550 Square Feet of Joy

As fall colors start to appear, as the air turns crisp and cool in the warm sunshine, it seems like the whole world is breathing a sigh of relief.

Our new apartment, which was nothing short of disaster on move-in day, is finally clean and settled. I wish I had "Before" and "After" pictures--the place was just not pretty. There was grime and mildew in the bathroom, food residue caked on the fridge, dirty floors, dust everywhere . . . the "clean freak" tenant who lived here before (landlord's words, not mine) must've let himself go in the days before move-out. And even after we cleaned everything, it seemed impossible that the accumulation of our lives--the endless boxes of books, clothes, kitchen junk, art supplies--would ever fit. Picture the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but with less floorspace.

Now we've been here more than a month, and the place is cozy and beautiful: thoughtfully-arranged furniture, ocean-themed bathroom, organized cupboards, warm light, all our books comfy on a new bookshelf, and the lake waiting for us right across the street. It's the perfect little nest.

At least, it seemed that way until I started to tell people about it.

Apparently, most people aren't enamored with our decision to move into a small one-bedroom when expecting a new baby. Who would've thought. ;)

Reactions have ranged from concern, disapproval, superiority, confusion, "to each her own" (thank you!), indifference (thank you!!) and genuine encouragement/agreement (thank you, so much!!)

Truly, I'm not annoyed at those who don't understand, or just don't agree. I know everyone is different. But I didn't expect such a strong reaction to our decision to live simply and cut costs for a while. So for those who don't understand how it could be possible to intentionally downsize to a 550-square foot one bedroom in the months before having a baby, here is, without further ado:

Tips on preparing a tiny apartment for a year of baby-themed chaos

1. Secure the bookcase to the wall. (This is called baby-proofing.) Arrange the closets so that you aren't crushed beneath an avalanche of coats and basketballs and guitar cases EVERY time you open the door . . . only every other time. (This is also called baby-proofing.)

2. Store overflow items, like posters and yet-to-be-used baby toys, in the kitchen cupboards. You don't buy that much food, anyway.

3. Buy curtains. These will make the space feel more grown-up and less like a dorm room.

Money-saving tip: If you can't afford real curtains, go with the $7 white sheers that are supposed to hang between the real curtains and the windows. Let's be serious--you live a few blocks away from students who use milk crates for coffee tables, who drink beer that costs $2 for a 6-pack and tastes like soapy water. Nobody will expect real curtains.

4. Abandon the illusion of personal space. It will only confuse you later.

5. Find a willing parent or relative, and give them your extra stuff to put in "storage" (i.e. their basement).

6. Door hooks. Everywhere.

7. Make a detailed list of where you will store everything: crib, baby swing, stroller, car seat, play gym, toys, etc. (It's okay to throw some things away, in blind panic. Or just to throw things.)

And as a bonus....

How to respond to people who think you are crazy, or attention-seeking, or both:

At first, when people ask if you've moved to a bigger place yet to prepare for Baby's arrival, tell them cheerfully that you've actually moved to a SMALLER place . . . because a simple lifestyle is worth pursuing. Because you don't even need a baby monitor when you can get from one side of the house to the other in six steps. Because we all know that, no matter how much space you fill with vintage wooden toys and Fisher Price play sets, your baby will probably still end up playing with a shoebox.

When people still don't understand, when they keep asking the same question, try to defend yourself: it's only for a couple years, while we pay down my student loans and save up for a down payment. There's still plenty of space. Gradually, start to worry that maybe they're right . . . maybe you've made a catastrophic mistake . . . maybe you'll spend the next two years sobbing on the floor amid a mountain of toys and diapers and Phil's random stacks of paper. (No home is complete without random stacks of paper.)

When people ask a third time, "So, have you moved into a bigger place yet?" just smile and nod.

The living room. (Actual size.)

The kitchen. (Look at all those cupboards! Compared to our last place, this is luxury!)

The bathroom. (Amazing shower. OMG. It doesn't randomly turn ice-cold, or lose water pressure, or spurt water at the ceiling. The shower makes the whole place worth it.)