Point of view matters. In a recent graduate class our professor gave us a writing prompt. The prompt was to tell a true story from three different points of view. I chose to write about when we sold our house. I told it from a third-person omniscient POV where in my head I heard Ryan Reynolds narrating the experience. I wrote the second-person POV to illustrate how the boys experienced the situation and the first-person perspective from my own view. Spoiler alert: I despised that house.

This was an interesting exercise as I realized upon looking back specifically how the boys felt about it. I think the combination of the passing of time with taking the opportunity to really take into account the place where they were coming from helped me to understand their perspective better. That sounds terrible I know, but while we tried to be compassionate in the moment it was a really rushed activity and looking back we were admittedly dismissive. The issue was exacerbated by the fact that after we chose to sell the house my mother-in-law passed away and it was Christmas. 2020 was a rough year.

On a lighter note, have you ever seen the 1986 movie, Money Pit, starring Tom Hanks and Shelley Long? This house is the best visual aid I can come up with to offer what that nightmare we bought back in 2008 was like!

In Summary:

1. Mom’s Point of View: This house is condemnable.
2. Dad’s Point of View: This house is too far from work. Either I’m going to fall asleep driving or we need to take a loan out to pay for gas to keep this commute up.
3. Kid’s Point of View: This house is home. I was born here! (No, they were born in hospitals an hour away) “And, and… How can we move, look at that” as they point to the white stain on the broken maple floor “that is where Cabby threw up!” – Cabby is our beloved family dog who crossed the rainbow bridge five years ago.

Well, now that you have the gist of where this story is going….

Third Person:

In 2008 a house was purchased. If they ever made one mistake in their marriage it was buying that house. It was built in 1956 and renovated allegedly just prior to going up for sale. Perhaps the 1970s dog poop brown shag carpet should have served as a red flag. Band-Aids, the house was full of them only, this couple was young, inexperienced, and didn’t recognize them as such. Drop ceilings would conceal that there was nothing between them and the roof. Dust would overtake these areas and they would become a haven for critters of every imaginable kind and size. Wood paneling would cover sheetrock and do its best to keep the house’s secrets. Secrets such as HOLES and when the young foolish couple would tear down the panels that once held embossed images of various woodland animals with antlers to make a nursery for their firstborn, they would find Ziploc baggies taped to wooden posts with weed. That explains EVERYTHING!!! the couple thought. The young wife would spend the next thirteen years attempting to make this place home, after each baby came home from the hospital, she would painstakingly attempt to feed her instinct to nest and protect her little ones. At every single turn, she would experience disappointment as simple repairs were nearly impossible and the major renovation it desperately needed was out of reach.  After the animal kingdom decided it was a suitable habitat, she went to her husband and said, “it is time to sell to one of those house flippers.”

Second Person:

This is the only home you have ever known. Bundled up in handmade blankets that great grandma made just for you, you were carried over the threshold by two very in-love parents. Your first steps were here. It is clean. Everything works well enough. Your needs for safety, nourishment, shelter, and love are met. You enjoy playing outside in the fenced-in yard and talking to Ruger, the sweet German Shepherd Dog next door. You built a fort behind the garage. You ride your scooter up and down the driveway. When you were a toddler mom would load you up in your little red wagon and walk the neighborhood. You’d hear chirps from the tops of oak trees and see squirrels sprint across people’s yards. Mommy’s voice would talk about all of it as you chatted about the weather – “is it warm or cold, sunny, or gray?” She’d talk about the neighbor’s cars; what kind they were and what color they were. You would know she’s stressed about things you don’t understand but to you, everything is perfect.

The extended family lived with you for a while. Your aunt moved out in the summer of 2020. Then she and her boyfriend got Covid. The remainder of extended family moved out just before Christmas. This Christmas was hard! The grownups don’t always get along well, so the separation sort of made sense. Covid has not touched you. Mommy and Daddy are VERY careful.

You wake up on Christmas morning and run straight for the tree! Daddy is not here. That is weird, but mommy has everything ready. You open your presents and mommy fixes breakfast. Everything seems fine. Daddy comes home, you find out that Grandmother passed away. You feel sad. Your parents are obviously sad, but they put together your stuff, play games, and put the batteries in the toys that need them anyway. The next day you find out that they are selling the house and you are moving closer to where daddy works. “What about our toys? What about our tree in the backyard?  What about Herbie!!!!” Before you move that last weekend in February with tears streaming down your face, you make your dad cut the floor out so you can keep the stained dog vomit as your fondest memory of your dream home.

First Person:

I remember meeting my husband after work for the viewing at Birch Park house. We didn’t even have human children yet (just Buffy the “talking” cat and our Cabby), but the mama bird in me was excited to lay down roots and make a nest. I always had three kids in my heart and this house had four bedrooms and two bathrooms! It was built in 1956 with recent renovations. The original house ended at the back wall of the kitchen. The previous owner added a drop-down living room, utility room, bedroom, and mudroom. This was my favorite part of the house. The wood paneling was rustic and fit the room. It had a brick fireplace in the corner. We spray-painted the mantle bright yellow at the same time we painted the wooden initials to hang up on the wall the bedroom of our oldest child’s room (N1). His room was the first and would end up being the only full renovation we would make in the house. At every turn, we found new problems with exorbitant costs.  His “nursery” would not be ready until he was four years old!

Every summer we would experience electric bills that felt like car notes only to find out that the dear previous owner did not update the A/C when he updated the house. And do not get me started on the garage upgrade to one of the bathrooms and the “master bedroom.” My in-laws bought us window units. It made the summer bearable.

Every spring/summer we would find slugs in the house as well. Yes, you read that right…slugs. I called for years every exterminator I could find on google. They could not recommend how to get rid of them because they typically are garden problems. No. kidding.  When baby number two came along (N2) my husband told me that there was no way were we tearing down the paneling in his room. We painted it. He did, however, take down the drop ceiling. We were sure that since this was the original part of the house it would not be a big deal. We. Were. Wrong. “Oh, look a skylight!” Try a giant hole in the ceiling with exposed electrical wiring. My husband patched it and built a lovely decorative box around it.

For a time, my entire side of the family also lived with us. Cue baby number three (Count J)! Then a pandemic! Then the mushrooms arrived. They added that special FUNgi to take our minds off of Covid. They grew through the carpet in the bathroom. Yes, you read that correctly as well. Now, let’s add frogs, snakes, and X-Men-level-mutated cockroaches! We live in the US by the way, just in case you were thinking it sounded like the plagues of Egypt. I liked the spiders; they killed a lot of the other critters. Nothing, however, would eat the slugs. We all just thought they were gross. Okay, so then my family moved out. After stepping over a giant hole in the floor of the bathroom I suggested that it was time to sell this demon-spawned mistake to the first available house flipper and get the hell out. I hate bugs, not to mention all the other stuff that was wrong with the house. When we left the kids had decided that the electrical wiring short in the kitchen lights was a poltergeist. They named it Herbie. “Adios Herbs!”

Our perception truly is our reality…

The moral of the story I suppose is perspective. One person’s nightmare can be another’s dream. Children understand more than we give them credit for and certainly more than they say. All parties involved have valid feelings, always. Writing in that second-person POV was hard, and I don’t know if I pulled it off even a little bit, but it helped me realize that our boys were upset about moving because to them that house was home. Their needs were always met there, so despite all the trouble we saw, none of it touched them. I think that is a parenting win! I mean, I thought the place was condemnable. I legit wrote a horror story for a different course with the house as my demon-possessed antagonist. The teacher complimented my imagination. HAHAHA, I told her it was “well researched.” The house itself made my husband’s left eye twitch. But to the kids, it was the nest. It was home. That is not to say that we did not make a hard choice or the right choice for that matter in moving. It was the right thing to do for our family at the time. It is just one of many examples of how parenting or being an adult for that matter is challenging. Two years later they LOVE our new home, and we are all much happier. Naturally, being the overthinker that I am I have lost many a night’s sleep or day’s sleep worrying that we scarred the children for life.