When we bought our current home, Ardley, a friend remarked to me “well, this is clearly your forever home.” I smiled and nodded as doubt settled heavily in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly all I could see around me were the reasons why it couldn’t be the home we lived in for the rest of our lives. Once the worry gate had been opened the thoughts piled in untempered.
The main bedroom on the second floor. We won’t be able to get up the stairs safely when we are older. The weatherboard cladding already in need of a fresh coat of paint. It will be so expensive to keep up. The enormous garden and orchard. This is going to take a lot of time to maintain. The windows on the second floor will be impossible to access. How am I going to keep the place clean? It’s bit of a drive into town, what if the highway gets too busy to cross? No-one will visit us out here. We will never be able to afford this house. I will have to work more, get a bigger/better job.
OH MY GOD WE HAVE MADE A MISTAKE!
After the panic subsided and the rhythm of coming home to a house named Ardley had found an even tempo I realised that many of my concerns did carry a kernel of reality. I’m hoping that there are years, decades, still to come before ageing affects us and we find getting to the second floor an issue. It’s the issue of keeping our house in a state of fresh and lasting health that will always be a concern. I remind myself there is a line to walk between careful financial management and allowing our investment to deteriorate, to shrink instead of grow. We wanted to look at our house not as a financial resource but as our ‘home’. Our place, where we can be a bit messy, paint walls in our favourite colour just because we want to, hang pictures and then move the hook to a new spot. It is our haven, the place where we are not only sheltered but safe. It’s where we can be ourselves.
Note to self. Our beautiful Forever Home is ‘real estate’.
We have long prioritised other necessities and hobbies over expensive upgrades. We were prepared to live with the fraying carpet and the crumbly paint on the south side and the mossy pavers because we were dedicating our discretionary income to the kids sport and family holidays and building a safety net for future dreams/emergencies unknown. Then we welcomed two of the most loveable creatures on this earth into our lives. Hollywood (Woody) and Jester (Jesse) are energetic and cuddly and some of the best company this first-time dog owner has ever had. Our land is perfect for dogs with a couple of acres for them to play in and walks in the bush nearby. What I hadn’t anticipated was puppy toilet training. Fraying carpet is one thing. Stained, smelly, festy carpet is another thing altogether. There is no coming back from that one.
It was a reminder that actually this house is an investment that needed our attention. That future ‘emergency’ was here. The floors had to go.
It’s REALLY expensive. Paying that invoice has been excruciating… and worth every single cent.
It has been years since we last renovated or improved a house. I had forgotten the thrill of satisfaction when the old is torn out. The delicious smell of sawdust and new wood. The glee with which we peek through the windows each night to see the progress made that day, marvel over the transformation of the house and imagine where the furniture could go to really make the new look space ‘pop’. I LOVE our new floors. I walk through the house admiring them. I am happy to pick up the mop and polish them. The (now very rare) accidents are easy to clean up and there is no evidence it ever happened. It feels grown up and loved and just like home.
It all sounds pretty idyllic really. Except…
We share this beautiful space with not only two lovable dogs but also with our three grown children. As we try to fit belongings back into spaces, divest ourselves of unneeded or unwanted items, re-imagine the purpose of each space, five different views are coming into conflict. There are strong opinions of how things should be done. In my heart I am unmoving about the fact that this house belongs to my husband and to me. We worked for it, we pay the bills, we look after it. It’s ours. I am also committed to the fact that this is the home of my children as well. The five of us are a close clan. When they were little children my husband and I couldn’t imagine ever wanting our kids to leave home. But, as is wont to happen, our gorgeous kids became adults. I am so proud of who they have become, confident and articulate individuals, all three taller than me, all three alert to and aware of the world around them with considered perspectives on current affairs. They are caring friends, loyal family, generous humans who contribute to making the world a better place in quiet ways unique to each of them. I look at them and marvel at who they have become.
They may be amazing human beings but equals in this household they are not! Mr 21 is blase about tidiness, it is not a word in his vocabulary. He asserts that when there are too many empty spots on the floor it doesn’t feel welcoming and lived in. Hmm. If that’s the case then he owns the cosiest, most welcoming home on this planet! Ms 19 is passionate about interior design and is vocal about her opinions. She shops regularly and her bedroom is full. We find our drawers filling with coffee cups and utensils and rugs and all sorts of things that are to her taste but not necessarily to ours. Her adoration for fast fashion is in direct conflict with our yearning for a more simplistic lifestyle and hot words are spoken and feelings hurt on a nearly daily basis. Mr 17 spends every second in his room that is already minimalist due to the fact that he can’t be bothered going to set anything up further. In fact, his mattress is one the floor awaiting his willingness to help get a bed base for it. It’s not looking likely to happen anytime soon!
Both my husband and I lived in share houses as Uni students and early in our careers. We lived away from home. Those experiences taught us many things. Appreciation for our own belongings and our own space. Consideration for the needs of others in shared spaces and with common resources. In this house everything is ‘ours’. It grew that way when babies came into the house. It settled into the background as unimportant when they were little children and parenting was the biggest focus in our everyday lives. Now? Now we are share housing with three other grown ups who have never developed that sense of mine, yours, and ours. Perhaps that’s on us? This is the time when I expected to carry a hanky ready to wipe tears from my eyes as my brood one by one excitedly waved goodbye and set off into the world to make their own way. Yes, our kids are finishing school and looking around ready to choose their next steps in life but the pandemic interrupted what was a crucial period of growth and exploration for all three of them. They’re not going to be leaving home anytime soon and it’s not for the want of trying.
That share house experience is not looking likely. We are navigating a reality that my parents have been unable to advise on for it didn’t happen to them or to their parents before them. While there is work to be had it is barely possible for them to rent a house. The cost of housing is astronomical. Housing in Australia is somehow only for the rich (or those related to the wealthy), for those who can close their eyes to the debt they are shouldering, and those who got into the housing market before the year 2000 (though we thought at the time that the prices were ridiculous compared to what our Baby Boomer parents had paid…). Our children believe that will never be able to own their own homes. They’re not only unwilling to leave home (sigh), they’re literally unable to do so. And so we look around and calculate ways to make our land work for the multiple households that might eventually be living here. We estimate sales prices (increasing) and compare them to what could be bought elsewhere (not much). We sketch out different configurations of the building that would create separate dwellings within the existing footprint. I dream of a tiny home somewhere on the property, out of sight of the main house where I can come and go in privacy and age safely, independent of my offspring.
I have no idea how the next phase of life and living arrangements will go but we will make it fun despite the crowding of people and animals and too much stuff. I have to believe it will all work out. We will continue to look after things here enough to maintain it as both beloved home and reasonably well-maintained house. In the meanwhile I will throughly enjoy my new floors. But I do have a back up plan.
Operation Empty Nest… the parents fly the coop!