A little over four years ago, I moved out of my childhood home.  It isn’t like I’d never moved before.  I had.  But, not like this.  The few times I moved out I felt like I had no choice.  I was too young; too naive to know who I was, who I wanted to be and who I could grow up to become.  I wanted my freedom now, I wanted privacy to do what I wanted, when I wanted to do it and whenever I wanted to come home from doing whatever it was I did while out and about.  I didn’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone and abide by anyone’s rules.
This last move, I thought freedom and privacy would be nice but I didn’t have that I need to have it or die attitude.  I just felt, it was time.  I needed to be independent and experience life the way a thirty-ish year old should and I did.  I got married, tried to get pregnant but didn’t.  We continue to try but as our options dwindle, the cost of desperation start to increase.
Life is funny that way.  One minute you are resolute thinking you know what you want and no matter what anyone else says you want it just the same.  Then life sneaks up behind you and kicks you in the ass.  In our case, four major changes occur simultaneously: my mom gets sick and needs surgery.  She can no longer cook the household meals, clean the whole house or do laundry.  My aunt is now 83 years old.  How did she get so old?!?!  Third, our next fertility option would cost $4,500 after my insurance has already covered 50%.  Lastly, our landlady increased our rent by $100 bringing it up to $1,300 (which is still below market rate considering other rental prices in the area for a one-bedroom unit with a carport)
Mind you, I still wanted to live where we were.  Our rental was still below market rate considering other one-bedrooms with parking were going for $1,600 and up. The apartment was situated close to transportation so we didn’t need the second car we were considering purchasing.  We do have a bit of debt that needs to be paid down and an investment property we are still paying mortgage on.  Despite this, the problem wasn’t so much the cost but time.  It took four times more to clean our apartment and my aunt’s house (where my mom, my brother and elderly aunt live).  Trust me, I did this for two months.  It was like working two full-time jobs and only getting paid for one.  It took us almost 30 minutes to drive to and from their house and ours every day if they needed anything like someone to do a load of laundry, cook a homemade meal or fix a broken door.  It also meant it would cost more money towards gas if we needed to pick up medication, drive them to doctor’s appointments or the bank or buy groceries and cook because there was no food in the house.
It was then that Hubby said, ” You don’t have a choice.  We need to move in.”

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