When my husband and I were first married, we lived in a 2-bedroom apartment that felt like a castle. It was ours alone. We even had a spare bedroom! After that lease was up, we decided to move to a smaller apartment because the $495/month rent was rather steep. We went smaller. Cheaper. We didn't need a lot of room for just the two of us. It was in one of these tiny, cheap apartments we affectionately referred to as Our Shoebox that we found out we would be having a baby. A new person to bring into our cozy home. He would be so small and it isn’t like he would be doing many activities. How much stuff can one tiny person have? We saw no reason to move. We were fine where we were. It took about a day to realize the error of our thinking.

We were using standard mathematics and logic when it came to this new little person. What we should have been using was the Parental Addition of a Child Chaos Relativity Theory. That sounds like a complicated, but truly, it is quite simple. The theory states that for every child you bring into your home, your chaos and clutter will increase a minimum of ten-fold whereas the amount of space you have as a couple will exponentially decrease. It’s a proven theory. Look it up. Better yet, ask a parent.

Now that my husband and I are outnumbered three to two by our children (four to two if we count the dog—and we do), we have completely given up on having any order or personal space to call our own. They win.

After a completely hectic and overwhelming child-centered week, I approached my husband in exasperation about the entire situation.

“What are the possibilities of converting our garage into an apartment?”

“Why would we want to do that?”

(Sometimes the sheer limited thinking he has is mind-boggling.)

“Think about it. Let’s just let the kids have the house. I mean, it is their stuff all over the place. Their mess. I went into my closet for my slippers yesterday and find a child. A CHILD. They’re even in my closet! We’ll never win, you know. We will never gain the upper hand on homeownership again. We just pay the bills now. But! We can just move into the garage and they will never know!”

“What do you mean they will never know? They’ll find us, you know. They will find the apartment and will take it over as well.”

He had a point. I began to pace the floor and think. “I’ve got it!” I shouted as I pointed towards the garage. “We tell them that we are working in the garage. That it is hard work. Manual labor. With no pay. We tell them that we could really use their help with chores in the garage. We actually invite them into the process. We emphasize the work part and the hard part. Especially the free part. What child would go within 20 feet of that place?”

I began to see the exciting possibilities flicker behind his eyes. I knew he was coming around to my way of thinking. “And the cars? Won’t they notice that we never put them in garage anymore?”

“As long as we are hauling them around town at their whim, they don’t care where the cars get parked. They just want to make sure they get to their next big destination.”

That night we sat in our bedroom and giggled as if we were a young newly engaged couple planning our future. We created floor plans and planned on how we would decorate our new apartment. We envisioned the parties we would throw, the lazy mornings that we slept late then read the paper in bed and the freedom we would have to trip over our own shoes and not theirs. The next morning we awoke to the sound of children fighting, the dog barking and one of the little people screeching for a pair of socks. We glanced at each other and sighed as we hit autopilot and started our day. Both of us grinning, though, as we passed the door to the garage.

We have not given up the dream of having our own place. (Would you?) If you need us, check the garage. I am not saying we live there or anything, though. Why? What have you heard?