Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Max Takes on Ikea and Other Things.

I shared a room with my sister until I was twelve.
As a sixth grader, I decided that I had outgrown my childhood bedroom and maybe even my childhood name. Should I start going by Elisabeth instead of Elisa or Lissa now that, y'know, I owned a training bra and could paint my nails without my mom's help? I was growing up fast and I needed the space to do it in.

So, one night when my parents were out, I grabbed a cot from the basement, loaded it with my favorite blankets, and placed it on the right wall of my mother's sewing room.

Next, I brought in shoes, books, my CD player, and my *NSYNC CD.
You better believe I wasn't going to leave that gem (and Justin!) in the hands of an eight year old.

I also brought a lamp so I could read for as long as I wanted without any protests.

Then my parents came home and I told them I was officially moved out.
Mom didn't need a craft room all to herself, right?
I would make myself small, but more importantly, if I was going to start dating in four years and spend all my time talking on the phone to my fifteen best friends, I couldn't be expected to share a room with someone who didn't even shave.

A few nights later, as I sat reading and listening to *NSYNC at the same time, my parents walked through the door and in that moment, I knew: I was busted.

Anna had been watching the Spice Girls movie all by herself...
The same Spice Girls movie I'd watched with my friends a few nights before.

My mom didn't like the Spice Girls and it had taken a lot of persuasion to get the movie home.
But what my mom didn't know was that a lot of male dancers were shown wiggling their bare bottoms as they peeped out of purple suits. (Were they wearing purple suits? I don't remember. I just remember that it was the first time I'd seen, y'know, nudity in a movie.)

(Un)Luckily for me, when she'd walked into Anna's room as the movie played, she walked into a room glowing by the light of pants-less pants as their wearers shook it like Ricky Martin.

As a punishment, I was told to pack up my cot and move back into my real bed in my real room.
I had lost the battle, but not the war.

I had my own room from the time I was fifteen until I was eighteen.
(I shared with my mom's sewing room again when I was fourteen.)
I also had my own room from May 2008 to June 2009.
Then I got married and now I will never have my own room again.

Then I had a baby and started to worry that I'd never share a room just with my husband again.
Which is why, as I type this while sitting on my bed, I am also sitting in the living room.

Which is now, y'know, mine and Mr. C.'s bedroom.
(Or will be, once we get the debris cleaned up.)
So, who gets his very own room?
Here he is, the heart-smoldering Mommy Monster.

Max Takes on Ikea

This little booger took Ikea by storm yesterday and now he has his own laundry bag, a new high chair, a blue table, and even a new alligator bath mat since he sits up in the tub now-a-days (!!!).

mmm... juice

I don't think he's going to be too happy when he realizes that Andrew and I moved out into the front room because right now he thinks all three of us have relocated... but if there's one thing I've learned, after a babe is three or four months old, it's that three's a crowd in one set of four walls.

I love this place!

Oh, and the catch?
Max may not be sleeping on a cot, but his room is doubling as my sewing room- I got a sewing table!- and tripling as our studying area, too... though he probably thinks that both the table and the desk belong to him. Seriously, who else could they be for?