The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Living In The Moment (And My Total Inability To Do So)

Real estate (kind of like life) is feast or famine. I often go months running around like a lunatic showing property, writing contracts, signing listings. Sometimes it gets to the point where it would be hard to pick my husband out of a lineup. Dark curly hair, reddish goatee, ironic t-shirt, jeans and flipflops, affinity for bacon? I think he’s the second from the right… or maybe the one in the middle.

During these stretches of time when I feel the need to Fabreeze the driver’s seat of the GOV weekly to ward against ass-sweat-aroma and I’ve started stock-piling granola bars and wasabi-flavored almonds in the center console so that I don’t keel over from the three sets of back-to-back showings and lack of a lunch break, I daydream constantly about the idea of a weekend off. I arrive home Saturday night to the telltale punched-in-the-eyes look my middle son always gets when he’s spent the day at the pool and what I know I missed out on makes me a little weepy. If I could only have ONE DAY where my phone doesn’t ring, I don’t get any flaming emergency emails and I don’t have to show any property; one day to catch up on laundry, groceries and couch cuddling.

But then, of course, things inevitably slow up. My buyers go under contract or go inactive, my listings get sold and new ones don’t immediately appear to take their places. Ebb and flow, ebb and flow. I relish the quiet and enjoy my new freedom for about 3.5 seconds. I’m a mom and a wife and we have clean clothes to wear and my cats have stopped hissing at me like I’m the stranger in the house. And then I start to wonder if maybe something’s wrong with my phone. I call it a couple of times just to verify it still rings.

This is inevitably where the crazy starts to creep in. Instead of enjoying the time while I have it to do the things I love to do like cook and quilt and play with the wild chimpanzees I call my children, I begin to brood. I start to think about how I have nothing in escrow and I’m probably never going to have anything in escrow again. From there it’s a quick trip down ‘I’m going to lose my house and move in with my parents’ lane. Eventually I decide I probably need to get another job. This sets off a new panic as I haven’t done anything but real estate for a long long time and the country is in a recession. Probably even Walmart won’t hire me.
That’s when I begin to brainstorm things I could sell on Etsy. Capri pants made out of Pokemon cards? The kids have tons of those just sitting around in boxes upstairs, they probably won’t miss them… Ooo, I know, toothpaste sculptures your cat can lick to make her breath minty fresh! I have 18 tubes of toothpaste upstairs I got free from couponing, I can totally make that one work, and it’s marketable!

Eventually Jason’s tied me up and medicated me to get me to calm down about our financial state and my up and down career. I usually begin to mellow and start to enjoy life again right about when the phone starts ringing. “Can you show me 34 houses tomorrow in Desert Ridge? And then 26 in San Tan Valley?”

Someday I’ll learn to expect the slow and enjoy the moment. Probably not soon, though. Say a little prayer for my husband’s sanity, won’t you please?

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