I keep saying I’m going to write about it and well, it’s about freaking time I did!
So, the girls and I are living in what you would call a “yome” for the summer. It’s a geodesic dome/yurt hybrid. See? Yome. Make sense.
I’ve been trying to take pictures of the yome so you can get an accurate idea of what kind of structure we are living in, but it’s really hard to capture the essence of the yome. It’s just so… yomey.
I also don’t have a fisheye or wide-angle lens, which makes photographing a geodesic structure really difficult. But I digress.
Here are some of the pictures I did take. And if you can create a little landscape collage in your mind, you might be able to get a glimpse into this really bizarre, yet totally incredible, thing we are living in.
First, here’s what the yome looks like from the outside:
Here’s a close up (sorry Annie, I couldn’t help myself):
And here it is from the inside. First, a shot of my bed:
And here’s Annie’s bed:
You can see we have a mini fridge and plenty of storage. I also just acquired a small dresser for my clothing and there’s even a little potty for tiny people (sorry, Annie!):
You see that DVD player and popsicle? Some people might call that “bribery,” but those of us in the business of Motherhood call that “whatever it takes.”
And I know it seems totally romantical and stuff — this whole living in a yome thing. And don’t get me wrong, it’s an incredible experience and I’m so glad we had this opportunity, but if one more person tells me that they are just dying to sell everything and live in a yurt Imagonna scream.
Living in a yome isn’t exactly the dreamiest thing I have ever done. If we weren’t just across the yard from the main house (aka: kitchen and bathroom), I don’t think I would have lasted more than a few weeks living like this. Ok. A month. Tops.
Let me walk you through the pros and cons of yome life.
- Minimalist lifestyle
- Easy to clean (20 min max for a deep cleaning)
- Uses very few resources
- We spend most of our time outdoors
- Lots of light and windows
- Feels close to nature
- Family bonding
- I run out of clean underwear every 3 days
- Easy to mess up (like, it takes 30 seconds to turn this place upside down)
- The lack of plumbing is inconvenient, to say the least (think: peeing outside no matter what the PNW weather has to offer)
- It’s been raining. A lot.
- The sun sets at 10 pm and rises at 4:30 am, which means my kids do, too.
- I have also gotten very comfortable sharing my space (and bed) with bees, flies, spiders, mosquitos, and caterpillars.
- Sharing a small living/sleeping space with your kids means it’s super hard to, you know, be alone and stuff.
As you can see, yome living has been an interesting experiment for my little family. Most days it feels like camping. Except because we have a bed, fridge and electricity, it’s fair to call it “glamping.”
You know how at the end of a camping trip your tent and sleeping bag are filled with dirt, you haven’t had a real shower in a few days, and you just want to go home, soak in the tub, and do some laundry?
You’re sick and tired of shuffling your toiletries back and forth between the communal bathrooms and you’re not sure how you are going to get the dirt out from underneath your nails?
Yeah, that’s kind of what’s happening over here. But instead of putting up with it for a 3-day weekend, it’s going to be almost 3 months of it.
Despite my complaining (first-world problems over here, obv) living in the yome has been a success.
Once I make the long journey back to my concrete metropolis, don’t be surprised if you catch me clicking my heels three times while saying, “There’s no place like yome, there’s no place like home.”
Because, in the grand scheme of things, there really isn’t.
Would you ever consider living in a yome?