03 February 2012

The Pen

Hi. Do you write? Sometimes, the hardest part is getting started. I'm not here to write a book or make you laugh (although that would be a great side dish). All I really want to do is keep a record that I can print out each year, so that Katie will have all these "books" she has to find a place to store one day, when she's setting up her own house.

Some days, though, it's hard to figure out how to start the writing....

But speaking of storage, our house doesn't really have any. That means I've had to come up with some really creative ways to pack away all the baby paraphernalia that she's no longer using, like her baby car seat and all the bases that go with it, her jumperoo, her swing, and her bouncy seat.

I'm so creative about it, that I've just got everything stuffed into our closet, on Brady's side. He only has one pair of shoes and a laundry basket over there, so there's plenty of room for ALL THAT OTHER STUFF.

Never mind there's also an old comforter piled on there that we just can't seem to shake, a set of luggage, and a huge bolt of leather.

Yes, like from an animal.

It's like the biggest air freshener you've ever seen.

Look at all the baby gear in this picture. Even back in the 70's/early 80's, when I was a baby - and cute, hey there! - there was SO MUCH STUFF.

Caravans of diaper bags, plastic stands for swings, PLAYPENS (calling it a pack-n-play is so long and cumbersome...not to mention it takes longer to type), and high chairs.

It's like Mama knew why she was taking this picture way back when: "Look at all this CLUNK you are going to purchase, set all over your house, and then have to shoehorn into the nearest corner/closet/oven/Sterlite container."

But let's veer off a minute and pay homage to the paneling, thick brown carpet, and color scheme of my babyhood....






Now then.

By nature, I'm a Thrower-Awayer. I usually have no qualms about throwing out bags, boxes, papers, and Brady's stuff.

Ha. Hi, honey. I'm KIDDING.

Did y'all ever see that episode of I Love Lucy where she and Ethel sell all of Ricky and Fred's old clothes and then tell them they were trying to clean them with gasoline, but they got too close to the stove and burned up into a pile of ashes?

No?

Okay.

What was I saying?

Oh yah. But this stuff is so expensive, I can't throw it away or give it away. What if I need it again? I can't re-buy this stuff. So, it stays. Just in case.

Although I really think someone should look into making a playpen that looks like a leather sofa, so that it blends in with the decor better. Or one that transforms into an ottoman or coffee table or something. Can't you just see a tiny baby swing fashioned like a LaZ-Boy recliner?

But then again, maybe not.... Seeing all that baby/kid stuff all over my house and in the background of my pictures feels like a medal of some sort. My badge of honor. I did it! We had a baby, and we are parents. We are taking care of a little person here: important work going on! It's like I've joined the club.

See this Little Tykes grocery cart?? That means there's a kid playing in here, people! Clear the way! And we got bottles, wipes, diaper boxes, books, storybooks, Golden Books, and have mercy some books, purses, sunglasses, tiny kitchens, and a few hundred toys that go BEEP in the night...WE HAVE ARRIVED.

So maybe it's not so bad to have pink and fluff and plastic spread all over the place...maybe it's actually kind of nice.

1 comment:

  1. You should see my house with 3 kids. It's like a mini Babies R Us over here. I just sold several strollers out of the garage. We had a single stroller, double snap-n-go stroller, double stroller (kept that one), and a triple stroller! The backseat of our car is crammed with 3 car seats. Two high chairs have taken up permanent residence in our kitchen, and at least 3 diaper bags, plus a school bag, and lunch box are strewn about at any given time. Just wait until you have more kids; the stuff multiplies, and it doesn't help when grandmas spoil them rotten with more and more and more toys! Love the post.

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