Mum’s The Word.

Sooooo my youngest son decides to buy a home.

Whilst chatting to me on speaker phone.

I do not let him know that I am on the floor, blowing into a brown paper bag, searching my hand bag for Valium.

I am a professional negotiator.

I am confident.

I own an agency for god sake.

Pull yourself together Christine.

 

Let’s start from the top.

My son and his gorgeous partner move to Brisbane for a job transfer.

They settle in the suburb of Norman park where they have a great dog park for their two whippets shadow and storm.

They love it’s location to the ferry, the train, the walking paths and trendy eateries. It’s sooooooo close to the city.

Of course they decide to buy a home in Norman Park.

 

*INSERT EYEROLL*

Why didn’t they transfer to Junee?

Where you can buy a house for $120,000. ?

This is a bigger price tag than any property we own. Actually the entire family. And extended family.

 

I crash my way through websites, looking at sales prices, talking to agents…….getting up to speed fast.

 

They find “the one”

 

It’s going to auction.

*INSERT FAKE STABBING OF MYSELF IN THE CHEST*

 

They love the house.

Guy is working on finances, Caroline is crying with excitement that all their new furniture can fit.

 

The building report gets sent through for me to scrutinise.

I am picturing the deck falling down, pipes bursting, termites plotting behind shadows and no approvals.

 

It checks out.

 

It has a gorgeous reserve at the rear .

I squint one eye, ………….. Is it really reserve?

Is there a development consent for a nine story apartment complex going up?

OMG it is go to block all natural light and they freeze to death.

It’s Queensland for gods sake Christine …… they won’t freeze to death.

 

The reserve adjoins  a deep creek.

With boats moored.

I now think  that creek is going to be a haven for mosquito, snakes and cane toads.

 

They will die from malaria, snake venom or drown from the next floods.

 

I have a girlfriend go around the area like inspector cluso.

I find out all about the neighbours, their dogs, the sunlight, bike paths and criminals in the area.

 

She counts 28 groups through the second last open house. There are five pre registered bidders. There were four third inspections . There are seven more asking for contracts.

There are European made cars out front Beamers, Audi, Mercedes Drivers in nice shoes looking at the house.

 

My son wears thongs….. ohhhh god we don’t stand a chance.

 

Auction day approaches and during discussions I offer to come up and help them bid.

 

After all, I have attended a thousand auctions as an agent.

I know how this works.

I understand the theatre.

I am an expert.

 

They are thrilled that I am flying up to help secure the house.

I get to be a hero.

Make them proud.

 

Of course I turn to water.

A puddle of mum.

Dry mouthed hysteria.

All strategy goes out the window.

I would have surgically removed my own kidney and held it up like an offering to the auctioneer.

I try bribing the agent with veuve clinquot.

I appeal to her senses as a mother.

I picture myself wrapped around her leg with deposit cheque in hand sobbing.

 

My boy did well.

They bought the house.

The home where they will hang out with their fur babies until they start their family.

 

The champagne was drunk

The cocktails were drunk.

The wine was drunk.

The Panadol was  taken

The water straight from the tap in the en-suite was drunk at 3am.

I am now in the air flying back to Canberra and then onto the coast.

Proud and relieved.