God's Child, Our Joy

An adoptive family's journey in faith and life

Moving In

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After living here in Dayton for nearly four(!) years, Steph and I are taking the leap. We figure it’s about time. With Eva growing up so fast, it was inevitable. We are moving in together.

We had occasionally been together, whenever someone came to visit. It was just easier to keep our stuff separate the rest of the time. We could avoid running into each other, and we wouldn’t have to stare at each other’s messes.

Eva has opened our eyes in the last few months. After our families filed out of the house after Memorial Day, we looked at each other and had the same thought. Rather than split up like we usually do, we decided we would make it work this time. Today would be the day we started to share the same bathroom.


When we moved here four years ago, we looked mostly at three bedroom houses. Seeing that there was just the two of us (and Quinton), we knew that we were going to grow into this home. For our home search, we visited nearly 30 homes in three days. Some of them were endearing, but too small. Some were very affordable, but too far to travel. Many of them acquired fun names, like the cat pee house, the smokers house, the food on the curtains house, and the house with the oven in the dining room / built in radio (with FM!) in the kitchen the size of a small TV / and Life magazines on the coffee table from the 60’s that didn’t appear as staged.

We settled the list down to three choices, eliminated one that had multiple offers, and selected the one we currently are in after a second walkthrough. I don’t remember much about the third home, but I do remember a problem with it. The house had a decorative window that shined over the staircase. In front of the window was a larger ledge which (I guessed) would be where you could put a Christmas tree to see when walking the stairs, and to shine outside. The ledge was carpeted. So, in order to get up there to set up displays and/or vacuum that carpet, you’d have to bring out the ladder. Not fun. Not my problem.

So then we had a home with three bedrooms, and three occupants who all shared one of those rooms. The other two bedrooms became known as her bedroom, and his bedroom, depending on the decorator. Her bedroom (aka the guest bedroom) was painted in yellow with white trim, decorated with images of the ocean and happiness. His bedroom (aka the office) was plastered with images of Twins with a few Vikings sprinkled in.

There was the three bedrooms, and there were two bathrooms. One off the master, and one for the other two. Rather than share a bathroom, we split and took our own. This allowed us to get ready at the same time with few problems. Her nice shampoos and conditioners would not have to slum it with my Suave, and my shower radio would not sit on that doily thing. Things were good.


Eva came to our home in December 2011. She’s already kicked me out of my extra bedroom, and now she’s kicked me out of my bathroom. Well, to be fair, her bath tub has. Being a baby means you have a miniature version of things you already have. Mini bowls, mini spoons, baby wallets, and mini tubs.

Every few days she gets a bath as necessary, and afterwards we drain the tub in the tub. The next morning I’d always forget this, and have to move the tub from the tub. Eva would be asleep, so I’d have to leave the tub in the hall to trip over later. Bath toys would be moved, and her wash rag moved to her door to be put in the hamper.

Later in the day we’d put the tub back in the closet. The open spot was right next to the changing table, so you’d have to bring it down at a 90 degree angle before wedging it back in place. While sitting at 90 degrees, the toys you forgot about would pour out, which you’d have to retrieve.

Every three days, rinse and repeat.


With my parents staying with us over the weekend, we moved my things out of my bathroom and moved into Steph’s bathroom. After the weekend, my laziness kept me from moving my stuff out quickly. By the end of week, we noticed a couple of things :

It didn’t ruin our lives

It made sense.

So now we are sharing the same bathroom. Some might find it crazy that it took us four years to get here, others may find it fully expected since we dated seven and a half years before we got married. Regardless, my seven month old girl who can’t walk or use the restroom has her own bathroom now.


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