We need a new house. A bigger house. A house so big it would take the National Guard a day to find me inside.
When it was just Neal and I, this place was enormous. We had extra bedrooms. We each had offices. There was ample room to host large dinner parties, entertain out of town guests, and we had the ability spread out, relax and be comfortable.
Enter two of the tiniest human beings you’ve ever seen in your life. Oh wait. I guess babies are kind of like that. Well yes, of course they’re going to need their own room, and a place for clothes and toys and such. But look how tiny they are! How much room could they possibly need at this age? Seriously.
But throughout the past year, we began packing some things away. Then we decided we’d get by with one office and another computer “area”. And then we decided we don’t eat in the dining room very often, so we put the dining room furniture in storage and the dining room became a playroom for the kids. Now, both the attic and the basement are packed full of things we “no longer have room for”. And the place is still a virtual obstacle course.
So I’ve come to the logical and alarming conclusion that our house is shrinking. I have a growing suspicion the frame is built entirely of compressed cashmere fibers, and each time I put laundry in the dryer, the house gets a little smaller. I’m certain this has been happening since it was built. It was surely a magnificent mansion at one point in its existence. However, because we’re doing approximately 37 times more laundry than we previously did (because, as you know, baby clothes have very fertile reproductive systems activated by dark basement floors), and therefore, the shrinking process has sped up at a terrifying rate. My fear is that if we don’t move soon, we may unwittingly get trapped inside when the doors get too small to fit through and we’ll eventually starve to death.
I’m sure none of this could be attributed to the fact we could open our own chain of toy stores, or that there are closets of clothes, some that will never be worn before the kids outgrow them, and because of the foresight of some of our thoughtful relatives who have purchased gifts for the twins that they can “grow into” when they’re four or five years old.
Sigh. We need a new house. A bigger house.