My kids are feeling this I-want-a-house-itis as well. We spent all of July back with family in the Midwest and my boys were in heaven in the house I grew up in. It’s an old Queen Anne style place with both a front and back stairs, a basement, an attic, and three bathrooms. It has a gigantic front yard and a back yard so big that it could pass for a small LA neighborhood park. And in case you think my parents are serious ballers or something, nooo, my mom stayed at home and my dad works in education. They just don’t live in California like we do.
Since we’ve been back in LA, I’ve heard my seven-year-old whine, “Mom, can we get a house like Grandma and Grandpa’s? Why don’t we have a house?”
My four-year-old has twisted the knife with his, “If I give you the money in my piggy bank, can we get a house? And then can I get a dog?”
They break my heart with their pleading for a puppy and their schemes to convince our landlord to let them have one. Their puppy dreams aren’t going to be a reality any time soon though since I’ve given up my full-time job to be at home with them. I know there’s no way we could swing a mortgage around here on what I make from writing plus my husband’s income. We’re not crazy, no matter what some of these real-estate agents tell us we qualify for. I’m not trying to spend 60 percent of my income on a mortgage. And I’m really not feeling the so-called affordability in neighborhoods with bars on the windows. What’s the point in having a yard if your kids can’t play outside due to high crime? I mean, there’s a reason why when you drive through certain neighborhoods in this city you don’t see kids outside in the middle of the afternoon.
So how do I deal with this? Well, this morning I found myself snapping, “Be grateful you even have a place to live! Do you know how many kids like you are homeless around the world?”
Yep, I feel like an old school parent shaming their child into cleaning their plate by referencing starving kids in Nofoodistan. The truth is that not having a house sometimes makes me feel a little like a failure as a parent. Every boy should have a yard and a dog, right? My kids should at least have the standard of living I grew up with, shouldn’t they?
The reality is that staying here in LA is a choice we’re making and I feel a little selfish doing it. Even though we could buy a place across the street from my parents for $200K, I don’t want to live in the Midwest. There’s something satisfying about being able to sit outside in a t-shirt and shorts and chat on the phone to folks who are shivering through a snowstorm.
So will my kids be adults in therapy over not having a house? I don’t know but I doubt it. In the meantime, I guess I’ll keep saving for the day when the housing bubble bursts and prices come back down to reasonable levels. I just hope that day will be sometime in my lifetime.
