I'm trying to lie low, act casual. I dig my hands deep into my pockets, squint to inspect a surprisingly lush frangipani bush flowering in the autumn sun.
We're about to bid on a house and I'm doing that thing where you imagine yourself living somewhere while also telling yourself not to get too far ahead. Don't get too excited, but don't give up.
A crowd is gathering, which should help, but a very friendly guy at the auction wants to tell us all about how great the street is.
"We used to live up at the other end, now we live down here. I made heaps on the last property; reckon I could work in real estate."
He won't stop talking.
"The local school is great here, you guys would love it, you should bid, are you going to bid?"
"Pipe down!" I want to scream, but I smile blankly, he soon loses interest and talks at someone else.
Eventually the auction starts and it becomes clear we're the only interested party. This is good news (and surprising!). We go in to negotiate and, less than half-an-hour later, the lovely large Californian bungalow that needs quite a bit of work is ours. I'm stunned. I didn't think it would happen this quickly.
With the signatures on the iPad, the last piece of the puzzle is in place.
How we ended up here
Ever since we were kids I used to joke to my family that when I grew up we should all buy a house on the same street. It wasn't far-fetched — this was how many families structured their real estate in the old country.
I remembered asking my sister if she would join me, and she said only if I didn't borrow all her stuff (I'm very bad at returning borrowed things, sorry to everyone this has affected in the past!).
Then I finished uni, moved out at 19 and built my own life. My husband and I have been married for seven years and in that time have acquired a two-bedroom unit, a (now ageing) black greyhound named Tulip and, most recently, a rambunctious and smiley toddler.
As the years passed, my parents got older and our family grew, the childhood scheme started making more sense.
Our beloved dad passed away in 2021, leaving my mum alone in the house we grew up in. It wasn't tenable.
So, one day last year, we took my mum out for lunch and asked her the big question: "do you want to buy a house with us?"
How we found the right house
Have you ever tried to pick a movie that your whole family wants to watch together? You need to account for everyone's age, tastes, what they've watched before and what they're in the mood for.
Imagine that times eleventy billion levels of stress and you're peeking into the realm of what it's like to buy a multigenerational home.
This was our list of non-negotiables:
- Four bedrooms
- Double storey (bit of privacy upstairs, OK?)
- Two living zones (I don't want to interrupt her tea parties and vice versa)
- Two kitchens (for cooking meat and fish; ideal but not essential)
- Bedroom and bathroom downstairs (easier for my mum)
- No internal steps (easier for my mum)
- As many toilets as possible
- Garden (for the baby, plus my mum is a massive gardener)
- Under one hour commutes to work
If it sounds like a big place, it is. Seven hundred square metres. To get something like this anywhere near the city centre, we sold both our current place and my mum's place – the family home.
Both homes were auctioned on the same day and, honestly, that was so intense. But it's a story for another time.
I quickly got a buyer's advocate involved because of how complex it was and how fast we needed to move. Within three weeks, he had found us a place that met all our requirements.
He even got us a place with two kitchens, one of which hilariously has never been used, despite being installed 30 years ago (shout out to the "good kitchens" in ethnic households everywhere).
What's next for us
Right now, we're in the process of boxing up everything we own and planning a renovation on the 80s bathroom from hell. It's exciting, disruptive and I can't quite believe it's happening.
Making this choice now, it feels like both an homage to the way I grew up and a brave new path all at the same time.
As inflation and costs grow, it feels good to know we're sharing energy, food and other expenses.
My son will grow up around the same things I did: the tangy scent of fermenting thosai batter; the regular phone calls with family all over the world; a Tamil-speaking grandmother who is loving, generous and strict.
We will be there for my mum as she gets older, too, something I hope gives her some peace.
I know that making a multigenerational household is not a new idea, in fact it's quite an ancient one, but I'm excited to do it in our special little way.
Bhakthi Puvanenthiran is the editor of ABC Everyday.
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