In This Sweet Waiting | Part II
“Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn’t mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn’t matter.” The Velveteen Rabbit
I took my time.
I didn’t want to rush it and for this part to happen all at once.
I wanted it to come together bit by bit and to savor every moment of the planning.
This was the labor I was looking forward to.
And this made the waiting all the more sweet.
Jack’s nursery inspired by designer Mark Sikes.
I can’t even begin to count the conversations I’ve had with my mother about “waiting.” How many tears have I shed because I had to “wait” on something? An embarrassing amount is the best I can surmise. Especially when I was younger, having to wait for something or someone seemed akin to torture. As I think about it, that feeling of torturous waiting isn’t really exclusive to my younger years. I am pretty sure at the age of 28 I had a pretty intense emotional breakdown stemming from having to wait on something… which may or may not have been an item I purchased online that was backordered. (I was in dire need of perspective.)
Thank goodness even the poet Ralph Waldo Emerson wondered, “How much of human life is lost in waiting?” Amen, Mr. Emerson! It always makes me feel better to find a shared human experience, especially when it’s someone as intellectual as one of the literature greats.
It wasn’t until 6 months ago that I fully understood that waiting could be sweet.
“I never wanted a nursery to look too babyish… A baby doesn’t know that it’s in a room just for them. I wanted it to be interesting.” -Coco Rocha, supermodel, Vogue
It was so reassuring to read those words in print because ALL the nurseries I have designed in my head have been “baby theme” free. That baby will not know that Ariel is swimming “under the sea” on the wall next to the crib, nor will they understand that the mobile of Micro Machines is supposed to soothe them to sleep.
But, do you know who would have to look at “The Little Mermaid” everyday? Or will have to watch small cars float around in mid-air?
The mom. Continue reading