By REBECCA SPARROW
So. I’m about to do something that is either really, really awesome or really, really stupid.
I’m about to move in with my sister-in-law.
Here, let me give you some thinking music (imagine I’m playing Morning Has Broken on my daughter’s toy xylophone) while you contemplate my plan.
Time’s up. What do you reckon? Magnificent or madness?
Here’s the thing. I’ve been living in Adelaide for two years with no support network. And by ‘no support network’ what I mean is NO F*CKING SUPPORT NETWORK. Nothing. Nada. Zip. You with me?
The good news is that my tribe and I are about to move home to Brisbane. Our plan is to share a rental house with my husband’s sister and her 7 year old daughter for 12 months. Just as a way to save a bit of money but more to provide some support to one another. Support. Back-up. You know, a village.
Seriously, the thought of just having another adult around and available to watch the kids so I can go grocery shopping alone is right now sexier to me than imagining George Clooney doing my washing up. And I know my sister-in-law feels the same.
If you don’t have a support network around you, I know you’ll know what I’m saying. It’s tiring – parenting and working and, well parenting alone. No grandparents to babysit or watch the kids when you go to the hairdresser. No aunties or uncles or cousins or babysitters you’ve known forever around to help out.
And if you’re a single parent or have a spouse who works long hours (like I do) … it’s doubly draining.
So I have to say the thought of living with my sister in law is pretty appealing. Plus there’s the fact that she and I have a terrific relationship. What’s she like? Imagine the most awesome person you know and then times it by 100. That’s her. She’s easy going, great fun, not a slob and makes a mean Green Chicken Curry.
Plus when the kids are doing my head in, my ensuite has a bathtub.
So what do you think?
Am I doing the right thing? And what tips or advice do you have for me on sharing a house with a family member? Other than, you know, not to write my name on the margarine …