House For Sale, Kids Negotiable (part 1)

This is the first entry of a not-sure-yet-how-many- four-part series on the most pervasive and disruptive event we went through this summer: putting our house up for sale.

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We moved to Houston in 2001 and after having lived in the comfortable, albeit sterile suburbs of Houston for three-and-a-half years, we decided to sell our home and move to central Houston in 2005. Feeling our purchase in the suburbs two years prior had been a bit hasty (we had rented before that), we decided the try-before-you-buy approach, just to be sure we would like the area.

So we rented what would become an energy-sucking hell hole for a year from what will probably always be a complete asshole in an otherwise spectacular neighborhood of our choice.

Unbeknownst to us, the yard at that rental was flea-infested thanks to the neighbors unkempt yard and two chained dogs, and when it got too hot or too wet outside - which is like ALWAYS in Houston - all the critters found their way inside the unsealed, dilapidated home. On the bright side, this is where we first began our relationship with our still contracted pest control guy, Joe. Still, we enjoyed getting to know, and soon fell in love with our neighborhood, the Houston Heights*.

The Heights, so named because of its location on high land, is a diverse, small-town community in the heart of Houston, home to many young professionals, progressive families, and empty-nesters who want the amenities of the city, but a space to call their own. This community is known for its Victorian homes, shady boulevards, restored bungalows.

Our house is none of that, actually. Couldn’t afford any of those.

But we did find a charming San Francisco style, three bedroom, two-and-a-half bath two story. More importantly, it was relatively new construction so it was essentially move-in ready.

It was also free of rats.

We love our neighborhood because in addition to the quaint shops and galleries, cozy cafes, and unique restaurants, the Heights offers socioeconomic and demographic diversity. Which also brings with it a few things that some people would not like nearby: Signs around in Spanish and Vietnamese. There are used car dealerships down a major thoroughfare. Accessible public transportation. Visible homelessness. Social service centers. Day laborers seeking work. Okay, and maybe a serial arsonist.

These things don’t bother me too much. As a lesbian and a Hispanic, I’m already the “people unlike us”, the ones many (though not all) folks in our prior suburban experience pay to keep away via gated communities and deed restrictions, and big-box stores anchoring the well-groomed retail centers.

For me, the diversity of the neighborhood is what best defines the community. We’re all in it together. Doesn’t matter your income, or skin color, or first language. We help each other out, we watch out for each other, we do movies on the lawn to raise funds for park improvements, we patron neighborhood businesses, and the neighborhood throws some awesome events like Lights In The Heights and White Linen Night.

Jennifer and I both reverse commute, resulting in a fairly easy thirty minute one-way drive. That seems long, yes, but Houston is big. We’re five to ten minutes from every major highway, twenty to thirty minutes from both major airports, fifteen minutes from downtown, fifteen minutes from the major sports venues, museums (including the Children’s Museum), theatres, the farmer’s market, and the zoo. And from our front door, we’re steps away from fabulous neighbors, and less than a fifty or so yard walk from a park that the kids have been walking back and forth to since they could toddle.

I’m so glad we got in when we did, too, because there is no way we could afford to buy in our neighborhood now. Not and still get a similarly aged home with the approximate square footage that’s under three stories and doesn’t share a driveway or wall with the next owner.

And yet.

For a multitude of reasons, we had decided we should consider moving to a space that would suit our family better (different configuration, bigger back yard, closer to work, closer to family, maybe even a different city), but that would require first selling our home.

During a recession.

With twin two-year-olds underfoot.

Before listing, however, there was much to do. So because I've gone on long enough here, the next parts in this series will detail what we did to make the house show-ready, including de-cluttering and purging, organizing, improving curb appeal, a virtual tour. And hiding the children. Culminating in the end result and what we learned in the process.

*For more on Houston Heights, check out The Heights Life, a blog about the neighborhood authored by a fellow neighborhood kids group parent, a mom who, without ever meeting me beforehand, let me borrow a handful of kid DVDs for our holiday commute, and who didn’t blacklist me even when it took me six months to return them.

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The entire series…

Part 1: Our Neighborhood. And the decision to sell our home.
Part 2: Preparing the house for listing.
Part 3: Staging Our Home for showings.
Part 4: How we (barely) survived showings…and where we ended up.

Comments

[LauraC]

VERY interested in all your advice on this because when we get back from the beach, we're buying a new house. You know because we don't have enough stress!

[Goddess in Progress]

Hoo, boy! I'm very interested to see how this pans (panned) out. While it is not imminent, I know we'll be moving sometime within the next three years. And I'm a little anxious just thinking about it...

[battynurse]

Sounds like a fascinating neighborhood. I love neighborhoods with character. One of my favorite places I've ever lived (minus the roaches I shared the apartment with) was in downtown Portland, Oregon. I LOVED it there. So much going on all the time.