Small Houses
We live in a small house by suburban standards. I know this
because when people hear that the five of us live in an 1,100 square foot house
they look at me like I said we live in a shoe.
But I like our shoe. Don't get me wrong, it'd be great to
have more space for our growing family (and our growing family's piles of
stuff) but it is what it is and this is where we are.
Plus, do you have any idea what this city's housing market is
like? Here's an actual example I made up:
Seller: So I have a one bedroom, 400 square foot apartment with no
floor, a shared bathroom, and black mold. Asking, um...(puts pinky to side of
mouth and smiles evilly) one million dollars.
Some ex-Californian tech worker: I'll take it!
There are certainly perks to having children in a smaller
house. For one, the children yelling in one room carries through every room
like the sound of a basketball bouncing in an empty gym. And sleeping-in is
impossible since the toy bin, pots and pans, and mini drum set are all within
10ft of the master bedroom. Oh wait, those aren't perks.
However, I literally only have to take eight steps to get to
the crib in the boys' room in the middle of the night, and when it comes to
middle of the night distances the shorter the better. Also, we’ll never have to
host a potluck (score!) and there’s less of a yard to maintain.
The fact that our front yard is the size of a postage stamp
also means we pay low taxes. Well, sort of. That Austin real estate market boom
hasn’t been all good. Maybe we should move to Round Rock...
It’s amazing though, at least as toddlers, how kids are
oblivious to the size of rooms. Watching the 20-month-old run from the
back of the house to the front, it’s pretty clear in his mind he might as well
have run from Austin to Dallas.
And the three-year-old, appears to have a goal of
filling every last inch of a room with toys regardless of the size of the room.
Actually, I think this is more part of the toddler conspiracy to try and make
parents fall than whimsical childhood abandon. Going through his room at night
I feel like Gulliver sneaking through a Lilliputian village strewn with
miniature foot poking contraptions.
But decibel levels and foot poking contraptions aren’t
something you can necessarily escape from even in a large house. Plus, in a
time when physical proximity to loved ones is thought of as unnecessary, I want
to soak up the time when we’re so close together.
It’s like Doug Stone said in his 1994 song, “love grows best
in little houses.” Just like this.