Friday, December 19, 2014

It will be perfect

As I sat between the socks, new outfits, handmade gifts, blankets, baskets, gift bags, and wrapping paper, I felt so many things. This was different than the other times I'd been in that room.

It was several weeks ago now, but it affected me for days. My husband had just discussed with me when we should put up the crib. I was dead set on December, AND wanted the only "guest bed" (aka futon couch) we had to stay up, too. That's not really reasonable, I realized, but it was the last point that had me feeling like I couldn't let go: We don't know where we'll be - here or somewhere else - until mid January, anyhow.

Why does that even matter to me? Because I was planning on decorating and making a perfect little nursery, and I couldn't wait to start...

And even then, I know I'm not going to have a perfectly coordinated picturesque room. Why?

Well, because I'm doing it. And I mess things up. They don't come out like the magazines. They don't even function half of the time. And who has the space for these Pinterest ideas, anyhow? I have three bookcases lining one wall, and a piano, and a futon couch, and a big reclining chair in that room already.

 Besides, I don't even like pink that much, yet one of my themes is Precious Moments...

These things don't matter. My child's going to all too soon be communicating what she likes, anyhow, and I don't she'll be so boring to only like one thing.

I'm a military wife. I can pick up and go and never even have a nursery, and still raise my child right. If that's how it has to be, it happens that way. Then why do I feel so sad? Maybe because I couldn't even wrap the Christmas present that I was wrapping in that room that day without messing it up, leaving a crumply corner at the top.

But, I don't need a crib set up to start decorating, and I don't need much to organize these tiny outfits and tiny items she'll need at the beginning of her life, whether she spends her first months in this room, or another. So, today, this is all that's done, but it's a start:

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