Yesterday was the day my Mom, me, Nate and Polly piled into her car and drove to a small town in Washington to look at a few houses for my Mom. She has a realtor here who is working on the sale of her house, but he is not licensed to work in Washington so we found a nice woman who works and lives there. We ended up looking at three houses with the realtor, the first one being a total fixer, built in 1902. I could see that it had tremendous potential but I also could see that it had no walls, severe dry rot throughout, no flooring or plumbing fixtures, nothing. My Mom, having a soft spot in her heart for old houses in need of rehabilitation absolutely loved it, and the realtor estimated the remodel at $50,000. I was afraid my Mom would make an offer on it, so I pulled her outside alone for a second and pointed out the tarp covering an area on the roof and the fact that the back porch was falling down it was so rotten. “Not $50,000”, I whispered to my Mom, “more like $150,000.”

We just got finished rehabilitating my Mom’s house here, and it took three times the money we thought it would and twice as long. I asked my Mom, “Do you really want to do that again?” I thought she wanted to settle into a lovely little move in ready home. I reminded her that I would not be able to pop in everyday to help her. Also, it was in such a state of disrepair that there was no way she could have lived in it while it was being fixed up. In fact, I am surprised it wasn’t condemned by the city.

My Mom pouted a little bit at me, but I reminded her that this was why she had brought me along, so she wouldn’t do something stupid.

The next home we looked at was nice, three bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, ranch style, open floor plan with an attached garage. It was more to her liking, but it was right across the street from the train tracks and in the time we were there eight trains ran by. The noise inside the house was a huge turn off.

The next house we went to was nice, but seeing how it was across the street from the fairgrounds my Mom decided to skip viewing the interior.

At this point we parted ways with the realtor, who said she would go back to her office and look to see what else was out there. I suggested to my Mom that we have some lunch and then drive around a little bit. With two kids happily full of pizza in the back seat we slowly drove around looking. As we came up one street I saw a cute little white bungalow with a beautiful garden and a metal roof. Before my Mom even saw the sign I said, “There it is.”

My Mom turned to me beaming, “That’s it, that’s my new house.”

I jumped out of the car to get the sheet on it and it was $30,000 under her budget. I called the realtor on my cell and couldn’t get a hold of her so I left a message. Noting that there was no lockbox, time was ticking and at that price we didn’t figure it would last long I called the seller’s agent and told her we were parked outside and ready to make an offer. She drove from a wedding to let us in and it was perfect. All on one level (except for a basement for storage) three bedrooms 1 ½ bathrooms, a large open floor plan and lots of storage. An unusual amount of storage for a house built in the 20s, now that I think about it. We walked around the beautiful garden and my Mom was beaming from ear to ear.

The seller’s realtor told us that the owner was widow who was eager to sell because she was moving to Virginia to be with her sister. The house had a large carport that could easily be converted into a garage and I noticed a counter in there with an electric skillet and a dirty spatula sitting nearby. The realtor saw me looking and said that the seller’s husband hated the smell of the fish she cooked, and so he made her cook it outside. Even though he was dead it looked as if she was still cooking her fish outside and looking at that skillet made me feel sad.

My Mom’s Washington realtor finally called us back and we told her we had found a place on our own and that we wanted to draw up an offer right away. She gave us directions to her office. I thanked the seller’s agent for leaving a wedding! and coming so quickly to show us the house and she just sort of waved it away, saying it was a friend of a friend type of wedding and she wasn’t that worried about it.

My Mom placed an offer at full price, contingent upon an inspection, even though the house is listed “sold as is”. Just a safety net in case there’s anything we didn’t see with our eyes. As we headed back to Portland my Mom was in the happiest mood and I knew that I could see her there in that house, tending to the garden and sipping her tea on the back deck. I know it’s exactly what she wanted but as I started to think about things; the fact that I don’t drive, the fact that no buses or trains stop in that little town, I got a little teary and looked out the window blinking my eyes and hoping that no one would see me. My Mom placed her hand on my arm and assured me that she would still come to visit, and that I would be driving soon. I am not sure about the driving part. I really want to learn but I am afraid.

I know that this is the best thing for her right now. She can relax and enjoy her life, instead of stressing over the remodel of the one she just sold. Oh, and as I was getting out of the car, she looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes and said, “Tammy, thanks for talking me out of making an offer on that first one. It was a mess.”

We both laughed.