For Sale Signs and Errant Pants

So we've made the decision to try and sell the house.  Again.

There is no more money in the pot, but we need more room.  When we moved here, Gertie was just a few months old, not yet on the move.  For two adults and a tiny baby it was positively palatial.  We bounced around in our big house, and once she did start crawling, I might even lose Gertie for a few moments. These days finding five minutes alone in the bathroom is an unlikely proposition.  Now there are the three little people.  And they are not so little.  They have this habit of just growing bigger.  And bigger.  By the day. Moving towards a time when they will want to spend increasingly long times alone in the one bathroom.

I can remember all the empty rooms when we first moved in and wondering how I'd ever have enough furniture to fill them.  Ha. Now every corner is crammed full of stuff.  Each inch of wall space is covered in pictures and photographs.  There are thousands of books.  Everywhere.  And that count might go up to tens of thousands if you include the boxes in the loft. There are plastic toys in places where toys simply shouldn't be. Like in my shoes. And behind the washing machine. It is impossible to keep tidy. And therein lies the first paradox.  Because in order to sell your house you need to be able to keep it very tidy.  So that it can be viewed at a moment's notice.  Well, we had our first viewing today.  It took me four hours to get things straight.  That's not happening every time, I can tell you. And when we came home there was a pair of toddler pants smiling up welcomingly from the utility room floor, that I must have missed in my final tidy-check.  That subsequently looked like they'd just walked there themselves.  Which I guess they might have done, being Eddie's.

So now I follow the children around hawk-like, beady eyes scanning for any potential mess-making hazard. They will be the first to tell you that this is not fun.

And the house we have our eye on is...'in need of modernisation'.  In other words, a wreck.  And a smaller wreck than our current abode at that.  And it costs more money.  But it is a wreck with the potential to be bigger.  At some point, when the childcare costs stop sucking the lifeblood from our very veins.

We tried to do a similar thing a few years ago, but the wreck of a house we wanted then sold almost before we'd got ours on the market and it felt like a blessing in disguise.

So I've got my eye on the estate agents' window these days.  Today I was drawn to an attractive property in the top right hand corner.  It took me a second to register that it was the one I already own. ( I say 'own'.  I think we might own approximately a square metre of the floor space, by now.  But another paradox:  It looks lovely in the pictures, all tidied up and de-cluttered.  Like somewhere I might actually want to live.

With Twenty Years More Life Experience

Dear 16 Year Old Me,

I have twenty years more life experience than you do right now, so listen. Actually your older self is just about the only person you would listen to. Being shy and uncertain is ok, and normal, but I'm afraid to say won't go away any time soon, so deal with it.

I could reel off a long list of 'don'ts' here. The incidents, whilst on your gap year in New Zealand and Indonesia, spring to mind. I guess that they are the sort of things that make you who you really are and if you didn't do them a chunk of you might be missing. But do you really need to have bleached blonde hair?

Living in a bus is not one of your finest moments, either, but I suppose it is only a mild and short-lived rebellion and it does give your husband something to tease you about later. All those big anti-establishment ideals that you are about to develop will eventually be replaced by proper, important stuff, so don't take yourself too seriously.

Yes, I did say 'husband'. I know that you think you never want to be married, but you will, and you will be very happy. Your wedding day truly will be the most fantastic day of your life and you DO want a big white wedding. I know, I know, you can't believe that right now, but trust me. I'm not going to tell you who He is, but he will walk into your life when you are least expecting it, he is nothing like you imagine, and he will change everything dramatically. It's amazing.

Don't sit around and wait for anything to happen. You've got to do it all by yourself.

But money is a biggy. You're going to get yourself into an awful lot of debt which will take a long, long time to clear. Buy now pay later should not be a life maxim. Just try and be a bit more frugal.

By the way, Physics, Maths and Economics are the wrong choice of A-level subjects. English Literature is the only one of your choices that you're going to do well in anyway, and you will NEVER use the others. I know that you're trying to please your father, but go with your instincts and take the things you love and are good at, like History and Graphic Design.

Begin writing sooner. You know already that it is secretly what you really want to do. You're not going to accidentally become a writer, it won't happen by itself: you need to work at it and there is no need to wait until your thirties.

But this is the really important bit: It all just gets better and better. There are some big ups and downs in your twenties, but as each year passes you become more content. You'll dread your thirtieth birthday, but there is no need, because in fact it's after that that things start to get really good.

Enjoy every second. Lots of love,

P.S. Childbirth hurts much more than even your mother tells you, but it will be ok!

This is in response to Josie's Writing Workshop at Sleep is for the Weak.