What rules my roost?

It just dawned on me recently that I have seldom had conventional living conditions. It seems there's some odd governing principle directing me to live in non-traditional settings...

Sure, as a kid, things were stable. I shared a room with my brother until we were teens, then we each had our own space. I lived in the same house throughout my entire childhood.

Then, when I went to college, I had roomies every year in a dorm. It worked out fine enough, and most of the folks I roomed with remained my roomie for more than a year. None of the former roomies is on my do-not-call list. (In fact, I should look them up!)

Late in college, when I moved off campus, it would have seemed a good time to get a conventional apartment. I did not. Instead, we shared the upper and lower levels of a nice duplex--took the door off that separated the two "housing units" and shared everything from bills to bagels. I continued the fine tradition of rooming with others up until the day I got married.

Then things seemed pretty standard, other than 3 moves in 4 years. We even had a year that was very conventional on our farm with our little growing family. Now we have incorporated multiple generations with my wife's parents (and sister) altogether with my 4 kids, my wife and myself. That's not very common in the USA today, but it is not really non-traditional.

In fact, I think it's more traditional than the insular, moving-off-on-our-own trend that is the status quo around here. It makes more sense economically. It works wonderfully for our kids to grow up in the close influence of their grandparents. We all help each other out with projects, chores, sometimes just swapping ideas in ways one could not if they did not share the same rooftop.

It can be trying for anyone, even man and wife, to share quarters. It would be a lie to deny that there are moments of tension. I can say, with all honesty, that I will always treasure these days we are sharing, that I know they are fleeting. I may take some of our time together for granted, writing it off to the work-a-day world, but I know that even mundane dinner conversation is much richer for the lives we share, the lies we swap, the tales we tell...and I would not have it any other way.

I hope that I don't rub anyone wrong too much around there. My metaphor is good, for as we rub each other wrong, we create sparks and heat...and that warm feeling? it's what we know as family!