I had lunch with a friend who asked me, “have you decorated the nursery for the baby yet?”
Okay, most people who know me know that this is an absurd question (sorry, friend).
To use the word “nursery” to describe my former office is amusing at best. Don’t get me wrong. All work remnants have been removed, and a crib, rocking chair and dresser/changing table have been moved in. But to suggest there is anything sugar and spice about it, at least so far, is just not accurate; we’ll save that for the baby that will sleep in it. Hey it worked for Sophie and she’s doing okay (of course her room now has tangerine walls and hot pink curtains…).
Admittedly, I am in a little bit of denial about losing my office. Is ~2 years “temporary”? I say yes.
I did tell my friend that I bought new crib bedding and her face lit up. Then I told her it’s gray and her expression fell (after she realized I wasn’t kidding). Stay with me here: it’s slate, charcoal and white. Soothing, yes?
It’s a daily battle against the Princess Industrial Complex with our 4-year-old (amazing we’ve been able to keep it relegated to books and a few small toys so far) and as a result I just can’t bring myself to purchase a bunch of feminine, light pink furnishings for this infant.
Okay, maybe I’ll buy a few fuchsia accents, like the ridiculous mattress pad I bought… that no one will be able to see, but that will give me joy every time every time I change a soiled crib sheet.
And I do reserve the right to change my mind and buy a first class ticket to Pinkville. I am still hormonal, after all.