The Kitchen Table

Of all the things that I love about Oak Park the houses are far and away my favorite. I love the character, the uniqueness, the stories that their 80 year old frames have to tell. I love that somebody walked on our old wood floor when it was new and shiny, perhaps dancing the charleston in the 20s, cooking on the gas stove through long winters during world war 2, rocking on the creaky back porch watching the sunset in the 70s. Now this house remembers us too and I love that.

I love that this house has forced me to get creative. Space planning and fung shui are really just fancy ways of saying FUNCTION, PLEASE FUNCTION. Really any house with children and multiple functions needs a little creativity.

I've had to stop myself a lot lately, cutting short daydreams of a craft room to sprawl out in, an enclosed back porch to sip coffee in, a patio to grill on while the girls scoot around on bikes and ride ons. But really I am content in this place as it is now and get a real thrill out of making it work, no, making it the best for us and our needs.

Take the kitchen table.

Our table is our art table. As soon as the breakfast dishes are clear Ainsley begs for a project. I determine if I'm up for messy or not and we go. Today it was making stamps out of apples and potatoes and printing with fabric paint on a muslin remnant. SO messy. I had to take deep breaths as I watched Ainsley wipe her red paint covered hands on the top and underside of our eating surface. I let it go, knowing that with a good baking soda scrub it'd be fit for food once again.

Our kitchen table is our factory. Cards and envelopes spread. I stuff and address as Ainsley decorates and embellishes. Then when that gets old we pull out the clay or dough, smashing and creating. I may never get that out of all the nooks and crannies.

Our kitchen table is our stage. Despite how many times we tell her no, Ainsley insists on performing for us up top. She loves the new vantage point and attention, the way the wood sounds under her red party shoes. Louise has started to join her, crawling up from her attached chair, beaming with mischievous pride. I mean, I am right there, what harm can it really do?

Our kitchen table is our counter because OH GOODNESS there is no room in our tiny kitchen for 6 eager chef hands. We roll dough and cut out shapes, form pies and cookies and chop chop chop. Thank goodness that table is so close to our kitchen, easy peasy we are cleaned up and ready for the next adventure.

Our kitchen table is our jungle gym, our fort, our puppet theater and escape. It so easily becomes a wonderland for the girls with a few blankets, scarves, and pillows. They disappear into their own little girl world and I am far away but close at hand.

I find myself falling more in love with this home everyday, with these walls and what we've done with them. After nearly two years it's starting to sink in that it's ours and we're so blessed and lucky to have it.

As the weather starts to turn and after three rainy days I'm reminded of the long indoor months to come. I feel even more blessed. For once I am looking forward to more time here, the thought of ever leaving too sad and too much. So why think of it? Today I won't. Today we'll work in our factory, lounge in our fort and love on this place all our own.

All summer I was asked "when are you coming back?" "when are you moving HOME?" For the first time my mom spoke up and of course said just what I needed to hear. "It's ok to be home there Becky. It may be your home for longer than you think. That's wonderful." It feels pretty wonderful here. I guess I just needed the ok to go ahead and admit it.

So our kitchen table may be used for much more than just eating, my desk a dumping ground for all things toddler and baby, our entry console doubles as our art cabinet, and our buffett is about 1/1oth an actual buffett. Turns out I think things this way. Simple and complex all at once. 1300 square feet is just fine with me.