It's official. The house is now in the foreclosure process. The sitter called me today to let me know that she found The Packet of papers taped with the signature blue tape on our door when she went to take the little ones to the store. I thought I'd be more... I don't know, upset. But I'm not.
I'm almost relieved. Now we have an idea of how much longer we have. This doesn't mean that the short-sale process is done and over. The bank has different departments that handle the two issues (of course), and whomever gets their job done first, well, wins. In theory they should be communicating with each other and delay foreclosure/auction if the short-sale is close to closing, but that's expecting a lot out of a fairly inefficient system. So, legally the soonest we could be forced out, if the short-sale doesn't go through, is early March. The papers today are the beginning of the end. The bank can sell the house at auction 120 days from today, and then we'll have 20 days after that to leave. Here's hoping the short-sale people win the race to the finish line!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Weekly Update
The bank has now officially activated our file. They are also requiring that we fill out all of the financial paperwork again on different forms, and continue to redo and resubmit these forms every 30 days until we close. Ugh. Looks like I know how I'm spending a good chunk of my weekends for the next few months. But at least it's movement, right? The offer came in one month ago yesterday, so it only took 30 days for them to pick up the file and tell us that it's not the "right" file.
On a positive note, the house for sale next door to us, the same floor plan, finally closed! It was also a short-sale (what isn't in my area, right now....) and the buyers put the offer in the first week of June, taking 4 1/2 months to close. It wasn't with the same bank, so it's not a direct comparison, nor do I know how short the sellers were. Sort of comparing apples to pears, I guess. The positive for us is that we have a solid, recently-closed comparable property for when the bank requests the BPO. BPO is when they hire independent, local agents to recommend fair-market value for the house. Having an almost exact property comparison that has recently closed at a very similar amount to the buyer's offer will help greatly with that process.
Keep praying, crossing your fingers, or knocking on wood - whatever gets your goat - that the process moves smoothly from here on out (and that we don't find ourselves having to move the week of Christmas.....).
On a positive note, the house for sale next door to us, the same floor plan, finally closed! It was also a short-sale (what isn't in my area, right now....) and the buyers put the offer in the first week of June, taking 4 1/2 months to close. It wasn't with the same bank, so it's not a direct comparison, nor do I know how short the sellers were. Sort of comparing apples to pears, I guess. The positive for us is that we have a solid, recently-closed comparable property for when the bank requests the BPO. BPO is when they hire independent, local agents to recommend fair-market value for the house. Having an almost exact property comparison that has recently closed at a very similar amount to the buyer's offer will help greatly with that process.
Keep praying, crossing your fingers, or knocking on wood - whatever gets your goat - that the process moves smoothly from here on out (and that we don't find ourselves having to move the week of Christmas.....).
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Weekly Update
To handle the labor-intensive negotiations with the bank we are using a Loss Mitigation branch of a local law firm. They get the joy of sitting on the phone, dealing with the ineptness of the (at best) overworked or (at worse) brainless cogs on the other end of the line, faxing and re-faxing documents, and overall handling the more annoying and stressful details of getting this process brought to a close. They tell us what they need from us, we provide it and they play the games with the bank. They e-mail us updates on their activity and conversations weekly.
Last week the update was something like this: the bank has acknowledged receiving our short-sale package and will be processing it on "priority" status due to the fact that we are already so far into default. It is a Fannie Mae backed loan, and supposedly FMae is not delaying the foreclosure process as they have been doing.
Update today is something like this: the bank has acknowledged receiving our short-sale package, but has done nothing with it. Not even entered it into the system, or "activated" it, so that it can be flagged as priority. Supposedly an e-mail has been sent from whomever the negotiator was speaking with over to the appropriate department requesting our file be activated.
Nearly one month has past since we received the offer, and the games have truly begun.
Last week the update was something like this: the bank has acknowledged receiving our short-sale package and will be processing it on "priority" status due to the fact that we are already so far into default. It is a Fannie Mae backed loan, and supposedly FMae is not delaying the foreclosure process as they have been doing.
Update today is something like this: the bank has acknowledged receiving our short-sale package, but has done nothing with it. Not even entered it into the system, or "activated" it, so that it can be flagged as priority. Supposedly an e-mail has been sent from whomever the negotiator was speaking with over to the appropriate department requesting our file be activated.
Nearly one month has past since we received the offer, and the games have truly begun.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Path to Now, Part 4
To recap, from January 2008 through early January 2009 where I ended the last post in this series:
1. We made the difficult decision to close our floundering general contracting company,
2. Mr. Four Walls took a job at roughly 40% of what he had made through our business,
3. I took a job outside the home to help make up some of the difference (nowhere near all of it, though),
4. Mr. Four Walls' mom moved in with us to watch the kids (then 3 & 5),
5. Mr. Four Walls was "temporarily" laid off (estimated to last 2 weeks, actually lasted 9), and
6. Surprise, I got pregnant with an IUD firmly in place while Mr. Four Walls was unemployed and we were uninsured.
Whew, that was a whirlwind of a year! But wait there's more......
My pregnancy went fairly smoothly, all things considered. Our second daughter had been born with no warning at 32 weeks, and had spent 3 weeks in the NICU (not bad at all for how early she was....) . Even without that history, the fact that I conceived with an IUD brought along it's own issues. Throw in the lack of insurance, and I was really overwhelmed. We made it through a very surreal first few weeks following my first pregnancy test - first told I wasn't actually pregnant, then told I was but that I would have to terminate , and then finally told that there was absolutely nothing abnormal about the pregnancy - and quickly we were able to get some health insurance in place for me. Thankfully, we were within 30 days of Mr. Four Walls being dropped from his employer's coverage, so there wasn't a huge issue getting the pregnancy covered.
We then turned toward the future and what this baby would mean for it. I had been at my job for right at a year, and I had no idea how they would handle our news. The company is over 40 years old, but they've never, not one time, had to deal with a pregnant employee. That's mainly because it's so small and has mostly employed men and only a few women, most of whom were already past their baby-making years when they started working there. We navigated through, and we were incredibly blessed by my employer. I was given some paid leave, followed by the opportunity to bring the baby with me when I returned. It meant that I had to return much sooner than I would have liked, right at 6 weeks, but that was their offer and as I knew I needed the job, I took it.
Against the odds, our little Peanut made her entrance on her due date, September 26th, 2009 at 4:04 in the afternoon, about three hours after my water broke. This was despite the fact that I had been in preterm/early labor since 31 weeks, with contractions coming every 10-20 minutes for roughly 2 months, with relatively few breaks. I worked up until the end of the day Friday, the 25th, and went home figuring that if the baby didn't come, I'd be back Monday morning. She was born on Saturday. I started my maternity leave that Monday knowing that I had only a few months before we would have to face the big issue of how in the world we would afford childcare for her once I could no longer bring her with me to the office.
I prayed A LOT, doing my best to trust that since God had blessed us with this baby, he'd bless us with a way to provide for her. But it was scary. We were already on the edge financially, since combined we were making so much less than we had been when we bought the house. Throw in all of the weeks of unemployment, the extra medical bills, and our commitment to eliminating our debts when things had seemed stable through most of 2008, and our savings was dwindling quickly. So while I trusted He'd provide, I knew deep down that it might not be in the miraculous, cash-falling-from-the-sky-way that we so often hope for when funds are low. Some may take this as a lack of faith, but I call it realism. I accept and wholeheartedly believe that big miracles can and do happen, but that more often than not God will simply nudge us in a direction and wait for us to take the steps.
1. We made the difficult decision to close our floundering general contracting company,
2. Mr. Four Walls took a job at roughly 40% of what he had made through our business,
3. I took a job outside the home to help make up some of the difference (nowhere near all of it, though),
4. Mr. Four Walls' mom moved in with us to watch the kids (then 3 & 5),
5. Mr. Four Walls was "temporarily" laid off (estimated to last 2 weeks, actually lasted 9), and
6. Surprise, I got pregnant with an IUD firmly in place while Mr. Four Walls was unemployed and we were uninsured.
Whew, that was a whirlwind of a year! But wait there's more......
My pregnancy went fairly smoothly, all things considered. Our second daughter had been born with no warning at 32 weeks, and had spent 3 weeks in the NICU (not bad at all for how early she was....) . Even without that history, the fact that I conceived with an IUD brought along it's own issues. Throw in the lack of insurance, and I was really overwhelmed. We made it through a very surreal first few weeks following my first pregnancy test - first told I wasn't actually pregnant, then told I was but that I would have to terminate , and then finally told that there was absolutely nothing abnormal about the pregnancy - and quickly we were able to get some health insurance in place for me. Thankfully, we were within 30 days of Mr. Four Walls being dropped from his employer's coverage, so there wasn't a huge issue getting the pregnancy covered.
We then turned toward the future and what this baby would mean for it. I had been at my job for right at a year, and I had no idea how they would handle our news. The company is over 40 years old, but they've never, not one time, had to deal with a pregnant employee. That's mainly because it's so small and has mostly employed men and only a few women, most of whom were already past their baby-making years when they started working there. We navigated through, and we were incredibly blessed by my employer. I was given some paid leave, followed by the opportunity to bring the baby with me when I returned. It meant that I had to return much sooner than I would have liked, right at 6 weeks, but that was their offer and as I knew I needed the job, I took it.
Against the odds, our little Peanut made her entrance on her due date, September 26th, 2009 at 4:04 in the afternoon, about three hours after my water broke. This was despite the fact that I had been in preterm/early labor since 31 weeks, with contractions coming every 10-20 minutes for roughly 2 months, with relatively few breaks. I worked up until the end of the day Friday, the 25th, and went home figuring that if the baby didn't come, I'd be back Monday morning. She was born on Saturday. I started my maternity leave that Monday knowing that I had only a few months before we would have to face the big issue of how in the world we would afford childcare for her once I could no longer bring her with me to the office.
I prayed A LOT, doing my best to trust that since God had blessed us with this baby, he'd bless us with a way to provide for her. But it was scary. We were already on the edge financially, since combined we were making so much less than we had been when we bought the house. Throw in all of the weeks of unemployment, the extra medical bills, and our commitment to eliminating our debts when things had seemed stable through most of 2008, and our savings was dwindling quickly. So while I trusted He'd provide, I knew deep down that it might not be in the miraculous, cash-falling-from-the-sky-way that we so often hope for when funds are low. Some may take this as a lack of faith, but I call it realism. I accept and wholeheartedly believe that big miracles can and do happen, but that more often than not God will simply nudge us in a direction and wait for us to take the steps.
Separation Anxiety
Our sweet little Peanut has turned one year old. The Four Walls household is now officially leaving the snugly newborn-baby years behind with this momentous mark for our last child, and forging full-speed ahead into toddler-dom one last time. First steps, imitation, and temper tantrums are the on the daily menu at Chez Four Walls, and we love every minute of it. Separation anxiety, on the other hand, not so much. I don't mean it hasn't taken up residence, because believe me, it has. What I mean is that we're not loving this stage. And by we, I mean me.
Peanut is a Daddy's Girl. Mr. Four Walls is her world, and has been pretty much since birth. Even when I was her sole source of sustenance in those first few milky-months, she tolerated me to attend to the task of nourishing herself, and then wanted....Daddy. This is such a turnabout from the older girls who, while they certainly loved and bonded with their Dad, searched me out for all of their needs. It was me they wanted in the middle of the night, and when they were in an unfamiliar place they scanned for me. Neither of them went through a particularly painful phase of getting anxious at my leaving or being out of sight, but they were definitely happier to have me close. Peanut? Not so much.
Don't get me wrong. Her eyes do light up when I come home, and she does seem to enjoy when I swoop her up and breathe her in after a long day apart. That is, unless she knows Mr. Four Walls is home. The child seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when he is present before she can see or hear him, and know matter who or what she was engaged with, when she senses him, she has to have him. Right. Now. God forbid he come into the house and need to use the restroom or wash his hands before he gets to her. Lord help us all if, after greeting her and the rest of the family, he retreats to the shower to clean away the days worth of dirt and grime he usually wears home. After over eight years of fatherhood, he is finally perfecting the art of the ultra-fast shower. Even from the other end of the house, even over the sound of the shower, he can hear her mournful cries of "Da-daaaaa. Da-daaaaa."
She'll settle down a bit for me or whomever is holding her, but unless she's sure he has left for good (and sometimes it'll continue even then) she struggles to hold back the crocodile tears. Periodic, questioning "Da-da"s pass through her sweet, quivering, pouting lips. And I'm jealous.
I'm away from her so much. On a good day I spend 120 waking minutes with her, and many days it's less. Yes, it is wonderful that she has such a strong bond with her Dad, and I would never want anything less for them. And, yes, I know that she and I have just as strong of a bond, even if it's not as visible at this stage of the game. And yes, I know that they go through phases, this too shall pass, and yada, yada, yada. The mature, rational, experienced mother in me gets it and is grateful. However, the slightly selfish, overworked, exhausted, tired-of-being-a-working mother wants her baby to want me as much as she wants her "Da-daaaaa." It hurts when I get home and try to give her a kiss only to have her push me away as she snuggles into Daddy. It hurts when she screams and claws back to him when I try to embrace her. It hurts that my presence and embrace has only 1/16th of the calming effect of simply having her father sitting next to her.
So, I think we're both experiencing a bit of separation anxiety: her from her father, and I from her. I look back at how insanely fast this past year has evaporated, and I'm sad. While working and commuting, I've missed so many precious giggles and smiles, tears and tunny-aches. Yes, it was for a good reason - food and shelter are good reasons, I suppose.
In this period of transition, as we separate ourselves from our once believed-to-be-forever-home, I'm anxious to move forward. Forward toward the day when I get to spend more than 120 rushed minutes with my kids. Forward toward the day when I will be able to answer the always asked question of "So, do you know where you're moving?" Forward toward the day of her maturing enough to recognize that even we she can't see him, her Daddy is there, loving her and protecting her. That's a reminder that I need sometimes, too. Silly Separation Anxiety.
Peanut is a Daddy's Girl. Mr. Four Walls is her world, and has been pretty much since birth. Even when I was her sole source of sustenance in those first few milky-months, she tolerated me to attend to the task of nourishing herself, and then wanted....Daddy. This is such a turnabout from the older girls who, while they certainly loved and bonded with their Dad, searched me out for all of their needs. It was me they wanted in the middle of the night, and when they were in an unfamiliar place they scanned for me. Neither of them went through a particularly painful phase of getting anxious at my leaving or being out of sight, but they were definitely happier to have me close. Peanut? Not so much.
Don't get me wrong. Her eyes do light up when I come home, and she does seem to enjoy when I swoop her up and breathe her in after a long day apart. That is, unless she knows Mr. Four Walls is home. The child seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when he is present before she can see or hear him, and know matter who or what she was engaged with, when she senses him, she has to have him. Right. Now. God forbid he come into the house and need to use the restroom or wash his hands before he gets to her. Lord help us all if, after greeting her and the rest of the family, he retreats to the shower to clean away the days worth of dirt and grime he usually wears home. After over eight years of fatherhood, he is finally perfecting the art of the ultra-fast shower. Even from the other end of the house, even over the sound of the shower, he can hear her mournful cries of "Da-daaaaa. Da-daaaaa."
She'll settle down a bit for me or whomever is holding her, but unless she's sure he has left for good (and sometimes it'll continue even then) she struggles to hold back the crocodile tears. Periodic, questioning "Da-da"s pass through her sweet, quivering, pouting lips. And I'm jealous.
I'm away from her so much. On a good day I spend 120 waking minutes with her, and many days it's less. Yes, it is wonderful that she has such a strong bond with her Dad, and I would never want anything less for them. And, yes, I know that she and I have just as strong of a bond, even if it's not as visible at this stage of the game. And yes, I know that they go through phases, this too shall pass, and yada, yada, yada. The mature, rational, experienced mother in me gets it and is grateful. However, the slightly selfish, overworked, exhausted, tired-of-being-a-working mother wants her baby to want me as much as she wants her "Da-daaaaa." It hurts when I get home and try to give her a kiss only to have her push me away as she snuggles into Daddy. It hurts when she screams and claws back to him when I try to embrace her. It hurts that my presence and embrace has only 1/16th of the calming effect of simply having her father sitting next to her.
So, I think we're both experiencing a bit of separation anxiety: her from her father, and I from her. I look back at how insanely fast this past year has evaporated, and I'm sad. While working and commuting, I've missed so many precious giggles and smiles, tears and tunny-aches. Yes, it was for a good reason - food and shelter are good reasons, I suppose.
In this period of transition, as we separate ourselves from our once believed-to-be-forever-home, I'm anxious to move forward. Forward toward the day when I get to spend more than 120 rushed minutes with my kids. Forward toward the day when I will be able to answer the always asked question of "So, do you know where you're moving?" Forward toward the day of her maturing enough to recognize that even we she can't see him, her Daddy is there, loving her and protecting her. That's a reminder that I need sometimes, too. Silly Separation Anxiety.
The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
-Philippians 4:6 (NIV)
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