We live in a house smaller than our last condo. With a whopping 800 sq ft of living space, there’s a lot of competition for things to actually have a ‘rightful place’. Our wee peanut, already commands at least 600 sq ft of that even though she’s not even crawling yet. It’s the gear. The bouncy chair, the bassinet, the baby gym, and the make-shift diaper changing stations. They’re not just ‘stuff’, no sir, they are prime real estate. And they should be. I’m getting to enjoy the bright colours and soothing hypnotic patterns of Lamaze toys. I think I play more with the tactile toys in the baby gym than she does. I have ‘inadvertently’ napped with her sock monkey, and her organic cotton hippo… having these things accessible is much more important than knowing where my client files are..right?
One day, apparently soon, we will have finished our basement renovations and doubled our living space with a downstairs laundry room, den, and home office. Yes, that’s right.. my home office. But to get to that point feels like some complicated tarantella. As anyone who has ever survived a reno knows, there are always more steps then you think there are going to be. But I’m ok with that. I’m even ok with the random relocation efforts that we have to make whenever a contractor comes to call. Because of the resounding noise and solvents and who knows what else, I have to pack up the peanut, and drive north to stay at my parents while my husband oversees things on site. This has been ongoing for over a month now, and you know what? Even that isn’t the ball that tips my juggling hand.
Now let’s throw in a few contracts and see what happens. No file access, no office, but deadlines all around and a small inquisitive 5 month old with the lung power of a bullhorn? Yep, that makes things more interesting.
I can’t help but wish that they made Jolly Jumpers and those relaxing little bouncy chairs in our size. At least I have a Sofie la Giraffe to chew on if the going gets too tough.