When I met My Guy, he was living in a modest rancher on some farmland, ten minutes from me. The house was huge for someone living alone—three bedrooms, an average living room, an eat-in kitchen…and a basement-sized junk drawer.
He kept the place relatively clean, although I discovered that he’s not a fan of dusting. (To his credit, he’s not entirely to blame. Have you ever tried to keep a house on an active crop farm dust free? It’s a Sisyphean undertaking.)
Fast-forward ten months to when I moved in, and it got a bit cozier. We began sharing the office, his bedroom suite moved into the guest room, mine into the master bedroom, and I added to the basement-sized junk drawer…and the guest room became what I dubbed “the scary bedroom,” the landing spot for whatever I needed out of my way but wasn’t ready to run downstairs.
And I kept the place relatively clean. One thing about a small house: you can whip it into shape in about 10 minutes, 30 if you’re spot-cleaning, two hours if you’re seriously deep cleaning.
Fast-forward another 18 months to the Little Butt’s arrival, and the guest bedroom became the nursery. Baby accoutrements started to take over the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Who knew tiny humans took up so much space? Or that our little home could look like a war zone so quickly?
Now, if you’re a clean freak, I suggest you stop reading. But if you would like highly scientific tips on building up your family’s immune systems, please continue.
At this point, my floor actually needed to be washed every week or so. I managed about once a month. But you see, it was all in the interest of raising a strong kid. I figured if he was exposed to some germs at home, he’d be better inoculated against the germs out in the big bad world.
Fast-forwarding through the next three years included me moving my office to the basement-sized junk drawer, adding a small roll-top desk to our eat-in kitchen (because what work-from-home mom has time to run to the basement to work with a crazy kiddo in the mix?), moving My Guy’s office to the basement-sized junk drawer, turning the office into Little Miss’s nursery, adding lots of preschool toys, and digging back out the baby accoutrements. Oh, and now I had clothes to store ranging through my four different sizes, not to mention bins of children’s clothes ready for the next several seasons.
Here’s the thing about a teeny tiny house. It can all go to…somewhere…in a hurry. I’m talking in two-minutes-or-less hurry. The smallest amount of clutter overwhelms the eye. At least, it does mine.
But here’s why I love my teeny tiny house. While it can all go…somewhere…in a hurry, I can also make it decently presentable in a hurry. And when I do actually deep clean (hey, it happens every once in a while!), it doesn’t take me all year. And at this point in my life, that’s about all I can handle. Sure, extra space would be nice. Until it’s time for me to clean it. Then I’d be missing what I have right here.
I feel like our lives are like that. As I wrote last week here, we think we want something different and are blinded to the goodness that’s right in front of us. There’s always a trade-off. So for now, I’m happy to be raising my kiddos in my teeny tiny house with its manageably cleanable square footage (say that five times, fast).
I’m grateful for acres of farmland on which I can take the Little Butt on his “adventures.”
I’m grateful for the best neighbors in the world.
I’m grateful to live so near my parents and the rest of my family.
I’m grateful for room to breathe and the fact that I can go outside in my jammies and makeup-free and not worry about seeing anyone.
Heck, I’m grateful that I don’t have an HOA board telling me it’s time to weed my flower beds or trim my bushes. (Do they do that? ‘Cause I’d be in serious trouble all. the. time.)
Yup, it’s true. I’m grateful for my teeny tiny house.
What are you grateful for?