Let me clue you in.
I live in a small 2 bedroom council flat. I share this small 2 bedroom council flat with my husband (the borderline hoarder), my 3 month old son and -2 nights a week- my 2 pre-teen stepdaughters (the collectors of tiny plastic animals).
This is a set of circumstances which is rapidly becoming inadequate as the kids all get older. Before the birth of our son the flat was cramped but acceptable. We had a bedroom, the girls had a bedroom and all was dandy. Now though? Not so much. We are currently squishing the baby into our room - which is fine, and actually recommended til the age of 6 months. After that though, the poor mite has nowhere to go.
He can't sleep with us forever ( think of the therapy bills!), and given the fascination his sisters have with teeny tiny little swallow-able toys he most certainly can't share a room with them either.
A particularly hard-nosed friend suggested giving the baby their room and simply have them sleep on the floor when they stay over. Uh. No. Somehow I can't see this making me very popular, or the baby for that matter. They'd never speak to us again!
So why don't I simply apply for a bigger council house? Well, we tried that. It turns out that with step-children who's visitation accounts for less than 50% of the week, they don't officially "live" here. Yup, you heard. In the eyes of the council we are a 3 person household with 2 occasional overnight visitors. I could get on board with that if they took everything they own away with them when they left.
Obviously, this does not happen. The bunkbed stays. The billions of little toys stay. The only thing that leaves, in fact, is the girls. And their school bags. So yeah.
We need a bigger house, and we'd love to buy. So this is the blog-based story of our scrimping, and saving, and (hopefully) eventual purchase.
No comments:
Post a Comment