Written before I go pass out on the couch
This was supposed to be, like, a paragraph long. BLAH BLAH BLAH

Turning the house inside out

While I feel I am in a constant state of restlessness over all the things we need to do before the baby gets here, Phillip kind of floats along in a "Huh? The baby's coming when?" until something hits him. Like last night when he turned to me and said, "How will we rock the new baby when the rocking chair is in Jack's room?"

We live in a (technically) three bedroom house, but the third "bedroom" is on the first floor while the real bedrooms are on the third floor. Which means no one is ever going to sleep down there, at least not until there are teenagers who don't want to be anywhere near their parents and who can also fend off any intruders breaking through the front door. Getting our boy to sleep is the highest priority in our boring lives, so no way are we going to put the new baby in his room. New Baby is going to sleep in our room and when New Baby wakes up at 3 in the morning and won't go back to sleep after being fed, no way are we going to rock New Baby in Jack's room. You see the dilemma (even if you think we're a touch neurotic.)

So NOW. We're going to move the living room rocking chair into our bedroom. Which means moving my desk into the office. Even though:

  • There is no room in the office
  • because it's the dumping ground for everything we don't have room for
  • like the extra computers
  • and 4000 software manuals
  • and boxes that need to be recycled
  • and toolboxes
  • and shoes
  • and winter coats
  • and the treadmill we have used exactly once since we bought it in January. (WHAT. I got PREGNANT. What's the point of losing weight NOW?)

And that list doesn't even cover the largest point, which is: PHILLIP AND I HAVE TO SHARE AN OFFICE?!

My "office", aka the corner of our bedroom where I write my blog posts, contains 1 adorable desk, 1 adorable ribbon board, plenty of adorable Japanese office supplies, a handful of reference books, and a super cute lamp. Phillip's office space, on the other hand, is a pile of papers and receipts and bills and cords and cables and TWO monitors and little mysterious electronic gadgets and 1 talking Yoda doll. The office is a tiny room with a long narrow window. It's dark. It smells like boy. The carpet is dirty. When people come over I shut the door so no one gets a glimpse of the office as their first impression of our house.

I am pretty sure that with my eye for Throwing Things Out and Phillip's skills in physically Throwing Things Out, we can accomplish our Making The Office Into An Office We Can Both Tolerate goal. (Okay, maybe that's just MY goal.) We just have to actually DO it. Which means a lot of nagging and hinting and planning and fretting and NAGGING on my part. And, on Phillip's part, doing whatever I say.

I am both excited for and dreading our trip to Ikea, in which we pick out a new storage unit for Jack's room and some kind of creative wall storage for the office. (Those 4000 software manuals can't ALL be thrown away.) I am excited for and dreading moving all of this stuff around. I've felt restless about our house for a long time. We are not using our space well and I feel like our bedroom is the dumping ground when the office gets too crowded. I'm hoping we can turn the bedroom into a peaceful pretty place, where a baby just happens to sleep as well. I'm hoping to turn Jack's room into a place where he can play when I'm busy upstairs and that holds clothes and books and blankets and shoes for two babies.

I'm hoping doing all of this doesn't kill me.

Comments

Jenny Ryan

I SO feel your pain. My office is all about natural light and everything put away. The husband's office is all about, how dark can I possibly make it in here, and how high can I pile things up before they fall over?

I can't even really go in there without feeling like I'm starting to suffocate, and he really doesn't hang out here with me on account of I grimace like the skin is melting off my face if he dares to take his shoes and socks off and put them on my floor.

Elizabeth

I cannot feel bad for you because my "office" is a desk in the corner of my living room!
Maybe you will get a second baby who sleeps a lot and never needs to be rocked. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
No, seriously, moving into a smaller house than I lived in before has forced me to get rid of so much crap and it has been gloriously freeing. Of course I still have tons of crap just sitting around in boxes but that's all about finding the right storage pieces.
I'm taking a trip to IKEA this afternoon, I shall think of you.

I really like the look of the Lack shelves with all the stuff set in magazine boxes, although I have heard they are not fun to try to attach to the walls.
Anyway, I think we need some before and after progress pictures!

Becky

Oh, make sure you try and sketch out a plan of what you might need & bring a list... Ikea can be SO overwhelming!

Good luck!
:) Becky
http://www.stinkylemsky.typepad.com/

Pippi

Forget the rocking chair and use an exercise ball. There's no way we could fit a rocking chair in our tiny apartment, but a ball that we can move around? Bingo! It's so portable. The downside, of course, is that there's no back support and it takes a bit more work. But you can always count bouncing the baby to sleep as exercise ;) We're even packing ours up to take on our trip tomorrow.

Manda

We tried the co-office thing over here and it DID NOT WORK. I never went in there because my husband's office? Exactly like YOUR husband's office except change out the manuals for books, millions of books. And paper. Piles of paper everywhere. Add to the equation that my husband is stubborn and gets mad if things are touched in his office space, and you've got me on the couch with my laptop. I finally convinced him that my desk needed to go elsewhere or I would never touch it and we finally moved it into the bedroom, where I sit at it every day. He was a little offended at first but he got over it. SO, I vote after much ado for Maggie to KEEP her desk in the bedroom and put the recliner in the garage or somewhere. Because all you'll do with the recliner is throw clothes on it. I promise. It's basically a law of the universe.

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