I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately; this crazy summer of travel finally caught up with me.

My mama sure is lazy.

On Sunday night, Matt and I uncorked a bottle of champagne at La Belle Vie to celebrate his return home, this time for good. We had blinked and the seasons had almost shifted on us.

After dinner, we walked around Loring Park holding hands, and the crisp night air felt like fall. We asked ourselves, as parents often do, where did the time go?

Look who lost two teeth!

Suddenly we longed for a slower life. A simpler one. One where Matt does not work the sort of hours he does, and I feel like the other families at the park: complete. We imagined buying a fixer upper in rural Minnesota where our boys could run wild in a field out back. Because this home we’re building ties us to the lifestyle that we lead.

Matt’s travel comes and goes; his workload ebbs and flows. And now, we’ll have a month to enjoy each other, with a week of vacation stuck in there, before his travel picks up again.

What is the right road to take in life? I appreciate the financial comfort his job provides, especially during this recession, and that he is happy, because moods filter through the home. But I wish he were here more because I miss him.

So what do you think: Is there such a thing as a simpler life, or do you simply trade one stress for another?

Thanks for the advice on Monday. We agree with most of you: Version 1 of our home plans has the most curb appeal for us, too.

Jean had drawn the turret in Version 2 based on a home in South Minneapolis I love, but once we saw it on paper, we realized it wasn’t in our character. And while we both like the idea of a turned garage, one of us doesn’t have the best record driving in small spaces. (Side view mirrors are expensive to replace.)

Back to our meeting at Rehkamp Larson. Jean had designed a cardboard mock up of our lot. Each tier represents a grade. On our back lot line is a burr that creates additional privacy.

We have neighbors to our south, and a schoolyard to our north. A road runs in front of our lot, while our back lot line presses against a neighboring yard. There is a 15 foot setback.

Here are two three-dimensional models. Jean broke up the exterior to make each home appear more interesting from the street, and less massive.

Version 1 sets traditionally on the lot. We like its curb appeal and that it gives us a larger backyard. Plus privacy. Because I’m a freak about who can see in our windows (whereas Matt thinks the sight of naked people can only raise property values).

Above: View from street.

But having a garage to the south limits sun exposure. (If we move our garage to the north, we lose our ability to take advantage of the natural slope to light our basement.)

Above: View from back.

Version 2 runs along the north lot line, with over-sized windows pulling in the light and view. With this home, you can feel the tranquility brought on by its natural surroundings, with views in all directions. And it creates a courtyard, a peaceful outdoor room in which to entertain friends and family. Mojito, anyone?

Above: View from street.

However, you have less privacy as your bedroom windows face your neighbors to the south (although plantings could obstruct your view). And this home extends further into the yard, using more of it.

Above: View from back.

How do you think we should position our house?

When we first toured our current home, we fell in love with it in part because of its master bath. We envisioned it as our private retreat. I loved the idea of soaking in warm water after we tucked our children in bed. And Matt, I think, thought the walk-in closet would organize me.

At least nothing is on the floor.

But after we moved in, to our surprise our master bath felt cramped.

“Maybe we should build separate closets,” Matt said, as we talked about how to lay out our new home.

“Or an alcove for the bath,” I said. Because we always seemed to be bumping into each other.

However, after reading Sarah Susanka’s The Not So Big House book, I realized we’d fallen into a trap home builders and buyers often do: we think bigger is better.

But the issue wasn’t that our master bath wasn’t big enough. It was how we lived in the space.

Homes, Susanka writes, require both private and open spaces. “Sometimes we feel like being with others, and other times we need solitude.” Yet our bathroom has no door on it. Which makes it a sort of gathering space. And not a very sanitary one.

Well, this is awkward…

And by putting our only bath in our master suite, our children, their toys, and their towels are constantly underfoot. Before I bathe, I must clean. So much for a private retreat.

Mommy, can I get in, too?

Susanka says we often mistake quantity for quality. But size and volume do not equal comfort. A bathroom door does.

What room in your house works for you?

Over the weekend, Matt + I drove around our neighborhood to take pictures of houses we like for our architect. We got in a heated debate over whether your sun visor should be up out of respect for the driver, or down to shield the eyes of the passenger. And we think we can build a home together?

We each have our own feelings about what makes a home.

Matt loves a well lit porch. He imagines the glow above to be welcoming at night when you arrive home from work and shut off your headlights. (Assuming, of course, your sun visor is up so you can see it from the street.)

I like how understated this beautiful home is, and how the yard flows up to it. And the richness of the wood used for the porch railing.

Matt likes brick, especially the lighter color. But to me this brick feels impenetrable, like a fortress. (Or how a sun visor should be, as it’s designed to protect delicate eyes from bright light.)

This is the house I dream of: the wrap around porch to catch the summer breeze, the variety of details, like the varying shape of the windows. It seems simple compared to most Victorians, yet elegant. The sort of place where you’re so happy you don’t care if the sun visor is up or down.

What kind of house do you like?

On Saturday, Matt set his chain saw in his truck and drove over to our new property with the boys. He planned to clear out and chop up some of the dead trees for firewood. Matt grew up on a farm, where you knew your currency by the sweat on your back. And he wanted our boys to help clear brush to appreciate a rudimentary lesson: if you want something in life, like firewood, you have to work for it. Darn it, our city boys would learn how to sweat.

(As you can see from the video, I’m not sure they learned their lesson, but I sure did. My arms are still sore.)

So here he is, sawing trees, while our architect, Jean Rehkamp Larson of Rehkamp Larson Architects, talks about how we could position our home on the site.

Miss Episode 1? You can watch it here.

Yesterday I was thrilled to give Liz from The Kitchen Pantry Scientist, Molly from The Snyder 5, and our friend Meg a tour of our new lot. Over coffee and bagels, they shared their ideas with me, some of which I caught on tape. You’ll notice a retaining wall. Our toddlers were obsessed with walking along it (and jumping from it). Fortunately, we managed to wrap up before they chipped teeth.