No time to think: we're in the thick of it.

Hello!

It's been 14 weeks since we began the project of building our new house and we can't quite believe how far we've come.

Through the very hot and dry month of February we saw the trusses, roof, fascia and guttering go on. Last week the windows and door frames were installed and the Scyon boards were put onto the front of the house. The bricks were delivered, and after a last-minute change of mind about mortar colour, the bricklayers will start a few days early tomorrow.

The action has pulled lots of tradespeople to the site already, and even a few curious and furry macropods, by the look of the footprints.

This would all be very exciting, apart from the fact that it puts lots of pressure on my dear electrician who is finding himself doing his dayjob and then going off to his sidegig wiring the house until very late nearly every night.

This is the time of the build when everything is in motion, there's barely time for thinking, only for doing. Any decisions not already made need to be made. Already.

In only a couple of weeks we'll be talking to plasterers and tilers. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once. C'est formidable, the French might say.

It's also not been without some niggles on small details with our builders, or without some concessions on  details or many hours of debating bathroom sink shapes and how to balance work, family and new house demands. It wouldn't be a genuine housebuild without it's share of stress.

But we will get through this. the more I see our house grow and spend time walking the land and feeling a part of it, the more I feel connected to what we are creating. And it will be worth it.

Bucking the Trend: why we ditched the Parents v Kids Zone

Once upon a time, or so we are led to believe, designing the Australian family home was as easy as assembling a Vegemite and cheese sandwich. It was just a case of putting together the tried and true basics, again and again, because everybody likes it.

You knew you needed a kitchen and laundry, a dining room, a lounge room, a bathroom (yes, just one) and a few bedrooms, usually three. When you walked through the front door into the hallway (vestibules hadn't been invented in Australia yet), the order of layout was generally lounge on one side, Mum and Dad's room on the other, then the kitchen and bathroom opposing each other, then the assortment of kid's bedrooms, and with the laundry hanging off the back of the house. The toilet was always next to the laundry, not in the bathroom (only American sitcoms had this, which is when I finally understood why they called going to the toilet, going to the 'bathroom').

There were some variations, but essentially this was the quintessential Aussie Family Home. On a 1/4 acre block. If in doubt, refresh your memory by watching a movie which demonstrates this clearly: The Castle. Okay, I forgot about the poolroom (they were obviously rich).

Ah, utopian times.

Now, as time-passengers of the twenty-first century teenies, we accept that house plans must be dissected, masticated, ruminated upon and finally examined for a spark of joy or alternative facts. We must have a plebiscite and present our prospective plan to complete strangers on social media for their edification and blessing.

Or, you can get liberated and do what's right for you and not worry about everyone else.

Liberated is how we felt when we made a radical change to our house design. We had spent several months on it, and it felt okay......except for the bedrooms. It literally kept me up at night. I worried about not hearing our kids when they had nightmares or a tummy bug, and the thought of them calling and crying while we slumbered obliviously was the clincher. 

Our initial plan followed the current design default with the kids bedrooms and the master bedroom at opposite ends of the house. We stepped it out, and discovered that it would take about 35 steps from our bed to our son's. If that doesn't sound like much, try walking it in the dark at 2am down a hall, through several doorways, past the couch, kitchen table and most likely through a pile of schoolbags and toys. Now three times. Now every night.

Not so easy, huh?

I knew we had to have a conversation with our builder and they weren't going to like it because it meant starting the plan from scratch, after almost 12 months of planning.

The fact is, our kids are still relatively young at 6 and 9. It's complicated by the fact that our son has a disability which means he needs help nearly every night, usually several times. No matter how much we thought about it, the modern bias for a kids zone and parents zone wasn't going to fit our family. We bit the bullet and had the tough conversation with our designer.

Essentially we decided to not the take the advice of those who told us teenagers need their space and privacy. That we needed our own space and privacy. That when our kids have parties we would want to get as far away as possible.

My husband and I agreed that we want our kids to know we're not far away. We want them to be able to call out if they need us, to be able to pass their bedroom each morning and ask how they slept, you're late for school, I love you. Life is short and you're dead a long time.

And, just quietly, there's nothing wrong with your kids knowing that there's the teeniest chance Mum or Dad might spring them doing something that perhaps they shouldn't be doing - after all, this is how most of us were brought up, right? And we turned out okay.....right?

So there isn't a 'kids zone' in our house design. There isn't a 'parents retreat', either. I suppose the whole thing is one big Family Zone. A family home, even.

If need be, the kids can escape to a rumpus room, the lounge room or living room. There's lots of space outside and they will have their own bedrooms. In times of extreme teen angst, there are even doors on those bedrooms.

It's hard for many Aussies to understand, but there are people out there who don't like Vegemite and cheese sandwiches. It must be the cheese, I dunno. But it's true.

So it stands to reason that all house designs don't fit all families. The standard book of house designs that most builders show you doesn't always contain a design that works the way you need it to. It's absolutely okay to want or need something else, and to ask how a house plan can work better for you. Don't be afraid to challenge your builder to think outside the box. It might just be one of the most liberating thing you do.

That, and truly loving a Vegemite and cheese sandwich. 

Size and other matters.

Last Tuesday, a few days later than initially expected but before our Christmas deadline, our house slab was poured. A major milestone to cap off a hectic year.

We avoided being there for the pour, not wanting to get in the way of a fleet of cement trucks. The weather was pretty unbearable for most, being over 40 degrees C and humid with a little rain - but perfect for concrete going off.

On Thursday I had the chance to quickly pop up and take seven seconds of video, panning across the slab with the view of Wodonga and Albury and beyond in the background. And it gave the impression that maybe our new house will be...sizeable.

Yes, our new house is on the big side.

This was never our intention but our requirements meant that it evolved this way. In fact, our brief to our designer was that we'd rather not have a big house. But it is what it is.

 I won't defend our choice of house size but will explain how it came to be. The main reason was that we need to accommodate a child with a disability and we weren't constrained by a typical suburban block to do this justice.

Looking at the video, I can see how our slab might look ridiculously big.

Ridiculous until you realised that this house has an extra wide hall, which essentially runs the length of the house, for a mostly-out-of-control walker driven by a 9 year with a wonky gait. Add in an oversized main bathroom to accommodate a wheelchair-style shower commode, and an oversized kitchen/family/meals space so that walker can negotiate it's way past the couch, dining table and chairs and kitchen bench without gouging chunks on its way past - well the metre-age adds up.

Granted, there is some gratuitous space added - a kids rumpus room (principally to free up navigation space in Jack's bedroom by moving books, toys and desk out), a bath in the ensuite (how much can I not wait for my own bath! Bliss!) and a guest bedroom with powder room for guests. We added a little study which will double as a small sewing space and a small lounge. No gym, no media room, no formal dining, no 'man cave'. The long ranch-style of the house adds to the perception of size, necessary to accommodate the sloping site.

The slab also includes the garage and 'al fresco' (ewh, I really don't like that term) or verandah off the meals space. I don't apologise for the garage size. We opted to give the double garage an extra metre of width due to the need to get Jack in and out of the car without constantly dinging the car door. It's a constant burden to be trying to transfer him with very little space to manoeuvre, a problem which has led to me often having a sore back. We are also realists that in future years we will likely end up with a modified car, so we're hoping investing in this bit of space now will save messing around in the future.

The big verandah is something we wanted to be able to enjoy the serenity and have an undercover space where we could live through the summer and, when we eventually add some weather blinds, enjoy during winter too. Plus, real Aussie houses always have a verandah!

One thing we were adamant about, given the length of the house, is that we wouldn't be split up as a family. We're non-believers in the current trend for a 'parents wing' and 'kids wing' at opposite ends of the house.

We have a 'family wing' and a 'guest wing'. This means we will hear our kids when they need us and in particular reduces the distance travelled to get up to Jack as we currently do several times a night. Both Rob and I grew up in houses where our bedrooms where not too far from our parents and it was fine. I never felt deprived of privacy, even as a teenager. We survived and so did our parents.

Plus, our guests will thank us for giving them their own space away from our morning chaos!

So, yeah, our house slab is big, for lots of reasons. We designed it to accommodate our needs, our circumstances, our lifestyle and the land. To each their own, and as our new house rises from the slab I'm sure we'll think of some new ways to describe it.

Like 'ours'.

Welcome.

You found me! And I found you. It's great to meet you and I hope we can be friends.

Here's the backstory:

I'm a girl from a town in Northeast Victoria, Australia. After finishing school, I left my hometown for the big smoke, spent some years at uni and enjoy my singlehood, finally settled down with a good job, bought a flat and met a top bloke. Eventually we found a house together in a great part of Melbourne and got married. Then we knocked the house down and built a new one. It was an exciting experience and we ended up with a lovely house to call home.

Then we were blessed with a little boy, and a few years later, a little girl. Life was good. When we were given the opportunity to live in a beautiful part of the Pacific Ocean for a few years we thought all our dreams had come true. It didn't take much to convince us that we wanted an adventure to grow and test ourselves, plus the excuse to learn a bit of French, so off to New Caledonia we went.

After more than 3 fantastic years of living the expat life, it was time to return to Australia. And here we are, 45 minutes from my hometown, on the border of Victoria and New South Wales.

It's been a couple of years since our return from New Caledonia. For a long time I felt like we were just on an extended family visit, about to return to our sleepy ville in Provence Nord. But now, wistfully, I've come to realise that the French tropical chapter of our lives is over, fading into the past, but bound to us through with a pile of photos, unique memories and a group of extremely special friends who I will never forget.

Last year we bought a little plot of land outside our new town. It is on the side of a small hill and overlooks the local town. The view stretches across the Murray River and into the majestic hills of New South Wales. We have trees, grass, lots of birds, echidnas and kangaroos and more space than we've ever had before. Soon we will build a house there. It will be the official roots that we finally put down in our new community. It will be our spot to say hello from. 

Our Hill of Hello.