Nesting. It is a long process and makes me appreciate that I have ten whole months to do it. The first part of pregnancy is so mind numbingly confusing (I'm WHAT???) that there isn't the brain space to process any of the realities. Than the middle part comes and it's so exciting and weird, that your body is about all you can focus on. But now that I'm entering the third trimester, the baby has become a reality. The practicalities are coming into focus, which is both terrifying and thrilling, and I am beginning to think about things like what she will wear, what she will poop into, where the poop vessels will be contained, where to keep all her clothes and diapers, what she might want to look at when she is lying around, where she will sleep (answer: Much like the 800lb gorilla, wherever she wants) and so on.
In light of all these specific and vague needs she may have, I have been collecting things for many months. I am awash, no, DROWNING in baby clothes and I have enough cloth diapers to diaper both the tails and heads of a medium sized village. The generosity of my friends has been astounding. I have been mailed boxes and boxes of maternity and baby clothes from Oregon, California (several people), and New York, and been given loads of things from my local community. I have been gifted beautiful things from my family, friends, and coworkers. I have collected a wonderful variety of items from strangers in the area who just want to know that the items they used to care for their precious babies will go on to care for another. I have literally bought 2 outfits, total. It's heartbreakingly kind, and hard to get used to.
And so, in my quest to find a home for the 50+ onesies I have accumulated, I found a wonderful set of perfectly proportioned dressers. The man who was giving them away on Craigslist was so tickled that they were for a baby, that he held them for an extra day for me and struggled with me to get the both in my car (insert plug for awesome cargo capacity of Honda Fit here). These were his grandfather's and then his dad's and then his, and had been living in the garage of his parent's house for many years. Shockingly, they had only ONE coat of paint on them, which is basically unheard of in New England where everything is 100 years old and has been poorly painted at least 6 times. This meant I was able to just very gently sand them and then use a tiny roller to paint them. I'm very proud!
Before:
After:
No comments:
Post a Comment