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Oh, window seats!! You’re reminding me of the house I grew up in. It was perfect for dreaming and make-believe--big and creaky, with high ceilings and old wooden floors. It had long hallways that seemed designed (to me, at least) for running ballet leaps (though my sister Middlest broke the glass chandelier once practicing cheerleading), and romantic archways instead of plain doorways. I loved to play the Sleeping Beauty Waltz on my little Fisher Price record player and dance in the rooms we hadn’t furnished yet (we were a little house-poor). And we had a landing halfway up the main stairs with a piano and window seats overlooking the backyard. I liked to bring my dolls there and set up a little hovel--I’d wear my quilted baby blanket around my shoulders and pretend to be Sara Carew from “A Little Princess” (you know--after she lost her money and had become tragically heroic). I had a padded window seat in my bedroom, too, and friends slept over there. And my sister Biggest’s room (can you imagine she’s ambivalent about that nickname? We don’t use it that often) had a huge balcony that looked over our garden. It used to be my room, but one day I came home from preschool and found my dad stripping off the fake wood paneling to get it ready for Biggest. I burst into tears (that’s probably the first time anyone cried over the REMOVAL of fake wood paneling, right?), but since I got to share a door with Middlest in my new room, I was soon consoled (Middlest and Biggest needed to be separated…ahh, sisters…). Our house was full of nooks and crannies like that--the radiator in the hall where I read during winter until my bum started to get too toasty; the garden that I pretended was wilderness (well, you should have seen my dad’s “gardening” techniques!), the yard where we played red light, green light, the Strawberry Shortcake swing set that got covered in cherries every spring and was taken over by the songbirds…

You SHOULD wait until you find that house that inspires a million possibilities in you. It will be your home with Future Baby, your playground, your nest. And if you choose right, that ballroom or window seat will be the scene of your own Mommy and Little One story. :-)

Sorry I’m so longwinded in your comments section! Your posts just really inspire me! Maybe I should try to edit myself…or blog on my own.

Thanks again for a wonderful post--it made my morning!


Thanks, Rebecca! I grew up in one of those magical houses, too. I miss it to this day-- when my mom sold it, I swear I cried for months. Aaaahh! Totally want to cry!

Yeah, my parents moved to a condo almost 15 years ago, but most nights I see my old house in my dreams. It's like a permanent part of my mental landscape. :-)

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    What is Starfish Envy??

    • L.A. 2009. I’m stuck in traffic on the 101 freeway, listening to Isabella Rosselini on NPR. Isabella, for some reason, mentions that starfish are one of those rare species that can reproduce asexually, and I realize that if I could do that, I wouldn't have to worry about finding a boyfriend/husband. I wouldn’t have to internet date! I wouldn't have to figure out if I want to/can/should have a baby/adopt a baby/child on my own. I wouldn't have to stress about things like FSH levels, or weigh my feelings on in vitro versus adoption. I would just have a baby. Thus began my starfish envy.
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