As I adjust to the idea of three children under the age of 2, my husband is doing a full-court press to convince me to move to a bigger house outside the city. The idea of a big backyard for the kids and more closet space has always appealed to me, but I'm not ready.

When I moved into this rowhouse when we were engaged, it had been my husband's for years. There was a mattress on the floor, nothing on the walls or hardwood floors, and no dishwasher -- just how he liked it.

Over the years, I spent many a weekend helping it become our house. Paint in every room, rugs, furniture -- including a bed with a frame -- and all the trimmings that make a home feel like home.

We may not have a lot of room, but this house is ours. I love living in the city, but not in the grime. We live across from a park that the children and dogs love, and we can easily walk to stores and restaurants in the neighborhood.

My husband agrees but in the same breath launches into a rant about our neighbors. In a rowhouse, they aren't across the street or even across the yard. They are just a wall away, often a very thin wall.

The ones to the right are do-it-yourself types who have been renovating their house for four years. First it was the kitchen (constant hammering during Sunday football), then the basement (drilling that made our shared foundation shake) and now it's an upstairs bathroom (clanging and banging pipes at random hours of the day and night).

Even when there isn't construction, Jack hears toilets flush, feet walk up adjacent stairs and conversations hum and sputter. Lest we forget the smell of a neighbor's nasty cigarettes on a connected front porch or the struggle to find parking.

I notice all the annoyances but chalk them up to the charm of city life.

But city life in our town means the schools suck and the private schools are almost as pricey as colleges. Three kids equal three tuition bills, which is an option, but we want more choices. Eventually, it will be time to leave for that reason, and just for more room in general.

With three bedrooms, there is one for us, one for the twins (for now) and a nursery for the new baby. A family of five raised their children in this very house with only a stand-alone bathtub. It's possible, but that was in the days before playhouses, exersaucers and adult toys such as big-screen TVs.

As my husband points out, moving is no fun no matter when you do it. It would take us months to get our house ready to show. I could no longer avoid dealing with the wedding memorabilia tucked in the basement amid, embarrassingly, some of my college notebooks.

The idea of mucking through this stuff as my belly grows larger is even more annoying. But who wants to move with a newborn in tow and two toddlers rummaging through all the boxes?

Jack has his eye on three houses, all in a good school district and with room for us to grow. We're talking about a long-term move, a house where we really could raise our children and send them off to college.

So what is the right time? Do we suck it up now, hit the basement with a cleaning tornado, then make the cosmetic changes that those house-selling shows make look so fast and easy? I am not allowed to lift anything heavy, so it will take longer, but perhaps not as long as it would wearing a newborn or during naptime.

Or do we enjoy our low mortgage payment and realize that we have plenty of room for now? Is taking on a bigger monthly payment and a house that will need its own cosmetic changes the right thing for this growing family?

We are both so torn that I think we won't be moving anytime soon. I think we need a plan for our long-term move. I would like to take the next six months preparing the house for potential buyers and hoping something we want to buy is available then.

But no matter the timing, the hardest part of moving is leaving behind the place that holds so many memories. This is the house where we became a married couple and made decorating mistakes, where we have loved and lost dogs, where we brought our children home from the hospital, where we have become a family.

It may not be the right home to raise our children up to adulthood, but I have a hard time saying goodbye to the home that is perfect for right now.

Laura Lewis Brown is the mother of infant twins. Her column appears every other Thursday.