My life lately is made up of all the highest highs and the lowest lows.

The morning after I told the internets that we had bought a house our mortgage broker told us that he could not find us a loan. We were crestfallen.

Not to be defeated, Beefcake called around himself and (surprise!) was able to find a very normal and mainstream lender who will give us our crippling long-term debt. It took him an hour. We no longer have the greatest confidence in the mortgage broker.

It was wonderful to be able to re-sign contracts at that final price. We spent most of yesterday numb, we had been through so many moments where we were certain we could not buy this house that our brains just refused to accept the reality of finally having it.

Today we went for a long walk around our neighbourhood. We have bought only a few minutes away from where we have been renting. It is a dream come true to be able to buy in this area. Even though we have been living here for more than a year I don’t think we have allowed ourselves to feel that it was our home and our community – we weren’t here legitimately, we didn’t belong.

Today we walked the streets and whispered to each other – “look at where we get to live!”. I kept nudging Beefcake and saying “We bought a house – here!”. We have felt almost homeless all of this time. Our rental is fine but there is something to be said for having a house we can claim as our own again. I didn’t realise just how much the lack of that had been getting me down. I really didn’t.

We have so many plans for this house, I have so much planning to entertain me. Beefcake says he has never seen me so excited about a house before and this is the third house we have purchased together. It is true, I can see us staying in this new house for a long, long time.

The children are so excited but can’t understand why we must wait to move in.

The school holidays are in full swing now. The novelty of being at home with all this free time has worn off and they are starting to become agitated. When I told Rhubarb tonight that we were not moving until the end of May he moaned and rolled his eyes. I predict that I will have this conversation with one of the children at least 432 times before we actually move. They will ask me each day “how many more days is it now?” and you know what?

I am that overjoyed that I might just answer cheerfully. Every. Single. Time (actually, I guarantee that I will not but I like to imagine that I am the nice calm mother instead of the shrieking banshee woman- sometimes).

P.S. Long walks of suburban admiration are not good for dodgy pelvises (should that be pelvii or something, it feels as though it should have a snazzier plural but I don’t suppose people need to use a plural form of the word pelvis all that often). I still hadn’t recovered from the sugar rush the other day and now I am walking as though I am heavily pregnant again (think limping and leaning on every available surface but as though your ankles are tied together because if you move your feet apart it feels as though you have been kicked in the vagina). I never learn.