We are a good three months away from having a baby. But she’s already making her presence known.
Under our bed there is now a basinet, a Summer Infant By-Your-Side sleeper, a My Little Snug-A-Monkey bouncer, a Bright Stars Spots and Stripes Safari Gym blanket, and a bottle cleaner, a burping cushion and about a dozen different sizes of bottles. All in boxes off course.
In our closet, which we already share, and which is not really a closet but an indention in the wall with a pole slung between the two walls, there are several bags of donated clothes bundled up and pushed between our own bunches of winter sweaters, leggings, sweatshirts, and jeans.
Our bookshelves are beginning to bulge with a small, but growing, collection of baby books: A Child is Born, Bebés Palabras, A Baby Blues Scrapbok: Eat, My, Poop.
Same with our bedside tables, which now feature Pregnancy 101 tomes, and our kitchen, where a copy of Eating for Pregnancy snuggles up against the Moosewood Cookbook.
Marta keeps saying, “We need to get Nico a dresser.” Then we realize we barely have a dresser ourselves. Ours cost $20 and we share it, three drawers a piece. It’s pushed against a wall in Marta’s office because there’s no other space in the apartment. In fact, there’s not really room for two people in this apartment. In total there are three rooms plus the kitchen. We’ve deemed Room 1 Marta’s office/Guest room/Dressing room/Storage room; Room 2 is Sarah’s office/Living room/Storage room; and Room 3, which the previous owner used as a storage room, is Our bedroom/Baby storage room/Dog sleeping space.
I know people used to have children in caves. But that was before Target registries.
Sometimes before falling asleep at night I have fantasy-dreams of suddenly developing mad shelf-building skills and filling the apartment with plentiful but tasteful shelf-walls. I wake up with a start and wonder if this is what motherhood will be like.
I’ve never been the most organized person. But I get this feeling that Nico’s gonna force me to get my act in gear, my ship in shape.
Either that or we’ll move to a cave. Where shelves are an impossibility.