The New Kids On the Block

And yes, while that's a total throw back to the days of Donnie Wahlburg, Tiger Beat magazine, and oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh - (you got the) the right stuff (it's stuck in your head now, right?? yea, sorry about that), the title comes with absolute truth. See, Ed and I have finally ended our long journey weeding through heaps of homes to find the right fit for all of us. The list of homes we toured ranged from the realms of beauty, to mediocrity, and well, to down right icky (think rotting turquoise siding and mold ridden basements). That is until a newly listed home was brought to our attention on a Friday afternoon in February. We hemmed and hawed about going to see it because honestly, it wasn't really our "style", but went to see it on Saturday nonetheless. Before we went to see the "not really our style home" we went to check out another potential home that was honestly nothing short of incredible.

This home was historic, and HUGE, and had original hand-carved woodworking, shale shingles and a turret. It had maid’s quarters and secret stairways, original fireplaces (living room and basement) and two sets of double front doors that weighed about 700lbs a piece, both with the original hardware. Needless to say Ed, my father, and I were in historic home heaven. The home was built in 1847 (oh if walls could talk) and oozed ageless beauty. However, the almost 3,000 sq ft, three-floor home in need of some TLC proved to be a bigger bite than Ed and I knew we could chew. So we bid adieu to this magnificent historic lovely and carried on to find a home that would better suit us as a family. 

There were a few other homes we looked at prior to the historic beauty that we thought may be promising; we actually put an offer in on this one (totally cute, right?).

This house had us at hello. There were 3 bedrooms and 1 bath. The master bedroom was a loft.  The back yard was fenced in and Ed was enamored with the garage. It was an inviting cape; reminiscent of the build of house Ed grew up in, in Woodstock and I grew up in, in Wappingers. The floors gleamed and the natural light could warm even the darkest of souls. However, no dice on that house as our offer was beat out by a more aggressive, deeper-pocketed individual; it was back to the drawing board.

The next house we set foot in was, well, it was a hot freakin’ mess.  Yes, I would aptly name this house the Lindsay Lohan of homes.  Oh. Dear. Lord. Remember how I mentioned earlier in the post about rotting turquoise siding?  I meant it.  Wanna see? I know you all do because like Ms. I-didn’t-do-it Lohan, this house was a train wreck you just can’t but help stare at and pity it. It doesn’t look so bad from the pictures, but like a Picasso, its ok from a distance, but once up close...

 This home barely had windows which meant dungeon dark. Ever single hornet/yellow jacket on earth had made its nest on the front porch and in the window sills and frame. It was a 3 bedroom, 1 icky bathroom home with asbestos ceiling tiles and holes punched (drunkenly) in the entryway walls and ceiling. The kitchen was a mish-mosh of I don’t know what they were thinking and plastic made-to-look-like-floor-tiles glued to the ceiling (of which 30% had fallen down or were falling down). The back section of the home was, well, Ms. Lohan at her worst. Turquoise? Really? The house was rotting out before our very eyes. The gutters were falling and the rotted wood around the windows screamed “termite paradise”; they were crumbling just by looking at them. The real kicker was this: they were asking $150,000 for this home. Yes, like Ms. Lohan, the sellers were looking to get paid an exorbitant amount of cash for lackluster talents and relevancy (or in the case of this house lackluster anything). So, we moved on.

After feeling much like the bedtime story of Goldie Locks and the Three Bears, Ed and I were getting a little frustrated. No historic home or Ms. Lohan-esk hot mess felt right. That was until we went to visit the “not really our style” home that had only be listed for a mere 24 hours.  When we arrived at this home, both Ed and I were pleasantly surprised with its charm. After we agreed that trudging through a billion feet of snow was worth it, we had a moment. That moment wasn’t smoochy or a hug or even a high-five, nope it was a moment of being on the same page. About Katie Butler. When Ed looked at me and I said to him “well, it’s red, and man, wouldn’t Katie love that!” we knew it was a definite contender.  

Upon our approach to the newly listed crib, the screen door was missing its glass and its handle. The heat hadn’t been on in the home for a couple of years and the pipes had burst in seven places. The hardwood floors were a mess and the light fixtures were less than ideal (15 ceiling fans and counting).  The kitchen was Jerry Garcia psychedelic with some crazy tile pattern and the pink and avocado bathroom was a mess – not quite Lohan level, but close. As we meandered around the home, it began to feel like a home we could all comfortably settle into. It had every amenity we listed on our “wish list”: a fireplace, 3 bedrooms, a garage, a deck, a fenced in yard for Stella and Cman, and space to allow Silver Spade to practice.  We spent a lot of time that day looking around and getting a feel for what we could do with this essentially blank slate.


This crib was the perfect concoction of “the hard work will pay off” and a feeling of home that we decided to put in an offer. As we sat in our real estate agents office and signed our lives away only after an hour of seeing the house, we are overwhelmed and overjoyed all at the same time.  Our offer was accepted three days later and I witnessed Ed nearly have a heart attack.

Will this crib be a giant pain in our ass in the coming months (hopefully not years) to come? Yep. Will this crib be in a constant state of update? Yep. Will this crib drain us both in our wallets and physical energy? Kinda. Hey! Don’t you remember?? We have a 13 year old – isn’t physical labor what kids are for?  Will this crib be ours and be given the love it deserves? Yes. And in return this crib will also afford us love for our family. Wow, I think I just wrote vows to our home.

So, in an effort to document and share with everyone our ever evolving improvements on our first crib, we started this red house nine. Well, that’s not the only reason. We’re also so totally psyched to be The New Kids on the Block that we couldn’t possibly contain our excitement to only ourselves – we want to share!