Thoughts on Leaving California

archway gate Olive the cat sitting at our gate.

Did you know there is a private Facebook group called Leaving California? I’m not sure how I ran across it, but before we made the move, I signed up. I was surprised to find out there are more than 30,000 members!

Scrolling through the posts made me feel sad in the beginning. I wasn’t convinced I wanted to leave. I loved our home downtown Palm Springs. We were two blocks from restaurants, shops and our views were breathtaking.

To add to my uncertainty, my “adult children” were beyond furious. That was the only home they’ve known prior to moving away for college and their adult lives. They both believe we made the biggest mistake in our lives by selling our home. It does have “location, location, location.” It is beautiful. But it also had its downsides. It was rustic without many modern amenities like closet space or a roomy kitchen. I was always freezing and my fingers went numb. It was big on charm, though. It was also big on expense. For some reason — partly because it’s located in California and also that it was built in the 1930s — it was terribly expensive to keep up.

birthday party for dog My kids celebrating a birthday with Natasha our rottie years ago in the family home.

The kids were so angry with us that they didn’t speak to my husband or me for a bit. This made me more sad. We invited them to come home to say good-by. We also asked the buyers if we could stay for one last Christmas. They said, sure, no problem — $8,000 and Christmas was ours. We passed and decided to bite the bullet. We left our home close to 30 days of selling.

I bring this up about my kids because I noticed this week on the Facebook Leaving California page, that a lot of people are going through the same thing with their adult children. The latest post garnered close to 400 comments. Most said “Tell them to buy it if they want it.” Others were a little more understanding to the kids’ feelings.

prom photos in backyard We celebrated several proms with photos in our back yard.

I understand how my kids feel. My mom had to sell our childhood home, which was gorgeous with stunning views, too. Unfortunately, she had to sell after she and my dad divorced and she could no longer afford the expenses. I can tell you, that was an extremely upsetting way to lose my childhood home — and my nuclear family. I felt like my world turned upside down and there was no gravity to keep me on the planet.

My husband felt our kids were acting spoiled. They weren’t entitled to the house. He said he’d been working since age 13 and didn’t want to work until the day he died to pay to live in our home. Although, he’s still working now in our new home, there will come a day in a couple years where he won’t have to.

My kids are coming to accept our new reality. I’m looking forward to COVID-19 vaccines and their visits to our new home. I can’t wait to show them the hiking trails we’re discovering, the quail running through our backyard and the sunsets and sunrises.

Nothing can take away all the great memories we had of 28 years living there. I truly believe that home is not a structure, but is with the people who love you.

view of gorgeous Palm Springs backyard Our backyard in Palm Springs.

What are your thoughts about selling a childhood home? Would your kids understand? How did you feel when your parents did the same?

 

 

Is it time to say good-bye to our beloved home?

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Our kids in the back yard.

It’s been an exhausting few weeks. I’ve been going through 27 years of stuff we’ve collected, had three rooms painted and interviewed several realtors. We aren’t planning on moving right away, but we realize it is time to get started on fixing up the house in case we sell. If we decide to stay, we’ll enjoy our house with a fresh coat of paint and years worth of stuff sorted through and hauled off.

Despite the physical work involved, I think what’s most tiring is inviting realtors into my home. Hearing from them that our home isn’t quite worth what Zillow says — followed by the emotions of being told our house will probably be a total gut and remodel by a prospective buyer.

 

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My bathroom sink.

We were looking for suggestions on what to improve and upgrade to get optimum money for our house. We interviewed more than one realtor this weekend and the consensus was “Unless you’re willing to spend more than two hundred thousand dollars in improvements, let this be someone else’s project.”

A few hundred thousand dollars? What about a coat of paint? And a few repairs? Huh?

We heard we have a “beautiful view” and our house has “good bones.” The new people will see our house as a “blank canvas and want to create their own painting.”

IMG_9404Being told your home of 27 years is filled with charm and character, but someone is going to rip everything apart to make it livable, is like someone telling you your child is horrendously ugly. We moved in when I was pregnant with our first child and the home is filled with memories of birthday parties, Christmas, swim friends, nights of homework and family dinners. All of our years together as family were in this home. We love our house and letting go is going to be hard. I think the emotional break up with my home makes me more tired than the physical labor involved in the process — or a hike up the tram road.

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In my master bedroom with my daughter.

 

 

How have you felt after moving from the house you were emotionally attached to? Any suggestions on how to handle the transition?

 

 

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My son peeking out his bedroom door.