“Paw,” as we like to call him, was in town this past weekend to help us whip this apartment into shape for the baby. It needed a lot of whipping.
Before my dad arrived, we were sleeping in what past tenants had used as a closet. We both had then taken over the other two rooms for offices that doubled as other spaces. Marta’s office was an office/dressing room (because our dresser was in there) and mine was an office/living room (because the couch was in there). Our goal by the end of the weekend was to have a bedroom/baby’s room that was big enough for the three (make that four, if we include Finn) of us.
I am proud to say that we succeeded.
This room used to be Marta’s office, but now is our bedroom and Nico’s future sleeping place. That bassinet took my dad and I an hour to put together, but we finally succeeded! Finn still doesn’t know what’s happening to his house…
This tiny little closet, where Marta is putting the finishing touches on her dissertation, used to be our bedroom. What a joy to be out of there!
My office/the living room is still my office/the living room but now with like 50 percent more space thanks to all the nicknacks and books we threw into boxes and stacked behind that overstuffed couch. We also sold our other couch to some Craigslist folks. By “sell” I mean we gave it them for the price of hauling it down our very narrow hallway and then down a flight of narrow and curving stairs.
Other accomplishments of the weekend included taking my dad to all the fish and chips joints in Iowa because he had it in his head that Iowa has great fish and chips. The guy might be a brilliant engineer and house re-designer, but he’s needs a little work on his culinary instincts. Iowa City has no good fish and chips. I’ll warn you now.
He also went around with a tape measure and measured every square foot of furniture and closet/storage space in the apartment so that we could have a pretty accurate estimate of how much “junk,” as he said, we have to pack up and move out of here come July. We have
765.7 square feet I mean 765.7 cubic feet (Dad just wrote to correct me) of shit, which is good to know.
Last but not least, we went looking for cars. Addressing that monster of a chore will require another blog post, but suffice it to say that parenthood spells death for cute cars. There are no affordable, fuel efficient, “cute” cars that will hold a baby, the baby’s stroller and related shit, a dog, two moms and one of their visiting in-laws who plan to come from Spain and stay with them for a month each year. Unless you put one of the previous members on the roof…
But getting back to dad, a big ol’ Iowa thanks to you from the two (make that four) of us. You’ve made our apartment so much more welcoming for a baby. And (most importantly) you’ve helped sooth those intense nest-building cravings that were about to take over Marta. She can stop picking up sticks in her mouth now and sticking them in odd corners around the house. We have our nest.