Mother Doesn't Always Know Best

When we first decided to move in with Bruce's parents, I wrote about a text from my mother ("Mother Knows Best") that put my mind at ease about the situation.  She was very reassuring, which I appreciated more than I can express.  You see, it isn't always that way.

My mother and I have a complicated relationship; what mother and daughter don't?  My whole life, I have looked for her approval, often not receiving it in the way that I wanted.  I'm not going to rehash disappointments here or air past grievances.  Let's just say I never seem to learn my lesson.  You would think that I would adapt, that over time my expectations would change and I would grow stronger.  Unfortunately, this isn't the case.  I'm writing this so that next time I can look back on my own words, and be wiser.

On Friday we had the house inspection. I was a ball of nerves.  If you would've tapped me on the shoulder, I would've jumped three feet in the air.  Bruce's father rode out with us, and my mother and brother met us there.  The inspector, a family friend, was already outside, taking pictures.  We all stood in the driveway of what might possibly be Bruce's and my first home.  Scanning my mother's face for an initial reaction, I saw a frown.

I had personally grappled with the fact that the house doesn't look so great from the outside.  Mostly because there is no front yard, only asphalt, and the side of the house is bordered by an unpaved entrance to an old quad apartment building.  One of the residents of that building owns a snowplow business, so there's three or four large trucks parked nearby.  Bruce and I debated the resale value of the house, but decided that since this house was move-in ready and had every feature we ever hoped for in our price range, the sight out front was a concession we were willing to make.  We just have to hope that the next buyers will appreciate what we appreciate, and what the previous family appreciated, and the owners before them.

Naturally, I told all of this to my parents.  Sometimes, though, they aren't the best listeners.  I'm positive what happened was that my mom drove up, saw the place, and made her judgement before ever walking in the door.  When we entered and I showed her around, I kept asking, "What do you think? Isn't this nice? Isn't this?" But I got no answer.  "Why won't you say anything?" I finally asked.

"Because I don't know what to say," she responded.  Crestfallen, I showed her the huge walk-in closet.  "That is actually nice," was the one good comment I got from her.

Meanwhile, the inspector was slowly moving through the house with Bruce by his side.  There are no major issues.  A couple outlets have to be grounded to be up to code.  The vents in the attic need to be cleaned out.  The only real concern is that the roof, furnace, and AC are original.  That means, even though nothing is currently wrong with them, they will eventually need to be replaced.  Either could cost around $5,000.  Luckily, Bruce works for a company that sells very good home warranties, and he gets a discount.  The warranty would cover any repair or replacement of the furnace, AC, and other appliances up to to a certain amount.  Also, because he works together with the repair company, he knows people who could get him a new furnace and AC for less than retail price.  Replacing the roof could be costly, but since it doesn't need any work right now, we can start saving for the day it does.

My mother left before she could see all the neighbors come home with their children and babies.  That really made me feel relieved and pleased with the location.  Emmie could have friends!  It looks like almost every house on the street is a family.  My mother left before she could see the person who owns the other side of the duplex, a woman in her 50's with a daughter a little younger than me.  My mother never voiced any impressions with me directly, so that we could talk about them.  She left without saying much at all.

The next day, she sent Bruce - Bruce! - a text.  It said, "Don't tell Annie.  I am very concerned about that house.  The roof and furnace are over 30 years old.  Resale will be difficult.  I love you and just don't want you to make a mistake."

What the hell is that?

Here we are, about to make the biggest decision of our lives, and she sends a freakin' TEXT?! To my HUSBAND?! If she did have concerns, that is NOT the way to go about it. I was (am) furious. And so, so hurt.

My mother never took the time to know the facts. The house and its parts are 20 years old, not 30. Thanks to Bruce, we are already familiar with home warranties in case the furnace or other appliance breaks. We know the house may not have curb appeal, but I TOLD her that so that she'd be prepared. We aren't willing to compromise on something else like a fenced-in backyard for Emmie to play in safely. Or a third bedroom so that our family can grow. We can't afford much. This was the best house we saw. And, yes, we have only been physically looking for a few short weeks. But we've actually been looking since last year, when we tried to get approved the first time, and realized we couldn't get anything close to what we wanted for the amount we were preapproved. The other places we went to see? They all had serious, visible defects. One had a terribly slanted floor. One had a kitchen so warped by water damage it would need to be torn out entirely. This house needs almost nothing done up front.

Mothers have always been driving their daughters nuts.  From Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.

I called my mom immediately, but I was pissed, and she ended it quickly. My father has tried to smooth things over, but I'm not ready. I want her to apologize for how she handled the situation. Even if she did (which she would never do), it wouldn't take away the sting.

The radon test came back high, but the owners have already agreed to have it mitigated and retested.  The sale in general is going really well.  I just wish my mother would see it that way.  You can say that she just wants to protect me, but I disagree.  She went about it in the absolute wrong way.  No matter what happens, I'm always going to feel like my mother thinks we made a mistake.  The joy of this milestone occasion has been darkened.

On the other hand, Bruce's dad thinks the place is fine, that it will make a good home.  He's aware of the work that needs to be done.  He said, "Any home you buy could have issues.  You could have a furnace half the age and it could still break.  It could also last another eight years.  You never know."  He's very supportive, offering to help with minor repairs and giving advice when asked.  Lately we are all getting along amiably here.

I just wish I could be happier overall.