In our house, there is a guest room. We typically use this room for guests because we like visitors and San Diego brings lots of them. Most people attribute San Diego tourism to the ocean or sun-kissed climate, but I credit San Diego’s appeal to our sparkling personalities and the modest success of my adventure blog.
You’re welcome, San Diego.
However, at the moment our guest room is being overrun by the cargo of one very specific guest, a guest that won’t arrive for another four months.
We haven’t turned the room into a baby room quite yet, but a baby room is what it has inadvertently become. It’s like we accidentally brought home a gear-baby, a Target and Pottery Barn bundle of joy.
How did this happen?
As recently as last week, Mike used that guest room to lay out his military uniforms and organize camping gear. Sometimes he used it to shine shoes (because they do these sorts of archaic things in the military). I used it to fold laundry and test apartment acoustics while singing loudly to myself.
But now the guest bed is covered with small piles of folded floral onesies and a variety of support gadgetry for nursing bosoms. Within this baby warehouse, Mike recently discovered a small cylinder labeled “soothing nipple cream,” and I pretended to be just as shocked as he was. There are children’s books stacked like Jenga pieces and a brand-new car seat filled with restraining equipment for an activity known as “swaddling”. Everyone describes swaddling with the phrase, “like a burrito,” so naturally Mike is thrilled.
All of this baby gear arrived last weekend when we got equipped and incredibly blessed by some sweet friends and family back in Colorado. Both of us flew back to our home state for a short weekend. We traveled so I could attend a baby shower and so Mike could attack the Rocky Mountains with an ice ax and headlamp.
Both of us were reasonably successful. Mike came home with a red, peeling windburn and backpack that smelled like damp bacteria. I returned with two overstuffed suitcases and a diaper bag so large it could hold 2-5 smallish swaddled newborns.
But when we arrived back in San Diego, we unpacked and found ourselves in a bit of a mess. The guest room was overrun. We called it the guest-room shutdown of 2013: the mess without compromise.
The conflict demanded that we
(1) Sacrifice our guest bed and guest accommodations to make room for a crib, rocking chair, and more baby-spending, or…
(2) Pretend like nothing is different and ignore the conflict in guest-room congress.
For the past week, we’ve ignored the mess, dividing the guest room into partisan sections: adult life and baby life. Organization progress is slow, and by slow I mean we just daily acknowledge the insurmountable problem. Sometimes I just close the guest room door and clean the rest of the house. This helps, I think.
But Mike is working on a compromise, one that includes a moderately priced storage unit. This solution would strategically increase our stuff-ceiling, reallocate some night stands dressers, and also push the parameters of our fiscal responsibility. We are considering it.
In the meantime, if you are in San Diego and looking for guest accommodations, Mike and I can offer you our sparkling personalities and an almost-consistent adventure blog. There is an ocean and nice climate here, too, which might actually be the more reliable aspects of your San Diego visit.
We are waiting on one guest in particular, a very specific, very small visitor. Hopefully she will be nice to look at, but we’ve been gifted with several baby hats and headbands to redeem a cone-shaped head situation (should it occur).
We are holding the unoccupied guest-space for her, because once she gets here, I’m pretty sure San Diego will see a spike in family tourism. It won’t be because of the weather or ocean or endearing wit of a certain adventure blog.
It will be because of a brand new sparking personality, a small, swaddled one named Molly Rose DiFelice.
You’re welcome, San Diego.
We bring people to you.