I am not a Venus Flytrap: my promise to Montreal West Island home buyers and sellers.

I am not a Venus Flytrap.  This is my promise to you, Montreal West Island home buyers and sellers.

I look nothing like a Venus Flytrap.

I know you feel compelled to wipe out your caller ID when you call me.  I know you weigh the pros and cons of giving me your address with the gravity of considering whether to have another child.  I know you don’t want to give me your last name.  And some of you don’t even want to give me your real first name :)  

I know this because you called me this weekend asking about my listings and about other homes for sale in Montreal West Island.

You feel it necessary to approach me in a way that will make it impossible for me to grab you in my clutches, never to let go of you again. You want to avoid an unending, and unrequested, barrage of e-mails from me, phone calls, calendars, magnets, letters of ANNOUNCEMENT!!!, UPDATES YOU MUST READ NOW!!!, and all of the other endless ways some of us in this crazy business of real estate (and other businesses too) trap you and never let you go.

But you should know this: I am not a Venus Flytrap, and I never will be.  I promise.

I will not harass you.

I will not devour you.

I will not add you to an endless, automated, meaningless, e-mail drip campaign.  I will not call you with feigned excitement in my voice announcing, “The market has NEVER been better!!  You’ve GOTTA jump in right now!!  RIGHT NOW!!!”

If you have questions for me about Montreal West Island homes for sale or the real estate market in general, you can be comfortable firing away. My contact with you will be meaningful and respectful of you, your time and your privacy.

I may be from Venus, but I’m not a Venus Flytrap.  I promise.

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Tanya Nouwens, September 7th 2010 | Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Musings, Real Estate

My Facebook Faux-Pas Extraordinaire

Want to hear about my Facebook Faux-Pas Extraordinaire?  Trust me, it’ll make you feel better about yourself. 

Man gripping steering wheelFirst, a confession: I am a Facebook neophyte.  I still don’t quite understand what all of the links do, how they differ from one another, what messages go nuclear and what stays local, etc. 

Unfortunately, though, my Facebook Faux-Pas Extraordinaire has nothing to do with my Facebook ignorance!  I WISH I could blame it on that.  Rather, it has everything to do with my proclivity to make assumptions and then…yes, you guessed it…subsequently make a complete ass of myself.

Without giving away details that will result in the people in question being identified – and thus resulting in me making an ass of myself two days in a row – here goes.

A blurb came up on my Facebook page where a friend (I’ll call her “Jewel”) posted a picture of herself with some friends at a reunion of sorts.  Standing next to her was her husband, a very, very good friend of mine (whom I’ll call “Joshua”).  I’ve known him since we were kids.

Jewel posted a caption to the effect of, “Still looking good after all these years.”  And she was right; they did look good after all these years — except for Joshua who I thought HAD aged.  In fact, he had gone from having mostly brown hair to mostly gray hair….in just a few months.  Well, I couldn’t let that go.  Remember now, we’re very good friends and I’ve known him since we were kids.  So I made a comment to the effect of:

“You’re right, Jewel. You guys do look amazing…except for that gray-haired old fart standing next to you!”

Happy with my witty output for the moment, I click on “home” again and up comes the same picture from a different angle.  This time, the shot is head on.  There’s Jewel.  And…oh Lord…THAT’S NOT JOSHUA STANDING NEXT TO HER!!!!

I have just called a perfect stranger a gray-haired old fart!  I squirm and start hyper-ventilating.

I race back to the original picture, delete my comment as fast as I can — was it fast enough? — and then…I wait for it.  And it comes.  While laughing her butt off at work, Jewel writes to say that she’s sure her non-Joshua friend will appreciate being called a gray-haired old fart by a perfect stranger.   

I squirm some more.

Until I read that he’s not a Facebook user.

I’m still an ass.  But at least I’m laughing now.

But there’s a big lesson here for me.  It’s not the first time I’ve made an assumption and looked like an idiot.  I’ve been with new clients before, going through their home, and assumed there was an intact couple living there.  Upon seeing the guest bedroom with the bed unmade, I have said stupid things like, “Oh, do you have guests?” In fact, the couple had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for some time. They were headed for divorce. I’ve done this twice.

The next time I feel the need to make conversation or to be witty, both personally and professionally, I’m going to think twice…or maybe three times…and I’ll remember my Facebook Faux-Pas Extraordinaire.  Fool me once, I’m an idiot.  Fool me twice, well…you…I…how does that go again?

10 Comments

Tanya Nouwens, August 19th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Musings, Real Estate

If all I had to do was my job…

If all I had to do was my job, oh how my life would be simpler.  Quieter too, of course, and less joyful and fulfilling and heart-warming and all of that.  I get that.  I really do.

But today, I am envious of my husband, who kisses me and the boys in the morning and goes off to work, where he gets to…work!  And he works all day, knowing his kids and his home are well taken care of and that supper will be ready (most days) when he arrives home at the end of the day.

Cartoon depiction of mom trying to do many things at onceHe gets to do his job, without worrying about:

How to be in three places at the same time.

How to say no…again…to our son’s having a friend over because I have an appointment later.

How to schedule a breakfast meeting, photo shoot and uploading of an MLS listing around our kids’ activities and sleepover plans.

Whether there’s enough food in the house to get through the next day.

How to find time to walk the dog.

Whether we have clean sheets for tonight’s guest in the spare bedroom and if not, what then!

How to find the quiet, uninterrupted space necessary to study the market for properties fitting my new client’s needs and schedule showings that make sense.

How to keep the kids happy, entertained and nourished while I’m buried in paperwork.

How to schedule a quick one-day trip to the country to visit a friend who is in from California when I’m about to get a new listing.

How to speak with the developer I’m working with without the sounds of cartoons and “Mom, I’m hungry!!!” in the background. 

And whether the boys really will turn into violent psychopaths because of the number of hours they’ve spent playing video games yet again!

Don’t get me wrong.  I love all of my various roles: mom, wife, dog owner, home owner, real estate broker, home stager, sister, daughter, friend, etc.  And I would not trade any of it…well, not for any length of time anyway : )  

And I have a really and truly supportive husband.  I really, really do.  He’s a partner in every sense of the word.  But even so…

What I find hardest is not the hard work, the scheduling, the organizing, the management and over-seeing of most things home and children related.  What I find hardest is the feeling that I’m not doing anything really well.  I’m doing some things really well, but not all of them.  And yet they’re all important to me. 

Ah, the angst of the working mother.

If anyone knows of an antidote to this angst, beyond an evening glass of wine, spill your beans!  Please! 

As for me, I’ll begin my research on cloning…

5 Comments

Tanya Nouwens, August 5th 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Musings, work life balance

Everybody Comes from Somewhere

A dear sweet friend of mine recently said that she was trying, unsuccessfully, to find the good in everyone.  Life can be like that sometimes.  And it got me thinking…

I used to work for the federal correctional system in Canada.  Most of my 18-year career there was spent at national headquarters where we studied things like riots, hostage-takings, suicides and murders that took place inside our prisons to see whether they could have been prevented and what lessons we could apply in the future to avoid these things from happening again.

We also did loads of research to develop and deliver treatment programs for inmates and for those who eventually got let out on parole to help them avoid crime in the future.

I also worked for a short time inside a medium-security prison with a caseload of inmates.  It was fascinating and rewarding work. 

People always ask me whether I was afraid.  I wasn’t usually.  These guys were like some of the guys I had gone to high school with.  But they had taken a wrong turn, many wrong turns, and didn’t have the inner strength or the outer support to get back on the right track.  When you looked at their family histories, at how they were raised, you were left saying, “Well, no wonder they ended up here.”

In most cases:

Their parents were not in a position to help guide them as they were alcoholics or drug addicts themselves.  Their home environment was not stable, and their parents were often out of work.

They were abused, either sexually, physically or emotionally.

They did poorly in school.  And they were not one of the lucky few who got taken under the wing by a concerned teacher prepared to go above and beyond the call of duty.

They weren’t involved in organized sports, so they didn’t have the opportunity for a coach to guide them and give them the structure that will sometimes “save” a child who does not have stability at home.

And sometimes, all of the above occurred in response to a tragic event in their life, like the violent death of a parent, sibling or grand-parent.

Two hands holding a lightEvery one of us has come from somewhere.  We were all two-year-olds at one point, running around, laughing, with a shine in our eyes, all the hopes of our parents upon us for a good life, the world being a safe place to explore and play.

And then life happens.

And we turn into who we are.

We are, today, responsible for who we are and the choices we make as a result.

But we can also recognize that everybody comes from somewhere.  That inside every one of us, despite our words, attitudes, grievances, crappy behaviour, hurtful actions, successes, bumps and bruises, scars and weaknesses, there remains a part of that two-year-old.  And the more we can do to find it in ourselves and in others, the better off we will all be. 

It’s a softer, more open view of the world.  And it does not mean being naive.  It simply means recognizing that everybody comes from somewhere.  Even you. 

And there’s grace, humility and kindness in that.

6 Comments

Tanya Nouwens, July 23rd 2010 | Posted in Musings

Speechless Sunday: Hup Holland Hup!

We’re ready.

What does an octopus know about soccer anyway?  He was wrong once; he can be wrong again.

My dad would have been so excited.  Wish we were in London today with my crazy Dutch family…or in Newfoundland with the crazier ones : ) 

Hup Holland Hup!

Boys wearing Dutch soccer gearHouse with Dutch soccer banner

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Tanya Nouwens, July 11th 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Musings

Happy Canada Day Everyone – And Thanks, Mom and Dad

When my dad was 12, he and his family came across the ocean from Holland to make a new life in Canada.  My grandfather had arranged for his family (wife and 5 children) to help work a farm. They would live on the farm and make their living there.

When they arrived at the port in Montreal, there was a telegram waiting for them. It was from the farmer in Alberta who had hired them. Their work was no longer needed. They were on their own.

Devastated, they eventually found their way to a community near London, Ontario, where other Dutch immigrants were settling.  A year after they settled, my grandfather died of lung cancer. The family was devastated. (Yes, I just used that word twice.) My father was the only boy in the family.  He lost his dad at a critical time in his life.

After a few years of tremendous upheaval, grief, instability and unbelievable difficulty, the family eventually found their way and carved out a new life.

When my mom was 3, her father was taken prisoner by the Russian army.  She was living in a part of Poland that was being taken over by the Russians, and they declared my grandfather a political prisoner.  He was later released to fight in the Second World War, and eventually found his way to Canada. But my mother grew up fatherless in Russia. 

Then in the late 1950s, the Russian government allowed people living in Russia who were of Polish descent to move back to Poland, which is what my mother did with her mom and her brother and sister and their families.  They stayed in Poland for a year, and then came to Canada and were reunited with their father, in London, Ontario.  My mom was 21.

Canadian flag wavingI remember being 13, feeling out of place in my own skin, still such a kid and needing my dad.  I can’t imagine being 13, in a foreign country, without my father.

I remember being 21.  And how hard it was to find my way.  To be confident.  To feel like I belonged somewhere.  To keep up with the ever-changing trends and the styles.  I can’t imagine being 21, landing on foreign soil, not speaking the language, and not knowing what it took to fit in with the culture.

But my parents did it.  And because they did it, and survived, and met each other at a dance at the Polish Hall in London, I am here.  And so are my sister and brothers.

Because of them, I got to grow up in Canada.  This big, beautiful, remarkable, kind, rugged, gentle, welcoming, vast, magnificent, FREE country.  I’m so lucky.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.  For what you gave me, and for what I’m able to give my kids.

Happy Canada Day, everyone.

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Tanya Nouwens, June 30th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Musings

Only in Quebec

Every summer when I was a kid, my parents would pack all 4 of us kids into the car and make the sweaty, stifling 18-hour trip from the east coast where we lived to London, Ontario, where we were born and our extended family lived. 

My parents somehow handled the sweating, and complaining, and boredom and unending roads extremely well. (Except for the time they forgot my brother at a rest stop, but after hours of therapy, we’re ready to let that one go.)

The only time they truly got frantic was when we passed through Montreal.  “Jean, watch the signs. WATCH THE SIGNS!  Oh for the love of God don’t let us get lost here… Jean!  Jean!  Was that the sign for the tunnel we just passed?  WAS THAT THE SIGN FOR THE TUNNEL!  Kids, shush I can’t think.  KIDS!  SHUT THAT BLOODY BOUZOUKI!!!!  Oh Lord.  Not again.”

Getting lost in Montreal in the summer is not hard to do.  Because of our intense winters, road construction and repair can only take place from April to November.  So construction projects are jammed one atop another and the whole city is under siege in the spring and summer. 

Detour signs are aplenty…or there are none at all. 

Actual detour routes are only half marked…or not at all.

Lane changes are marked approximately 3.2 feet before the change MUST take place or your life is in jeopardy.  

And rather than remove detour signs from the road when the detour is no longer in effect, construction crews just sort of push them to the side.  We’re left to wonder, “Is that really a detour?  Is it sort of a detour?  Did it used to be a detour but it’s not anymore?” 

It’s like Quebec construction crews have taken a universal oath to mess with us to see how long it takes for the mice to lose their minds, find alternate 3-hour routes, or give up completely in a heaping, sobbing, cursing mess.

Two detour signs on street in Montreal West IslandHere’s a prime example of what I mean, seen in Montreal West Island.

Only in Quebec, my dears.

Strangely, it’s part of what I love about this crazy province.  Quirkiness is one of my favourite qualities…in people and places.

Welcome to summer : )

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Tanya Nouwens, June 27th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Kirkland Quebec Happenings, Musings, Uncategorized

I sure love this guy.

When I was pregnant with our first child, I told my husband that I hoped the baby was a girl.  Not because I had always hoped to have a girl.  Quite the contrary.  As a child, I was always more comfortable building with Lego than having a tea party.  I was climbing trees while other girls were playing with Barbies.  I could relate more to boys than to girls in a lot of ways.

I hoped our first child would be a girl because my husband was so reserved emotionally.  I mean, the guy had never in his life EVER hugged one his guy friends.  It was knuckle crashing or nothing for him.  And he knew nothing about children or babies at all.  And I mean, NOT AT ALL.  I’m not sure he had ever held a baby in his life.  Or wanted to.

So I thought he’d find it easier to be the kind of hands-on, affectionate and loving father I had always dreamed of my children having if his first child was a baby girl.

I needn’t have worried.

When our first son, Tyler, was born, out of my husband’s soul came a dad who was fun, loving, sweet, gentle, kind, affectionate, caring, protective and did-I-mention?…FUN.  Tyler was followed by Zachary, who recently aptly put it: “Daddy is fun and cool, and Mommy is comfy-cozy.”

Man holding his two sonsHe was always meant to be a father.  And I guess we both knew it.  And both of his sons, and their mom, are fuller human beings because of it.

Richard, my love, what would we do without you?  You are our rock, and our rock band leader : )  You are the big bear hug every family needs.  You are a shining example of the type of strong yet gentle, kind yet purposeful, devoted yet fun-loving man of integrity, passion and principle that every boy should have for a father…and every woman should be lucky enough to call her husband.

I’m so glad I married you.

I’m even gladder I had babies with you. 

Happy Father’s Day, my love.

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Tanya Nouwens, June 20th 2010 | Tags:
Posted in Musings

Imperfection

There’s beauty in imperfection.

And art.

Whimsy and surprise.

Character.

The imprint of a life that’s LIVED.

2 Comments

Tanya Nouwens, June 6th 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Musings

Wordless Wednesday: I Miss You, Dad.

Man standing at water's edge

John C. Nouwens

May 20, 1939 – May 12, 1999

We sure do miss you, Dad.

But after 11 years, we finally figured out how to make your BBQ pork chops!

Love, love and more love,

Tanya

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Comments

Tanya Nouwens, May 12th 2010 | Tags:
Posted in Musings
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