it's a bit of a fixer-upper

If you haven't heard the story about the time Alex and I bought our first home at the height of the real estate boom and then tried to sell it--unsuccessfully, for two years--following the crash of 2008, there is an HGTV episode of "My First Sale" in which we chronicle our adventures. Although, being a "reality" TV show, it didn't exactly chronicle our real life adventure. Our takeaway from this experience was discovering that we are not lucky in real estate. At least that was our first clue.

Our second clue that real estate is not our bag came when we moved to Austin, a city in the midst of an enormous growth spurt, and learned that that the so-called "economic downturn" (the one where we finally ended up selling our house in North Carolina and owing money on the deal) didn't seem to have an effect on Austin. At least not when we moved here in 2011. Or 2012. Or 2013...or '14...or '15. Huge pro that the city is thriving; con that we wanted to get back into the home-owning saddle.

Last spring we were finally feeling settled. After living in our neighborhood for four years we were sure it was the right one for us. So sure, in fact, that we closed ourselves off to even thinking about houses in a different school district. We love the neighborhood and the school, so in a rare moment of confidence, we vowed to begin the Austin house hunt in earnest. Once again, however, Alex and I were clued into the fact that real estate and we do not see eye to eye. We found ourselves in a perhaps even bigger real estate boom--at least locally and, specifically, the neighborhood in which we want to plant our roots--than we were ten years ago.

If you haven't had the pleasure of searching for a home when there is great demand yet little inventory, let me give you a hint: have your sh** together; be ready to put an offer on a house after looking at the morning it goes on the market (even if your partner hasn't set foot in the house); and be prepared for a bidding war. That is what happened to us in June. The long and short of it is we did not get the house we wanted (we came in second) and I was sure we would never own a home again. At least not without moving 30 minutes out of town into the great wide suburbs. But then the summer flew by and kept us busy and school started, for both me and the children, and we had soccer and soccer and piano to keep us busy. The next thing I knew we were spending Thanksgiving in Disney World and getting ready for Christmas. We looked at a couple of houses here and there, but one reeked of cigarette smoke and another had walls so thin Alex almost shook them down with his bare hands. Besides, like I said, Christmas was coming and life was whizzing by us.

But then...

About two weeks before Christmas my realtor texted me with the address and a picture of a place that was going on the market shortly. After several drive-by stalkings on my part, I convinced myself this was it. This was the house we had been waiting for all this time! The reason things didn't work out in June was because this house was waiting for us to climb up its front porch stairs that need reinforcing. The only problem was, and it was a pretty significant one, we couldn't get inside. The owner had apparently fled town and left the house in disarray. The listing agent wouldn't let us in because she feared the mess would scare us off (obviously she was not aware of my ability to have houses "speak" to me as I see past the dirt and clutter).

Finally my agent convinced the seller's agent to at least send us pictures of the interior. It was dirty and it was cluttered, but we climbed up that platform and dove back into the real estate pool: we made an offer on the house without ever walking inside. Alex was out of town at the time. I sent him a text saying, more or less, "Our agent is sending you a contract to sign. Just sign it. We haven't been in the house yet. NBD. I'll explain later."

And then we waited. But not for long. The agent got back to us immediately saying the seller didn't want to look at the contract without us having been inside the home first. So he had called our bluff. But then we called his right back. Alex was still away, so our agent and I checked out the dwelling on a sunny Sunday morning and let the listing agent know our offer stood. We even bumped up the option fee for a little extra incentive. I should also mention that we offered above the would-be asking price because that's the market in which we find ourselves.

And then we waited; almost a week went by. And Christmas was three days away, and there was no word from the seller. And then we waited. And I was at Target on the 23rd getting stocking stuffers for the kids when my agent texted me that the seller had decided to wait until after the holidays to get the place cleaned up and "fully market it," which everyone knows is code for "Thanks but no thanks. I'm expecting multiple offers." Just like that, we were out of the game. Did I mention real estate isn't really our thing?

So we celebrated Christmas and our early New Year's Eve, and in the spirit of the season I forgave the guy who wouldn't sell us his house and resolved to move on in the spirit of a new year (but I really wanted that house).

Any guesses on what happened next? On January 2nd my agent texted me once again to say the seller had had a change of heart and wanted to go with our offer. True story. My theory is he watched some sappy made-for-TV cheesy Christmas program and his heart grew three times its size.

So that is what has been occupying my time the greater part of January 2016. Alex and I were extremely hesitant to even mention the we're-buying-a-house thing to anyone because we were (and still are) nervous that something would fall through and we'd be back in our rental house for the unforeseeable future. We're less than two weeks out from closing, however, and things have gone relatively smoothly--if you don't count the number of times the "underwriter" came back to us to verify employment and documents and funds and signatures and whatever else they could cook up to drive us crazy until we got the final "clear to close" last week.

After all this time (speaking specifically of the five-ish years I've been blogging), it looks like things have come full circle. When I started this blog, Alex and I were trying to sell our house in Charlotte, NC and hoping to stumble upon a fixer-upper where I could chronicle the ins and outs of making a dinky little house our home (or Sassy Shack, if you will). Obviously I am not a great soothsayer, but it turns out that we did find that sassy shack. It took us five years and the house is about 1700 miles away from Charlotte, but it's in an amazing town called Austin, TX that we love and has truly become our home. Stay tuned.

#tbt

Throwback Thursday to the days when I had a camera (but not a good one). Before Catcher had two sisters and wasn't even two himself. We were visiting Milwaukee for Alex's high school reunion (15 years). I was eight months pregnant with baby number two, but we didn't know it was Scout. We knew "it" was a girl, but we didn't know who she was. Our little family was living in a little house in Charlotte, NC with no plans to move to Texas. I wasn't planning to be pregnant again just one year after this photo was taken (Tillie) and had no idea I would soon take on the role that runs my life: full-time mom (part-time psychologist, nurse, terrorist negotiator, chauffeur, life coach, housekeeper, warden, teacher, line cook, judge [and jury]...just to name a few):

I wouldn't change it. And speaking of not changing, this is our guy today. He's had a haircut or two, but he still looks exactly the same--minus a little baby fat--as he did four years ago:

25 days

This is me. The one who takes the pictures and writes the words. This is me--un-touched and slightly exhausted on day 25 of my 29 (consecutive) days without Alex. You can see the hole where my nose was once pierced and the freckles that salsa over my cheeks samba across my nose. My hair is brassy and could use a trim. I point out these "flaws" so one reading this doesn't mistakenly think that I think I look hot in this photo. I think I look real in this photo (dry lips and all, even though I strategically left out my graying roots...haha!).

I turned the camera on myself because I wondered how the kids feel with my lens inches from their eyebrows and hovering around unsuspecting corners to capture that thing we call "life." I also realize that when you are the picture-taker there are rarely photos taken of you (especially one where you, the picture-taker, approves the lighting, composition, etc.). My 37 and a-half birthday is on Monday (the day Alex gets home!), so when I'm older and totally gray and more freckled and chapped, the little guys can look back on this picture and think that I wasn't always that old...I used to be just marginally old.

jump around

I got another book on photography. It looks like I've found a new hobby, so you'll have to bear with me--or suffer through--as I try to figure this thing out. The new book is Beyond Snapshots, and just reading 40 pages today has given me a better understanding of my camera then after sifting through the owner's guide 20 or so times. This afternoon I gave myself a tutorial in freezing motion--remember, my camera is now, and forever will be, off auto mode. Catcher was happy to participate in my little experiment.

The more I read the more I realize I have a lot to learn. But my new photography obsession (for lack of a better word) has caused me to reflect on the evolution of this blog. It's funny to think back to how The Sassy Shack started as diary of sorts to document the sale of our house in Charlotte. I was a working mom at the time with only one child, although I was pregnant with Scout. I thought that we would sell our house and buy a "fix-it-upper" to make our own. The blog would chronicle the ups and downs of home renovation. I would remain a working mother and spend my evenings blogging about paint colors, bathroom tile and fluffing pillows. I had no idea that the sale, or lack there of, of our house would land us on a reality TV show (my secret dream) or that a year after starting the blog I would be pregnant again (that's #3) and about to move halfway across the country. The real kicker is that once we landed in Austin I became a stay-at-home mom whose main objective is making it through the day. And it turns out that there was a new inspiration slowly creeping into the driver's seat of this blog: my three children.

Maybe it turns out that my "job" (in addition to the little things like carpool and keeping the house clean and reminding Alex to take out the trash) is documenting the lives of these amazing creatures. Life is nothing if not unpredictable, and that's why I've never put myself on a five-year (or even one-year) plan. I'll still write about paint colors and my decorating tips, but look for more, albeit experimental at this stage, photography as The Sassy Shack continues to grow.

back on the grid

Did you miss me? I've been off the grid for so long that I don't even remember what this blog is about. I found this picture and it kind of reminded me...

This is our house a couple days after we moved in and a few days before we abandoned it for five weeks. Alex was feeling particularly project-minded on this morning and decided to rip out the overgrown, unkempt bushes taking over the front of the house. But more on that--and other planned projects--later. In the meantime, what have we been doing with ourselves?

Like I said, I've been off the grid for so long that posting for the first time since July makes me feel like I'm starting this blog all over again. And I guess in a way I am. Moving into our new house this summer was the first time since before this blog even began that I felt like I was home. Having our house in Charlotte "staged" for selling for two years, thinking we were moving back to New York, having Scout, deciding we were actually moving to Texas, and then becoming pregnant with Tillie had me lose all sense of grounding. But now I'm back. I've come to terms with--and embraced--my Austin life as a stay-at-home mom (I even have plans of getting elected to the preschool board...no kidding). My creative side has been resuscitated with the move into a house, and I'm planning so many projects in my head that I should never be short on blog material (unless we're short on money...ha!).

All that being said, I feel like this post should really say something. Then again, I need to ease back into this, so I'll start at the beginning with some snapshots from moving day.

Note: Scout's outfits were entirely created by Scout.

what's in a name

When I started this blog I was a working mother with [only] one child and another on the way. Alex and I were trying to sell our house in Charlotte, NC and I imagined that this blog would chronicle the ups and downs of that process. In addition I had a vision in my head that, after the sale, we would purchase a fixer-upper and turn it into the home of our dreams. Redoing a fixer-upper is what inspired the "shack" portion of this blog's name, and sassy comes from me fancying myself a bit sassy. Thus you have the birth of sassyshack.

Since May of 2010 my life has changed. For starters, I now have three children and I'm no longer working (at least not in the conventional sense). We've also moved 1700 miles and don't own a home of our own. Our apartment is bigger than our house in Charlotte, but parking on the second level of a dark garage isn't the best trade off. Yet life in Austin far outshines living in North--almost South--Carolina. Which brings me back to my point that life has changed, and so the focus of my blog has changed. It's taken me a while to reach, or rather admit, this point but I'm writing more about my day-to-day life as a mom because that's what I know. Maybe my trips to the Coffee Bean aren't entertaining, but forgetting to lock my daughter in her car seat and finding her standing on the console beside me is. Because we all make mistakes, and we can find solace--or more importantly, humor--in knowing that we aren't the only ones. It's okay to drink champagne in the hospital following your delivery and it's okay to tell your three year-old the parking garage monster is going to get you if you don't get in the car.

I guess for now I'm just a mom blogger, but I hope I'm not just another mom blogger. Stay tuned.

happy birthday to sassy!

Can you believe it? This blog is one year-old today, and today is my 251st post. While 251 is slightly less than my projected average of 5 posts per week (that would equal 260), I can't complain. 

Let's take a look over the past year, shall we? Here's a list of things that I thought would have happened over the past year but have not:

- our house sold

- we live in a box house

- we're elbow-deep in projects rehabbing a mid-centry gem (if said "box house" didn't work out)

- we packed and unpacked an entire house

- we moved boxes from room to room to room to avoid the inevitable unpacking

- catcher has his own room

- scout has her own room

- I have a bigger kitchen with newer appliances and I actually cook on occasion

- we have a great outdoor living space -- just in time for the warm weather

- we (and I mean the adults) have our own bathroom

- I finally got started on the many projects in my head: reupholstering, making a headboard, etc.

- we've painted all the rooms in the house and I'm thinking about repainting some of them as I type

- I tried out for HGTV's Design Star

The list could go on, but let me interject with some things that have happened over the past year that I thought would not:

- I almost had a baby on the front porch

- I had a baby without an epidural

- the baby came home from the hospital and slept in our room for 6? 8? months...I've lost track

- the baby and Catcher are now sharing a room

- our house is still on the market

- I'm completely over the box house

- I'm kind of into yard work

- I've started cooking dinner about 4 nights a week

- we're going to be on HGTV's My First Sale

- Boston Rob won Survivor

So there you have it: my year in a nutshell. While over the past year I expected to learn things about myself like how many boxes I could successfully Tetris (yes, I'm using the game Tetris as a verb) into the back of a U-Haul or how long it takes to pick out the perfect shade of white, I actually learned some other things. I learned that a family of four can live in 847 square feet. I learned that I can sometimes be a little psycho about keeping 847 square feet clean (sorry, babe). I learned that it doesn't matter if your "dream" house sells right in front of your eyes because you're going to change your mind in a couple months anyway. I learned that the term "dream house" is trite, and I'd like to remove it from my vocabulary (along with "pop of color"). I learned that life is ever-changing, so this blog has only just begun.

a perfect life

For the first eight years of my life I lived in the same house; in the ensuing eight, my family moved four times. Although I managed to finish my high school years without packing another box, I picked up the habit once again when I started college and moved every year--including a semester living in Valencia, Spain. Upon graduation I took off to Europe for six months and then returned to the states to my high school abode under the supervision of my parents as I "saved" money for my grand move to New York City. A month shy of the anniversary of my college graduation I finally landed in Manhattan, where I slept on a friend's sofa on the Upper East Side until I found a place of my own.

The story continues over the next six years as I moved from the East Village to NoLita to SoHo to the West Village to Hell's Kitchen to Hell's Kitchen (#2). Needless to say, the moving bug is in me and a part of me, and I recently found a kindred spirit in Meghan Daum's Life Would be Perfect if I Lived in that House. Certain thoughts and emotions she writes throughout the book feel as if they could have been lifted from my own life, and I find it no coincidence that I stumbled upon this book as I am at a crossroads (i.e.: moving point) once again.

My husband and I have lived in our home (the first house either one of us ever owned) in Charlotte, North Carolina for five years. How we ended up in Charlotte from New York is further testament to my innate desire to move, and for the past two years I've actually toyed with the idea of moving back to the city. However, a recent visit to New York convinced me that now--with one child and another arriving in July--is the time to stay put. Yet we've outgrown our 900 square-foot, two-bedroom home and are ready to (yes!) move.

I'm dedicating this blog to our move: the ins and outs and ups and downs of selling your first home and (eventually) purchasing another. I don't know where we'll end up:  in my "dream" of a modern box; in a mid-century marvel; in a cookie-cutter cottage on a cul-de-sac (never!)? Wherever and whatever it is, I plan to decorate with verve and hope to inspire like-minded individuals who want to make their house their own. At the end of the day it isn't about money or what your friends or neighbors have--any shack can be a dream home, and a true dream home should showcase some sass.

If there's one thing I've learned from Daum's book, it's that happiness doesn't come from a zip code or a number on a mailbox or even the walls and floorboards that hold the structure together. I understand now that you never stop learning, especially about yourself, and I can't wait to see where this journey takes me.