Thursday, May 30, 2013

Nesting Month...

Our home is a maze of boxes. The walls bare, punctuated with nails I haven't pulled out. Aimée looked so confused tonight as I lifted her into her crib with the big mirror normally above it gone, leaving flat white. But we are on a count-down with only two days before our move to a darling little house and I couldn't delay emptying the walls anymore. It is time. Time to move on.

The years of our marriage are neatly divided in two year segments thus far, moving across states and towns to a new nest every other time we buy new calendars. And always, I fight the same inner questions of whether we can really make a new space feel so completely comforting and comfortable as the last. Silly, really, since each home has ended up being the best yet.

And it's not about the height of the ceilings or square footage. It's not really even about natural light, as important as that is to me. Home can be created anywhere we laugh together, working to arrange and tweak until we hear that almost imperceptible "click" that tells us we've got it right.

And it's about the small touches. A hand knit dish cloth next to the sink. The single flower in it's tiny vase somewhere unexpected. Sloppy stacks of books under the coffee table because we can't settle down to just one at a time. And now that we have a small child I'm realizing home is where I find crusts of baguette hiding under the kitchen table, small shoes wait by the door, and you can tell where she has been playing by the trail of toilet paper bits. (Aimée's latest obsession has been trying to wrap her stuffed animals in toilet paper...apparently it's harder than it sounds!)

And so we have declared June "Nesting Month." Because I'm ready to jump in and figure out what this home will feel like. And because my Pinterest boards are bursting with the best ideas I've found to make it welcoming and functional. Beware: you are my audience for the transformation of this small post World War II house with it's crazy low shower head and musty scent. I'm relying on you to pull me through fatigue and flagging enthusiasm. Knowing you are reading these words keeps me focused. I always tell Andrew I work best with an audience...