Communal Living in the Suburbs

For the six-month anniversary of The Commune, I'm posting our story, a story that started back in May. To some we may seem odd and to others this may seem like a great idea. In this economy, though, with jobs tight and money even tighter, our decision was definitely one of necessity.

Right now, here's who lives at my address: Me, my three kids, and my two cats. Here's who's moving in: My girlfriend, Kat, her son and her cat. Also, my significant other and his son (but no pets... just a kick-butt motorcycle, which is way better than a fourth cat!).

Moving in first is Kat, who is my oldest, most intelligent and beautiful friend... and without whom I would not have survived Fall Creek Little League (and who makes me say that every time I write about her). She is leaving our hometown, which is more than 600 miles away, in order to start fresh. She's hoping to get a new job and a new future. I'm hoping she does both of those things, too, although that  desire is at war with wanting her to be my constant companion and extra pair of hands (and, possibly, head chef).

Her son, Rook, will fit perfectly in the litter of kids we'll have underfoot because he's 13 and a boy. He'll be one of four boys that my poor daughter will have to contend with when she's with me. Kat's cat, Phoebe, is also a boy. He's black, like my cats, but doesn't go outside.

Less than a week after Kat, John moves in. John is my significant other. Very significant. He's a man I fell in love with for his kindness and compassion. (And also the aforementioned motorcycle and his wicked tool skills.) John's son, Dragonslayer, is 12 and the youngest of the boys. He'll be living in The Commune occasionally, which means not as much as we wish he did.

My boys are Lettuce (15) and Cubes (14). I also have Flashdance (8)... the only girl and the youngest by several years. My cats, who are black and have lethal talons, are Juno and Jupiter. They are brother and sister and are the bosses of the backyard. I'm hoping they won't start peeing everywhere if they get stressed out.

Then there's me: Self-employed writer (aka obsessive blogger and hopefully future best-seller and stadium speaker), mother, friend, lover, step-mom-ish person and "auntie."

Why The Commune?: Well, John and I have talked about moving in together for many months. He began a basement project that would give us  a new laundry room and an extra bedroom for Dragonslayer. "The Great Move-In" was on hold until I was ready; I got ready really darn fast when renters landed in his lap. See, John made one call to tell a realtor friend he'd eventually want to rent out his house. The realtor friend called back and said he had someone who wanted to look at it that week. The prospect fell in love with the house and offered John a three-year fixed lease. You heard me: Three Years. So, despite the two rooms at my house being only 50-75% ready, he's coming.

Kat got laid off several months ago and I told her, sober, "Come up here! You'll love it! We'll find you a job and you can stay with me while you get on your feet!" She hemmed and hawed. Then she listened to me wax on and on about life transitions... waking up, looking up, showing up and standing up. Then she actually did all those things, which led her to call me last month and say, "We're coming as soon as school's out." Rook's school gets out next Friday. They get here Saturday.

My house is the final player in The Commune. It breathes: shallowly when it's just me, and like a gospel choir when it's me and the kids. With the addition of two more adults, two more kids, and another black cat, it's going to need to start gulping like a marathon runner. Er, a marathon runner heading up Mt. Everest. I wouldn't be surprised if the expansions and contractions become visible from the street, ala Dr. Suess's Cat in the Hat (with Mike Myers), every time mine and John's kids show up or go back to their other parents' homes.

My hopes: I'm hoping to help Kat out and deepen my very oldest, most enduring friendship. Plus, she's superfamily and when superfamily needs help, you help. I'm hoping that John and I continue to grow our relationship into something even more wonderful than it already is. Also, I'm hoping all the kids understand that there's value in community. There's strength in village. There's love in The Commune.

Last but not least, here's what I'm afraid of: I'm afraid of becoming dependent on Kat to be my friend-wife (which is quite a bit different than a sister-wife!). Women, you know the idea of a friend-wife—another woman who can pick up the pieces you drop, whether it's taking care of kids, doing laundry, going grocery shopping, etc. I'm also afraid of upsetting the long-distance balance of our friendship by sharing kitchen and TV room space. With John, I'm afraid of not giving this new stage of our relationship it's proper attention. With my kids, I'm afraid of adding too much stress and sending them running with glee and relief to their dad's house. With the cats... I'm  afraid of pee. Lots of pee. And of snarling, hissing, growling cat fights.

There's no stopping now, though. Boxes are packed, trucks are ordered, a lease is signed, and I actually cleaned out all the crap from my basement in order to give Kat and Rook a space of their own. I don't do that kind of cleaning for just anyone...

Stay tuned.

What are your thoughts about communal living? Would you consider it or is it just too much togetherness? Please share your comments!