Everything's Getting Bigger

Monday, the second contractor came by the house to tell us exactly how much of our hard-earned savings he felt we were going to have to cough up in order to make our postage stamp-sized, two-person home livable with a kid joining the household. The offspring hasn't yet sprung from the womb and the kid's already costing us a bundle. (Yeah, yeah, mom... I know: "Get used to it! Hee-hee-hee!")

The Big Plan is to convert the garage to livable space, move the office into that, and free up a spot for the kid's bedroom in what was our design studio. I am all for creating some convenient extras in the kid's room while we're at it - you know, pad the walls, install a drain in the floor, throw down some kitty litter - but The Varmint says we need to save the money for stuff like a crib and a changing table. Whatever.

Tummy.jpgThe trouble is, we're not going to be able to create what this house really needs - which is a second bathroom. Each day, The Varmint and I conduct an exquisite dance which, if I take a moment to think about it, probably illustrates our deep love for each other better than almost anything I can think of. . . It starts with an almost cordial invitation, "Do you need to use the bathroom for anything?" Often that answer is yes - such as showers, or toothbrushing, or other cleansing essentials best conducted in a fresh, sweet-smelling environment.

It is here that I am reminded of those old cartoons where the characters are overly polite, holding the door for one another and saying, "After you..." "No, no, no - after you..." The reality is that they're each trying to drop an anvil on the other's head, but for the moment, at least, it's a pretense of civilized behavior.

I shudder at the thought of yet another little person, a wholly uncivilized little dictator needing his or her own time in the bathroom - and all that particular reality brings with it. I find myself fantasizing about renting a Port-a-Potty for the backyard: Maybe we could even place it conveniently next to the garden hose? Eventually, I realize, something's going to have to give.

And that's just one of gazillions of Parenthood Impact Scenarios running through my mind. Everything from grocery shopping to private time to flying on airplanes is going to change. For now, as the front of my body balloons in triplicate (see picture, left) and my house stretches as I do to accomodate to this new little person, I will choose not to think about bathrooms, or third cars, or snot, or diapers or family vacations or teenagers. Nope. Because I realize that these next five months represent the glorious, peaceful eye of the hurricane. I get to think about the easy stuff. . .

So. What kind of floor do I want in the kitchen?


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >