Loving How I Live

In my perfect single mom world, I’d have a big house with a large yard (and a cute guy to cut the grass, preferably with his shirt off).  My kitchen would flow into my living room, with lots of windows, a long low table for art projects, bins for neatly storing toys, and an amazing sound system so music could be enjoyed all day long. 

The windows would look out into the back yard, giving me an easy view of either the aforementioned yard boy, or my kids and their friends playing outside.  And the yard would have space for a swing, some flowers and a dog.  

My reality is a cramped, somewhat dark house that’s groaning at the seams with toys and books and strollers and riding toys that don’t have anywhere but the dining room to be stored.  Our back yard is tiny, on the corner of a busy street, and without a fence.  My neighbors are lovely, and there are plenty of (older) kids in the neighborhood and I feel safe.  But it’s not home.  I am so ready to move, and yet, financially speaking, I need to stay here right now.  

A few weeks ago, though, it occurred to me that this place that I’m living now, as imperfect as it is, will house some of my most treasured memories in years to come.  Finn learned to walk in this house.   His first real words, and his first sentences (and soon paragraphs) were all spoken here. The hours spent rocking him to sleep, the funny times in the bath, the middle of the night snuggles, the mornings watching Mickey Mouse, and the afternoons dancing in the kitchen will all make me love this house in my memories much more than I love it today. 

As I’ve mentioned before, it’s my hope to move about this time next year.  It won’t be into my perfect dream home but hopefully it will be into a home that I can - over time - mold into my perfect dream home.  If I can get a place with the bare bones of what I want I can take my time putting it together into a place I’ll be happy to live for the next twenty years. 

At first it really bothered me that because of my underwater condo, money was going to keep me from getting the house I want.  But I’ve come to realize that it isn’t the stuff in the house, or even the house itself, that make the place I live my home.  It’s the love and the joy inside the house that matter.

Finn isn’t going to care if the walls are painted the color I want, or if I have the sofa I’m dreaming of and the big screen tv.  His childhood memories won’t revolve around sound systems and perfectly manicured lawns.  What he will remember are the things we did together, and the feeling of being loved and cherished and nurtured. 

enjoying a sunny afternoon walk

Of course, there’s the mommy guilt that goes along with leaving a nanny to do a lot of that loving and cherishing, but despite my initial fears associated with having a nanny, it’s pretty clear that I am still the most important person in Finn’s life.  That being said, the one thing I have got to get better at is making sure that the few hours we have together every day and on weekends are quality hours. 

I’ve taken to planning some sort of expedition every weekend.  I find it’s easier to focus on our time together when there’s at least one planned outing, even if it’s just to the local children’s museum or the park.  That makes our weekends pretty easy.  Busy for sure, filled with fun times as well as the usual weekend chores, but very enjoyable.

I’m hoping to be more consistent in our quality time in the evenings after work.  This might get easier as he gets more verbal, and we can have more conversations about our days, but right now I find myself repeatedly distracted by my phone and my computer.  It would be almost impossible to make myself go completely offline from the time I get home at night to the time he goes to bed, but starting Monday I’m going to try.  

And I'm really going to try to stop thinking about where I live, and instead start focusing on how I live.