So this afternoon, I rearranged the living room. It occurred to me as I was pushing the couch across the room that this is perhaps the sort of thing one's doctor would expressly forbid one from doing two weeks postpartum. On the other hand, it is the sort of thing one definitely wants to do before one runs out of Tylenol 3 with codeine. I'm just sayin'...
ANYWAY, with Daniel's birth I find myself back at that place wherein baby stuff takes over one's life and one's home. The swing and the bassinet and the baby bathtub and bottles and the breastpump and its paraphenalia and later the baby food and baby dishes. All of it is here. And though I know we don't need all of it, it all makes life a little easier. It just all takes up a lot of space. So it needs a place to belong where it hasn't before.
With Annalivia, this phase seemed to last until...well...what day is it? I mean, MOST of her stuff is finally in her bedroom, but there's still lots of evidence of her presence in this home. And honestly, I'm ok with that. I like having children. I like that their lives are intricately intertwined and woven with mine and my husband's.
What I'm not so fond of is stubbing my toe on the baby swing at 2:30 a.m. Or watching Dennis and Annalivia try to build a train set and not bump into the bassinet. Or trying to hold my upper body a few inches closer to the pump's cord that doesn't adequately reach an outlet.
So I've rearranged. And perhaps strained my back a little. And the living room is not as pretty as it was. Which, I confess, bugs me.
But it gives us some space -- visually, physically, and most important, mentally.
And that's probably worth the sacrifice of aesthetics.
And the pills I'll probably pop tonight, too.
If there's one thing that parenting has taught me, it's to take mental space where one can find it. Even if you have to haul a couch across a room to do so.
ANYWAY, with Daniel's birth I find myself back at that place wherein baby stuff takes over one's life and one's home. The swing and the bassinet and the baby bathtub and bottles and the breastpump and its paraphenalia and later the baby food and baby dishes. All of it is here. And though I know we don't need all of it, it all makes life a little easier. It just all takes up a lot of space. So it needs a place to belong where it hasn't before.
With Annalivia, this phase seemed to last until...well...what day is it? I mean, MOST of her stuff is finally in her bedroom, but there's still lots of evidence of her presence in this home. And honestly, I'm ok with that. I like having children. I like that their lives are intricately intertwined and woven with mine and my husband's.
What I'm not so fond of is stubbing my toe on the baby swing at 2:30 a.m. Or watching Dennis and Annalivia try to build a train set and not bump into the bassinet. Or trying to hold my upper body a few inches closer to the pump's cord that doesn't adequately reach an outlet.
So I've rearranged. And perhaps strained my back a little. And the living room is not as pretty as it was. Which, I confess, bugs me.
But it gives us some space -- visually, physically, and most important, mentally.
And that's probably worth the sacrifice of aesthetics.
And the pills I'll probably pop tonight, too.
If there's one thing that parenting has taught me, it's to take mental space where one can find it. Even if you have to haul a couch across a room to do so.
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