Hi Carter, sorry it took a while to get back to you. I could say it was the stress of the election. I could say I just have too many demands on my life and I can't keep up. OR, I could be honest and say I just didn't feel like writing until today. I'm old, out of shape, overweight, and basically lazy. Don't let any of this happen to you!!
In my last post I told you about the joys of a well-tuned and positive marriage relationship. I'm sure as you read it you thought, "Yep! Papa pegged it. He described his relationship to Mammy and Dad's relationship to Mom perfectly". We can only wish....but the suggestions are really important to attempt anyway. Getting back to raising those boys of ours, most of their training and nurturing came about at our home on Bermuda Drive in Hurst. The boys were so young when we moved in there they have only vague memories of the home we brought them home from the hospital to when they first passed inspection and were added to our tribe.
Mammy and I had gone through a couple of rough years before moving in to the house on Bermuda. We, or I should say I had made a few poor decisions professionally which led to nighttime stress at home. More and more fights brought more and more distance between us and it had to be seen by our sons, even though they were too young to realize the situation clearly. Part of my stupid antics professionally involved the sale of our first home, which both boys had come to at birth. While waiting for a deal to be closed, which I soon discovered would never close, we sold off most of our furniture, appliances, and stuff, and moved into a studio apartment. The apartment looked good on paper and good in the walk through, but the reality of living in a studio apartment with wife and two little boys was a bad idea. We were all used to having our own space, our yard and garage. It was a bad move even though we realized it was only temporary. Our fragile marriage was taking a real hit and I knew I had to do something. All my money was gone or tied up but I knew we had to get into another house. I borrowed money from uncle Glenn for a down payment on a little fixer-upper on the east side of town. I thought this would be good for us because the boys would have their own rooms and a yard to play in while Mammy and I would spend our evenings and weekends working on this little house to try and flip it for a profit. This turned out to be another fine mess I found myself in. We bought the house after looking at it late one night. It looked good late at night. The morning sun brought revelations to us we had never even considered. The most prevalent was the location. Although the little house had its charm and lured us into a late night purchase, the daylight showed it to be smack-dab in the very worst part of town, on the very worst street in town. Mammy begged me to try to get out of the deal but my pride wouldn't let me admit the mistake. I convinced her my real estate knowledge and wisdom were fast at work and this house would be a real money maker for us. Such an idiot....such a dreamer....
We spent two years remodeling this little house while I worked to redefine my professional direction. This is a fancy way of saying I hit the pavement searching for a more profitable career field. I found it and soon afterward we did in fact sell the little house for a modest profit. I had already paid back uncle Glenn for the loan so the profits from this house would go toward the purchase of our next fixer-upper project. When we bought the house on Bermuda we were planning to flip it within three years and move on to bigger and better things. We didn't know then we had inadvertently invested in "Home". All four of us soon fell in love with the house, the street, and the neighbors on Bermuda Drive. We did do all the remodeling we had planned when we first bought it, but now the improvements were for us, our family. This transition in thinking on our part made me think about the mad race we had asked of our little boys earlier. They were so happy, I was happy, and most important of all, MAMMY was happy. I spent some time reflecting on things while sitting out on my new patio enjoying the shade from the mature trees in our new backyard one Sunday afternoon. I then called a meeting to order! I asked the family to sit in the den with me while I talked about how we had entered into a new phase of our lives and the changed address should reflect the change I hoped for us. I made a promise to Debbie and the boys I was going to be a more attentive and patient husband and dad. Debbie made the same promise....of course she changed the titles from 'husband and dad' to 'wife and mother'. The boys didn't make any promises. They just sat there wondering when we were going to stop talking and hugging so they could go back outside to play. The move to the house on Bermuda was the best move this family ever made.
We had never abandoned our "traditions" for raising our kids. All through the battles, silent times, worries, and one rather large hole in a wall (Debbie's fault), we never stopped the things we knew to be important for family. We continued our nightly rituals of quiet talk, prayers, maybe a story or two, and then gentle tuck-ins. Those boys were so spoiled. We always made a point to be together at dinnertime. The dinner table was not an option. It was a requirement and only an extreme obstacle would keep any of us away at dinnertime. I even built the table we used for all those years. It served us well for eating, talking, laughing, doing homework, and serving as a sewing table for Mammy. As the boys grew we assigned chores for them to be responsible for on their own. If they took care of what we had asked of them they would get an allowance regularly. If not, well....I only had to hold back allowance one time. These little traditions created what we all grew to love. A happy home filled with peace and comfort. Carter, your dad felt so loved and accepted he had no reservation in asking me to stop for a long talk one Saturday morning as I was heading out to show some properties. I stopped and sat down on the bench on the front porch with him. He asked, "So where are you going now dad?" I explained I was in the middle of a three-way closing on three properties and I really needed to get going. His response, coming to me from this little droopy drawers son of mine stopped me cold and completely changed the course of my career. His response was, "You've worked all week and it's Saturday. I know you love us but I'm pretty sure you don't like us anymore." I went on into the office that Saturday, made calls to confirm my three contracts were still intact and on schedule for closing, wrote up my resignation and slipped it into my broker's top desk drawer. My growing real estate career had been stopped by a little tow-headed boy in baggy red shorts. I never looked back.
I was going to tell about our vacations together but this post is getting long. More next week. I promise.
