Am I the only expectant mother in the contiguous forty-eight who has not devoted even a minute to decorating the nursery? It’s not that I’m not interested in design or wouldn’t love a sweet softly-colored child-appropriate nest for our newest addition. It’s just that the decision-making process paralyzes me with fear, and the shopping process fills me with ennui.

This inertia affects the whole house, not just the nursery. Take our walls, for example. Please. (Ba-dum dum.) When the previous occupants restored the house, they papered the walls with Victorian-looking paper. This interesting style was used for the living and dining rooms, a sizeable area:



Pretty dramatic, is it not, in a “Miss Havisham’s parlor” kind of way? Definitely not what I would have chosen. But what would I have chosen? I’ll never find out. I would much, much rather live with someone else’s questionable taste than with my own questionable taste. If they did it, it’s quirky, charming; if I did it, it’s a hideously expensive mistake.

The bedrooms are a little more restrained, but not much. We are currently preparing to renovate our attic (because, hey, what better time to undertake a pricey, invasive remodeling project than when you have a new baby?), so when that work is done we’ll be shifting bedrooms around a bit. Here are our choices:



This is currently Aitch’s room. It’s not too bad, right? I mean, it’s more “AARP Weekly” than “Pottery Barn Kids,” but it’s subtle, even if it does contrast with the Thomas the Tank Engine comforter.



This is currently the guest room, and will be the new baby’s temporary room until construction is done. It’s the best room in the house: big, airy, nice view. It was our bedroom for awhile until we got rid of the frightening unicorn wallpaper border in the master bedroom (now, that I was motivated to do). But I have to admit that during my tenure there I was unnerved by the busy pattern. It reminded me of that story, “The Yellow Wallpaper,” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, which was based on her experience being shut up in a bedroom as a “rest cure” for post-partum depression. In the story, the patient imagines that she sees another woman behind the yellow wallpaper, struggling to get out:

I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper. A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.

Man, did I feel for Charlotte after spending a few months in that room.

And, finally, the pièce de résistance:



This room is currently our office, but will probably be the new baby’s permanent place after construction is finished. The funny thing is, I really like it as my office; something about it makes me feel calm and ready to work. I’m just not ready to rip it down and paint it seafoam green. So the baby will have to suffer the psychological wounds of growing up in a black and brown color scheme.

Do you think I could find a sweet little skull-and-crossbones border at Pottery Barn Kids to set off the pattern?