The Tool Man

The day is rapidly approaching when I need to start thinking about preparing the baby’s room. Get some sort of game plan together. Boy, where to start with this one. I am to Home Improvement what cousin Oliver was to the Brady Bunch. It’s just not a good fit.

I am dreading this; partly because I suck at it and partly because I get no joy from this sort of activity. Doing "house stuff" is about as much fun as watching NBC’s Deal or No Deal. Or as I call it, opening random suitcases with Howie Mandel. I’d rather read a book than work on landscaping. I’d rather watch a movie than construct a backsplash over the stove in the kitchen.

However, it must be done and it isn’t very sporting of me to delegate this task to Tracy. What kind of husband would I be if she were climbing up on ladders to paint and stencil butterflies or footballs on the walls, while I am sitting in the other room sipping Starbucks and watching Jarhead?

Without going hog-wild with research, I casually flipped through some magazines only to find that people really go nuts with decorating. Rooms actually have themes. Complete themes like those cheesy adult motels have. Checking into the Tarzan suite, Mr. Smith? The room comes with a complimentary loin cloth and a continental breakfast. Of course, the kid themes are much more kid friendly. Ponies and rainbows and whatnot.

Everything must match and be color coordinated. I’ve got to be honest. If it takes me more than a few seconds to find matching socks; I am out the door with a blue one and a black one. Trying to get a whole room to match is a monumental task. I am going to have to make sure the color of the giraffes on the sheets matches the border around the ceiling, which has little flecks of the same color from the carpet, which is a good secondary color to the crib? Yeah, right.

So I ask you…why? Does anyone remember the room they had as an infant? The first decoration I can remember on my walls was a Samantha Fox poster and I am pretty sure that was put up well beyond my infant stage. Are there scientific studies that show a baby in a cowboy-themed room will grow up to be successful, while a baby in a plain room will be the next Ted Kaczynski? Sounds like flimsy conjecture. In reality, we decorate the room for ourselves. And to impress everyone that comes over to see the room.

Not me. If I try, I’ll just end up screwing things up. The lesson here is, never try. (I need to write these nuggets of advice down for when the kid get older).
A crib, a changing table and one of those dangling things that hangs over the crib and possibly plays music. Done.