Monday, April 11, 2016

buy a house. or die trying.

This is what has happened on our Buy A House front:

Found a house.
Put in an offer.
Offer got accepted.
Put our flat on the market.
Got an offer in.
Accepted their offer.

Three months pass. Waiting for our house people to find a house.

Our buyers pull out.
Because one little graduate twerp at the bank [Lloyds. C$nts] wrongly valued our flat twice.
Buyers remove mortgage with Lloyds.
Our people find a house.
They get pressure from their new house sellers to start moving.
They try to bribe them by saying they'll wait if they pay them £10 000. [Yes. Really.]
They tell them to fuck off.
Nevertheless, 'our' house people are forced to put their house back on the market.

[No irony here: we waited 3 months for them to find a house, only to have them now put 'our' house back on the market because they can't wait for us to find a new buyer...]

The market, in the meantime, has slowed down due to the referendum, housing bubble, property stuff.
In those 3 months.
Which means we now have to reduce the price that we are selling. By around £35 000. [I'm chewing my fist as I write this, while simultaneously holding my ever-burgeoning belly.]
Feverishly crunch numbers.
Can we still afford 'our' house if we sell for asking price, and that's even if no one else puts in a higher offer in the meantime, which means we may get into a bidding war?

Might I remind the world - if indeed one gives a shit - that I am due to have 1 x human exit my body in July. If not sooner.

I am stressed and wondering how we will fit this extra human into our flat; while the Brit is manstruating, because there is no other appropriate word to verbalise at how he is coping with this either.

So that's where we are in terms of trying to adult and move on with our lives to bigger, greener spaces.

Stress is tangible.

In the interim we've celebrated Sebby's second birthday with a party that involved a cake so delicious, we all had glazed eyeballs for three hours afterwards.
It was cute as fuck.


 Not high. But close.

He hasn't tantrummed for ages too, which is fairly gratifying. Perhaps it's because I'm getting the hang of what might tick him off now, and when. I know I won't avoid them pointe blank, but I have to say bribing is a very useful skill to have as a parent of a 2 year old.

No one should be adverse to blackmail. Seriously.

Me: Right, we are going to nursery now Sebastian! Hooray! Come and get in your buggy.
Sebastian: No, don' mon it. ['I don't want' it applies to most things]
Me: Do you want some RAISINS?
Sebastian: Mummy, raisins please?
Me: OK, get in your buggy first.

He climbs in.

Sebastian: Mummy raisins now.

Me: No problemo, knock yourself out. [Hands him raisin box.]

The other thing I've noticed is that if he says he doesn't want something, he actually means I do want it. It's just that he wants it five seconds after he's said he doesn't want it.

Sebastian: Don' need it Mummy. [Hands me dummy after sleeping.]
Me: What a good boy! That's right you don't need it, you're a big boy.

[Put it back on shelf]

Sebastian: NO NO NO, DUMMY! MUMMY GIVE ME DUMMY! [Roars/cries]

[Hand it back to him. He immediately shuts up. Has a good suck. And then, twenty seconds later:]

Sebastian: Here mummy, don' need dummy.

And we do this a few times. Until I bribe him with raisins.


He's also become annoyingly cute when it comes to the Naughty Corner.

Me: Sebastian, you throw your spoon ONE MORE TIME and you're going to the naughty corner.

Sebastian: No naughty corner. I don' mon it.

Me: Don't throw your spoon then.

Sebastian: No throw boon. MY boon.

[Throws it.]

Me: Fine, off we go to the naughty corner.

Sebastian: No no no! Mummy hugs? Hugs mummy. Throws little arms around my neck. Clings on for dear life.

I melt. And we hug it out. The end.

Then finally, conversation I had in Primark this afternoon. 

She Who Also Loves Tweed accompanied me to go and buy myself some extraordinarily large pants.
By pants, I mean:


Because my bottom currently only houses half a pant at a time. In that, the current status of my ass is such that a normal pair of pants fits around only one butt cheek.

Je suis enorme.

I am growing a baby out of my backside.

So I take a set of three ginormous XL 'full' pants up to the till, which is being manned by a fellow that looks like Jimmy Saville with a pageboy haircut.

I also have a pair of maternity pajamas, of which he thinks are perfect material to start firing off some bants.
"You don't even have to hoick these up," he says, flashing me a massive, but creepy smile, "as there is a functional placket built-in."
(What is that even?)

"It's so the midwives have easier access...you don't need to hoick anything up, the seams come undone."

Brilliant. Then he picks up the pants. Starts waving them around.

"Ooh look, XL ey?"

Oh God. Just put them in the bag Jimmy.

"Bet you never had to wear XL before ey?"

Oh for God's sake Jimmy, don't make me tell you about my haemorrhoid. Just put 'em in the bag, stop waving them around.

He meant well, but as anyone would know: pants don't equal bants.

Especially if they're XL.

4 comments:

Nicole M said...

HAHA! Pants story...how embarrassing...at least you actually call undies pants - I'm still stuck in the saffa-ness of pants = trousers. Cue embarrassing "Im not wearing pants today" statement and co-worker confusion en masse.

As for the house: :( :( :( this process of house buying the UK is way weird. And unstable. I hope you find another one that you like in SE. I was looking forward to having you as a virtual neighbour :)

Val said...

Hysterical! But so sorry to hear about your problems with house buying. Holding thumbs it will all come right soon.

Just loved Sebastian's birthday cake!

Leena Roy said...


Thanks for sharing this great Post dude

sell my home & sell my property & sell and rent back

Mattie said...

The one thing that I love most bout buying a new house was choosing all the little details before we moved in. I got to pick the carpeting, the cabinets, the appliances, the paint color, and even the pool we had installed in the yard. The day we moved into the house I was thinking it was a dream that I was going to wake up from.