You might remember our former free-hanging closet in Eliza’s room, the one for which I made a curtain. Since then, this happened:

She doesn't actually sleep in it.

Of course, she still sleeps in her Pack’n'Play. And Gillian still sleeps in the hallway nursery. (The bonus of having a well-laid-out one bedroom is that we now have a three-bedroom.) But we’re working up to the toddler bed, and in the meantime, we had to shift around some furniture to continue upping our storage, increasing our closet space, and getting Eliza’s damned car seat out of sight.

So we did this.

Pay no attention to the carseat behind the curtain.

Obviously, I need to finish the second curtain. And we anchored it to the window sill, our version of seismic retrofitting. Behind that curtain is all of my dresses, David’s sports jackets, Eliza’s carseat, and a few other miscellaneous items.

This is a perfect example of why we love Metro shelving; it breaks down easily, goes up fast, and is eminently scalable and modular. It’s not cheap, but because it’s so storable, when we don’t use in the girls’ room, we can break it down and put it back up in a pantry. Or an office. Or a garage, should our life ever include any of those things.

All of her toys are on the bottom shelf, and the green Bigso box on the right contains her “dress up” clothes. All the blue Bigso boxes on the top are assorted storage items–my purses, our football jerseys, tchotchkes, and even some dishware.

I’m thinking about getting some fabric that matches the curtains here and sewing over the blackout curtains so the whole wall looks more uniform. I’d like to use the same fabric, but I’m not sure how much I want to spend. We’ll see.

Coming eventually: More Metro shelving. More Elfa. And a Murphy bed.

I majored in Tetris.

That’s an infant Graco Snugride 32 carseat, a Graco Quattro Tour Sport something-or-other, a double stroller, also Graco, that fits the carseat, a Snap’n'Go, also that fits the carseat, and a cheapass Walgreen’s umbrella stroller that replaces the nice Chicco umbrella stroller that someone stole and I have personally cursed.  Not shown: Eliza’s Radian carseat and GoGo Baby Kidz Travelmate, which are finally hidden away in the Metro shelving we’ll be displaying at some point.

Bottom line: when you have no car, the crap’s gotta go somewhere, and you better have a way to get it to where you’re going.

It’s cute. She adores it. We’ve added four new jungle animals, cupcake toppers from her second birthday, so now the farm has a nice wildlife reserve feel. But the fear of choking hazards has expanded the Little People considerably, and while they’re cute, they’re not the same. (David, especially, has grumbled about the little Weeble-like animals from the start.)

When I suggested expanding her Little People world by adding a house, David wanted to go vintage; I argued that we should have all people in the same scale so they’d be interchangeable. (I’m pretty sure our king, queen and Big Bird also went to school and got lube jobs at the parking garage.) He said she wouldn’t care. I pushed back half-heartedly.

Then, while browsing ebay just to see what was out there, I stumbled across this.

Lookit the Flintstones car!

Concerns of scale and chokables went down the lidded potty in room 201. I didn’t even know Fisher Price made a Holiday Inn! Oh… but they didn’t. Playskool released the Block Heads line to compete with the Little People and discontinued them soon after, but in the meantime managed to expose millions of children to cross-marketing: in addition to the Holiday Inn, they had a McDonald’s and a Texaco. The McDonald’s I’d remembered from my grandmother’s house had these little cube people, not round ones!

A traveling salesman, enjoying a cocktail at sunset.

The set arrived yesterday, in good condition but looking as though it had spent forty years in an attic. (We need to get out the Q-tips to do a thorough cleaning job.) Most of the accessories are gone–we have only two tables and a chair, a couch, no beds, but a playground set AND a full going-to-the-shore travel set, with a truck, a car trailer, a car, a boat trailer, and a boat. With a detachable motor (for sailing?). We have four people, whose names are Bob, Alice, and Larry, and the bellhop is Chet. (We’d have gone with Bob, Alice and Ted, but the farmer from the farm set is Farmer Ted.)

POP! Who knew the Playskool owners were from the Midwest?

My very favorite feature, though, is the SIGN. I loved it in the picture online, but didn’t realize it actually has a cardholder so you can change what the welcome sign says! A warning to all my friends: you can expect birthday greetings to come in the form of a Holiday Inn sign for at least the next six months.

Next week: Legionnaires!

And not only do we both love it, but Eliza can’t keep her hands off it. She’s gone up and down steps, through the sliding doors, and to the ice machine. My concerns about scale were unfounded, as the zebra has had a fine time on the swing, although the elephant doesn’t fit in the revolving door. And both of us were so absorbed in it yesterday that by the time I remembered to ask if she needed to go potty, she was already standing in it and hadn’t even noticed.

Good thing we figured out she can reach it FROM the potty if we position it properly.

On the coffee table, she can reach it from the potty.

P.S. For more vintage toy fun, check out this post at Modern Kiddo!

If you're wondering, those aren't clouds near the building tops. That's fog.

With two west-facing windows, we get direct sunlight for a few hours every afternoon, and to celebrate the fact I recently bought a prism crystal at an antique shop in Montclair like this one. (Tip: if you want a prism, don’t get one of the pyramid kind. The crystal globes are MUCH prettier.) As such, today will mark the third consecutive day that I’ve turned up the ABBA and had a Rainbow Dance Party in Eliza’s room.

Don't look into the light!

I might get another, just to amp up the rainbowitude.

I headed down the hill to Britex, and put one of the women on the third floor through this conversation: “I’m looking for fabric I can use for a curtain, except it’ll be a curtain to hide kind of a closet, but the closet’s in my toddler’s room. Something kind of neutral but not exactly and maybe a cute print?”

To my wonder, she immediately dashed off and found me this fabric, designed by Sevenberry in Japan. I don’t usually use the world “darling,” but I think it fits.

Little trees and little birdies!

We also picked out a few fabrics to match some of the colors, as I had an idea to do color blocks; I was worried all those trees and birdies would be a little bit much in an 80-inch curtain. My original plan was to do a gold block at the top and blue at the bottom.

I’ve never been so painstaking in my measurements before: every seam was doubled and finished, every line measured with a yardstick and chalk, and the math actually worked the way it was supposed to. I originally planned to make two floor-length curtains, but it turned out that one was enough. And not just that, but we decided going with a half-length–just as long as the canvas dress bag hanging from the rod–would make the room feel roomier (even though the carseat and clothes hamper are visible from the bottom). As a result, I have another yard or so of the Sevenberry fabric, a half a yard of the gold fabric, and a load of turquoise blue fabric. But I’m sure I’ll find a use for it. (My current plan is to trim her pink curtains.) All in all, I’m quite proud of the results!

Here’s the angle most of us see.

The rug is changing. Wait for it.

And here’s the angle from the window. Notice the canvas dress bag–I’d wanted it to be on the end, as kind of a second “wall,” but it just didn’t fit with the spines. So that’s David’s jacket cover hanging on the end.

The less-seen angle.

Once I sketched it out and did all the geometry–measure twice!–the sewing part was a cinch. And best of all, if we ever don’t have a use for it in the future, I can easily repurpose the fabric!

Pumpkin guts were surprisingly delicious.

In the past week, we’ve had midnight fevers, Halloween, the election, the Giants winning the World Series, a visit to The Container Store, and much shifting of furniture, boxes, and goods. We visited the storage space (again). We finally moved Eliza into the bedroom–first three days in the Pack’n'Play, then, tonight, a full move into the crib. The walls are closing in on us, it seems–the loss of the shelf space in the sun room, and the general moving about of items, is not diminishing the feeling of clutter as much as I’d like.

Fortunately, we have a deadline. My father-in-law and his lovely wife are in town for Thanksgiving, and if we don’t whip this place into shape by then, we’re not having them over for tea, no less dinner. So tonight, I made a list. Some of it might make sense to you. Some of it, maybe not.

1. Now that the crib is no longer in the hallway, we can use that space for storage–in this case, we’re moving the Elfa drawers from our built-in closet. We long ago took the doors off the closet to fit the Elfas, and it was fine when it was our bedroom, but now that it’s a nursery, we’d like to 1) not have her throwing our clothes everywhere; and 2) have it look more like a toddler’s room and less like a college dorm room. Moving the Elfas will put my clothes closer to our new bedroom in the sunroom, and give me something of a dressing room, as well. We plan to leave the changing table in place for the time being. You can check out nursery pics here!

2. Utilize the new closet space and rehang the closet doors. That’ll automatically brighten up her room.

3. Move the credenza from its temporary home in our room to her room. I’m not crazy about the idea of having a big, dark piece of furniture in a child’s room, but David’s open to the idea of painting the (already ugly) Formica top.

4. Take all the artwork down from BOTH bedrooms, and then be selective about rehanging. This won’t be a problem in her room–we don’t have tons of art for her, so we can do with what we have–but we’ve amassed quite a collection of odds and ends on our walls. That seemed fine, before, but with the queen-sized bed in the room, it’s feeling far too cluttered, even for the likes of me. Cue storage space.

5. Get to sewing. Now that I have some hobbit-inspired confidence, I plan to make a curtain divider for the bedroom/living room (to replace the damned comforter); a curtain to cover our exposed shelving in the bathroom; and pillowcases for the newly discovered floor pillows in the nursery.

That’s our five-point plan. We have three weeks in which to achieve it. You will received information on a popping-by-to-find-out-more-information basis. Expect pictures.

The storage space really IS like having another bedroom.

But sometimes, one has to chuck form out the window settle on pure function. Such as it is with babyproofing. I imagine it’s the same even in a big home, but in a small apartment, there’s no room to corral the kid once she’s mobile, and it becomes a constant game of trying to stay a step ahead. I’m reminded of the scene in Jurassic Park in which Robert Muldoon, Human Action Figure, tells about how the velociraptors have been attacking the fences to test their integrity. “They remember.”

That’s her. She remembers. When she’s looking at you, she’s figuring things out. How can I open this drawerful of batteries and swallow one whole? How can I dismantle the printer-copier? How can I open and close this door until my fingers get squished? And most important, How can I get into the kitchen? So here we are, left alone in the raptor paddock, trying to get all the systems back online before she figures it out. It needs to be fast, and it’s often not pretty. You’ve seen the movie. One false move and you end up stuffed in a locker, missing an arm.

Of course, all the solutions below are temporary, which is to say, we’ll keep them until we figure out a more attractive way to keep her from injuring herself. Parents have two options: babyproof ahead of time and raise the kid in a padded cell, or manage the danger spots as they become apparent. We’ve chosen the latter; here are the results. (I’ll update when we come up with our Pricier, Better, More Attractive Solutions.)

Tie It Down

Remember the accordion door to the nursery? Lovely item, but as I suspected, it’s irresistible to her current open-and-close habit. Same goes for the credenza drawers. In the former case, a couple of hooks and a bungee cord keep the door immobilized. In the latter case, a long string fastened with a little push-catch (the kind on hoodie strings) keeps the drawers closed and easily reopened. When it came to the credenza doors, we just moved half of the photo albums and filled it with her toys. Gotta let the kid have some fun.

The ol' bungee-cord-strapping-down-the-accordion-door trick.

If you can't beat 'em, put some toys in it.

She can almost get her fingers pinched, but at least she can't take out the chokables hidden inside.

MacGyver a Pegboard

Yup, the pegboard’s back–it’s not just for kitchens and tool sheds. (Especially if you happen to have three or four pegboards stacked in a closet.) In this case, we have pegboards, hook screws and that ol’ favorite, the twisty tie. The printer was the first thing we babyproofed, by the by–it started on the bottom shelf, then moved up, then was covered by a piece of wood slid in front, and when she got around that, we went with the pegboard solution. As you can see, she’s clever enough to know how to work it, but she doesn’t have the strength or balance to get under it to the goods. Yet.

Here’s the printer pegboard:

Damn you, reflective surface in which she can see her face!

And at the base of our bar, where we keep our glass jars:

Use a… deli container?

So we know the curse of the pre-war apartment is the Curse of One Outlet Per Room, but corollary to that curse is “All electrical workings shall live OUTSIDE THE WALL!” That means several things: 1) We have wires everywhere; 2) The few outlets we do have are loaded with heavy-duty power-strip plugs; and 3) The outlets and power cords stick out at least four inches from the wall, making them both grabbable and even an excellent boosting mechanism. On top of, of course, gnawable.

I came home one day from work to find this ingenious, awful-looking contraption:

"Deli Container With Outlet" -- ca. 2010

I can’t be entirely sure, but I think that had fruit salad in it the day before. The weird thing is, it works. The plastic makes a nice noise but it’s too much of a bother to get around (for now). By the by, if anyone has connections on a giant, box-shaped outlet cover that hinges up and allows us to get at the plugs underneath, let me know.

The Classic Gate

No babyproofed home would be complete without the wooden baby gate. We have one in the kitchen and one in the bathroom. She really, really dislikes them both.

First you put me in a clown suit. Now you won't let me dig through the recycling?

Most babyproofing, we’ve found, is more a matter of habit: don’t leave the coffee mug on the coffee table. Don’t leave the bedroom door open (unless refolding your clothes is a favorite pasttime). Develop an eye for chokables–the current standard is to put it in a film canister, which makes me wonder: 30 years from now, how will Eliza test what’s chokable? Oh, right. App.

We (and by “we,” I mean “RocketMan”) went through several ideas: a Dutch door that would open on top and bottom; an accordion door that we’d buy at the Discount Builders Supply; even nicer curtain fabric to which we’d attach, say, a mattress pad for more soundproofing. In the end, we went with a much simpler solution: a single-fold accordion-style door made out of (what else?) two sheets of plywood.

We did buy the supplies at Discount Builders: one sheet of plywood, cut in half lengthwise; four hinges; a magnet plate; and a simple door handle. We had some items on hand, so all told, the price of the project came to about $50. An accordion door at Home Depot would’ve cost $43, but keep in mind that we can reuse the plywood, hinges, screws and all—there’s not much an accordion door can do after it’s lost its home in a doorway. The light plywood brightens up our living room considerably, and since we’re keeping the interior curtain, the soundproofing is as good as it was before.

Easy as 1, 2, 3!

Now for the fun part: how to decorate it? I’d like to paint it the same color as the wainscoting, and maybe go with a nice wall decal motif. Any suggestions?

As you can see, it gets a remarkable amount of sunlight when the curtains are open; we keep them open all day to keep the air flowing, because it’s actually the warmest room in the apartment—the only one that does not share a wall with the great outdoors. With the curtains drawn, it’s nearly as dark as a closet, which comes in handy for naps. And oh, how we love our white noise machine.

Just to put things in perspective, here’s the map of our apartment again.

These views are from the entry hallway, right after entering the apartment. The mobile is the Twitterling by Haba; the crib is the DaVinci Emily Mini Crib in walnut. Mini, indeed—she already is longer than it is wide—but it fits so nicely in the space. It converts to a toddler bed, eventually. The doormat, from Pier One, hides a seam from the carpet remnants. We tried rugs and the foam floor tiles ($10 at a Goodwill!), but nothing’s better than wall-to-wall when it comes to sound dampening, so that was our ultimate choice. $30 for the whole floor.

Here’s the view from the living room. (Blackout curtains from Bed, Bath and Beyond. “Blackout” is used loosely here; in the living room, we’ve been hanging a comforter to increase the sound and light barrier.

The guy you see peeking from the behind the corner is none other than Huckleberry Hound, in the form of a game called a HuckleChuck. His neck bobs back and forth, and I assume at one point, the goal was to chuck ping pong balls into his bobbing head. Alas, his neck’s been broken for some time and there’s no sign of a ping pong ball, so we’re glad he’s finally found a home.

You might be asking: with that big ol’ sunroom, why put the baby in the hallway? Excellent question! The truth is, we like having the extra space for us. The sunroom houses our office, RocketMan’s workspace, all of our books, and closing off the room would cut off the airflow and light in the apartment by half. So we opted to keep it open and use the cozy space for the cozy baby.

At the moment, of course, she doesn’t hang out in her room; she plays in the living room or sunroom, which is tiled with the aforementioned foam letters. Her nursery serves two purposes: sleeping and storing her stuff. So take heart, apartment dwellers:If you have a space that fits a crib and a few shelves, you have enough room for a baby. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Being that we’re Container Store addicts, and reorganized our bedroom to great success with the Elfa shelving system, we figured we’d use the same idea for the changing station. Open, adjustable shelves, clean lines; what more could a small-space dweller want? The shelves, of course, don’t stop at the changing table; they go all the way to ceiling. But those shelves are just your basic spine-and-bracket. We decided to go with the sturdier tried-and-true Elfa for the unit on which we’d be placing our offspring.

So here, I present: The RocketNursery. Big improvement over the last one we posted, I think.

A few items of note:

• We keep her lined, prepped gDiapers on the second shelf, above the gDiaper inserts; I’m not crazy about the visibility of the system, but when you’re changing Le Squirmy Butt, it’s good to have everything ready to go. 
• The changing pad is not a full-sized pad. It’s a DexBaby Folding Changing Pad, which is to say, it’s supposed to come apart and fold up neatly for traveling. It doesn’t, at least not easily.  That said, it’s small (16” x 32”), which is really the key here. The cover is terrycloth—not much to worry about, laundry-wise—and it has the ever-vital safety belt for when the RocketBaby in your life starts rockin’ and rollin’.

  (For portable changing pads, go with the $10 First Years Fold and Go Diapering Kit. We’ve stopped carrying the diaper bag because it’s just that awesome.)

• The flowered boxes are a new item offered at—where else?—The Container Store. They’re drawer organizers, but they’re so darned cheerful and cute that we use them to store moisturizer, fingernail clippers, and the nose-sucky thing. They even have bins, which is tempting as heck. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find them on their website, but I believe the small square ones were $7.99, and the larger one was $9.99. The box on the top shelf is where we keep her overnight diapers.
• The Cavallini & Co. Vintage Flash Cards along the wall were an impulse buy at a local museum about four years ago. Little did we know we’d be using them as decoration, and, indeed, as the basis for a minor new obsession of mine: Dick-and-Jane-styled illustrations. It’s a natural progression: I love a vintage look, I love primary colors, I love reading, and I’m the progeny of two schoolteachers.
• The print on the wall above the crib is called Waiting, by a divine Etsy seller named Sarah Jane. I’m so jealous—my friends (proprietors of the dangerously addictive ModernKiddo.com) met her at a conference recently.

Beneath the changing table, you can see the structure of the Elfa shelves a bit better, along with a few other yummy bits.

• The collapsible storage bins are from Target. They come in great colors and sturdy enough to hold blankets, sleepers, onesies, and on the bottom, serve as a hamper. (We have a fifth in the living room acting as a toybox.)
• Next to the hamper is a basic recycling bin from The Container Store; it didn’t work for us in that capacity, so it was another toybox until this morning. Not sure what we’re doing with it now.
• I also love the Small Tint Stacking Drawers, which contain her socks, legwarmers, and other random goodies.

One last detail… The room gets no natural light when the curtains are closed, so we’ve installed a small under-shelf light for the changing table. Any ideas on how to hide the ugly black electrical cord would be appreciated.

So that’s half of the nursery. The other half is mostly clear so we can stumble in at night without fear of shin-banging. Someday the curtains may grow up to be doors, so look out for that  blog.