Nearly a year ago I was eight months pregnant. I decided that the time had arrived to carve out a space for our soon-to-be-born fetus. With coupon in hand (who doesn’t arrive at JoAnn’s with a coupon?) I walked into our neighborhood JoAnn’s in search of yellow fabric.
I was being good: budget conscious, gender neutral, and ‘working with what I had’. I perused the available selections, surprised at the lack of anything in the yellow palette. Feeling frustrated with a lack of options—I did have a coupon that was about to expire—I spied this eye-catching paisley across the way.
It jumped at me. I had to have it. A short search later, I found a number of other fabrics that would coordinate with my preferred paisley. A quick glance at the price tag made me gulp. I jumped into something of justification mode—Scott’s favorite.
It would definitely be a ‘girl’ room with so much pink. It would still match the already green walls, though. I could turn the red, yellow, and green comforter over to the neutral taupe so the pink wouldn’t clash. My mother approved of my selection (via a picture message conversation). I figured, with the combined sale and coupon advantages I was justified.
Only catch? I had to order the fabrics, which provided little likelihood that the room would be complete before her birth. I was hopeful, though.
My wait ended up being more like 10 weeks, since one of my original, super-cute flowered fabrics was discontinued, but no one actually told me. Many phone calls, visits, and grumpy conversations later, I finally left JoAnn’s with my long-anticipated, but consequently steeply-discounted, fabric. Then I got to work.
I bought: lamps, cribs, baskets, changing tables, shelving, and a rocking chair. I painted and spray painted. I sewed. I organized. I arranged. I even hot-glued (yes, I’m sure that can be a verb).
And, when I was finally done (many months later), I stepped back and declared it Good. Good with a capital g, that is. I like to think that Amelia thinks it’s Good too.
