Friday, August 16, 2013

Tales of a Tiny House

It's been a while since I've posted anything for one simple brain has lost all functionality and will to exist, let alone process enough thought to type even the simplest of words on this dusty computer screen.

Why? you ask.  Well, months ago, my wife and I agreed it would be a great time of bonding for us to move into a 715 sq ft, one bedroom house with our loving family of five, while our new house is being built.  We would live in an eclectic part of town where the river is only 100 yards away, downtown is a lazy 10 minute walk away, and most of all, we could grow closer as a family.  Not to mention, the owners were the only people willing to do a month-to-month lease and we could save a little extra money for our down-payment.  Yes it would be tough having to shed some alone time and a bit of privacy, but man would it be worth it!

Cue the prick of Captain Hook's sword in my back, as I willfully walk the plank.  I'm ready to fall, nay...jump into the shark-infested sea below.  Hopefully, they don't toy with their prey too much before ending my existence, but if they do, it still won't be as bad as the bites sustained by the... constant tiptoeing over creaky, uneven floors...or the nights when Levi sleeping (or not sleeping I should say) in the same room as his older siblings, keeping them (and us) up all hours of the night...or the lack of a retreat to escape the forever-running mouth of my 4 year-old ("Daddy, can I have a snack?  Daddy, watch this!  Daddy, can you get me some water?  Daddy, watch this!  Daddy, can I play with my legos?  Daddy, watch this!  Daddy, watch THIS!  DADDY, WATCH THIS!!!!  Daddy, why are your ears bleeding?)  I could go on, but you get the point.

Yes, the plank has never looked so inviting before now.  Please understand, I look forward to seeing Jesus when I die.  I do!  But I've always wanted to stay on this earth long enough to walk Emmy down the aisle on her wedding teach my kids how to play sports, ride a bike, instill love, patience, and strength into each of them.  Now...not so much.  "Excuse me, Mr. Reaper.  You have a call from a Charlie Beal on line one."

"Come on, Charlie.  It can't be that bad." 

"I'm sorry.  What?  I can't hear you.  Come a tiny bit closer, so I can smack you in the mouth.  A little closer.  A liiiiiittle closer."

Have you ever shared a Kleenex-sized bathroom with 4 other people?  Have you ever had to put off making sandwiches (on a 10" x 10" portion of counter space mind you) because you were afraid of waking your children in the next room?  Have you ever tippy-toed across a floor, as if you were avoiding lasers while robbing a museum, in order to not wake your sleeping wife?  Have you ever been in the same room as your children for every waking hour you're not at work?  Have you ever changed right in front of your living room window (that's where our dresser is) at the risk of your neighbors seeing you naked, because closing the window equates to instant claustrophobia?  As Becca says, "It's like a never-ending camping trip in a really nice tent!"  Shall I go on?

Have I mentioned we still have 3 months (best case scenario) left in the tiny house?  I've never been a big fan of "hard-alcohol," but at this point, an IV with a constant flow of Jack Daniels sounds intriguing.

To top it off, I'm pretty sure Levi hates me now.  Before moving, I was 'The Man' when it came to putting him to bed.  I'd sing one song to which he would reply with his cute little hands bumping together, "Mo Mo."  I'd sing another song, "Mo Mo."  After the third song, I'd rock him slowly and he'd eventually give me a kiss and lean toward his crib.  Within 5 minutes, he was asleep and Becca and I were hanging out.

When I try (Key Word: Try) to put him to bed now, there's weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Seriously!  It's like there's an alien trying to escape his body.  (Googling Exorcism)  To make matters worse, I'm pretty sure he flipped me off last night...and not just with one hand.  Apparently, my plan of having him watch 'The Departed' to get him sleepy was a bad choice.

So here I sit befuddled by life's choices.  Choices Becca and I thought were good.  Choices we felt would bring our family closer.  Choices which have culminated in me waking up in a cold sweat after dreaming my kids were beating me to death with a bunch of tiny houses made of legos.

To our house-builders...please hurry.  To our family and friends...please pray.  To my coroner...let me save you some time.  Cause of Death: Lethal combination of Tiny House and Children (otherwise known as "THC").

PS... James 1:2-4: Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

While I'm frustrated with our current situation, I absolutely believe we will look back on this time with fond memories and a new appreciation for what God has and continues to bless us with.  But seriously, you should pray that we find more joy than pain in our current trial. 

PSS... Last night (really this morning), Levi kept Becca and I up until 3:00 and 1:30 respectively...I woke up at 5.  Yay perseverance...kinda! 

1 comment:

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