My first real apartment was about 600 square feet. All mine. It was considered desirable because it was a two-room studio, which meant there was a wall between the living room/kitchen portion and the bedroom/bathroom portion. No door, but a wall.
All mine.
For the first few months I was there, I would get up early and sip my coffee from my newly purchased yellow coffee mugs (Corelle outlet). I would sit in my alcove on my inherited chairs in front of my inherited teeny-tiny table pushed up against my bay window. That was my favorite feature of the apartment. Other than it being all mine.
I think about this apartment a lot lately. While I love my little chaotic home life, some days I am wistful about being ALONE. Sipping a cup of coffee, watching what I want on TV, cooking for one and hand-washing the dishes afterward.
Mornings now are spent listening to Wee 'Burb's chatting get more and more insistent until I know she has to be removed from the crib. I get her dressed, and we brush our teeth and hair. Then she plays a little game where she says "where daddy?" until he comes and gets her. He plays with her a little bit while I throw on some clothes to take her across the street to daycare. I come home and either take the dog for a walk if I have a lighter deadline week, or pour myself a cup of coffee (out of my wedding present, a set of glass coffee mugs from William Sonoma) and log in to work.
This chaos? Also all mine. In a different way. In a wonderful way. But in a different way. For now? I am never alone. Also? I am never lonely.
All mine.
For the first few months I was there, I would get up early and sip my coffee from my newly purchased yellow coffee mugs (Corelle outlet). I would sit in my alcove on my inherited chairs in front of my inherited teeny-tiny table pushed up against my bay window. That was my favorite feature of the apartment. Other than it being all mine.
I think about this apartment a lot lately. While I love my little chaotic home life, some days I am wistful about being ALONE. Sipping a cup of coffee, watching what I want on TV, cooking for one and hand-washing the dishes afterward.
Mornings now are spent listening to Wee 'Burb's chatting get more and more insistent until I know she has to be removed from the crib. I get her dressed, and we brush our teeth and hair. Then she plays a little game where she says "where daddy?" until he comes and gets her. He plays with her a little bit while I throw on some clothes to take her across the street to daycare. I come home and either take the dog for a walk if I have a lighter deadline week, or pour myself a cup of coffee (out of my wedding present, a set of glass coffee mugs from William Sonoma) and log in to work.
This chaos? Also all mine. In a different way. In a wonderful way. But in a different way. For now? I am never alone. Also? I am never lonely.
12 comments:
It sounds like a good morning routine. I love the "Daddy game." So cute. :)
Same for me! I had a little apartment back in the day in a great part of town, where you could walk just about anywhere you wanted. There was no need to drive anywhere and the houses were all old and stately. I miss it but I wouldn't trade my new life for anything (but a quiet cup of coffee every now and again sounds great).
Aww..sweet. And thanks for the San Juan advice girlie!
This is so lovely. I totally agree that this life is a chaotic one, but a great one. When I'm not doing something, I feel so strange...I'm at peace with my life as it has become (although I do enjoy the silence sometimes)
I am never lonely either, mainly because I'm so rarely alone. When I lived alone in my very own apartment, I have no idea why it wasn't neat-as-a-pin all the time. Because it was only my stuff and nobody else was there to mess it up.
My mother made me promise her that I would live alone before I got married.
She is a brilliant woman. I'm so glad I did.
Soul sister, I'm so psyched you found my blog because now I know about yours. :) My first house was 525 square feet. I remember all those wistful things, except no bay window. My place was in downtown Long Beach, California, next to an alley. Where people sold drugs. But it was mine! Like you, I am grateful for the experience, but I'd not trade it for the world. :)
I remember the moment in our house, right after having Son #1 who was wailing at the time, that I would never be alone again. But there comes a time, as the kiddos age and become more self sufficient in their play, that you will be able to have a quiet cup of coffee and read the paper again.
I can only imagine that it would be awesome to have some peace and alone time bur oh well c'est la vie!
*sigh* I hear ya. I enjoyed living in my own apartment because it meant no one would bug me or have an issue if I went without a shower for the day. It was my own space and I answered to no one but me.
I love being married because it means there's someone to talk to but sometimes I just want to be alone again. Granted as a housewife I get that alone time but some days it doesn't feel like it's really alone time. Just time spent counting down the minutes/hours until my husband walks in the door.
It's kind of that " the grass is always greener on the other side" mentality. You love your current life but sometimes long for something more or different.
My first apartment was the size of my current living room. I still have dreams it's there waiting for me.
I've been having these same thoughts/memories lately too. Wishing I'd enjoyed my solitary apartment a little more, but also SO happy and grateful for my little chaotic hectic life too.
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