Before a few months ago if you had asked me, “Anna, what is something you never want to do ever again?”  I would have said “sweep up many small pieces of moist, partially chewed deli meat off of the floor.”  But now my answer has changed (although deli meat sweeping is holding the number 2 spot).  I have entered the horrifying realm of selling/buying houses whilst having small children.  

I knew it wouldn’t be easy.  I knew the cleaning would be constant.  I knew that house hunting with small children would be much less HGTV-worthy, and more like “GET OUTTA THERE – DON’T TOUCH THAT – WHERE ARE YOU – THAT’S NOT OURS – PLEASE STOP WITH THE LIGHTS ALREADY!!”  I knew all of this.  But somehow I believed we would sell our house in 3 showings tops, and find our new house within the same amount of time.  Boy, did I eat my words on that one.  

First showing was off to a great start.  The kids cooperated nicely by watching Zootopia while I made our house sparkle and shine.  It was 5 days before Christmas and magic was in the air.  One and done, I told myself.  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t going to be the first one but we had others already scheduled.  It won’t be long.

TV-zombie kid in a show-ready house

We optimistically starting visiting other houses, quickly realizing that there are some exceptional real estate photographers out there – and by that I mean photoshop queens. Perhaps the most enjoyable part of the house shopping experience was attempting to have a conversation with our realtor over the screams and demands of our little angels, and breaking up their impromptu wrestling matches every 3-5 minutes.  

The showings at our house kept coming, one after another.  Making plans and canceling them became the norm, as did way too much TV for the kids.  My zombie children didn’t seem to mind all the extra screen time, until we would enter a public institution and they would completely lose their heads and act like hooligans because they hadn’t moved all day. We kept checking out more houses and breaking up more wrestling matches because Daniel Tiger apparently wasn’t doing a good enough job raising them.  Thanks Daniel… you had ONE job.

I won’t ever forget the showing scheduled for right at dinner time.  I left the food on the stove top, covered and ready for my husband and kids to eat right upon returning.  They left for 30 minutes and came back starving.  My husband plated their food and as they sat down to eat, it happened.  The realtor- “Knock Knock!  Didn’t you know you had a showing?”  Apparently my husband uttered some colorful words as he piled the kids into the minivan to eat dinner down the street.  At this point we were both over the selling process.  But we suffered through it (trying not to cuss at any more inconsiderate realtors) and a few more showings later, the first and perfect offer came!  After 3 weeks and 17 showings we could not have signed those papers fast enough.

Another month of house hunting passed before we finally found THE house.  I have to laugh at my mom perspective on choosing houses because I look for: space for them to ride their wiggle car through the house, a yard that you can play baseball in, a sunken living area where they can jump off a ledge whenever they feel the need, and bedrooms that are far enough from the kitchen that we can enjoy coffee for 10 minutes in the morning without them waking up.  These are the expectations in my life right now.  I’m overjoyed to say that all of our wishes were met and we look forward to new memories in our new home.  But first, PACKING.  With kids.  Lord help me…



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