The police and First Responders couldn't enter the house because of the dog. They needed me inside. I told Brian that I would be fine and there really wasn't anything that he could do anyway. He went back to our house.
I returned inside and held the dog's leash tight while corraling him and the little girl into the back room where the small black and white t.v. set flickered. I closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. I sat down on a small couch and the little girl sat down on the chair next to me. The room was dark except for the glow of the t.v. set. I could hear the police enter the house from the side door. They were discussing the best way to bring the stretcher inside. They directed the paramedics to enter through the front door. The noise of their work disturbed me some. I didn't think the little girl should overhear what was being said and the things that were happening. Keeping one ear turned toward the activity, I focused on distracting the child, who kept glancing at the door.
I asked her what her name was, slightly appalled at myself that I hadn't found that out yet. She told me that her name was Kayley. I told her that was a very pretty name. I introduced myself as well, and then asked what her dog's name was. "Reggie," she said, "Mommy named him and he loves mommy very much."
I told her that I could tell since he was being a very good guard dog. Reggie was sitting at my feet while I stroked his back. Every few moments he would hear a noise he didn't like, mainly male voices, and he would leap to his feet again. My soft murmurs were enough to calm him down.
I asked Kayley how old she was. "Five." She said proudly. She told me that she had an older brother but he was staying with their grandma. That information didn't seem to line up with what I knew already, but I didn't press the issue. I asked her how she found her mommy in the kitchen. "I was sleeping on the couch but then I woke up and went looking for my mommy." "And she was on the floor?" I asked, wanting to have a clear picture in my head. She nodded. I kept talking to her, trying to keep her distracted. Every question I asked or story I told her about my own children seemed to return somehow to the her own mother. Kayley was overly attached for a five year old. In the back of my mind, I wondered how many times she had been in this situation.
The lack of commotion in the other room caught my attention. I heard a guy say something about a little girl being here. I called out then, saying that she was in the back room with the guard dog. The police officer came near the door and asked if anyone had contacted a relative to come get the child. I told him that the grandmother was on the way. He wanted to know the contact phone number for the grandmother so I handed him my cell phone through the crack in the door. He said the number was nearby and the grandma should be arriving soon. He asked me to make sure the house was locked up before I left. And then everyone was gone.
At 2am, my mind flittered to the fact that I was sitting in a strange house in the middle of the night, with a child I did not know, holding a leash to a dog that wasn't exactly friendly. I wanted to be used. No one else had come to see why a little girl was screaming in the street. No one else even opened the door or fluttered a curtain. I was there. I was placed there....right there. At the house across the street from the little girl who stood screaming for help...for me...in the middle of the night. He was using me mightily. Little 'ole me comforted that child who had seen too much for such innocent eyes. That I had no doubt of.
I slowly opened the door and peeked around to make sure there wasn't any lingering officers for Reggie to attack. The coast was clear. I let go of the leash so Reggie could do his thing and secure the area. My hand was sore from gripping the leather so tightly. I walked to the kitchen. I am not sure exactly why, but a voice in the back of my head wanted to see if the things I had seen earlier were still there. Or had I imagined them? The room had been rearranged slightly. There was a step stool in the middle of the floor. I had overheard the paramedics digging for any medications the lady may have been taking, so I attributed the sudden appearance of the step stool to their rummaging through cabinets. There was a skillet full of uncooked eggs on the stove. I checked to make sure all the burners were turned off. I felt the oven door to make sure that hadn't been turned on either. All the knobs were off.
The money was still everywhere, though. A box of jewelry with bills sticking out of the top sat on the back burner. A shoebox with a stack of cash was on the kitchen table next to a purse spilling forth ten and twenty dollar bills. The other things were gone though. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Kayley was standing in the kitchen doorway.
"When will my grandma be here?" She whimpered uncertainly. "Soon," I told her,"She is on her way right now." I put my arm around her and turned her away from the kitchen. "We should pack some things to take to grandma's house, right? Where are your clothes, sweetie?" We began searching for some clean things for her to pack. That was when grandma arrived. I introduced myself. She was very apologetic for keeping me awake. She fussed at Reggie for jumping on her, then moved absently around the house. I am not sure what she was doing. She was not that old...she couldn't have dementia. I snagged her attention back to the reason for her being there. "I have been trying to find some things to pack for Kayley." She nodded but went into the kitchen.
That was when a police officer popped back inside the house. At least the lady had the presence of mind to grab Reggie's leash. The officer spoke to the grandmother, asking about her daughter's past medical history. While that was going on, I took Kayley to find a bag for her things. It wasn't easy, but we found one and shoved a change of clothes into it. I handed Kayley her coat to put on as well. "She has a history of seizures....and a metal rod in her back. But that is all." The grandmother told the officer. I silently sighed in relief. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps what I thought I saw was something else.
I checked the front door to make sure it was locked. The grandma was heading for the door with Kayley, who was clearly relieved to be leaving. "Do you think you should take her purse?" I asked, and pointed to the purse laying open on the kitchen table. The woman seemed taken aback but nodded and retrieved it. I locked the side door behind me and helped her get Kayley and Reggie in the car. She thanked me again for staying with Kayley. I told her my name again and my house number in case she needed anything else. And then they were gone.
Standing in the snow, out in the cold night, I said a prayer for Kayley. And for her mother. God moves in mysterious ways...but they are only mysterious to us. Every once in awhile we get a glimpse of how He moves, and in those moments.....well, I know I am blown away.
Four days later: Brian leaves the house with Lena to go to the park. A police cruiser pulls up and the officer gets out to talk to Brian. I watch the scene from inside the house. I was doing laundry and just happened to walk by the window. After a few minutes, the cop gets back in his cruiser and drives off with the siren on. Brian proceeds to the park with Lena. Of course, I am anxious to know what happened. Did the officer have news about the woman? Was she okay? I sent Brian a text to see what was up. He said the officer just wanted our phone number and would be in contact with him later. He didn't give any details about the woman who had been carted off by paramedics.
The officer didn't call Brian. He called me. That afternoon he called because he had a few gaps in his report that he needed to fill in. He asked if the little girl came to my house to get me. He used this wording with Brian when identifying him on the street earlier that day. Brian had told him that I had heard the little girl and went out to her. I told the officer the same: that I heard her and went out to see what was wrong; she told me that her mom was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. I told him about the dog and how I stayed in the back room. He said that he was glad to have the identity of that person filled in and that I would be listed in the report.
"We are looking into this. There is an investigation going. We don't let things like that slide here." He added.
My stomach dropped. Ah, the feeling of disappointment. My instincts had been right. My eyes had not deceived me. The elastic band on the counter, the needle case, the bottle of pills spilled across the floor. No, I knew. But I wanted to think better of the situation. I wanted to think better of this mother.
I asked if the lady was alright. He said that she had been released from the hospital. Then he added, "Don't worry, the people handling the estate have taken care of it and you won't be seeing her around anymore." I had noticed that the car was gone. They had kicked her out. No more squatting at dead grandmama's house. His tone said it all: the riffraff was gone. I wanted to ask more: What about the little girl? Where were they now? Were they getting help? But the officer implied that the little girl would probably be taken away, then he stated that since there was an investigation he could not say any more, and they would be in touch with me if they needed me for anything in the future of the case. Great! Did that mean I will have to testify? Be called as a witness?
**Note: Names have been changed and certain details were omitted due to the delicacy of the matter.
(Brian's name was not one of them.)
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Being in a Criminal Report is no fun!
Okay, so I was trying to put these posts in sequential order, but things have happened and everyone wants to know the story about the little girl. So, here goes:
Last Thursday, about 1am, I was just starting to doze off after Brian made it home from work when I heard a child's voice. Was it one of the girls? I listened closely but didn't hear anything. Then, I heard it again. Was Tierney talking in her sleep? Had Lena left one of her talking toys on? Nothing. I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to talk with Him some more even though I had said my bedtime prayers already. I asked Him to use me someway. I mean, He had moved us up to Ohio, so I wanted to be put to use. Oh, when will I learn to be ready before I ask? He answers...always...and lately, it has been rather immediate. It definitely was on that Thursday night.
"Help! Someone help my mommy!"
I did not mistake that scream. I bolted up in bed and looked out the window. A little girl in a nightgown stood on the driveway across the street. I watched her go to her neighbor's door but no one answered. She screamed again and again. I climbed out of bed, and wearing my nightgown, grabbed a blanket out of the linen closet, put my jacket and snow boots on, shoved my cell phone in my pocket, and headed out the door.
"What's wrong, honey?" I remember asking her when I made it across the street. She told me that her mommy was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. She took me to the side door of the house, where a Boxer barked and growled. Yikes!
I am not a dog person. I did not want to be attacked by this dog. "Hey there, sweetie." I said in a comforting tone. The dog sat down immediately. The little girl opened the door, and the Boxer jumped up and licked my face. It nearly knocked me back outside. I grabbed his leash and began talking to him while stroking his back. He calmed down enough to make it inside the house and up the stairs to the hallway. The house was like walking into a museum. A museum for the preservation of 1963. The place reminded me of my great grandma's house back in Louisville. There was a rotary phone on the hall perch. The furniture was covered in plastic and on the wall hung a 11x13 photo of a lady with a beehive. No joke. The only place in the house that seemed to have been touched lately was the back room where a t.v. flickered with Carson Daly, and where clothes were scattered about in a nearby bedroom.
I followed the little girl into the kitchen. My eyes scanned the room and noticed some odd things. But my attention was quickly drawn to the lady laying near the sink on the floor. She was laying face down on the floor in a hoodie and boyshort underwear. I took the blanket I was holding and laid it over her legs. I shook her and called out to her, but she didn't respond. I checked her pulse. She was alive, but her heart seemed a bit fast.
I turned to the little girl then, and reassured her that her mommy was okay. I told her I was going to call for help. The girl seemed to relax a little then. I immediately dialed 9-1-1. I asked the little girl what her house number was but she didn't know. I ran outside, where Brian met me, and we scanned the house until we found a small placade in the yard with the street number on it. Help was on the way.
I headed back inside. Brian tried to follow, but the dog had a gleam in his eye and a ferocious growl waiting for him. I shooed Brian away and calmed the dog again so I could get inside. I told the little girl that help was on the way. I asked her if she knew a phone number of someone I could call for her. She wanted her grandma to come pick her up but didn't know the number. I decided to go next door to the neighbor's house. I had seen the older gentleman that lived there check on this house a few weeks before, so I thought that perhaps they might know whom to call. The little girl said they must not be home. I had seen her go over to their house for help but no one answered the door. I was going to try anyway.
The man answered and he had apparently been awake (surprise, surprise). He had a number on a little card. I looked at the card. At the top was a name & phone number in large print, and below that was another name & phone number in smaller print. The name of the grandmother was the smaller. It didn't take long for me to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. The name at the top of the card was their former neighbor--the great-grandmother. Apparently she had recently died and this granddaughter was crashing at her place now. That certainly explained the tribute to 1963 and the reason for the clothes stashed in the back room.
I called the grandma, who sighed when I told her that her daughter was nonresponsive on the kitchen floor. Okay, that wasn't the response I had expected. I asked her if she could come get the little girl. She asked if the neighbors were home. I ignored her. The neighbors obviously did not want to help. They were elderly and did not want to be bothered with the situation. I asked her again if she would come and pick up her granddaughter. She said she would be there as soon as she could. She asked me to stay there with the child. DUH!
When I got off the phone with her, the police had arrived followed by an ambulance.
Right about then, Brian pulled me aside to whisper in my ear that he had my gun shoved into the back waistband of his jeans. He had grabbed it on his way out the door. He didn't know what I was doing running across the street but he wanted to be ready for it. I thanked him for having my back. But having a gun on him right now! Lovely.
To be continued.......
Last Thursday, about 1am, I was just starting to doze off after Brian made it home from work when I heard a child's voice. Was it one of the girls? I listened closely but didn't hear anything. Then, I heard it again. Was Tierney talking in her sleep? Had Lena left one of her talking toys on? Nothing. I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to talk with Him some more even though I had said my bedtime prayers already. I asked Him to use me someway. I mean, He had moved us up to Ohio, so I wanted to be put to use. Oh, when will I learn to be ready before I ask? He answers...always...and lately, it has been rather immediate. It definitely was on that Thursday night.
"Help! Someone help my mommy!"
I did not mistake that scream. I bolted up in bed and looked out the window. A little girl in a nightgown stood on the driveway across the street. I watched her go to her neighbor's door but no one answered. She screamed again and again. I climbed out of bed, and wearing my nightgown, grabbed a blanket out of the linen closet, put my jacket and snow boots on, shoved my cell phone in my pocket, and headed out the door.
"What's wrong, honey?" I remember asking her when I made it across the street. She told me that her mommy was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. She took me to the side door of the house, where a Boxer barked and growled. Yikes!
I am not a dog person. I did not want to be attacked by this dog. "Hey there, sweetie." I said in a comforting tone. The dog sat down immediately. The little girl opened the door, and the Boxer jumped up and licked my face. It nearly knocked me back outside. I grabbed his leash and began talking to him while stroking his back. He calmed down enough to make it inside the house and up the stairs to the hallway. The house was like walking into a museum. A museum for the preservation of 1963. The place reminded me of my great grandma's house back in Louisville. There was a rotary phone on the hall perch. The furniture was covered in plastic and on the wall hung a 11x13 photo of a lady with a beehive. No joke. The only place in the house that seemed to have been touched lately was the back room where a t.v. flickered with Carson Daly, and where clothes were scattered about in a nearby bedroom.
I followed the little girl into the kitchen. My eyes scanned the room and noticed some odd things. But my attention was quickly drawn to the lady laying near the sink on the floor. She was laying face down on the floor in a hoodie and boyshort underwear. I took the blanket I was holding and laid it over her legs. I shook her and called out to her, but she didn't respond. I checked her pulse. She was alive, but her heart seemed a bit fast.
I turned to the little girl then, and reassured her that her mommy was okay. I told her I was going to call for help. The girl seemed to relax a little then. I immediately dialed 9-1-1. I asked the little girl what her house number was but she didn't know. I ran outside, where Brian met me, and we scanned the house until we found a small placade in the yard with the street number on it. Help was on the way.
I headed back inside. Brian tried to follow, but the dog had a gleam in his eye and a ferocious growl waiting for him. I shooed Brian away and calmed the dog again so I could get inside. I told the little girl that help was on the way. I asked her if she knew a phone number of someone I could call for her. She wanted her grandma to come pick her up but didn't know the number. I decided to go next door to the neighbor's house. I had seen the older gentleman that lived there check on this house a few weeks before, so I thought that perhaps they might know whom to call. The little girl said they must not be home. I had seen her go over to their house for help but no one answered the door. I was going to try anyway.
The man answered and he had apparently been awake (surprise, surprise). He had a number on a little card. I looked at the card. At the top was a name & phone number in large print, and below that was another name & phone number in smaller print. The name of the grandmother was the smaller. It didn't take long for me to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. The name at the top of the card was their former neighbor--the great-grandmother. Apparently she had recently died and this granddaughter was crashing at her place now. That certainly explained the tribute to 1963 and the reason for the clothes stashed in the back room.
I called the grandma, who sighed when I told her that her daughter was nonresponsive on the kitchen floor. Okay, that wasn't the response I had expected. I asked her if she could come get the little girl. She asked if the neighbors were home. I ignored her. The neighbors obviously did not want to help. They were elderly and did not want to be bothered with the situation. I asked her again if she would come and pick up her granddaughter. She said she would be there as soon as she could. She asked me to stay there with the child. DUH!
When I got off the phone with her, the police had arrived followed by an ambulance.
Right about then, Brian pulled me aside to whisper in my ear that he had my gun shoved into the back waistband of his jeans. He had grabbed it on his way out the door. He didn't know what I was doing running across the street but he wanted to be ready for it. I thanked him for having my back. But having a gun on him right now! Lovely.
To be continued.......
Thursday, February 10, 2011
This is it!
The search was on! After finding the perfect neighborhood, we were pumped to find the perfect house. The list was long, but our hopes were high. Most of the houses on our list were smaller than the house we owned in Kentucky, but many were laid out with more functionality instead of the wide open spaces of our Green Gables. And our list only contained houses with basements. Most of the houses on the list needed some sort of work, whether it was a total remodel to update it from my grandma's decor (one house still had old linoleum that came up about 5 inches on the wall!) or if it was just to finish the basement to our liking, we had to consider that with our budget.
We looked at several houses that were just too much work for the price. Of course, the price that was being asked was not the price that would be paid, but it was more than I wanted to pay even if we talked them down. So, they were marked off the list. We also marked off the house that backed up to the beer garden, had no garage, & one that had structural damage. Then we marked off the ones that were not set up to house all of our kids (we have 4), so that pretty much narrowed it down. There were about 6 houses left to really consider.
After viewing an upcoming open house online that needed absolutely no work, had been updated beyond what we would expect, and was listed on the national historic register we decided to make another trip to Dayton. The house was at the top of our price range but we LOVED it (the online version, anyway.) So we set out to take a look.
The open house was packed. But the house was lovely, especially the beautifully done backyard. The bedrooms felt a tad bit small and we would have to change the basement even though it was finished. Bottom line: we would still have to do some work. Reluctantly, we crossed that one off our list. That Sunday, we saw six houses and at four of them, we saw the same open house visitors that were at the first house. The neighborhood was in high demand. We would have to jump on a house that we saw & actually liked. There were several houses that could "work," but they didn't feel like home to me. Of course, Brian was getting frustrated with me because he could not understand that. I think he would just live in a cardboard box and be done. But cardboard gets soggy in the rain (& snow!) and the kids would just color on the walls. Thus,we returned to Kentucky feeling a bit jaded.
How often I return to Him is surely not as much as I should, but once more, I was asking for help. "Just let me know. Just let me know."
Our realtor set us up on an automatic email listing that sent us homes in Oakwood that matched our criteria. On Tuesday, we received a newly listed house on the market. The pictures were not up but we told them to put it on the list. We had a few others to see so we headed back to Dayton after Brian had a weekend at home. This time, the trip was kid free. (Yippee!) We saw two disappointing homes the morning of our latest search, but when we showed up at the house that we hadn't seen the pictures of, we thought....looks good so far. The outside had been recently painted with complimentary colors, it had off-street parking, a 2-car garage, a decent sized yard for the area, and.....drum roll, please...a playset in the backyard. For those of you who never had the opportunity to visit our house in KY, you are unaware of the 3-story mega playset that was in our yard. Having a playset in the backyard was a big deal. Plus, the house was less than a block from Orchardly Park...aka Disneyland.
Inside the house, the hardwood floors were beautiful. The woodwork was original and the home had a overall feel of having "character." We love old homes. The house is a Sears Craftsman...Americus model, I believe. The owners had laid out receipts of recent upgrades and purchases on the house. The bathroom had been redone about 3 weeks before it was listed. The front and back yards had new sod (not that we could tell at that time...snow was everywhere.) The upstairs had three good sized bedrooms. The basement had a finished family room and office (a place for Isaac's bedroom) and room to grow. But when I saw the kitchen, I looked at Brian and said, "This is it!" Many realtors claim that it is the kitchen that sales the home, and in this case, it was true! But I wasn't blown away by the sparkling upgrades and modern appliances. It came only with a dishwasher, a range, and a disposal. But the hardwood floor, the cabinetry, the new wood countertops, and brightness of the room....well, it just clicked.
Help had arrived. I had my answer. "This is it!" We made an offer that day. We got the house. Of course, the closing pended on the closing of our house in Kentucky.
P.S. For those of you following this along on Facebook:
1) I may not always share when there is a new blog post (they say you lose it the more kids you have, and since I have 4 already...I'm just saying) so make sure you sign up to be a follower.
2) I definitely plan on filling you in about my "interesting night involving a 5 year old girl standing in her driveway screaming, "Help!" soon. This blog will be ongoing about all of our adventures and misadventures here in Oakwood....so that will be in a blog post to come.
We looked at several houses that were just too much work for the price. Of course, the price that was being asked was not the price that would be paid, but it was more than I wanted to pay even if we talked them down. So, they were marked off the list. We also marked off the house that backed up to the beer garden, had no garage, & one that had structural damage. Then we marked off the ones that were not set up to house all of our kids (we have 4), so that pretty much narrowed it down. There were about 6 houses left to really consider.
After viewing an upcoming open house online that needed absolutely no work, had been updated beyond what we would expect, and was listed on the national historic register we decided to make another trip to Dayton. The house was at the top of our price range but we LOVED it (the online version, anyway.) So we set out to take a look.
The open house was packed. But the house was lovely, especially the beautifully done backyard. The bedrooms felt a tad bit small and we would have to change the basement even though it was finished. Bottom line: we would still have to do some work. Reluctantly, we crossed that one off our list. That Sunday, we saw six houses and at four of them, we saw the same open house visitors that were at the first house. The neighborhood was in high demand. We would have to jump on a house that we saw & actually liked. There were several houses that could "work," but they didn't feel like home to me. Of course, Brian was getting frustrated with me because he could not understand that. I think he would just live in a cardboard box and be done. But cardboard gets soggy in the rain (& snow!) and the kids would just color on the walls. Thus,we returned to Kentucky feeling a bit jaded.
How often I return to Him is surely not as much as I should, but once more, I was asking for help. "Just let me know. Just let me know."
Our realtor set us up on an automatic email listing that sent us homes in Oakwood that matched our criteria. On Tuesday, we received a newly listed house on the market. The pictures were not up but we told them to put it on the list. We had a few others to see so we headed back to Dayton after Brian had a weekend at home. This time, the trip was kid free. (Yippee!) We saw two disappointing homes the morning of our latest search, but when we showed up at the house that we hadn't seen the pictures of, we thought....looks good so far. The outside had been recently painted with complimentary colors, it had off-street parking, a 2-car garage, a decent sized yard for the area, and.....drum roll, please...a playset in the backyard. For those of you who never had the opportunity to visit our house in KY, you are unaware of the 3-story mega playset that was in our yard. Having a playset in the backyard was a big deal. Plus, the house was less than a block from Orchardly Park...aka Disneyland.
Inside the house, the hardwood floors were beautiful. The woodwork was original and the home had a overall feel of having "character." We love old homes. The house is a Sears Craftsman...Americus model, I believe. The owners had laid out receipts of recent upgrades and purchases on the house. The bathroom had been redone about 3 weeks before it was listed. The front and back yards had new sod (not that we could tell at that time...snow was everywhere.) The upstairs had three good sized bedrooms. The basement had a finished family room and office (a place for Isaac's bedroom) and room to grow. But when I saw the kitchen, I looked at Brian and said, "This is it!" Many realtors claim that it is the kitchen that sales the home, and in this case, it was true! But I wasn't blown away by the sparkling upgrades and modern appliances. It came only with a dishwasher, a range, and a disposal. But the hardwood floor, the cabinetry, the new wood countertops, and brightness of the room....well, it just clicked.
Help had arrived. I had my answer. "This is it!" We made an offer that day. We got the house. Of course, the closing pended on the closing of our house in Kentucky.
P.S. For those of you following this along on Facebook:
1) I may not always share when there is a new blog post (they say you lose it the more kids you have, and since I have 4 already...I'm just saying) so make sure you sign up to be a follower.
2) I definitely plan on filling you in about my "interesting night involving a 5 year old girl standing in her driveway screaming, "Help!" soon. This blog will be ongoing about all of our adventures and misadventures here in Oakwood....so that will be in a blog post to come.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Finding Oakwood
During one of our intense, mad dash house hunting trips in Dayton, we met our realtor at a house in Patterson Park. The house was nice and we thought about buying it, but were still a bit hesitant. It fit the criteria for the most part but it did not scream "buy me." Correction: It did not say "Welcome home." Our realtor suggested we check out the bordering neighborhood, Oakwood. She said the schools were excellent, had mostly pre-WWII homes, and was considered Dayton's "old money." We decided to check the area out before committing to purchasing the house on Warrington.
As we drove into the neighborhood, we were first greeted by a pretty sign reading, "Welcome to the City of Oakwood." The houses were beautiful, well-kept, and historic. This was one of the last weekends before snow covered everything and people were out running, walking their dogs, raking leaves, and playing at the park. School banners hung on houses declaring "Oakwood Football," "Oakwood Swimming," and "Oakwood Basketball." There was school pride everywhere. The school buildings were aesthetically pleasing historic buildings and the parks fabulous. One park in particular thoroughly excited the kids: Orchardly Park (dubbed Disneyland by the locals.) The shops bordering the small community were promising. Brian and I were pumped. I saw a kid cleaning out the gutters while his dad supervised. If the atmosphere here encouraged children to contribute to the household chores, then I was in! Even the kids were excited. We drove back to Kentucky and narrowed down our online search to Oakwood houses.
Then came the sticker shock. Houses in Oakwood had not fell as far as the rest of Dayton's housing market. There were still several in our price range, but none of them were 5 or 6 bedrooms. This neighborhood has a majority of $300K and up housing. But, we printed off a list of about 25 houses in our price range (most of them at the top of it) and sent them to our realtor to set up. We then went to do some research on the neighborhood. The taxes are pretty steep here in Oakwood. We pay (take a deep breath!) $300 a month alone in taxes. But we get a lot for the money. The library is first class. The school system (which we are not utilizing at the moment because we homeschool) is superb with the high school ranked 577th in the nation. There is an excellent community center that offers just about everything you could think of from dance classes, a health club, teen center, guitar classes, etiquette classes,etc.(OCC winter/spring) There is a community pool. The streets and sidewalks are plowed. There are 3 different parks in the city and the entire neighborhood borders a huge metro park that offers green spaces with great hiking & sledding. The amenities are too many to list here. Check out this website for a sampling:Welcome to Oakwood.
I asked for help and He answered. Oakwood felt like the perfect place for our family to settle.
Now, we just had to find the perfect house!
As we drove into the neighborhood, we were first greeted by a pretty sign reading, "Welcome to the City of Oakwood." The houses were beautiful, well-kept, and historic. This was one of the last weekends before snow covered everything and people were out running, walking their dogs, raking leaves, and playing at the park. School banners hung on houses declaring "Oakwood Football," "Oakwood Swimming," and "Oakwood Basketball." There was school pride everywhere. The school buildings were aesthetically pleasing historic buildings and the parks fabulous. One park in particular thoroughly excited the kids: Orchardly Park (dubbed Disneyland by the locals.) The shops bordering the small community were promising. Brian and I were pumped. I saw a kid cleaning out the gutters while his dad supervised. If the atmosphere here encouraged children to contribute to the household chores, then I was in! Even the kids were excited. We drove back to Kentucky and narrowed down our online search to Oakwood houses.
Then came the sticker shock. Houses in Oakwood had not fell as far as the rest of Dayton's housing market. There were still several in our price range, but none of them were 5 or 6 bedrooms. This neighborhood has a majority of $300K and up housing. But, we printed off a list of about 25 houses in our price range (most of them at the top of it) and sent them to our realtor to set up. We then went to do some research on the neighborhood. The taxes are pretty steep here in Oakwood. We pay (take a deep breath!) $300 a month alone in taxes. But we get a lot for the money. The library is first class. The school system (which we are not utilizing at the moment because we homeschool) is superb with the high school ranked 577th in the nation. There is an excellent community center that offers just about everything you could think of from dance classes, a health club, teen center, guitar classes, etiquette classes,etc.(OCC winter/spring) There is a community pool. The streets and sidewalks are plowed. There are 3 different parks in the city and the entire neighborhood borders a huge metro park that offers green spaces with great hiking & sledding. The amenities are too many to list here. Check out this website for a sampling:Welcome to Oakwood.
I asked for help and He answered. Oakwood felt like the perfect place for our family to settle.
Now, we just had to find the perfect house!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
House Hunting
Moving to a new location requires a new home/abode/a place to lay your head or call 'home sweet home.' We had to find a new house. Exciting, right? Fun, right? Yeah, that is what I thought too. Brian had already been scoping out some houses online and I was excited because the market in Ohio stinks compared to KY, so we could get a 5 or 6 bedroom house. More house for our money! Yeah! There were so many deals to be had! And while we were keeping our selections to 3 main areas: Huber Heights, Beavercreek, or Fairborn, we had a pretty long list (23 houses or something like that) when we first went up to Dayton to do some house hunting.
For some reason I had it in my head that this whole search would look like something from an episode of 'House Hunters.' I guess I should have dismissed that notion when we had to drag all 4 kids with us. But, I was still keeping the adventure alive even though we had just drove 3 hours to get there and had a long list to narrow down with "drive-by" viewings...adding another 6 hours in the car with the kids. Over 3 days, we pretty much stayed in the car, looking at all the houses on the list. I am pretty sure reality struck when our list went from 23 to like 5 after the drive-by. I just wasn't digging the neighborhoods. I have one question for HGTV: How do they get it down to just 3 choices in a half hour? Just kidding.
After that first initial house hunting experience, my hopes were dismal. None of the houses felt like home. None of them were "it." We did more online searches. I typed up a long, long, long checklist of things to mark off to compare the different houses. (Seriously, it was long. 8 pages typed front & back long.) I had to keep all of these houses straight in my head. After the 9th house though, I resorted to writing notes on the back of the checklist because the list was taking way too long to go over.
Once more, I had to ask for help. I quickly realized that checklist or no, I could not do this on my own. I was going insane one MLS# at a time. I asked again. I needed His guidance; His wisdom. Where did He want me to go? Where could He use me the most? Where would be the best place for His children?
His answer was loud & clear. And I was diggin' it!
For some reason I had it in my head that this whole search would look like something from an episode of 'House Hunters.' I guess I should have dismissed that notion when we had to drag all 4 kids with us. But, I was still keeping the adventure alive even though we had just drove 3 hours to get there and had a long list to narrow down with "drive-by" viewings...adding another 6 hours in the car with the kids. Over 3 days, we pretty much stayed in the car, looking at all the houses on the list. I am pretty sure reality struck when our list went from 23 to like 5 after the drive-by. I just wasn't digging the neighborhoods. I have one question for HGTV: How do they get it down to just 3 choices in a half hour? Just kidding.
After that first initial house hunting experience, my hopes were dismal. None of the houses felt like home. None of them were "it." We did more online searches. I typed up a long, long, long checklist of things to mark off to compare the different houses. (Seriously, it was long. 8 pages typed front & back long.) I had to keep all of these houses straight in my head. After the 9th house though, I resorted to writing notes on the back of the checklist because the list was taking way too long to go over.
Once more, I had to ask for help. I quickly realized that checklist or no, I could not do this on my own. I was going insane one MLS# at a time. I asked again. I needed His guidance; His wisdom. Where did He want me to go? Where could He use me the most? Where would be the best place for His children?
His answer was loud & clear. And I was diggin' it!
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