Posted by: emjb | July 24, 2005

My Ghetto Nursery

So we’re setting up the nursery for the baby, as much as we can. We live in a 3-bedroom apt. in Brooklyn. One bedroom is ours; one is Matt’s studio (and super small too); one belongs to deanpence. So the baby will be in with us, as long as we’re here.

That part’s not so bad to me, apart from the crowding. I wanted to have the baby in our room at first, especially while I’m breastfeeding. We’re getting a co-sleeper bed, which will allow him to be in arm’s reach for feedings and anything not diaper-related. And if he wakes every few hours, that just seems more logical than a crib in another room. Not that we have the space for a full crib anyway. Or another room to put it in.

But where to put his clothes and diapers? We had decided at first to buy a dresser, then when we realized we’d be moving after about 3 mos., that we’d get some sort of portable, pressboard contraption that we could leave behind.

Until Friday. Friday I went out to the laundromat and on my way saw a white wooden dresser which looked the right size, sitting out for the trashman. It was missing 2 drawers, but otherwise seemed in good shape.

I’m not normally a big fan of curb furniture; especially in our old neighborhood, you just assumed that it had been peed on by a homeless guy or a dog by the time you saw it. But we’re on our Super Funtastic Frugality Campaign to save up money for all we have to do in the next year, and the wheels in my head began to turn. I dispatched Matt to look it over and measure it to see if it would fit our space. It would. So I had him and deanpence go pick it up.

“What about the missing drawers?” they asked.

“Aha!” I said, flush with my frugality. “I will get some cheap plastic bins that will slide into the spaces. Then we can use it till we leave, and put it back out on the curb. Cost: nearly nada.”

“That is so ghetto.” exclaimed deanpence in disgust. However, since he’s not trying to juggle new baby/move/car purchase in the next year, I didn’t expect him to understand. Besides I think it’ s more ingenious than simply trashy.

The problem now is, as we were setting all this up in our bedroom, and I got the dresser cleaned up and got a good look at it…well actually, it’s a rather nice piece of furniture. It’s a good wood, just needs a new finish, and doesn’t smell of pee. I find myself calculating the cost of taking it with us when we move and getting new drawers made and then refinishing the whole thing vs. buying a similar piece new (at least $400 I would think). I like rescuing things that still have a useful life. I get a little sad thinking about them just rotting in a landfill somewhere. But I’ve promised Matt to make no plans until we know whether we’ll have room in the moving truck for our reclaimed ghetto dresser.

In the meantime, it’s holding our collection of donated (thanks Mom! Thanks, Sis!) onesies, bibs, and blankets, with room for diapers and baby bricabrac left over. We’ll put a changing pad on the top, and the Critter will have his basic necessities set up and rarin’ to go. There are no special wall hangings on the walls, no silver rattles, no ceramic lamps that match the theme of the wallpaper and crib sheets. No wallpaper or crib, come to that. Just the decor we already have, what we’ve been given, what we’ve bought on sale, and what we’ve found. There’ll be more to come; we’ve registered for what we can, and know that we’ll probably need to buy a few more big ticket things. But that’s pretty much it.

And then I watch A Baby Story, which seems to be taking place in an alternate universe than mine, where all women have epidurals and usually c-sections too, and live in McMansions furnished with $800.00 cribs and carefully coordinated nurseries. And I just shrug my shoulders, knowing that to a baby, none of that stuff matters anyway. The Critter will mostly be concerned that we’re here, to feed him and love him, to keep him warm and change his diapers, and the lack of Winnie the Pooh(tm) wall hangings be damned.

It may be ghetto, but to him, it’ll be home.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: