Honey, the kids shrunk our house!!!
Nov 17th, 2010
by Alexis Novak
Last Christmas, I swore I would be in a larger house by the next holiday season or I would stab out my eyes. Well it’s Thanksgiving next week and here I am searching my clogged garage for those damned knotted-up Christmas lights. My now family of four in 1440 square feet with our belongings bursting out of the windows is my definition of cluttered chaotic hell. Objects jump out and smack you in the face when you try to open any cabinet door. I can’t even mutter the words closet space without tearing up. Even my dog Max is becoming claustrophobic.
But In 2005 when I moved into my circa 1930 bungalow that I called “My Old Lady” I was smitten. She charmed me with her history. I wrote this about her:
“She stands a strong and noble ship, an almost-antique lady with curvy arches and a spunky spirit. How did the former owners paint her that flat blue-gray? To me, she yearns to sing and dance in greens or even red. She peaks out from behind the massive oak and calls ‘Hello’ from the street, in a southern tone that invites you in for tea- an offer my husband and I couldn’t refuse. She teaches us her moods and her how’s. How much plastic surgery will she take to achieve the perfect balance of history and modernity, all the while still respecting her beautiful bones.”
Now My Old Lady just pisses me off. Today my sentiment would sound more like this:
Dear Old Lady,
We tried to give you a facelift and make you pretty but you are set in your elderly, archaic ways that we no longer find charming. Older people need way more upkeep than we bargained for. Their bones break and they spring terrible surprises on you. As they age it keeps getting worse…everything malfunctions. Our modern needs cannot be met. You are stubborn! It is never enough for you! Please hang on a little longer though so we can find you a more suitable caregiver.
Fondly,
The Novaks
I know that’s cruel and not entirely fair to My Old Lady. We are to blame for our current state of house bloat too. We dramatically underestimated the illusive kid factor. Somehow small people have a magical power of shrinking square footage to an extent that defies all logic. We planned on starting a family in this house. We planned on all the accompanying baby gear that Babies R’ Us told me we had to register for or else face parenthood ill-prepared. Still the kid stuff has beaten up my frail house. This was not the plan. Every room looks like a playroom, something I’ve always detested. Of course this makes my small house feel even smaller.
There is a real art to living happily in small spaces that I am still studying up on. Some methods that I have gleaned from smarter neighbors similarly-situated- purging and editing your belongings often, not buying too much superfluous crap, and not birthing throngs of children.
But, it is Thanksgiving, so in that spirit I will quit my bitching and serve a little gratitude about my so-called messy and cramped life.
We are living (insert big yawn here) within our means. While we dream big, we live small- a lifestyle that only financial people like my husband and Suze Orman can appreciate. It isn’t sexy but we are debt-free. We won’t foreclose, short sell, or float two mortgages until bankruptcy like many people did. My children have decent college funds. We will not move up in square footage until we sell our current house. Sigh. We can sleep at night.
For now, I will care for My Old Lady and try to remember what it was that I loved about her in the first place. (It is difficult to do this while the children are running over my toes with their doll strollers). That is when I can retreat to my daydream about my future rewards of delaying instant gratification, like an organized, delicious, walk-in closet worthy of Carrie Bradshaw. One day. Soon.
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