Nail Biting and Such...

     This week was a big week for the Urban family. We set a closing date for our co-op which is exactly seven days away. Talk about pressure! There is so much to get done in this coming week that my head is spinning. Couple that with the fact that our new temporary residence is my mother's house, and I am relatively sure that I have sprouted at least three new wrinkles to go with the seven new gray hairs that I'm sporting. It's not that I don't love my mother. Truly, I do, and I am more than grateful that we are able to stay with her and save some money while we continue our home search, but there is something about moving back in with your parents that transports you right back to being fifteen years old and sneaking alcohol into the house in your book bag (not that I ever did that, Mom). I am kind of worried that I might go back to having a curfew. I wish I could say that I'm only joking about that, but that would be a half-truth.

     We also submitted bids on two houses this week. The current economy being what it is, our initial offers were low balled by a bit, but that is the nature of the market. We took quite a loss on our co-op, with the expectation that it would come back around to us when purchasing a house. One of the houses refused to even counter, as our initial offer was too low for their taste. We then chose to submit a final offer to them, slightly higher than the initial offer. I am pretty sure we will not hear back from that realtor. I surprisingly do not feel that badly about this situation, as I feel that the taxes in that particular town are grossly disproportionate to the amenities offered. As much as I hate the phrase, "it wasn't meant to be," offered as words of comfort every time we miss out on a house, I have to say that I feel that it is applicable to this particular scenario.

     On to the nail-biting situation. We submitted a bid on a wonderful property this week that happens to be in the same neighborhood as the Ex house. It is not quite close enough that I can egg the Ex on Halloween without leaving my yard, but it is close enough that little Urban will still be able to attend the same wonderful elementary school. My apologies if being selective about schools sounds "elitist," or "snobby" (a word that I despise), but as a former teacher, I refuse to pay sky-high taxes on a school district that does not encourage my child to work to her full potential or teaches explicitly for the purposes of testing as opposed to a vested interest in making sure little Urban actually learns something. To that end, I also need to make sure that our family can continue to exist as a one-income household until all of our children, present and future, are in school full-time, which means private schooling, for us, is not an option.  In addition to researching mercilessly about each school district that we consider, I also do school visits so I can see what the average day will look like in my child's school at any given point. In summary, the schools are a non-negotiable point for me.

     But it's not just the schools that have me sold on the neighborhood of the Ex. It is the general vibe. It feels like a neighborhood. It looks like the kind of place where we can host great block parties, if they're not already in effect, we can grow to trust our neighbors, and we can just take lazy strolls on a random sunny afternoon without noise pollution, high volumes of traffic, or streets without sidewalks. There is a town pool, there is a nature preserve, and there are parks, parks, parks. To confirm my suspicion about the level of friendliness in the neighborhood further, I was in touch with a woman who lives in the vicinity this week thanks to the wonderful world of Meetup, and in addition to the friendly tone of her email, she gave me tons of information, and even offered a play date so that our girls could meet!

     Sure, there is a certain stigma attached to moving to the suburbs. They say people tend to be too competitive (umm, we live in New York, I am pretty sure this competitive spirit is not exclusive to the suburbs), people there are all rich (we are a walking testament to this statement being all kinds of false), that the suburbs are cut off with reality, but my reality is that I would not trade that neighborly, welcomed, homey feeling for anything in the world. I like leaving my windows open on summer nights and hearing the crickets and cicadas. I enjoy the idea of having a backyard full of neighborhood kids, running around throwing water balloons at each other. Does this make me a suburban, minivan-driving, soccer mom? Maybe, but I'm okay with that. And for now at least, there is no soccer or minivan attached to the Urban family. I will be sure to keep you posted on our status regarding both. In the meantime, I will bite my nails, waiting to hear back from our realtor regarding our offer. Until I hear differently on this one, we're still in the game. Fingers crossed!

Let the Documentation Begin!

     I am surrounded by boxes. Big boxes, little boxes, boxes that are flattened and need to reconstructed so that they can be filled, and boxes that have been built, yet sit empty on the floor with their future occupants nearby, waiting to be wrapped in bubble wrap so that they can survive the trip from two bedroom co-op to unoccupied room in my mother's house, to what will hopefully sooner rather than later, be our new house. There is no shortage of boxes around here, to say the least. We are, however, running short on lots of other things. Patience. Time. Availability of houses in our target area and price range that we have not already seen. To understand why I sit surrounded by boxes, it is important to start at the beginning of this little home ownership journey which we have embarked upon.

     It all started in 2006. Mr. Urban and I decided to buy our first place together. Big step, but a long time coming. We had been dating for two years, and while it wasn't exactly long distance, frequent trips across a bridge with constantly-increasing toll prices were not doing much to help us pocket any kind of savings. We decided that we would purchase a two bedroom co-op. We pounded the pavement to find the perfect place, looking both in my neck of suburbia and his hometown of Queens. Neither of us seemed to want to budge as far as where we would ultimately live, but as luck had it, my first (and only) job offer came from an employer on his side of the bridge. My fate was sealed. We were staying in NYC. From beginning to end, the entire process of purchasing our first place took us about six months. We picked a place, submitted an offer, interviewed with the co-op board, set a closing date, and moved in. Quick, clean, and painless. I loved it!

     Truth be told, there are a lot of things that I love about our co-op, as they are the little things that make it our home. My daughter learned to walk in this house. Her bedroom waited patiently for her to be discharged from NICU when she was born. I have a thousand pictures of her sleeping in that crib because I was so relieved when she was finally home. Our "suede paint" accent wall in the living room is gorgeous, and always the first thing people comment on. The completely renovated bathroom with all of our touches is absolutely stunning, and if you could take an entire room with you, I would be throwing our bathroom in the back of a U-Haul. Sadly, it would fit, which is why we now need to find a house. The agreement was that when we purchased a house, it would be in the suburbs, whether that happened to be Long Island, or Westchester County. Ironically, Mr. Urban's job is now on my former side of the bridge, so we are paying that toll daily while living in Queens. That toll which, might I add, has gone up about four dollars round-trip since the beginning of our relationship.

     It is time to move on to bigger, and what I'm praying will be better things. Since the purchase of our co-op, we have acquired a dog, become Mr. Urban & Mrs. Suburban-Urban, and added a baby Urban to the mix. While I love the emotional closeness that our family shares, we are physically on top of one another. I'm not a fan. So we put our co-op on the market in July, and by November, we had a buyer. We were hopeful, but did not think that our apartment would move so quickly, especially as our co-op board has a tendency to be a little difficult in regard to what sellers can and cannot do. Since July, we have also been looking at houses back in suburbia, where I was raised. It was lots of fun at first. Innocently enough, I looked at tons and tons of houses online. One Sunday in June, out of sheer boredom and a bit of curiosity as to what was out there in our price range, we went Open House hopping. As we weren't even listed yet, I knew there was no reality to us buying a house that day, but it was still fun to look. As luck would have it, we fell in love with one of the houses, but it was snatched up off the market shortly after the Open House.

     That day, however, was a turning point in our process, because it was the day we met The Realtor. Now that our co-op is sold and it is in fact reality that we are buying a house, I actually believe that if you tally up all of the hours Mr. Urban spends at work vs. the hours little Urban and I spend looking at houses, I spend many more hours with The Realtor than I do with  my husband. I will go on record as stating that The Realtor is an absolute saint. Together, I am fairly certain, that he and I have seen at least 100 houses. We've seen houses in good areas and houses in bad areas. We've seen houses that were fully remodeled, and a house that was literally being held up by termite-bitten tree trunks. The Realtor is tireless in his efforts to help us find a house. This past Saturday, he set up showings for nine houses, and spent the entire day walking us through each. Of those nine, we have two top choices, as well as a distant third from another marathon house-hunting Saturday a few weeks ago. The Realtor is determined to find us not just any house so he can make a commission, but the perfect house for us.

     To his credit, he did exactly that about a month and a half ago, and it looked like all of the stars were aligning. He negotiated a fantastic deal for us on a house that we all absolutely loved (well, except doggie Urban who did not get a chance to see it). The inspection was done, and the owner had even given me her card so that we could get a discount on gas and electric. The contract went out, and we were feeling great. However, on that same day, another buyer came in and offered full asking price. And just like that, our dream house was gone. We now refer to this house as the Ex House.

     So all of this background brings us to our current state of affairs. Our buyers have been approved by the co-op board, and we are now waiting on some paperwork at the bank to clear so that we can set a closing date. From the information that has trickled down to me, that could be a week from now, to three weeks from now, to God-knows-when (this time frame is always extremely helpful when trying to single-handedly pack up an entire household). Our house search continues but we remain hopeful that one of our two front runners from this past Saturday will pan out. Oh, and in the meantime, we will be moving in with my mother and grandparents. Which is an entirely different post. But, at least there is no shortage of boxes.