04 August 10
My mother is a home-owner
It took until she was just shy of 60, almost got derailed due to yet one more divorce-related finance issue, but she did it. Despite all of her struggles and trials and setbacks, my mother now owns 3 acres of land and a small 3 bedroom house. There’s a lot of work that needed to be done to it (the previous rental tenants had left it full of flea-ridden carpets and junk), but there is a lot of work that we got done in the 3 full days I was out there. Thankfully I was able to take some time off to head out and help her get some grunt work (painting, spackling, carpet-tack removing, closet-rod hanging) done so she could focus on the much harder task of trying to figure out where all of her stuff should go now.
Not only did she wake up every day around 5am and start going non-stop until 10pm (whereas I got out of bed around 8am and one day 9:30am), but she did it all without melting down. Moving is stressful, anxiety-ridden, and emotional. Moving into your first home during a process that got sped up more than you expected is even more emotional. But I think I provided a little levity that helped things go smoother. And I offered some advice about some of the things that she was less sure about, but I could help with.
One of her concerns was that they would have to replace the windows because the frames looked very weather-beaten. And from the outside I can see why she was nervous. But I realized that the part that looks in bad shape is the storm windows on one half of the house, whereas the movable windows are in great shape. So she’s going to try some weather-stripping on a few that seem a little loose, wait one winter, and hopefully be able to keep the original windows that were handmade by the original owner.
She got some great history on the house, and I didn’t have time to read it all, but the land (3 acres, more than half of which is covered in walnut trees) was purchased in 1948. The couple built a two-room shack with a two-seater outhouse and moved into it. The front room was the kitchen and the back room was the living area. They lived in this while they built the main house themselves. Once they had finished the main house and moved into it, the original dwelling was converted into storage and chicken coop. Since my mom has a few chickens, she was able to make use of this space quite nicely.
There is quite a lot of work (and I promised my mom that I wouldn’t put up pictures of the inside until it is closer to done) that still needs to be done to the inside. Floors need to be refinished, but thankfully the horrifically ugly shag carpeting was protecting the original wood floors that had never been stained or varnished. Since they’re in great shape, we looked into what it would be seal them and the cost is so much better than the wall-to-wall carpet they assumed they needed, that they’re going to keep the floors uncovered. The kitchen floor is just linoleum tile, so we’re hoping that we can just remove the tile and keep the sub-floor undamaged so we can lay new and much nicer linoleum tile down. The rest of the work is unpacking, curtain hanging, painting, and general cleaning. If I’d had a few more days, I would have started on the floor sealing myself. But it just means I’ll have to plan a future visit to help her with that.
The outside of the house and the garage, garden shed, chicken coop, and yard need a lot of work as well. Thankfully a riding lawn-mower was purchased and my younger brother has been over almost every day bagging up trimmed limbs and discarded bushes and mowing and raking and generally getting a lot of work done to the outside of the house. How he has managed to do as much as he has while working full-time, taking care of his kids, and sleeping I have no idea. (Notice the theme of my family members making me look lazy? Oy!)
But despite all the “fixin’up” that needs to get done, this new place is going to make quite a nice homestead. Mom talked briefly about how this was the type of house she always wanted to have for us kids to come back to and for her grandkids to visit her in. And even though the disorganization brought her close to tears* at several points, in just 3 short days she was able to turn the house into a home. And by the time, I left, it did indeed feel like a home. A sparsely decorated home, but a home. It felt good, comforting, loved, warm. It felt right. It made me happy.
I told my mom that getting to help her move into her first owned home, and hopefully her last-ever home on my birthday was a gift to me. Knowing that she has been able to fulfill a dream she’s had for longer than she’s had me, getting to hear her talk about all of the things they can do to make the home even better, getting to see her walk the outline of her future garden, watching as she pointed out various plants and talked about how she would adjust things to suit her taste and restore the home and yard to it’s former glory, not only hearing but feeling the pride in her voice as she talked about her home, was a huge blessing. It’s just a house. It’s just a place to keep your stuff and sleep at night. But for my mom, it’s proof that her decades of sacrifice and saying “someday” have finally paid off. It’s proof that she’s won out over adversity. It makes me smile just remembering her standing in her back yard as I drove away. It makes me a little sad that I can’t visit it every day, but I know I’ll appreciate every visit home just a little bit more now. And it reminds me what I’ve always known. My mom is where my home is, even though I’m all grown up, even though I own my own home, even though I’ll spend just a few nights in this house a year, I’m sure I’ll call this place home. Because my mom is there. And she’s happy.
*At one point on Saturday after a fairly stressful and long day where we both felt like we’d done so much work but had so little improvement in key rooms to show for it, I moved everything away from one corner of the living, set up a table and a lamp in the corner as she’d said she wanted to. Then I made my mother stand with her back to the clutter and disarray and boxes, instructed her to put her hands up to her face like horse-blinders and look at the corner of the room. She was trying not to sound irritated as she said “What am I looking at?” I told her that she was looking at a corner of a finished living room. And if she could just focus on that, she’d be able to get the rest done. She laughed until she started to cry and then she laughed some more. Sometimes you gotta push people closer to the edge when they’re close in order for them to realize they’re not at the edge and are therefore okay.
Comments
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So touching how you helped her out like that. :)
— Rachel on Aug 4, 07:11 am
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i love that both our parents have now bought their first-ever homes in their 60s. :)
— carolyn on Aug 4, 09:46 am
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This is such a great story. And what a cute house! Your post makes ME want to visit your mom and hang out on 3 acres and gather eggs like I used to when I was a kid visiting my aunt’s “farmette”.
— rachelle on Aug 4, 01:46 pm
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Your mom’s house looks really nice. I’m really jealous of her three acres, too! Post more pictures as the place gets fixed up. Houses form that era have a charm that buildings today sorely lack, so I’d be curious as to what the guts of the house look like.
Give her my congratualations, even though she has no idea who I am! ;)
— eee on Aug 10, 12:12 pm
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