A Place To Come Home To

I haven't slept in 48 hours.

Every night, just when I start to doze off, I get kicked in the ribs.

Or I have a contraction.

Or I have to pee.

My brain and will-power are zapped. And, thus, I can't come up with anything remotely interesting to tell you all today.

So, I figured - heck! - I'll show you the nursery.

It's not 100-percent finished, but it's close, and, well, it's better than me writing another long, whiny post about how pregnant I am and how I'm really starting to realize how "over this" I'm getting.

So, enough. Here's Baby Girl's nursery:
It's a little bit ramshackle, which tends to be how I like my home decor. I don't like things too matchy-matchy. I don't like things to be too "theme-y."

Instead, I tend to want it to have homespun touches and contain a fresh mix of old and new.

The rocker, for instance, is my husband's from when he was a baby. And the crib is mine from when I was a baby. The quilt rack was my mother's, and the changing table we re-finished after it was handed down from a friend of ours. I made the long paneled curtains myself, as well as about half the bedding.

A lot of the wall-hangings I refurbished and painted or made myself, including the obvious blank space above the crib, where her name is actually hanging (but I Photoshopped that out.)

And a lot of the decor is gifts and mementos from tons of people we love that's not part of some particular nursery set but, in my house where nothing matches, it goes. And, more importantly, it's special. And that's what I love.

The other side of the room isn't nearly as exciting. It basically contains some art and Marvin the Dog's giant, old, gross futon.

After all, I'm a softy, and he's my first-born child. And I cannot and will not get rid of his favorite place in the house. (In addition, we're hoping to foster the practice of him sleeping in the room with Baby Girl once she transitions to her crib. As a child, I was plagued by night terrors and was, quite honestly, afraid of the dark up until I got married. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than the patient companionship of someone to comfort me at night-time. I hated bed-time, and I fear my child will, too. Heck, to this day, when my husband works nights, Marvin sleeps with me. He's a great security blanket. I hope he can do the same for Baby Girl. And so far, so good, too. Every baby that I've put down to sleep at my house, Marvin promptly plops down and sleeps next to. For a male dog, he's very maternal.)

Of course, there are things I'd change about the room. I wish we could paint the walls, but I live on a military base, and that's not an option. I also wish I'd found a floor rug I liked, but I never did, and I wasn't willing to settle. (OK, that's a lie: I did find one I liked. For $900. So that's not happening any time soon.)

But, still, it works. It makes me happy. And at night, when Baby Girl's kicking and contracting and dancing on my bladder, I go into the room, and sit in my husband's old rocker, and push back and forth, and think about how we're about ready to bring our baby home to that room in little over a month.

And then, of course, I remember that, likely, she'll sleep in our room for a good three to four months before she even sets one cloth-diapered butt-cheek in her mama's old crib, and I laugh.

Because in reality, she's never going to care what this nursery looks like. She's probably not even going to remember it ever looked like this.

Obviously, I set it up because I could. In a way, it was for me.

Because this is my first baby and my first nursery, and I wanted to walk in our doors next month with a little bundle in my arms and go, "Here, Baby Girl. Here's your home. And here's your room."

Silly, right? Totally, utterly pointless?

Practically speaking, yes.

But from my point of view, 35.5 weeks pregnant and sitting in that rocker at 3 a.m., it means everything in the world.

***

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

So This Is Christmas

I grew up in a household that celebrated Christmas.

And when I say "celebrated," I mean whooped it up hardcore from the day after Thanksgiving through New Year's Day with everything that was red, green, peppermint-y, Santa-Claus-esque, and Christ-child born to a virgin.

My family takes Christmas seriously.

Very seriously.

Every single room in my parent's house is done up to the -nth degree for Christmas. My mother takes pictures of each crack and crevice of it every year, so she knows where to put every knick-knack and Nativity scene when the next Christmas rolls around.

Not a surface lays un-garlanded. Not a corner goes un-lit.

My own father boasts a Santa collection we'll likely have to give to the Smithsonian by the time he's gone.

In my parent's home, everything has a Christmas theme. Out with the rest-of-the-year, in with the Christmas spirit.

Their soap dispensers. Hand towels. Rugs. Coffee mugs. Kitchen canisters. Books. Photographs. Wall hangings.

All of it comes down.

And, within a day, it's replaced with distinctly Christmas-themed soap dispensers, hand towels, rugs, coffee mugs, kitchen canisters, books, photographs, and wall hangings that decorate my parents home for the most important 31+ days a year.

As kids, we had party after party, commemorating these special moments, complete with tradition after tradition kept alive for years.

For instance, we always set our Nativity scene up first thing during our annual Christmas Decorating Party.

But we didn't place Baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas morning because, after all, that's what the "Christmas season is about, waiting for Him to be born," my mother said.

I also plagued my brothers by insisting on reading - aloud - every single book in our extensive Christmas novel collection, which, last I checked, topped off at about 56 children's books.

And, as always, when decorating the tree, we placed on each individual ornament separately, remembering what year we got it and who gave it to us, while waiting for Christmas Eve to place the ornament my parent's gave us that year, normally suited to match what we'd been up to in the last 365 days - gymnasts suspended on candy canes for my years in gymnastics, Florida Gator ornaments for my first year at college, and "Our First Christmas" ornaments the year the hubs and I got married.
Christmas was special. Heck, it is special. Though they have an empty nest now, my parents still carry out all their traditions, and when we return home for the holiday, we jump right back in.

Which is why, this year, I was adamant about starting my own collection of Christmas decor and various traditions we could carry on through the years.

After all, next year, we'll have a six-month-old baby, God willing, who will be right in the thick of our new little family's Christmas celebration.

So, on Friday, the hubs and I busted out all the stops.

We hunted down a tree, bought extra candles and light hooks, and began the laborious process of dragging out the 10 boxes of decor I stored away when we moved.

Then, chaos broke through.

I tackled the inside of the house while my husband took the outside.

But with pregnancy fatigue in full force and an unfortunate rain storm, it took us nine hours to get the house up and running.

I kept having to take breaks to keep from passing out. The poor hubs, meanwhile, dodged lightening while standing on the roof.

But, still, we persevered.

We hung tough.

And we won.

Christmas Decor 2010 is up and raging in the C House.

We've even got a table-scape.
And, ladies, I am not one of those women who sets up a table-scape year-round. It requires far too much dusting.

I've also replaced my normal decor with Christmas-themed pieces.
And I even found a place for the ridiculously intricate and large four-part Santa piece my parents bought me two years ago.
The tree sparkles.
With personalized memories that clearly state our allegiances. (Well, my allegiances.)

Hello? Of course I have popcorn on my tree!

My favorite ornament of all time. Because it's true.

This one is my husband's. It matches one of his tattoos.

I even have a Nativity scene in several rooms.

I love Nativity scenes. They are so beautiful, and I intend to have one in every room of our home by the time we're done. My other Nativity set, given to me as a child from my God-mother, is in our current office/nursery-to-be. Which is a hot mess right now, as it's filled with Christmas gifts, things for baby, all manner of business material, and laundry that desperately needs folding. But trust me, it's there. And I love it. It will be there next year for our new baby to enjoy, too.

Even my couch has been festooned.
Can't you tell my husband is thrilled?

We didn't forget the little touches outside, either. My husband did a great job, despite the rain.

I'd show you the whole house, but the hubs has some crazy fear that we'll develop some sort of stalkers or something. You know, thekind that want to take our $2 candy canes straight out of our yard. What scoundrels!

Yep. I made another holiday wreath. So sue me. I can be crafty now and then.

Needless to say, all that hard-work aside, I adore my house right now. It's filled with Christmas cheer.

I'm not quite at the level of my parent's yet. I don't have a personalized yule log in every room, for instance.

But it's my home. My Christmas-y, warm and cozy home.

And I love it.

Honestly, I'd keep it like this year-round, if it wasn't for the fact that most Southerners frown upon a snowflake tablecloth and holly-rimmed wine glasses being used to serve an Easter brunch.

For shame.

***

So, Merry Christmas, my dear friends!

This baby in my belly has totally filled me with the Christmas spirit, and I am so excited to celebrate this season.

Hope you all have fun decking your halls!