The Boy/Girl Bedroom

I keep meaning to post some beautifully set-dressed and well-photographed evidence of our new home. “Look at that sun-washed room with the casual vase of peonies just so, and that teacup which I hardly notice but which lends the whole image a subliminal coziness!” You would exclaim. But I don’t have time for any of this. I’m revising the novel in every spare instant and chasing Ollie down off the ceiling in every unspare instant. Anyway, so for now some iPhone pics of the kiddo room. I just think it’s a really cute little room, with its wacky, mostly accidental mix of patterns and the well-hung (snicker snicker) artwork arranged by professional art handler, Uncle Doug. Harper loves it, though she doesn’t understand why they can’t have bunk beds yet. (Because I’m mean, pretty much.) And the other day she got all teary, missing the silver stars in her tiny old closet of a room. Recreating those stars is actually on my to-do list. Number 947. Getting there.

I think we probably still count as a tiny kids’ room, though to us it feels huge. To have room to play! In the bedroom! How novel! They even have a closet, half of which is dedicated to clothes and books. We are living the life over here, people. Don’t even get me started on the elevator. Or the parking garage. Park Whope? Anyway. So behold: the room: as it actually is every day. (Imagine the sunlight, flowers, and achingly lovely photography. And tidiness, imagine some tidiness too.)

PS I wrote this post on my phone while kind of supervising Harper taking a bath. I’m such a good mom!

The 2-for-1-Special Springtime Birthday

One thing you have to admit for our family planning, we are really going to save money on birthday parties. Man, have we beat the system!

Last year I was convinced Alton was going to be born on Harper’s birthday, and so we had her tiny tea party a little early, but he had the good manners/laziness to be born weeks later. That was fun! I’m kidding, it was miserable! Anyway. So their birthdays ended up being two weeks apart, in different months even so they each get their own little sector of spring, but close enough that for the next few years anyway we can force them let them share a birthday party.

I decided a spring theme made sense, which meant some fake cherry blossom sprigs, some springy bunting, and two cake-foods. For the Harper side of things, dainty pink cupcakes with gum paste cherry blossoms that I lovingly crafted by hand. Come on, my kids eat nuggets every night. I ordered those suckers online. And for the Alton side of things, a chocolate cake that looked like mud, which is to say, slathered in chocolate pudding and crumbled cookies and gummy worms and slugs. For some reason, some of the guests found this to be off-putting. There was pin-the-tail-on-the-robin, but more importantly, tons of balloons. And that was it. We played records. We gave the grownups mimosas and bagels. Alton wandered around like a puppy, climbing into people’s laps and stealing their food. Harper occasionally reminded her guests not to take home her presents. Murray got shy at the last minute and stayed home with all his cats in Paris. It was really so much fun, and we felt so thankful to all the friends and new neighbors who came by, and very house-warmed and heart-warmed.

Here are some photos Adam took. And you can also get a peek at our new place, which we are semi-settled into. So without further ado, here is why is my novel revisions are not into my editor yet:

This is Kensington. Or Windsor Terrace. Or Something.

Our corner, as it was in the 1940s. Thanks, Brooklyn Collection!

Well! So! We did it! We moved! It went kind of like this:

March, 2011: “Hey, we’re having another baby! But wait, we live in a 1.5 bedroom. Okay, a 1 bedroom. Oh, who cares.”

August, 2011: “HOLY SHIT WE HAVE TO MOVE.”

November, 2011: “Wait, what? After some months of getting super depressed about how super depressing Brooklyn real estate is, we found a non-depressing apartment? Weird! Let’s buy it!”

February, 2012: “Wait, what? We bought an apartment? HOLY SHIT NOW WE HAVE TO MOVE.”

From thence followed very shoddy packing, some chaotic days of moving, including panic attacks about whether or not our voluminous books-n-records collections were going to make our movers commit seppuku, some very shoddy unpacking, still not finished. Oh, I forgot the spirit-crushing anxieties over retiling the kitchen and bathroom and repainting and changing light fixtures and doorknobs and whatnot, which caused me to guiltily remember every time I’d mentally answered someone’s “Man, my renovations are killing me” with a resounding (albeit silent) “SHUT YOUR PRIVILEGED LITTLE TALK-HOLE!” (Turns out that stuff actually really is stressful. Who knew!)

So anyway, we made it, we’re here, in our new little corner of Brooklyn. If you’re from Brooklyn, we are on the border between Kensington and Windsor Terrace. If you’re not, we are still kinda near Park Slope, on a different corner of the park. Or, as our Manhattan-bound real estate lawyer put it, “Kinda near the ocean?” Exactly. Actually, you know, all of New York City is an…oh, never mind.

In EB White’s great essay Here is New York, he writes:”A woman friend of mine moved recently from one apartment to another, a distance of three blocks. When she turned up, the day after the move, at the same grocer’s that she had patronized for years, the proprietor was in ecstasy–almost in tears–at seeing her. “I was afraid,” he said, “now that you’ve moved away I wouldn’t be seeing you anymore.” To him away was three blocks, or about seven hundred and fifty feet.”

This is precisely so. We’ve been moaning about how weird it would be to leave the place we lived for 7 years, our beloved best-ever neighborhood, and then sniffling and saying things like, “Well, I guess if we really miss the bakery/bodega/block we could always…walk over one day. It would take like 15 minutes though.”

But I have to say, so far we really love it. First of all, the space. We have our own bedroom! Adam and I, that is. The kids have their own bedroom! Shared, that is. (If you’re from Brooklyn: I know, isn’t that exciting? A bedroom! With a window and a closet and a door! If you’re from anywhere else in the country excepting possibly San Francisco: Yes, the kids share a room, get over it.) We have  multiple closets and multiple doors! The kitchen has these storagey things called “cabinuts” or something! It’s all quite thrilling. And the building is full of friendly kids and neighbors and dogs and such. Harper’s favorite thing ever is pushing the elevator buttons. My favorite thing ever is pushing my SUV of a double stroller into the elevator. People, this is the life.

I’m already feeling protective of Kensington, though. I was just about to write about how I love my new coffee shop/office, our new playground, our new library branch, our new playspace, and then I was about to write something about how none of these places are as ridiculously crowded all the time as their shinier Park Slope counterparts (we’ve never waited in line for a swing at the playground here, if you can believe it), but then I thought, Waaaaiiiit- If I tell everyone how great it is here than everyone else will move here and then where will I be? In line for a goddamned swing is where.

Then I remembered that, thank goodness, I hardly have that kind of influence. Or readership. And also, we’ve only been here a few weeks. There’s plenty of time to realize we’ve made a TERRIBLE MISTAKE AND RUINED OUR LIVES AND THE LIVES OF OUR INNOCENT CHILDREN.

Nah. Come on, Steeplechase Coffee has red velvet twinkies! What could go wrong?

Here We Are

A Moving Tribute

To live gracefully in a small space, you must either be a minimalist or exquisitely organized. Unfortunately, we are neither. Fortunately, we are moving to a larger apartment this week. Unfortunately, this means we have to move. Fortunately, we have two small children who love cardboard boxes and are happy to pack. Unfortunately, this is how they pack:

With any luck, by this time next week we will be all settled in. Hard to imagine, but there’s a chance.

Malka’s Miniature Room

The other day Harper declared Malka to be her best, best friend. This was after some quality time spent engaged in Harper’s favorite friend-activity, namely, holding hands and running and falling down. Just like true best friends, they spend a lot of time being sort of awful to each other. But lately an amazing thing has happened. On a playdate Malka’s mother (the accomplished poet and YA author Carley Moore, who also makes a killer smoothie) and I realized we hadn’t heard from the girls in a while. After a moment of cold dread, we found them happily playing together in Malka’s sweet little room. After two and a half years of parallel play interrupted now and then by knock-down-drag-out brawls, this is a very thrilling developmental milestone. Malka is an older woman, having already turned 3, and I think her maturity might be rubbing off on not-quite-two-and-a-half Harper.

I believe the sweetness of Malka’s room has something to do with their congenial play. There is just something about this room (and the whole apartment) that feels like home, that reminds me of what I loved about being a child and my own room growing up– a relaxed, homey warmth.

Here’s what Carley has to say about the 9×12 room and how it came together: “My mom, Judy Haller of Jamestown, New York, made both of the quilts.  The purple one she made for Malka when she was born and it’s made from fabrics that we’re designed to look like childrens’ fabrics from the 1940s.  I love some of those patterns–the tiny kittens and the hearts, very retro.”

” The second one (the red and blue one), my mom made last year for Malka at Christmas.  I love the reds and blues and that there is a different panel for every month.  I come from a long-line of quilt makers–most of the women in my family quilt (my mom, my aunts, my grandma) so it’s special to have these in Malka’s room.  Plus, they are so one-of-a-kind–the quilter’s vision is always so interesting to me, kind of like a writer’s voice.”

“Shells–Malka loves shells and jewelry.  We try to arrange those on her dresser, and she rearranges often.  She sometimes tries to sleep with her shells she loves them so much.” [Ed. note: Also My Little Pony! Hello, wave of nostalgia! YES!]

“The new bookcase.  It’s a piece of crap from Ikea–a Billy to be exact.  I don’t want to knock the Billy though.  We have many of them in our house full of books.  I always say that I won’t buy another, but they are so cheap and they fit a lot of stuff.  Now Malka has some bins for tiny things like cars, paper dolls, and beads, and all of her books and puzzles fit in one place.  Yay!”

“Matt’s father made the Malka collage when she was born.  He’s a painter and collage maker.”

I think it only fair to note that this room was spic-and-span when we arrived, but the girls immediately pulled down one of the toy bins and got to work making music and playing. I’m telling you, this room WORKS!

You know what else I think helps make this home so cozy and warm? The excellent design choice of cats draped luxuriously here and there.

Also, Malka has a kick-ass doll house that really reminds me of the Fisher Price one I used to have.

So there you have it. And now, let us hold hands and run in the fields together. Metaphorically, I mean, of course.

Daphne’s Dainty Digs

Oh boy! I’m so excited to finally have another Tiny Kid’s Room Tour to flaunt before your voyeuristic cyber-eyes. Kate and Daphne’s entire apartment is just the sort of smart, stylish land of efficient storage and pretty moments all city dwellers imagine their platonic selves to inhabit. So it comes as no surprise that the adorable, elfin Daphne has a room that is as lovely and clever as these ladies themselves. I recently took advantage of a calm playdate moment to hastily photograph Daphne’s room before Harper could brutishly attack the poor kid, truncating the sesh. “Harper, ” I said as we slunk away in shame, “we had to leave because you hit Daphne with a purse!” “Two purses, actually,” Harper corrected me, holding up two fingers. Driven into a jealous rage by slick storage and lovely fabrics? Who can say?

The dainty Daphne.

Anyway, here is what Daphne’s mom Kate had to say about this tiny kid’s room. You see, she’s a tiny kid but the room is also on the tiny side. Get it? If I keep typing tiny kids rooms in various iterations will it improve my tiny kids’ room SEO? Okay, on to the small kid’s small space. Etc.

Kate: “We wanted to maximize the storage capability of an 8.5′ x 12′ room, and wanted to something that would grow with Daphne. I worked closely with my friend Elyse Kroll (of Elyse Kroll interiors and the Nate Berkus Show), a former colleague at Martha Stewart. She designed the storage wall, which consists of  24-inch-deep Ikea kitchen cabinets customized to be built-ins by handyman and good guy Anthony Alessandro. (Ikea PAX was our first choice, but the configurations available at the time wouldn’t have worked in the space.) The customization made the cabinets more expensive, but the amount of storage space is extremely useful. I like the reflective surface of the cabinets; it keeps them from overpowering the room and adds to the light, happy, dreamy feel that we wanted the room to have.”

Me (thinking): “Ohhhh, that’s why it looks so f*&%ing amazing. Elyse Kroll, right, okay, I feel better about myself now.”

Kate: “In addition to the closet, the other storage area consists of Ikea’s Expedit cubbies with a few doors and drawers added. We replaced the drawer pulls with the little white mushroom-esque pulls. Anthony built legs for the system and secured it to the wall. There’s lots of flexibility here, too, for storing books and other items. Daphne also imagines that she’s doing lots of different things, such as baking cupcakes, by opening and closing the cubby doors. Who needs a toy kitchen?”

“The room palette was a little challenging because I liked the idea of lavender walls, but wanted to make sure the overall feel of the room wasn’t too chilly or slick in combination with the white lacquer cabinet finish. We settled on Benjamin Moore’s “Misty Memories” (which I found amusing, considering that the room’s inhabitant was only seven months old). The color has a lovely mutability that the cabinets reflect nicely. The two throw rugs once belonged to Mike’s great-grandmother Rose, and his grandmother Fritzy crocheted the afghan on the chair. We hoped to find textiles that would work with these items, as we wanted them to be a part of the room. We have some prints that we plan to hang, but haven’t gotten around to doing that yet.

I’m a big fan of Josef Frank’s textiles, and Elyse found the material for Daphne’s curtains on Etsy that, while resembling Frank’s work, cost a fraction of the price. She also found the striped fabric for the bedskirt, which, I happily noted when I saw the swatch, looks like the curtains put through a meat-grinder. Not the most poetic statement, but I think you know what I mean.

The alcove bed is called a “studio twin,” which is slightly narrower than a traditional twin. It has a trundle to accommodate grown-up guests or Daphne’s pals in the future. The matelasse coverlet belonged to Mike’s grandmother Fritzy. We put the sconces on a dimmer so Daphne can control the amount of light there when the time comes. They eliminated the need for a bedside table and lamp. In the evening, when the lights are dimmed, I am reminded of a James Turrell installation. A gal can dream, can’t she?”

“We’re very happy with the way things turned out. The room is a joyful, peaceful place that we hope will accommodate Daphne for many years. She loves to lead guests there, shutting the door behind them, congenially entrapping them while she shows them her toys and entreats them to play.”

Me: “And bop her in the face with two purses. Sigh.”



Okay, I’m not afraid to say it: if you liked Daphne’s little room, you’ll love Sabine’s equally calm-yet-cozy room too!

(Seriously though, aren’t these girls lucky to have such cute hideaways?)

Homebodies

We recently had a weekend that I see in retrospect was the perfect tantrum storm. Three busy, sunny, playgroundy days culminating in extensive late-afternoon social plans that demanded varying degrees of behavior — a restaurant, dinners at friends’. Each evening we scratched our heads as Harper disintegrated into a toddler tornado. She’s been somewhat prone, lately, to Sybil-ish mood-transformations. Sure, why not? After months of new baby brother hype the guy arrives and turns out to be a needy potato that Mama’s obsessed with. We’re always razzing her to use the potty. We occasionally say no.

It also occurred to me that maybe the poor kid was also just a bit overscheduled, and that my somewhat desperate attempts to keep her occupied were actually running her ragged. So I did something that seemed to quell the freakouts immediately. No, I did not drug her. Reader, I let her play at home.

Because our 1.5 bedroom apartment is too cavernous, a fort is necessary to create a cozy nook. It was very difficult to make. It involved...a sheet.

And that seemed to cure what ailed her. We’ve been hanging out in the reading fort a lot. The baby comes in too and squirms on a blanket while Harper lovingly sticks post-its to his onesie. Coloring on a card, putting the stamp on the envelope, and then walking to the mailbox to mail it made for one very exciting morning. The other day we got some balloons for Adam’s birthday and that was entertainment for the entire afternoon. And not just entertainment; she was practically beside herself with glee.

One two-year-old + one helium balloon = hours of rainy day fun. Or beautiful sunny-day fun, for hermit children.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I feel pretty stupid. I mean OBVIOUSLY running around all day is stressful for a tiny person. Haven’t we all read a million articles about overscheduled kids? When did I become one of those weirdo New York parents who stresses out her kids with Big Fun?  After all, when we are home I can pay a lot more attention to her, even with Alton cooing about, and this seems to be one of her main concerns these days.

The hazards of playing at home. Oh, well.

Also, I mean, she’s my offspring. When I think about my childhood, some of the happiest memories are of my mother setting up a treasure hunt to occupy us in the house, or obsessively outfitting a homemade doll house with sponge-beds and match-box dressers, or of sitting under the front stairs alone to read a book. Unlike now, when I like to do exciting, outgoing, adventurous things like…uh…blog.

A game both a toddler and a baby can play: lying on the bed, looking up at balloons.

House Lust

When I was a kid a favorite activity of mine was drawing up floor plans of my future home, which was obviously going to be a sprawling Victorian mansion full of hidden nooks and chintz/an ultra-modern city loft with laddered bookshelves and a Pee-Wee-Herman-inspired fireman’s pole. My current dwelling is…well, neither of these things. Which means I have just as much house lust now. Also, I’ve been spending a LOT of time in the apartment lately, which is kind of like taking a long road trip with a friend: you thought you liked her when you started, but by Pennsylvania you’ve compiled a long list of her many personality flaws.

That’s okay though, since as I’m always telling Harper (“Why don’t we have pretend cake instead!”), imagination can be a powerful force. Unfortunately my childhood design-indecisiveness prevails, so I can’t even comfortably furnish my dream home with any aesthetic certainty. Which may explain some things. Anyway, since I can’t quite choose between my city mouse and country mouse tendencies, let’s settle for a quaint house in the middle of the city, Margaret Wise Brown-style.  This one (via the NYPL Flickr stream ) is in Brooklyn Heights, or at least it was in 1936:

Okay. I know my mother will chide me for even fantasizing about owning an old home but let’s say this one was just completely but sensitively updated right before we moved in.

Here’s my kitchen (from a domino magazine story about Blonde Redhead that I’ve been obsessed with for years). Don’t you love how bright and airy it is, with that perfect mix of vintagey elements? Don’t you love how even in my fantasies I can’t imagine a large kitchen? Also, in my dream house I am not allergic to cats, who lounge about on various surfaces like animated pillows.

Oh, and check out my bathroom, as featured on design*sponge. Also so airy and bright! Hm, I guess I do see a bit of a theme. Anyway. Look at that sink! Can you imagine the bathtub? Imagine it. In this world, the towels are always white and stacked perfectly. They do it by themselves.

My bedroom is pretty special, too. Just like all the interiors in the gorgeous movie Bright Star. Bright and light and occasionally filled with butterflies. Perfect for lots of uninterrupted languid daydreaming in beautiful dresses. As is my way.

Or wait. Maybe it’s lush and dim and antiquey, packed with interesting things to look at and many books within easy reach. Like this one from Cake in Bed:

Okay, no, I got it. Bright and cheerful, but still crammed with copious bookshelving. via Apartment Intervention.

Anyway, one thing I know for sure is that the kids’ room(s?) would definitely be colorful and friendly and full of beautiful, whimsical things found on weekend jaunts to perfect, hidden antique stores located on country roads right next to homemade pie stands that somehow no one else in New York knows about but that are not so far from the city that you get stuck in traffic coming back on Sunday night and can’t find a parking spot. Ahem. Like look at this charming nursery! From, of course, Ohdeedoh.

I am really pushing it here, timewise. Think these kids will nap much longer? Let’s give them a perfectly organized toy nook full of handsome wooden toys, as a thank you for napping at the same time. Just like the one on Oh Happy Day.

Finally, let’s not forget to replace all the weird piles of unopened mail and diapers of mysterious provenance with lovely, spare vignettes, ala Sarah McColl of Pink of Perfection‘s.

Now all we need are some trees outside the window, a good record playing, a couple of kids frolicking around, maybe an over-exuberant mutt… oh wait.

I know, I know. Home is where the, etc.

Baby Nook

I was going crazy trying to hang everything straight and then stepped back and realized: the molding itself is crooked. As are all the walls. Oh, brownstone!

There are these people we know who live in places such as anywhere other than New York who say crazy things like, “We really need more space/another bedroom/a bedroom at all before we have a baby.” Does anyone know what they are talking about?

Anyway, Baby Boombox will, upon his imminent arrival, be hanging out in our bedroom with us because we are old-world like that. Above is his little nook. No really, that’s the whole thing.

Don't tell Boombox, but this used to be a GIRL'S crib.

When you learn you are having a boy, you hear a lot of sympathetic Aw-the-stuff-just-isn’t-as-cutes, as if the main joy of parenthood were the accumulation of adorable little dresses and matching bonnets.  It totally is, of course. But still, I have not found boy stuff to be un-cute. Look at that quilt! A gift from Grandma and Grandpa, who found it at Sewn Natural’s Etsy shop, which is also where we got Harper’s lovely matryoshka dolla quilt for her big girl bed.

This Plan Toys rattle mobile is not as funny as the "city animals" mobile we made for Harper, but probably more functional.

The artwork above the crib — well, I don’t know.  What do you think, too boyish? (I realize I need a better picture of it.) The military theme is a bit creepy, I know, but we found those little soldier guys at a stoop sale ages ago and found them weirdly charming. The walrus embroidery is another Etsy find — check out kngo’s shop for more awesome embroideries and assorted sweetnesses.

I didn't make it. But somebody did.

Then of course I thought Harper needed one too. Her donkey is hung over her bed, just one wall apart from Boombox’s walrus. (Oh we are cozy aren’t we.)

Harper now occasionally jumps around screaming "Bonjour!" which makes this needlepoint totally worth it.

I know I’m not alone in being, these last days of pregnancy, fixated on getting The Stuff all set. Like, if the baby’s crib is all set up and his artwork hung and the hospital bag packed and the clothes carefully washed in Dreft and then tucked away (only to be whipped out daily and used to dress up dollies…oh well) then he will realize it’s time to be born, and all will be well. Now I’m making up things. Oh, he wants me to write a blog post and THEN he will be born! Oh wait, he wants me to finish this OTHER made-up project and THEN he will be born.

Well listen, baby, your gestating is officially complete and there is a cute walrus embroidery on your wall.  That’s all I’m saying.