Nesting Syndrome is not a myth. Being able to see little elbows and feet grazing up against your belly, does a number on your priorities… Suddenly, I can’t get enough of home catalogues (or ABC Home & Carpet super sales), custom crib bedding, window treatments and natural fiber area rugs. (I can’t believe I can even string those words together–NATURALFIBERAREARUGS.)
Yesterday, I was ecstatic leaving Clio with Jamie, our new table “runner,” linen napkins and matching coffee mugs and sugar bowl in tow.
“Aren’t you thrilled, baby?! Now we’ll be coordinated when we drink coffee in the morning!”
My new husband looked at me like I was juuuust a little crazy…
And maybe I am.
I’m in my late 20’s, in the throes of transitioning from one life to the next and the space around me is suddenly so important. Maybe it’s my way of coping? In the span of 6 months time, Single-Carefree-Downtown-Writer (because we’re all hyphenated clichés in someone’s mind) became Young(ish)-Wife-and-Mother-to-Be. And this new, “adult” life just happens to come with a new, “adult” apartment.
Goodbye SoHo studio, hello West Village 2-bedroom.
From the nursery and from the master bedroom, we see the warm lights and rooftops of the West Village. The cement wonders of Union and Madison Square rise in the distance-the only reminder that our quiet street is ten minutes from chaos and worries. But I like this, being removed yet somehow still a part of it all. The skyline reminds me that I’m here, still trying to do something (whatever that something may be).
And the nursery is large enough to double as my home office. One end will be pink toile and plush toys while the other is hard angles, work and stacks of bills…
Every woman says she “wants it all.” But does she? Do I? Can I handle it?