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“Let’s move.” A simple phrase that sparks excitement for many young, childless couples. However, when I voiced this to my husband, he glanced around our snug farmhouse, sighed, and said, “I guess we have to.” With a toddler in tow, we were feeling the squeeze.
The online advice for getting a house “buyer-ready” suggests creating an illusion that no real family lives there, as if we’re all just sipping herbal tea with smiles like those in antidepressant commercials. I envisioned our home exuding a whimsical scent, something akin to “Norwegian children savoring chocolate oranges by a campfire.” Unfortunately, my husband had to endure a muffin being knocked from his hand one morning because another crumb could unleash chaos.
Typically, we wouldn’t mind the occasional spaghetti splatter on the ceiling fan, but we knew that no buyer was looking for a “spaghetti fan” feature. Thus, we were in a constant cycle of tidying up, just in case a passerby wanted to peek at our little haven. Realizing the futility of our efforts, we embraced our toddler’s unique decor choices, showcasing features like:
- An in-toilet Spider-Man figurine
- 13 fallen leaves arranged on the dining room windowsill
- A crayon mural proudly titled “Poop Weiner Hamburgers” by its young artist
For showings, I was advised to dress nicely but remain approachable. I rotated the same maroon turtleneck dress layered with a hunter green camisole, but my husband would jokingly say “blessed be the fruit” whenever I entered a room. I worried my take on “farmhouse chic” was more “post-apocalyptic sister-wife.” After working from home for so long, my wardrobe had deteriorated to mac-and-cheese-stained sweatpants and a hoodie that looked like it had survived a bear attack. On good days, I might even find a stray Cheez-It in my attire.
Every day, I feared our home would be featured on a Zillow parody account, showcasing my son trying to dress the cat in a Batman costume or my husband devouring a half-eaten chicken nugget he’d found on the floor.
Exhausted and feeling isolated, I vented on Facebook and discovered many parents facing the same challenges. Others confessed to hiding toys in the dishwasher or paying neighborhood kids to take their children away for a few hours. We all shared the same fear of being seen for what we really were—just ordinary families.
So, to prospective buyers, I kindly ask: look beyond the crayon-stained floors, navigate around the baby gates, and overlook the towering piles of laundry. I assure you, if these homes can withstand the chaos of little ones, they can handle any plans you have in store for them. If you’re interested in more insights, check out one of our other blog posts here. For expert advice about home insemination, visit Cryobaby, and for pregnancy resources, CDC’s pregnancy page is an excellent choice.