After two years of checking the real estate ads religiously (like, on a near daily basis) and sending Drew links of all the different places I could picture us living and daydreaming of the next place we’ll call home, I finally convinced him that our lives would totally be perfect if we moved, and over the weekend, between dodging rainstorms and hosting a birthday party for 12 toddlers and their families, we signed the lease on our next apartment. We move in a few weeks. The new place isn’s far at all — just 2 1/2 blocks from our current spot, and we aren’t buying it (just renting), and, really, our lives won’t change that much (and in some respects, we will be sacrificing comforts and amenities we love, like our terrace and a second shower we don’t have to share with a young child who could poop in the tub at any time, not that he has or would ever do that, but it’s a CHANGE and it’s a move forward and it’s something I have been wanting for two years and I’m so excited.
Mostly, I’m excited that we’ll have a little extra room (the new place has three bedrooms) and that we get to stay in our neighborhood that we love (for the same rent that we’re paying now). For a while, we thought we’d surely have to move far away, that we’d never find a place big enough for a growing family at a price we could afford in this increasingly expensive neighborhood/area/whole damn city, but we did it. And it’s right around the corner from the public school where Jackson will go next year for pre-k (if he gets in, which we hope he will), and two blocks closer to my favorite bar, which, come on, is a perk! Also, even though there’s no terrace and I’m super sad about that and especially sad for Miles who basically lives on ours all day from April to November and will be pissed as hell he’ll have to give up his kingdom, there is access to the roof in the new place (via a steep and narrow ladder I’ll basically have to be stone-cold sober to master, but, still, it’s something).
The best part of the whole thing is that we will be moving into this place as an established family and I will design and decorate with that already in mind. I mean, we chose the place with Jackson (and maybe another child, if we’re lucky) in mind. When we moved into our current apartment, we were newlyweds and didn’t know if we’d have kids, let alone have one while living there. Where we live now is a great apartment for a couple and even a couple with a new baby. It’s not so practical for a family with a kid — a real kid, who walks and talks and runs and plays and wants to get into everything and be everywhere we are. Over the last year, I’ve often felt like the walls are closing in on me, and, ok, maybe some of that is my own general anxiety, but I know a lot of it is also because it was simply time to move on. To move somewhere that would be a better fit for us.
We move in about a month. I’ve already posted a bunch of stuff on Craigslist that we’re selling before we move. (Hey, does anyone want a retro diner booth that two cats have ripped apart? Anyone? Or hanging planters? Or a cool mid-century designer chair? How about a Bosch washer and dryer??). And we have picked out a new dining table and chairs and curtains and paint that will help make this new place home. (And it wasn’t planned this way on purpose, but our move will be just before Thanksgiving, which means I can wait until the Black Friday sales to make any big purchases and save like 20% or so, which is pretty genius if I do say so myself, thank you).
Anyway, if I seem distracted over the next few weeks, it will be because I am. But the good news is that change stimulates creativity for me, and I’m sure some of the new energy will find its way here, too. Also, I totally suffer from a syndrome I call “Life would be perfect if I lived in that house” (inspired by the book of the same name), so for a few months, until I realize that a move doesn’t actually solve all of one’s problems and actually often just creates different ones, I will be high on the delusion that it does and that I’m totally on my way to my fantasy life. If my fantasy life included sharing a tub with a toddler, that is, and climbing up a steep and narrow ladder for the nearest breath of fresh city air.