Yup

Interior Disaster

I am an interior disaster.

We bought a house last May.  (Not the photo above, thankfully -- that's photographic hyperbole.)  A lovely new-build blank slate.  I was beside myself with excitement at the thought of insta-decorating it, just as I've done with the seven rental properties we've lived in the past eight or so years.  Insta-home is my specialty!  A few well-placed knickknacks, some artwork...I know the drill.

Only...I seem to have lost my touch.  Cases in point:

• I've brought in and rejected no fewer than three rugs for the living room.  You'd think with each I'd be getting that little bit closer to the nebulous aesthetic I'm aiming for...but the opposite is true.  The first rug was by far the best of the three (though still absolutely wrong); the last was, both M and I agreed, an unmitigated disaster.  We are on rug-hold.  Freya must play on hard laminate.  Her Safta would not be impressed.

• Our bedroom is blue.  Blue, blue and more blue.  I'm so sick of blue!  And equally terrified of injecting color!  We slumber in decor-limbo.

• I admit to purchasing the living room sofa for form rather than function.  Meaning I picked it out online and didn't really pay much attention to how, erm,d **comfortable** it might be.  The upshot of which is -- M hates it.  Like, won't-sit-in-it-drags-a-chair-into-the-room-instead hates it.  Soooo, I did the practical, wifely thing and put it up for sale online -- I even had a buyer for it, but...we would have had to take a small hit on the price.  And suddenly M was all, "no, it's okay, let's keep it at least for a couple of years.  Pillows -- pillows will make the difference."  And so we kept it.  And a friend of his came over last week and commented that the living room (the sofa is pretty much the only thing in there right now) looked like the waiting area of a doctor's office.  Cue reappearance of M's passive aggressive sofa hatred.  It is, quite literally, the beige, corner-shaped elephant in the room.

• Freya's bedroom is perfect.  It took no effort at all -- I randomly chose things I loved and it all came together beautifully.  It's also pristinely clean and untouched because SHE REFUSES TO SLEEP IN THERE.  She slumbers in blue decor-limbo with us.

• In our kitchen, we have: modern, off-white gloss units, chrome appliances and pale tile floors (already in the house when we bought it); an absurd Moroccan mosaic vinyl backsplash in blue, red and grey (what was I ON?); a country kitchen table and chairs (gifted); an orange sofa with turquoise cushions and a lot of dog hair and crumbs...all visible to the naked eye because the floor is light and un-patterned enough to show EVERYTHING.  I was hoping for Scandi-design chic, but we are firmly in schizo-design territory.  Don't know quite how to claw it all back, but instinct tells me to start with the backsplash.

• There are no pictures hung anywhere (apart from Freya's perfect room.)  My mania can't bear the thought of nails et al on pristine, new walls (because inevitably we will hang something in the wrong place, thus creating visible holes where there don't need to be holes.)  Instead, our artwork remains stacked against the wall in the spare bedroom with blankets shading it from view, like sleeping guests, who may eventually stay in the room if, as and when we maybe, like, get a bed for it...

• I impulse-buy curtains that are the wrong size.  Somehow we always end up in fabric and home design stores without the written-down measurements so I guesstimate the length and width of our large and non-standard house windows.  When-oh-when will I learn that 90 inches (standard, readymade curtain length) is not (I repeat, not) long enough for our windows?  Fifth time will perhaps be the charm.  Sidenote: also, do not order curtains from a disreputable websites in China.  I work for a technology company and, still, in my house decorating optimism and frenzy, had to learn this the hard way. 

• For those of you who followed the saga that was Freya's nursery preparation in our old house, you'll recognize that choosing a paint color is no simple task for me.  Eleven shades of yellow later, I finally settled on something between warm sunshine and butter.  It took three coats to cover all my tester spots.  Multiply that by six rooms, with differing lighting and internal style -- the tyranny of possibility is upon me!  This is a nice problem to have, don't get me wrong.  (I'm not really complaining.)  I could probably patchwork-cover an entire room at this point with all the tester paint tubes I've invested in.  "Hmmm, actually, maybe that's not such a bad idea...?" says wicked design angel on my shoulder...you see what I'm up against?

• We've finally put up feature wallpaper in the living room and I'm terrified to tell M that I'm not sure it's right.  Pretty sure I'm just going to have to live with it for a few years at this point, or find a new husband.  I like him more than I dislike the wallpaper, so we'll go with option A.  

But I still have ideas...and optimism.  So much optimism.  Presently in the form of weathered brick effect wallpaper in the kitchen.  What do you think?  No, you know what?  Don't tell me.  I probably won't listen anyway.  

Onwards & upwards.

Wellytime

It was brilliant...

...until it wasn't.

Cheerio(s)

A few changes since I last my last post.  In fairness, it's been a while...

M has left his job to mind Freya full-time.  Well, almost full-time -- she's still in creche two mornings a week, because she loves it (and we big people appreciate the hours to ourselves for leisure activities like sleeping, cleaning and taking the dogs to the V-E-T.)

I snapped this pic as I was leaving the house the other morning.  Cheerio time in matching chairs.  She made him switch her little bowl for his big.  

Heart. Officially. Melted.

Kelloggs: I'm happy rent them out for photo shoots.  Call me.

Focusing on the Positives -- Dangley Earrings

So I stole (with pride) the title of this post from a friend's Facebook status, referring to her return to work last week after a nine month maternity leave.  I, too, am back in the [cruel, inhumane -- no, not really] workaday world, as of three weeks ago.  It's been equal parts refreshing and heartbreaking, unsettling and reassuring.  But from the time I found out I was pregnant, this return has also been inevitable.  So no crying over spilled milk.  Let's focus on the positives, right?  Dangley earrings.  Full cups of coffee.  Cute shoes.

 But, but, but...?

If I were to philosophize a moment -- I fear that the two-working-parents model is doing Freya a disservice.  Morning feeds are rushed, as I scramble for the train.  She doesn't sleep well in creche, because it takes her time (and nursing) to wind down.  She's happy to play with toys and other babies -- for a while -- and then, quite naturally, she wants to be held.  The daycare is lovely, don't get me wrong -- but is it the ideal environment for a little one, who likes lots of individual attention and has a hard time switching off?

I wonder about life in traditional -- okay, I'll say it: poorer -- societies, where women wear babies on their backs as they go about their daily lives, because paying upwards of $1,200 a month for 9 hours a day of childcare is unattainable, bordering on absurd.  (Also feels somewhat unattainable /absurd to us, for the record!  Just perhaps not the same level of unattainable/absurd.)  Where they nurse, because there are no other options.  Where babies sleep in beds with their parents because there is no nursery and no cot.  Where women are surrounded by their extended families, because they don't have the option to travel further afield.  I'm not trying to romanticize life for the adults in these situations.  Freya, M and I have it easier in so very many, many ways.  But for the babies, it seems much more the natural way of things than the quagmire of work-life-childcare-who's-doing-the-pick-up-we-both-have-to-work-late-arggghhh-I-forgot-my-breast-pump-again that is our current family refrain.

"She'll be so sociable, after being with other people all day, and other babies in daycare -- you're doing a great thing for her!  It'll really benefit her development."

"It's just her separation anxiety phase, she'll stop crying and settle eventually."

"She'll catch everything going in creche in the first while, but then her immune system will be rock solid!"

I want to believe these comments, so often repeated to me.  But are they true, in Freya's case, or am I holding on to them to make me feel better about our situation? 

Question mark.

No, I'm not the first or last mother to grapple with these issues.  Nor am I foolish enough to believe that staying home with her wouldn't also have its price, beyond lost income.  My maternity leave was mostly wonderful, but also quite lonely -- my parents live across the ocean, and my husband works, as do my close friends...none of whom have babies yet.  I found a lovely community of other mamas, who became friends and lifelines.  But I also went through a particularly difficult period, when Freya was four months old, and I will be forever indebted to my mother for flying across the ocean to hold my hand for two weeks and promise me that I would feel normal again one day.  (And I do.)  

It would also be a lie for me to say my career and my overall identity were mutually exclusive entities...

"You work, so you can provide a great life for Freya and buy her all the things she wants."

Of course!  I want her to have everything that makes her happy, every opportunity the world can provide.  Only, the thing she wants most right now is...me.  The one thing I can't give her while working. 

Ironic.  A little sad.  And a fact of life.

So let me not take the positives for granted.  I pledge to:
> Wear dangley earrings once a week
> Rediscover my ridiculously large shoe collection
> Enjoy every sip of coffee, down to the last drop

Ultimately -- here's my hypothesis -- these activities will help me feel more confident, attractive and awake (fairly important) at work, boosting productivity while here and allowing me to skip (carefully, in heels) out the door on time to pick up the little love of my life, so we can spend QT together before she falls asleep in my arms.

It's not perfect, no...but it's positive.  

The Not-Quite-Daily Freya -- Tummy Time, Part Deux

So...it's been a while since I've posted.  We have neck control and are smiling for real these days.  In fact, we are probably dangerously close to crawling -- as parents, we alternate between excitement and an urge to staple the little minx (via babygro) to the floor.

That aside, Freya, at almost seven months of age, you are a total delight.  Here's a list of random facts about you thus far:

• You have two teeth -- bottom middle; top ones coming in now!  We will miss your gummy smile, but such is life.
• You've been on three airplane trips -- two to France & one to the U.S -- and done us proud each time. If we had one complaint, it's that you enjoyed walking up and down the aisles (in our arms) smiling maniacally at all the other passengers a little too much...
• You refuse all bottles, sippy cups etc in favor of your mother as preferred restaurant -- this concerns us a bit for your eventual transition to creche, but you're a girl who knows her own mind, and that can't be a bad thing in the long run.
• Your first taste of "real" food was carrots & you gave them two thumbs up.  Oranges are also a hit, as is butternut squash.  You seem to like orange stuff...
• You noticed your feet for the first time around 8 weeks old -- they continue to be a source of fascination for you.
• You're so eager to sit up, you can hold a reverse Superman for about 15 seconds -- serious baby abs!  Your Dad is v envious.
• You don't love the car, but this video keeps you quiet & amused when we're desperate.
• You light up every time you see a dog -- born into the right extended families, clearly.  It's like you rediscover Dru & Scarlett for the first time every morning.
• You first rolled at 3.5 months, but it's taken you until now to master it -- look out world.
• You don't cry often, but burst into tears at the sound of the hoover and hairdryer.  I consequently wear my hair curly a lot more often this weather.
• Your favorite toys are not toys.  They include the TV remote, a plastic bowl, a measuring cup (your drumstick for the bowl), car keys, bottles of any kind (especially ones with oil in them...the unctuousness) and the strings of Mama's favorite blue hoodie.
• You can clap!  And you do it often!  Every morning when you wake up in fact.  And throughout the day.  It's quite gratifying to have such an enthusiastic audience for our every move.
• Daddy taught you to wave a few days ago.  You move your hand side to side at the wrist -- very much a queenly motion.  It's pretty adorbs, I won't lie.
• Your hair is long on top and at the back, but doesn't seem to want to grow on the sides.  Mullet alert!  (Not quite.)  You make the look work for you though, so no worries.
• You've started trying to stand up in your crib.  We moved the mattress down a notch last night, which perplexes you no end, but we're sure sleeping better!
• We read a book to you before bed each night -- you insist on turning the pages yourself.
• You like helping us cook in the evenings from your vantage point in the sling on my chest.  Much squealing and head swiveling.
• You're obsessed with taps and other shiny bathroom fittings.  Given a choice between your bath toys and the bath plug, you'll go for the plug every time.
• You've already internalized that smartphones are a must-have accessory.  I used to be scandalized by parents who let their kids play games on the phone/tablets all the time, but I now understand its inevitability.  (And utility!)
• You're very familiar with the interior of Starbucks Blackrock.  You could probably order for me at this point.
• You really really really like being naked.
• Your favorite song is "The Ants Go Marching" -- we know all ten verses off by heart and are now into making up our own words in an effort to keep it new and exciting for all.
• You wake up consistently between 7 and 8 in the morning; you go to bed at night somewhere between 7 and 9:30 (we're working on it.)  You like to "check in" with us every 2-3 hours.  Most nights, we take you out of your crib to sleep in our bed anywhere between 2 and 5 a.m.  We didn't mean to co-sleep, but now we love waking up next to you.
• You hate sleeves.  Or more to the point, you hate getting them on.  Once it's done, you don't seem to mind.
• You don't like to be cradled or held in a way that you can't see what's going on -- a very curious madam about the world around you!

I could go on (and on and on and on), but I'll save for a subsequent post.  Consider this a snapshot of you at half-a-year-and-then-some old...we can't wait to see what's in store next.