--- I think I've chatted before about the Sunday newspaper ritual at
our house. But just in case you weren't reading this blog then, I'll
detail the process again. When I first met the husband, I did not
realize there were men out in this big, wide world of ours who did not
read the sports page first thing. I thought all men read the sports
page first simply because my brothers, my father and every other man I
knew did. I was pleasanly surprised to find that the husband did not.
He goes for the comic section, which I find damn sexy, let me tell you.
But...this creates a dilemma, because I, too, went for the comics
section first off. Every Sunday morning it was a race to see who would
get the comics first. Sometimes he would win. Sometimes I would. It was
a crapshoot with the odds being slightly in favor of the husband
because he generally rose before I did on the weekends. Now, the
process has changed a wee bit. He works. I stay at home. To prevent the
appearance of greediness, I chose to follow in the footsteps my mother
trod in before me: he pays for the paper, so he gets first shot at the
comics. I read the USA Weekend
section while he peruses the comics. He's a comic connoiseur---meaning
he takes forever and a damn day to read the frigging thing. And he reads it backwards, too. He starts on the back page with the kiddie games and Beakman and Jax, then moves on to Dennis the Menace and the like before---a half hour later---reaching For Better and For Worse on the front page. It's annoying, yes, but since it's the only
section of the paper that he reads, I try not to get too itchy and
settle down for prattle designed to be read only by the bleary eyed: USA Weekend.
This weekend the prattle revolved around The New Family Home.
You have a home. You have a family. But do you have a family home?
The answer isn't quite as simple as it seems. A house can either steer
members of a family into their separate worlds or bring them closer
together, something that seems ever more important in today's
overscheduled life. Recognizing this, a loose collection of authors,
architects and stylists is promoting designs and furnishings that can
truly turn a dwelling into a "family home."
Ok, here comes the new agey tripe. I can feel it coming.
The idea is to create rooms flexible enough to meet different needs,
encourage interaction and allow families to share space and activities
with a minimum of hassle. Call the "family home" a quiet revolt against
impracticality, a triumph of need over appearances. Call it a
recognition that if home is where the heart is, then a home should
gather together those closest to your heart. "A family home is a place
where every individual can feel relaxed, and that will mold itself to
everyone's needs over the years -- from baby and parents to teenagers,"
says Judith Wilson, the author of "Family Living: Creating the Perfect
Family Home."
Well, that's not so bad, I thought. It's actually a rather admirable goal...
That goal wins a hearty endorsement from experts who track family
life. Ellen Galinsky, director of the Families and Work Institute in
New York, conducted a study in 1999 of how children looked at their
world. "When you asked kids and parents what kids would remember from
childhood, parents guessed it was the big extravaganza -- the big trip
or whatever," Galinsky says. "But kids talked about the everyday family
traditions. That was what really mattered to them." A home that lets
family members coexist in the same spaces fosters the kind of everyday
togetherness kids consider so important, Galinsky says. It also can go
a long way toward protecting the sanity of their parents, who find they
spend less time keeping up appearances and more time on the things that
matter.
Hmmmm.
What makes a home a family home? Those who have studied the question
offer some underlying concepts to keep in mind: A family home is built
around the idea that rooms and furnishings should be practical. But
that doesn't mean you have to ignore style. Children can get as big a
kick as parents do out of that whimsical love seat or those brightly
colored walls or funky (yet sturdy) lamps
Practicality and style. I'm on the verge of liking this. This is interesting. I continue reading.
It means not letting style trump day-to-day usefulness. A
museum-exhibit living room that puts no one at ease doesn't make a lot
of sense in a family home. A formal dining table that does little but
collect dust for weeks on end might be replaced by a desk and a smaller
table that works well for family game night. Above all, a family home
focuses on informal, comfortable gathering places. A simple idea, but
not always easy to accept. "People fear not looking sophisticated,"
says Jane Gitlin, an architect and co-author of Taunton's "Family Home
Idea Book." "You have to get over that."
Ok, you've lost me people. Right here. This is where you lost me. I
just have to get over the idea of having a house that I can call mine
because it's better for the children the husband and I will one day
produce if we decorate said house in bright colors and have crappy
furniture that they can destroy because that's what kids do. Our house
should be a place where we will never have to tell our kids 'no.'
This is where you turned our potential castle into a house meant solely
for their education, entertainment and enlightenment. You suckered me
with the new agey crap after all. BASTARDS!
But of course, just to see how far these nutjobs will go, I read further.
How can you design a family room to accommodate everything from a
teenage party to a cozy night together after the kids have gone to bed?
Answer: You can't. But flexible spaces and furnishings can help.
Fold-up tables and extra chairs that can be pulled out when needed, a
sideboard that serves as a craft table, couches that can be rolled from
one part of the room to another -- all these things can make your house
a family home. An open floor plan helps, as does space that does double
or triple duty -- for instance, a guest room that serves as a computer
or hobby room.
No kid of mine is using MY Henredon
sideboard for a craft table, let me tell you. And why the hell do you
need wheels on your couches? To move them, would be the obvious answer,
but let me just pose this one question in reply: isn't that why God
gave parents the slave labor of their children in the first place? So
they can move stuff around and you don't have to throw your back out in
the meantime? Besides, I don't want my kids moving furniture unless
they ask me first: put wheels on it and you're taking yourself right
out of the process.
Flexibility is especially important in the kitchen, the heart and
soul of the modern home, because it's as likely to be used for
homework, TV viewing, bill paying and after-work conversation as it is
for cooking. Even in a small kitchen, provide several seating choices
if possible: a table, a bar with stools, a small desk.
Providing your kitchen is as big as the engine room on the Titanic.
A good kitchen also needs a "message center," a place near the phone
where family members can leave notes or otherwise communicate as they
come and go.
Yeah, it's called a refridgerator, you eedjits.
It makes sense to surrender a kid-height cabinet to homework and art
supplies. "FamilyFun Home," a book by Deanna F. Cook and the experts at
"FamilyFun" magazine, suggests setting up a snack station, a space in a
lower cabinet where the kids can serve themselves. (Feel free to set
rules such as "no eating within an hour of dinner.")
Now, I can understand the cabinet for art supplies, but food? No way in
hell. I'm no expert in the field or anything, but I do believe "DIY
snacking" is one of the contributing factors with all of the fat kids
we've got going in this country today. This says nothing of the fact
that by putting the food down low you're going to a. have messes galore
which your kids will clean up poorly, if they bother to clean things up
at all and b. you will have rodents. Mice. Rats. You know, those nasty
little things that do manage to come into houses---even in this overly
neat day and age---and forage for food. Any idiot knows that this why
cabinets were invented and was why they were put in places where mice
couldn't get to them easily---as in, up high. Dolts.
White carpets and linen furniture look great in glossy magazine
spreads. They look less great with ground-up crackers on them, but
that's the reality of life with children. Dark or patterned fabrics
hide more stains. Durable materials or easily laundered furniture
covers are part of the bargain in the family home.
First off, any idiot who has white carpet in their home and thinks
their children won't track mud all over it will not meet Kathy's #1
Rule for Reproduction: if
you can't teach a dog to sit, shut up, or come, you aren't allowed to
use your reproductive system. You will only bring more stupid people
into the world. Save us the trouble later on and just take the pill, ok? It's logical. Second, why anyone buys a pair of linen pants, let alone a linen couch is beyond me. Linen wrinkles. It does. You can't iron a couch, and why would you want to? Third: dark or patterned fabrics hide more stains. Talk about stating the obvious.
Nimrods. And it gets even better.
To create a room in which everyone feels at home, you need to see it
through your kids' eyes. Kids love to cocoon themselves, so casual
throws on the corner of a couch or love seat can give them a chance to
do that. "Think about flooring as your children would," says "Family
Living" author Wilson. "Children spend an incredible amount of time on
the floor. Think about the way things feel. Children are very tactile
creatures." In other words, that chrome-and-leather chair might look
great, but it could be cold and uninviting to the pajama-party gang.
If a kid wants to cocoon themselves, they can make a fort with couch
cushions. I see no reason why I should have to design my house around
the way my future children see the place. It will be MY house, not
theirs. They'll just live there for 18 years and if they're still there
at that age, they'll pay rent. Anyone with kids will sometimes feel as if home is a garbage dump.
The secret to making a house livable for adults is storage. However
much you think you need, you'll need more. Children's toys multiply in
the dark, and kids' momentary passions -- model planes, dinosaurs,
Barbie dolls -- can seize control of your home in mere days. The
answer: closets, cabinets, shelves, plastic bins. Lots of plastic bins.
Ever heard of---gasp!---throwing out the toys your kids don't play
with? Or giving them to the Goodwill or the Salvation Army? If you need
to "store" your children's toys, it's pretty apparent that they've got
too bloody many of them, not to mention that you're spoiling them
rotten by never saying "no" when they whine.
Store stuff as close as possible to where it's actually used. Give
kids storage space in every room where they have stuff. Then expect
them to put it away -- OK, put most of it away -- at the end of the
day. The broken toes you save may be your own
{SLAP TO THE FOREHEAD} Give kids storage space in every room where they have stuff??? I don't think so. Then it becomes their house and not yours. And for God's sake, make them pick up their own crap.
Even in the family home, everyone sometimes needs a retreat.
Bedrooms often provide a place for this, as do bathrooms, especially
ones with a big, comfortable tub. But Gitlin suggests also looking at
unused nooks. A stairway landing can be made into a quiet spot with the
addition of a built-in desk, or with an overstuffed chair and a reading
lamp. A dormer, an attic or even a walk-in closet can be transformed
into a getaway zone. A good retreat, whether for children or parents,
can give us a chance to recharge our batteries and find our better
selves at those moments when we feel overwhelmed. And that's critical
because, as Gitlin says, "a family home is a place that supports and
nurtures the family life we want to create."
Ok, so let me see if I've got this straight. You're telling me that
this supposed family home of the future is a place where everyone feels
at home in every single room. That there is no space within this
supposed home that no one person in the family will feel as if they
don't have some ownership. But
then you say that people need retreats. They need privacy; they need
their own space.
ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!
Make up your goddamn minds, would you? Which is it? If I'm going to
hand over my home to my potential children with the notion that this
sort of family-friendly design will bring our family closer together,
they'd better not spend their entire time hanging out in their damn
rooms. What's the point then? So annoying. Oh so very annoying. I don't
even have kids and I'm annoyed. I can only imagine how annoyed actual
parents are about this article. People save up for homes. They work
hard. They make sure they pay their bills on time so their credit is
good. They save money for a downpayment. When they finally find their
own slice of heaven in a good neighborhood, with good schools and lots
of kids on the block, they run to a mortgage broker and fill out gobs
of paperwork and hold their breaths...waiting for approval, knowing
that if they charged one thing too many last month and carried the
balance, they could be refused. It's nerve wracking. And when they get
approved, their offer is accepted, they have to wait for the
closing---which might be held up for any number of reasons. It's the
old dog-jumping-through-the-hoop scenario. I find it scary in the
extreme. But when I find a house that I want and that fits our
requirements, we will go through it as well and I'll be sucking down
Maalox like it's water until we move in. I know I will be. But most
people get their little slice of heaven. They get a lawn that needs to
be mowed. They live, serene in their surroundings, immersing themself
in DIY projects until the itch to reproduce becomes too strong to
ignore. They scratch, and scratch and scratch and they get a wee one
nine months later. Life is good. This is when I have to think that it
becomes patently apparent that the wee one is going to take over their
life for the next eighteen years, so it's time to think of
sanity-saving options. One of those would be having a designated play
area. Another would be having a bedroom and barring the wee one entry,
so you can work on the itch that numero due is going to start forcing
you to scratch as soon as you can work up the energy to do so. Fast
forward a couple of years. You're going to want adults to come over to
your house. You're going to want to have someplace for them to sit
that's not stiff and crinkly from where wee one numero uno shat their
pants and/or puked and you failed in the stain removal department.
You're going to want to be able to walk through your living room
without tripping over some toy. The primary colors that you thought
would be so entertaining for the wee one when you painted the living
room are making you nostalgic for your first apartment---the one that
was painted in management approved eggshell. That spare room in the
basement where you've been keeping all the boxes looks like a really
good place to shove your kids and their mayhem causing ways right about
now. You'll be able to keep all the toys down there; the kids will
occupy themselves and you'll have your living room back and will be
able to enjoy snatches---albeit brief---of adult conversation whilst
keeping an ear open for sounds of mayhem coming from the nether regions
of your house. There is nothing wrong with having places for your
children in your house. It's only when you give your house over to
short people who don't pay the mortgage that I would doubt your sanity.
What message are you sending to your kids if you would do some of the
things suggested? You rule the homestead? You don't have to do what we say because I will cater to your every whim?
Far be it from me to suggest such a thing, but...damn. There is a line
after all. Adults on one side. Children on the other. That's the way
God intended it. Don't mess with the Man's rules.