Making Room

Even though it makes me sound kind of cranky, I’ll be totally honest: I used to wonder why some expectant parents put so much time into decorating their babies’ rooms. Spending weeks preparing a nursery seemed sweet and all, but also sort of frivolous. Why go to the trouble of endlessly pondering paint colors and “themes”? Does a newborn notice, much less care, if her room is rose or coral, or if you’ve stenciled stars or seagulls over the crib? Why not just get a few workable basics and then spend the rest of the pregnancy reading some good novels and getting actual work done?

I’m still sympathetic to this perspective, but I’ve also been drinking liberally of the expectant parents’ Kool-Aid. Decorating for a new baby is basically unnecessary, but it’s a great way to bond with your fellow decorator and build your shared anticipation for the new family member. And anything that builds anticipation (anticipation being one of the life's supreme joys) has to be a good thing. Besides, arranging cute toys on shelves is way more fun than scrubbing bathroom grout at 4am or cleaning behind the stove with a Q-tip, or whatever it is that Very Pregnant Women possessed by mystical Nesting hormones supposedly do. (I wouldn’t really know, since my cleaning sprees lately have consisted of doing the dishes for approximately 4.2 minutes and then flopping dramatically on the couch to recover.)

Point is, Justin and I had a great time decorating the wee bedroom/walk-in closet that our baby will occupy. We thought a lot about how to combine items we already own with a few new objects to make a cheery space that still manages to be restful and serene. We wanted something that she can grow into, but that we can also enjoy. We’re not quite there yet—we still want to hang a large, colorful geological map over her crib and replace the rocking chair cushions with a neutral shade—but we’re liking where things are at the moment.

The crib has three nifty features: it’s a mini-crib, which means it's small and can fit through doorways; it rocks (literally); and it comes with attachable wheels. It'll be great as we gradually transition the baby from our bedside into her own room. (Our room is just through the door.)

The rug, from Anthropologie, was our one splurge. I knew I wanted some bright splashes of color to offset the cool grays and whites, and the rug helps accomplish that. It's actually brighter than the pics suggest.

My favorite corner of the room is this Eames “hang-it-all” rack (a cherished Christmas gift last year from Justin) combined with a framed print we bought at a comics and graphic arts festival in Brooklyn several months back. The instant I saw those plump, Matisse-like baby-ladies, I knew this picture had to go in our kid’s room.

Early on, I also knew I wanted the baby's room to have a cuckoo clock. I picked up a mousy brown one on ebay and slathered it liberally with magenta paint. Turns out, the color matches the rug perfectly.

This little gent is my first and only venture into stuffed-animal making. To protect my ego, let’s describe him as “rustic.” Despite lumpen, ambiguous appearances, he was supposed to be a rabbit (witness the tail below). But he might just be a cat. Or a gourd.

The felt pockets over the changing table (below) were a stroke of genius from Justin. They’re actually intended for hanging indoor plants, but they’ll work great as holders for diapers and toys. The thought of hanging heavy shelves over the changing table scared me, but these containers are soft and hard-working. It's hard to tell from the photo, but the blue shade is really vivid, and the felt fabric is sturdy and soft.

Voila! Now if only the human baby would arrive so I can stop test-driving the crib, swaddle blankets, and changing table with a sock monkey.