I am less than two months out from my due date. Next month, the family and I are heading to Varna to pretty much just wait around until little girl decides to make her appearance. But before that, we have a somewhat major decision to make: whether or not to move into a new apartment.
Well, I say, “New,” but I really mean an old apartment with a bit more space than this one. The new apartment is a 6th floor apartment a little further out of the center than our current apartment. It has a yasla that I can see from the back balcony and a kindergarten two blocks down the road (closer than Peatuk’s current yasla). It has two bedrooms, a combined dining room/living room, and a finished attic room for Nikola’s office/storage of the things that irritate me in our home right now. It has two balconies, one of which is prepped for hanging clothes. Altogether, it is 106 square meters (compared to our 63 square meters now). All for 10 lev more per month than what we are currently paying.
But I am hesitant.
I have grown to like this apartment. I feel comfortable and safe in it. I feel like it is ours. Peatuk’s main memories are here. We have a flow. As many places as I have moved on, I think that my heart would ache most for this one. We have snuggled and loved and built a home here. I know the neighborhood.
At the same time, I am constantly griping that this place is too small. That we have way too much crap for an apartment this size. That there is too much clutter. That we need to get rid of stuff (a practice Nikola is adamantly against). I feel like we have been at a stalemate for the past year where I feel claustrophobic and Nikola doesn’t… and I am afraid adding a little monster into the mix will push my clutter annoyance over the edge.
Then there is the issue of a house. I doubt that we will be able to get a house next summer. With the new baby and the new car it just doesn’t look like a possibility. But if we move into another apartment, then looking for a house is definitely, 100% off. We would probably be staying there for the next 3-5 years, or more.
My mother-in-law looks at me like I am insane when I say that I want a house with a yard and a garden, mostly because she basically has to chase me out of her house to spend time in her garden. But I want an outdoor space that is mine- where I can let my kidlets run freely. Where I can dig and putter and be a mess. I am not sure if I am ready to give up on that dream yet. And if I have learned anything, it is that if I live in a city, in an apartment, I do not spend enough time in nature. I just don’t have the motivation to get out into nature unless it is right there- a necessity in front of my doorway. Having to take a bus to the edge of town, or walk through town with a toddler in tow, means that all I do in an apartment is stay inside. Granted, there are parks and such, but I am so anti-other-parents and kids that I do not go out often.
Moving, especially forcing poor Nikola to move AGAIN (he is not used to the two year itch), feels like such a commitment. Honestly, it frightens me.