N is for New House, New Baby

Paul and I got married in December of 1986 and lived in a small apartment in a Baltimore suburb. We started looking for a house the following summer, half recreationally, considering we were making about $12,000 a year. Home ownership was a dream, but we were young and full of dreams. We also loathed paying rent when we wanted to put down roots and start a family.

We looked at a few houses and then the realtor took us to this one you see in the picture. Paul and I are both capable of seeing potential and exercising our imaginations and muscles to transform places and spaces into our own special habitat.

Such was the case with this 1930s Ugly Duckling. Originally the whole neighborhood was built as army housing for WWII military, so I felt a strong sense of history in that home--something I like far better than "brand spanking new" homes. The streets around there ended in "ship" because of the proximity to the local shipyard. Our house was on Kinship Road; the name couldn't be lovelier. It was a duplex on a corner (the other half behind this one), so there was a decent little yard. Hardwood floors covered by hideous avocado carpet. Cotton candy pink paint on every.single.wall. A run-down kitchen with a stove in an alcove, and a bathroom whose sink was moments from falling off the wall. A basement with a secret room not unlike the attic I pictured Anne Frank hiding in. Two bedrooms: one for us and one for our future first two children. And the price? $44,000. I remember thinking the mortgage being $100 more than our rent would put us at $392/month. Could we handle that?

We could. We did. What a surprise to get the keys to our first home in June of 1987. And the greater surprise? Finding out the next month that we were expecting our first baby. My heart could hardly contain all the joy of promise .

In the four years there, we:

1. Remodeled the bathroom

2. Repainted every room in the house

3. Replaced the carpet

4. Ripped out the shrubs and planted colorful flowers

5. Repainted the awnings blue with white trim

6. Reunited with my foster sister, whom I hadn't seen since I was five! She and her family lived,

of all places, on the street just behind ours!

7. Reproduced three times, not two as we'd planned.

We had wonderful neighbors, including Mrs. DiProspero (whom everyone called "Mrs.D"). Her husband died within months of our living there, and we became fast friends as we shared our sorrow over losing him. Mrs. D was about 70 years old and had an Italian accent that endeared me. She ended every word with "-a": "Welcome-a to our streeta. You and Paul are so younga and already owna a housa? That'sa so nice-a."

Ben was born in March of 1988 and Sarah came along in April of '89. We lived in that home for four years until our third, Stephen, was born and the house was just a bit too tight for the five of us. With each baby-a borna, Mrs. D gave us her tender, grandmotherly advice. "Issa kinda cold-uh. You gonna putta some socksa onna his feeta?"