Heart & Home

More Water, More Snacks
Real estate lessons from two whirlwind weeks on the road

The past two weeks have felt like someone hit fast-forward on my new career. Not long ago, I was adjusting to the idea of being a real estate agent — now I feel like I’ve been launched full-speed into the field with a phone in one hand, GPS running, kids in the backseat, and a protein bar in my pocket (if I’m lucky). I’ve always known I can handle a busy schedule, but this new season has me operating on a whole new level of “on the go.” The biggest lessons so far? Pack more water. Bring more snacks. Always.

Yesterday might be the perfect snapshot of how quickly this life moves. I started working around 7:00 a.m. and saw a message about a new potential buyer — two retired doctors, cash buyers, ready to move quickly and looking at condos in Holden. I got the kids fed breakfast, packed for their last day of school, and dropped off. By 8:30 a.m., I had them on the phone, learning their story, their preferences, and what they were hoping to find. I paused just long enough to head over to my daughter’s Wax Museum presentation for the last day of 5th grade (she nailed it), rushed back home, popped into MLS, set up a search for the buyers, and sent off an email letting them know they could start browsing and to send me any favorites.

Then it was time to grab the kids from school, feed them lunch, and meet up with my brother for a 1:00 meeting to finalize details for a condo we were listing that night. I loaded the kids into the car — they were practically buzzing with excitement because summer break had officially begun. As we pulled into Petersham, my phone rang again. It was the buyers from that morning. They’d already found two condos they wanted to see — that day.

By pure luck (or fate… or chaos), I was already halfway to Holden. I made some quick calls to listing agents and lined up two back-to-back showings for the afternoon. My brother and I squeezed in our meeting, I got my sister-in-law on the phone and arranged for her to scoop up the kids (real MVP move), and then I hit the road again. We toured two condos, both of which were great fits, and by the time I opened my inbox at 7 a.m. the next morning, I had an email saying they’d like to submit an offer.

OK, add submit client offer before I had to leave at 7:45 for a meeting. And I was back in the car again. ( happy ending alert, offer was accepted)

It’s wild, but I’m not complaining. What I am doing is learning — quickly — that the routines I had as a teacher (bells, blocks, lunch breaks, lesson plans) is no longer the name of the game. There’s still a structure to this work, but it’s flexible, and often, I’m the one doing the flexing. Clients’ needs change, opportunities pop up with no warning, and houses don’t wait.

And so, I adapt.

But if I’m being honest, the hardest part hasn’t been the miles or the schedule juggling — it’s been learning to live with the unpredictability. I’ve realized how much comfort I found in the structure and routine of my old life, and how much not having that can stir up anxiety in me. There are days I feel like I’m chasing things I can’t quite catch. And that anxious feeling? It sneaks up fast when my time, energy, or plans are suddenly no longer my own.

So I’m working on that — on staying in check with my feelings, grounding myself when things start to spiral, and gently reminding myself that control is often just an illusion anyway. The only thing I can actually control is me. How I show up. How I treat others. How I respond when things shift suddenly. My goal every single day is to show up as the best version of myself for each person I get the opportunity to work with — whether we’ve just met or we’re already deep in the home-buying process.

And also? I’m learning to give myself grace. This is a massive life change, and it’s okay that it feels hard sometimes. It’s okay to feel anxious. It’s okay to still be finding my rhythm. Big transitions don’t come with perfect plans — they come with courage, curiosity, and a whole lot of growing pains.

So I’m holding space for all of it — the chaos, the joy, the nerves, the learning curve — and trying to stay rooted in the reason I started: to help people find home, while continuing to grow into my own.