When I was preparing Bonnie's room for her grand entry into the world, I wanted everything white and cream and clean. I wanted a white crib, a white changing table, cream sheepskin rugs, cream quilts, everything fluff and down and beautiful. I agonized over the placement of everything and made sure everything was just right, like I was birthing the Queen of Sheba, and then the reality of the constant bodily fluids and the mere spit-up hit (literally) and it was nonstop laundry and wiping the floors and wiping her face and getting fresh linens and throwing her in the bath and staining things and throwing things away. I am sort of in love with the fact that I was planning on pampering her and giving her the treatment of The Ritz, and it's really just one small example of how I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into.
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