On Friday we moved into our house. Finally. The house has been two long years in the building, two years that seemed endless as they passed, but which - with time and hindsight - will no doubt seem even longer.
We have been living in a delightful apartment as we build. And when I say “delightful”, I mean “if you have no children, or perhaps just one who doesn’t move very much”. When you have three children, including a crazy toddler who believes that every flat surface is a runway for her launches into space, a two bedroom apartment is kind of small. And when I say “small”, I mean “like a prison cell”.
Now, I know I should be grateful just to have had a roof over my head. And I am. We could, of course, be living in a paddock, or in a house without a ceiling (although, knowing the council as well as I do now, I suspect it would not have passed building regulations). Indeed, the ceilings in this apartment are very high, which is quite a luxury, and may even have come in handy had my family been less numerous, and more tall.
However, it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve discovered that there are definitely advantages to living in a very small space with four other people. For one thing, games of Hide and Seek are always over mercifully quickly. For another thing…. no, that’s about it, really.
Still, I must say, Little Man and Pinkela will miss being in such close proximity to each other. They have thoroughly enjoyed sharing a tiny, tiny bedroom for two years. Of course, Little Man has occasionally expressed a desire to have his own room (using “occasionally” in the sense of “several times a day”), but he does seem to take tremendous pleasure from hurling assorted toys and socks at his sister from his top bunk position after lights out every night.
The Toddler, on the other hand, will probably experience some confusion after moving to a real house. For the past two years we have put her to sleep in our room every night, only to move her to the living room cot when we’re ready for bed. She no doubt thinks that every person in the world goes to sleep in one place, and wakes up in one totally different. My suspicion is that she will wake up in her cot in the new house, think “Oh no, this is where I was put to bed, clearly it cannot be daytime yet”, and lie back down again. It may take a period of adjustment, but I am personally looking forward to a full 24 hours of sleep before she figures it out.
As for my husband, well, it shall be odd being able to get away from him when we’re both at home. For the past two years, we’ve been stuck – I mean, snuggled – together in the same room every second we’re in the apartment. Still, I’m sure that with a bit of patience and persistence we will be able to move forward as separate beings. I, for one, plan to spend every spare second alone in my study – for the sake of assisting the transition, you understand.
And if we don’t enjoy the larger space, we can always move back to a tiny, tiny apartment again. In fact, I’ve got one picked out already. It’s in NOT street, in NEVERSVILLE, in the town of IN YOUR DREAMS.
Move again? Are you KIDDING?