One of the differences between the way Esther and I think, when preparing for our son, is our various strategies for the ominous task of “feeling prepared for parenthood” and all that goes along with that foggy idea. I feel prepared by making lists. Esther feels prepared by preparing (admittedly, a more direct strategy). But in a way, they’re both valid strategies against this amorphous goal. Esther’s has the advantage of actually getting things done, mine has the advantage of knowing exactly what needs to get done. My list making, so far, has only shown me that I don’t need to do anything yet. Well, read a lot of books. Check. Enjoy the ride. Check.
Selling the house was also a big thing on the list of things we absolutely needed to do in order to feel prepared. Until, as of this week, our house still wasn’t sold and so we took it off the market. One would think that we would therefore feel like we failed at preparing. But the strange thing is that we both feel more prepared now that the house is off the market. Selling a house, buying a house, moving everything, getting used to a new setting, etc, all feels counter-productive at this point. I feel like we’re out of limbo and can make the best of what we have. Deciding to make the best of what we have is a huge step in the direction of “feeling prepared”.
And, now that that item has been decided, if not completed, it sets in motion a lot of other things on my list of things that I need to do. Starting with re-organizing our little loft. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be moving few pieces of furniture into storage, a bunch of art that we took down (in the house-selling attempt) but probably aren’t going to put back up just yet, and begin to move things around until things feel “ready”. I have some big ideas of making the room more ready for watching movies on the projector, playing music on the keyboard, and changing diapers.
Why all the quotes around “ready” and “feel prepared”? I’m not sure. I guess in a weird way I’m realizing that this is not about reaching some final end state for our house, because we had already thought the house wouldn’t work at all. It’s about getting our minds ready, creating the solid feeling in our guts that the house will work, that everything is ready. And of course it will, and is. There’s not a huge list of requirements for taking care of a baby. A boob, a blanket, and attentive caretakers are probably sufficient for 99% of the baby’s needs, especially during the first months. But our brains… they need some serious work before we’re ready to take care of our baby.
And slowly, we’re adapting, and our house is adapting with us, and by the time he gets here everything and everyone will be ready. And it will be difficult to determine what exactly it was that finally made it ready, other than a certain amount of worrying, questioning, doubt, stress, debate, brain storming, furniture shuffling, color-picking, and out of it all comes readiness. Through a little whirlwind of fretting and confusion and worry we earn the right to feel ready.
I read in a book yesterday that putting together a nursery is an important part of early bonding with your baby. According to this book, objects and art around the baby will be a part of the baby’s first stimulation. What we choose to expose our child to will become the building blocks of who our child is to become. This will be the first way for us to give some culture to our child. It will be the first teaching of our family’s aesthetic style.
Well then. If this is the case, I venture to guess that our child will have a strong foundation in urban minimalism. Our house has been on the market (with a small break around the the winter holidays) for the better part of 4 months. We will give it another 3 weeks before pulling if off of the market in favor of getting ready for some baby arrival.
I love our little condo! It was first Milton’s perfect bachelor pad. Then we redecorated and made it our perfect love nest. It has a great view of the city, a private roof deck, and is just blocks away from anything you could possibly want in Seattle. It is my most very favorite place that I have ever lived in. As a wife and cook, I work this small place like it is a machine and actually love that everything is so close together. I don’t even think I would ever want a big huge house. It just seems like too much work, and I feel like my husband and I would be too far away from one another if we had more than a few good rooms.
The thing is, our place is a loft. It doesn’t have any separate rooms unless you count the bathroom. It’s just one big happy box. I don’t think that most couples could get along in a living situation like this one, but Milton and I are very very happy. We know when to be quiet and we know when to have a discussion from the lofted bedroom to the living room below. I don’t think we’ve ever had a difficult moment between us that is spatially related. Adding a baby, however, could potentially cause a problem. The slippery stairs don’t have a railing. There aren’t any doors to close to block Junior from devastation. There are nerdy wires falling from several computered surfaces. It’s kind of an adults only sort of place.
Or so we’ve thought. If this place doesn’t sell, we’re going to begin an endeavor in March that will redecorate this place once more to make room for this baby. Some shelves. An old-fashioned pram for use as a bassinet. A few less computers. An open space for lounging about on the floor. A new easy to clean rug underfoot. The key has got to come from a few creative solutions for urban baby nesting. We can handle that as long as we can scrape together a few bucks.
The more I think about it, the more I think we’ll be just fine with our urban minimalist baby. We don’t ever plan on living outside of a city (‘burbs scare me, I gotta be honest), so our son can just get used to slippery stairs, the sounds of cars outside, cavorting on the streets, and our voices shouting from the loft to the living room.
Just in case we end up not being able to sell our house before baby arrives, we’re going to have to come up with a strategy for taking care of a baby without the convenience of a car. Our current house doesn’t have a garage, and none are for sale, and parking spaces are hundreds of bucks per month.
Of course, all difficulties merely turn into challenges, and I’m especially interested in challenges that require minimalism and creativity to overcome. But, I haven’t really thought about it enough to know if it’s even possible.
I like Dear Baby’s take on the car-less life with baby. Their solution, which has yet to be tested, is:
- Quinny Zap stroller – 13lbs, can hold a stroller seat or a car seat, folds up real small, has storage, etc.
- Maxi Cosi car seat – for the first few months when the baby’s too small for a stroller, and also for car travel.
- Zipcar – for doctors appointments, emergencies, day trips, etc.
- Taxis + stroller + car seat for quick trips or visits.
- Moby Wrap or BabyBjorn when we using public transportation, or walks.
I think it can all work. The main wild card is the fear factor of “what if something crazy happens and you need to get to the hospital and every second counts”… a car would clearly be the most convenient option, or an ambulance actually, so we’ll need to come to terms with that fear and see if it’s worth the cost of a car plus $150/month in parking plus insurance and all that.
I’m looking for examples of people who have a newborn and survive without a car. Any tips or tricks or advice would be really helpful! Thanks.
The having a baby situation has set into motion a quick little transformation of our lives and our thinking about life in general. As soon as we started seriously considering the hope that Esther’s pregnancy will result in a new member of our family, we realized that our current studio loft isn’t quite big enough to house all 3 of us. There’s not a single wall between rooms unless you count the bathroom as a room.
So, we considered a few options. Renting our loft and renting another bigger place somewhere. Selling our loft and renting a bigger place somewhere. Selling our loft and buying a bigger place somewhere. Etc. Right now, it would be difficult to get enough rent for our space to cover the mortgage, so that option was out. Not to mention that being landlords seemed to be one responsibility too many in the next couple years. Due to the bad seller’s market right now, it also didn’t make sense to sell low and then buy later on when, most likely, the market has rebounded. So, the only option that made sense was to both sell and buy a new place at the same time. The only problem being that we’re now doing three high-stress activities at once (according to the Holmes Rahe stress scale, pregnancy is 40 points, a new major mortgage is 32 points, and changing residences is 20 points = 92 points).
Now, as previously noted, shortly before Esther got pregnant, I left my nicely-paying job to strike out on my own. As soon as I started talking with brokers about potential pre-approval on a new loan, I realized that self-employed people aren’t able to get loans anymore unless they’ve got 2+ years of tax returns showing that their self-employment is up to par.
Damn. And it almost ruined all of our plans.
But then I simply asked the primary client of the product we’re working on to change me from a contract employee to a full-time employee and they, kindly, agreed. One of them had recently had a similar situation cause problems for them when buying a house, and so he understood what I was going through. So, now, on paper, I have a full-time job, even though in reality it’s not like that at all. All to get a house, to make a safe place for the new potential baby.
The chain of logic from baby to house to job is making it all seem like we live quite regular domestic lives, in fact. Luckily, there’s enough wiggle room in this scenario to still do things in our own quirky way. The fact that we’re trying to sell a house right when the market is at its bottom, for example.
After a couple weeks of intensive searching, we lucked out and found a place that we really like, in a neighborhood that we think has a lot of promise, and which isn’t too far from downtown. It’ll be a great change. The offer we made is contingent on the sale of our current house, so now the chain is linking back on itself. It’s more of a web, really. Everything is becoming dependent on everything else. As long as all prongs of our plan step forward at the same time, there should be no problem, right?
No Prob Limo.
