We have had 32 showings in 4 weeks. 32 times we have left the house for strangers to evaluate, sometimes criticize, sometimes compliment the place we call home. Toys put away, carpet vacuumed, diaper smells eliminated or covered by yummy candles and "smelly sticks". I almost grow more attached to the house the more we make it nice.
As much as I try to be detached from unhelpful feelings, I find myself defending our house each time someone finds a "flaw" with it (from not liking the pedestal sink to finding the back yard too small) but when someone compliments its size, layout and general feel, my chest swells with pride. The rise and fall of being evaluated every day by strangers is a bit bizarre and emotionally exhausting at times.
Yesterday, we found out a couple we thought was very interested decided that the house wasn't a good fit for them. The night before, when we thought we were about to receive an offer, I began fantasizing about the next stage in the game: packing, moving and the adventure ahead of us. After finding out that they weren't interested, I was bummed. Moping around the house and being a grump, I finally got annoyed with myself and decided that enough was enough.
Stepping back, I evaluated the situation as this: selling the house is completely out of our control. If we sell it, we have things to look forward to. If we don't, we have things to look forward to. Essentially, the things that really matter will be the same whether we sell it or not. I decided what was most important was that I be a good mother to my children and a good spouse to my husband. Oh, and it would be good to be nice to me too.
So, instead of moping and allowing the tides of change and uncertainty beat me to death, I decided to break free of it and surf it like a groovy, hip, happy chic and to hell with letting things get to me.
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