see the inside.”
It turns out that I am not the only one that enjoys looking at houses. My boys put up withenjoy it as well. I have taken them to a few open houses mostly in our own neighborhood, and they delight in running through the house and seeking out nooks and crannies and secret spots and arguing over which room would be theirs. Then they say to me, “We are not moving, right? We really like our house.” No, we are not moving. Mommy just had to scratch an itch.
I like that they tolerate like looking at houses with me. Finally, I can point to an area where something I love to do has influenced them. Although, more often than not, I get a whiny, “Why are we looking at houses again?” when I tell them of my plans. And I held no delusions that our little adventures would stay entrenched in momhood. It was inevitable that boyhood would creep its way into my hobby and rear its rambunctious head.
One of my husband’s lifelong friends is building a new house in the same neighborhood in which my husband’s parents live. Naturally, we had to walk the whole family up to the house to see it in its pre-finished state. The boys had an especially fun time visiting this particular house. Here is why:
Rebar – Lookit! Someone left these perfectly good pieces of death-stick metal right here on the ground! Let’s pick them up and battle! I know - Let’s don’t and say we did.
Nails – Lookit! Someone left these perfectly good pieces of poke-your-eyes-out pointed things on the ground! Let’s pick them up and throw them at each other! Drop it! Drop it!
I was informed by the boys after every command of “Don’t touch,” or “Put that back,” or “You cannot take that home,” that Daddy let them do it last time. No wonder they were so excited to visit the house, and so perplexed when I continued to follow them around and remove things from their hands. They also informed me that, “We can’t leave here without a souvenir,” to which I replied, “This is someone’s home, not a vacation destination.”
Heavy lifter – Lookit! Construction equipment! Let’s get in and drive it. Thank you, God, for ensuring the workers remembered to take the key with them.
Pile of sand – Lookit! A nice big pile of cool, fine, soft sand. Let’s climb in it and sink down to our knees! After being informed by my father-in-law, Frank, that the pile of sand was very expensive brick-layers’ sand, my ears couldn't believe when my mouth said, “Don’t play in the sand. Go play in that huge pile of dirt instead.”
Huge pile of dirt – Lookit! A huge pile of dirt! How could we have overlooked that for this puny pile of sand? And it’s got pieces of metal and wood around the bottom! Great! Let’s slide down on our buts and see how quickly we can impale ourselves. Go for it.
It turns out that I am not the only one that enjoys looking at houses. My boys put up withenjoy it as well. I have taken them to a few open houses mostly in our own neighborhood, and they delight in running through the house and seeking out nooks and crannies and secret spots and arguing over which room would be theirs. Then they say to me, “We are not moving, right? We really like our house.” No, we are not moving. Mommy just had to scratch an itch.
I like that they tolerate like looking at houses with me. Finally, I can point to an area where something I love to do has influenced them. Although, more often than not, I get a whiny, “Why are we looking at houses again?” when I tell them of my plans. And I held no delusions that our little adventures would stay entrenched in momhood. It was inevitable that boyhood would creep its way into my hobby and rear its rambunctious head.
One of my husband’s lifelong friends is building a new house in the same neighborhood in which my husband’s parents live. Naturally, we had to walk the whole family up to the house to see it in its pre-finished state. The boys had an especially fun time visiting this particular house. Here is why:
Rebar – Lookit! Someone left these perfectly good pieces of death-stick metal right here on the ground! Let’s pick them up and battle! I know - Let’s don’t and say we did.
Nails – Lookit! Someone left these perfectly good pieces of poke-your-eyes-out pointed things on the ground! Let’s pick them up and throw them at each other! Drop it! Drop it!
I was informed by the boys after every command of “Don’t touch,” or “Put that back,” or “You cannot take that home,” that Daddy let them do it last time. No wonder they were so excited to visit the house, and so perplexed when I continued to follow them around and remove things from their hands. They also informed me that, “We can’t leave here without a souvenir,” to which I replied, “This is someone’s home, not a vacation destination.”
Heavy lifter – Lookit! Construction equipment! Let’s get in and drive it. Thank you, God, for ensuring the workers remembered to take the key with them.
Pile of sand – Lookit! A nice big pile of cool, fine, soft sand. Let’s climb in it and sink down to our knees! After being informed by my father-in-law, Frank, that the pile of sand was very expensive brick-layers’ sand, my ears couldn't believe when my mouth said, “Don’t play in the sand. Go play in that huge pile of dirt instead.”
Huge pile of dirt – Lookit! A huge pile of dirt! How could we have overlooked that for this puny pile of sand? And it’s got pieces of metal and wood around the bottom! Great! Let’s slide down on our buts and see how quickly we can impale ourselves. Go for it.
After all was said and done, I ended up being the only one with an injury. Note to self - Never put your foot next to the tractor when your father-in-law is working the pedals and your 4 year old is steering. You’ll get your foot run over every time. To be fair, it was only the attached trailer that ran over my foot. I don’t even have an interesting bruise to share with you.
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7 comments:
Oh, that's how you got the tractor injury? Here was me making up elaborate scenarios in my head of you standing in the road bravely facing a load of sheep thieves with their ill-gotten .....sheep in their trailer, defying them to get past you and they drove over your foot in their haste to escape justice. (I haven't got a bruise from my encounter with a metal gate either!)
Bossy used to make a pastime of going to all the Open Houses in her neighborhood (a very close-knit neighborhood), until that one time a local realtor mistook Bossy's intentions and said some version of, "Boy it's about time you decided to move from that stinker of a house you're in..." - Bossy hasn't really enjoyed looking at houses so much anymore.
I like looking at them too, but don't typically look at them when I'm not thinking of moving. My mom however, is always looking at them - doing open houses and home tours. She loves it!
I like looking at them so much that I encouraged my husband to become a realtor JUST so I can have unlimited MLS access and a key to the lock boxes..we love to go check them out! It's so fun to look at them online too.
I like looking at them so much that I encouraged my husband to become a realtor JUST so I can have unlimited MLS access and a key to the lock boxes..we love to go check them out! It's so fun to look at them online too.
I love looking at houses too, even when I'm not looking to move. I rent right now and due to complicated circumstances, I cannot own any time soon. However, I can look and dream! You are not odd or alone!
www.kathy-iamwhoiam.blogspot.com
I think Devin's on to something there! I love looking at houses, as long as I'm doing it for pleasure and not for the sake of moving. When it becomes a chore, it's no longer fun!
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