It's time for a garage sale.
The house that we are leaving offers over 2200 square feet of living space. It is the nicest home either my husband or I have ever lived in since leaving our respective parents after high school. With French doors leading onto the patio, a lovely bright dining room, backyard patio and two car garage we have enjoyed more space than we actually had furniture to fill. It truly exceeded all of our expectations. Built in 1988, the home is dry (not damp or moldy), clean and modern with an incredible six burner stainless steel stove and all stainless steel kitchen appliances.
Today we put our deposit down on a sweet 1951 home that probably hasn't had much real maintenance since 1970. The bones of the building and garage are amazing - if we were buying the house, we would feel so lucky! It represents a treasure trove of opportunity. As renters though, we will experience the intractable reality of its old school gas heaters (I'll have to watch like a hawk so the kids don't get burnt...), an enclosed kitchen area (no more chatting with friends from the kitchen when we have guests to dinner), and the awful pink bathroom tile. Pink is actually a generous term. I would actually liken it more to pomegranate. Or puce.
The new house is just over half the size of the one we are leaving. I believe Zillow.com lists its square footage around 1410. Not shabby but a far cry from 2200. We'll have to get rid of 800 sq feet worth of toys and belongings just to fit.
Does this make me at all anxious? I'd be lying if I said it didn't. The sum of our experience as a family of five living in a teeny home comes from seven days spent living in a two room beach cottage while on vacation. We had a great time, but the children barely slept when they were all sharing the same room. On the first evening of that trip our daughter had a bad stomach ache and kept the entire family up with her crying until 4am, as there was no place in the house to escape the sound. This will be tricky.
We are already scheming about how we can make it all work out, since my husband will need to use one of the three bedrooms as his home office. We're thinking our oldest boy can sleep in the office room at night, and the little ones can share the second bedroom with all of their LEGOs and dolls. Sayonara, toy room!
So the house is a little dodgy, yet in many ways a wonderful move. Perfect neighborhood, perfect street, absolutely incredible enormous back yard. Hello soccer games, bike riding and gardening at home!!!
The best news though, is that we managed to get our younger son signed up for the top rated Montessori preschool in the area (the same school with a waiting list of 13 kids for a single spot next Fall) beginning in two weeks. I took him there to check it out today, and as soon as he saw the large grassy field, play gym, swing set, and row of bright red tricycles, he was sold.
"I think you are really going to love it here honey," I said as we walked toward the front door.
"Mama," he replied with an ear-to-ear smile, "I think I already DO love it."
(My heart melted into a puddle on the spot. Have I mentioned how much I adore that child?)
The teachers and classrooms could not have been nicer, and my boy already knows the Montessori method very well from having attended Montessori school since August - and from having watched his brother attend for the two years prior. He fit right into the room and began quietly working with the wooden puzzles and looking through the magnifying glass. He was very shy with the other kids but warmed up quickly, participating in their circle time and even chatting up two girls on the playground at recess: "Mommy, they asked me if I wanted to bake a cake with them in the sandbox!"
"Wow honey, that's your favorite sandbox game! How cool that they love to bake cakes just like you do!"
"I like this school!"
My favorite part of the school interview today revolved around a taller blond boy with (adorable) big ears, freckles and a winning, mischievous smile... who continued to try to impress the class with fart noises and raspberry/zerbert sounds. He ambled over to the table where I sat filling out forms and introduced himself.
"Hi! I'm three years old! But my birthday is in April. April third. I am going to be four. I am a big boy. I went to see Mickey. (He pauses.) I didn't see Mickey though. I was too shy."
"It is very nice to meet you. This is my son. He is three years old too, just like you."
"When is his birthday? Is his birthday in April?"
"His birthday is in June. Then he will turn four."
"I am almost four." (He is dancing and almost shouting.) "I am very shy." (He then makes a large raspberry sound with his lips, giggles hysterically, and points at another boy pulling a woolen hat over his own eyes.) "That is Damian*. He likes to get in trouble. He is a bad boy. He hits the teachers."
"Oh wow, well that is not a nice thing to do. My son does not hit." And it's true! My son doesn't hit. Instead he throws the mother of all holy tantrums when he has been hit.
The boy began to hop up and down on one foot and make more raspberry sounds. He was laughing so hard, it was very difficult to keep a straight face. One of his teachers intervened and quietly redirected him... but as he left, he sang out "BYYYEEEEEEEEE!" and gave us a hearty salute.
My boy looked up at me and grinned. "Mama, that boy is funny."
"Buddy, I think you're going to make a lot of friends here."
So, that was the best part of the entire day. Knowing that both of my boys are excited and contented with our upcoming move, and that they will each enter outstanding schools in the neighborhood right away with other friendly children... it really helps the small older house in the best of all locations to seem extraordinary and livable. After all, what is a home beyond a warm shelter that supports us in a healthy lifestyle and our family relationships? The house need not be large to provide access to a really great quality of life.
We may be downsizing, but we're not downgrading.
*Name changed to protect identity of the child in question.
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