beadlefevre: December 2013

12 years ago when we were expecting this little nugget,
imagine a picture of Meg here. I will find one if you remind me.

I painted the office next to our bedroom a deep, rich plum,

stamped adorable sheep jumping over fences around the top and made it into the nursery.

I collected stuffed lambs.

We bought a lovely crib and matching dresser/changing table and a rocking chair (sigh).

We were ready for our new daughter to grace us with her presence.

We didn't have a clue what we were in for.

If ever there were a mold, she didn't break it, she just didn't bother to use it.

She does her own thing.

She is kind

and resourceful.

She is creative

and witty.

She is talented

and smart

and she knows how to get things done.

i mean, when she's not busy reading about other people
getting things done.

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A few years later, we turned the nursery over to this nugget:

And when we were expecting this nugget:

everyone asked us how we would repaint the nursery.

"I'm not repainting the nursery." I would say, "He can count sheep. That's my happy room. I'm not ever repainting that room. I love that room."

Then we added one more nugget:

and now, baby sister is almost 3

and iGGy has been eyeing "the nursery" for at least a year. I told her that she could move down there but she had to leave the purple walls... and the sheep. She was ok with that. But then I realized that as happy as that room made me feel, I could give that up so that she could have a room that made her feel happy. She's the one that gets to live there. So we chose a lovely shade of her favorite color (cerulean) and she made me hot cocoa and popcorn and corralled the little ones and read aloud to me while I painted