Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Our house is exactly 2498 square feet. I write this not because I want more space or less space, or think that space in a house means one thing or another. But I am BAFFLED by the fact, that with 2498 square feet (which I consider to be a fair amount of space), that I am always within 2.5 square feet of everyone in my family. My ass takes up a good chunk of that these days, so that leaves just a smidgen for three kids and a husband, yet everyone is alwaysrightthereinmybusiness. Today it was just the kids and me; Chris has taken up his own space in San Francisco. Ellie, Quinn, Henry and I were sitting on the couch - a newly cleaned Pottery Barn slipcovered couch - and all four of us took up only one and half cushions. Quinn kept spinning around, trying to get comfortable, elbow in my eye, grabbing my shirt, Henry in my lap, Ellie squeezing into the four inches I had accidentally left between me and the arm of the couch. Do you want to move over? Quinn's answer - No, I'm reading right now. Ellie, do you want to move over? No response. She just looks at me as though I've bothered her beyond belief. Are you squished? Nothing. I often wonder what she's thinking about.

I know I will long for these days, slightly smelly kids clambering to be close, to twirl my hair, to cuddle with a blanket and a book. But right this very second, I just want space.

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