House Woes: We Must Be Moving On Up

My family inhabits a small, cottage-like house. It was absolutely adorable when we moved in, and it was the perfect size for myself, my husband and our dog. 

When Joey was born later that year, we used the small room off the living room as her nursery, and we all still fit just perfectly.

Then I got pregnant with Kimmie. And we realized, we were not all going to fit much longer. Heck, I could barely fit in the house with my baby belly, never mind when the kid was walking around.

I have to admit, we have done a really amazing job of keeping it together in this little cottage, a family of four, plus a big dog.  The girls share a room and have bunk beds to maximize the space. We made sure we got a TV we could hang on the wall to maximize space. We have the kids’ toys in bins and shelves up on the walls, you know, to maximize space.  It’s been working for almost four years.

There was something we didn’t count on, though.  Our daughters’ need for personal space.

Honestly, I didn’t think it would assert itself so early, this desire to have a spot of their own. But when I think back to my own childhood, well, duh.

My brother and I shared a room till about the onset of puberty. And there was nothing I wanted more than my own room.  Nothing. I’d have sold my parents if I could get my own room out of the deal.  So I don’t know why it was so shocking to me when I realized that my six year old was spending the majority of her time trying to lock her sister out of their shared bedroom.

Being up on her top bunk alone isn’t enough anymore, she wants to be alone, alone.  And I want to make that happen.  Not for her, but so I can make the constant fighting stop.  I’m a selfish mom, I admit it.

All day long, these kids are all up in each other’s grills.  It’s intense. It’s insane. It’s freaking exhausting.  I am sure that if they each had somewhere of their own, we’d be okay. There would still be conflict (come on, three girls, one bathroom. There is always going to be conflict), but it would be less constant.  I hope.

So we’re moving.  In a manner of speaking.  See, we’ve got a finished attic. We used it as my husband’s office for a while, but lately, it’s kind of been a catch all for Christmas presents, wrapping paper, off season clothes, and stuff that we don’t know a better place to put.  But once we have it cleaned out, my husband and I are moving our bedroom upstairs, and Joey is moving into our room. The room, incidentally, where both she and her sister were born.  

Yeah, okay, I’m a little misty at the idea of switching bedrooms. And it’s not just the my-kids-were-born-in-that-room thing.  It’s also that it’s the biggest bedroom in the house, and the one with the primo location, right next to the bathroom.

So, why give it to Joey?  Why not have her move upstairs and keep our bed right where it is? Well, I think it would just add to the conflict, instead of taking it away. Both our girls love to go up to the office and poke around at things. If Joey gets to move in up there, Kimmie will go apoplectic.  

My original plan for our house involved us having the upstairs bedroom, actually. It didn’t happen that way, because I was pregnant when we moved in and the thought of walking up and down the steps every night was more than I wanted to deal with.  

And so, we’ll move up and Joey will make a lateral move, albeit to a corner bedroom with a lovely view of the peach trees, and a short walk to the bathroom.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the attic also has a half bath, so it’s not like we’re that far from a bathroom ourselves.

Joey will get her own space, I”ll get to feel, finally, that all the useable spaces in my house are being used, and the dog will either start sleeping with the kids or change his mind about how much he likes the attic.

Now starts the exciting Chronicles of Transient Bedrooms. Stay tuned for the next installment, which will probably involve me getting exasperated about something miniscule, my husband doing something brawny and manly, Joey spending a year trying to find the right shade of pink for her walls, and a hobbit. 

Come on, every good adventure has a hobbit.