My sister Heidi had a baby boy, Taylor, and then 18 months later (surprise!), there was Landon, and my mother told Heidi to just let go. Two little boys, tiny and beautiful, promised a life of wild things, yes, but also unbridled joy.
Landon likes to cuddle, and Heidi is happy. This is his nursery, which Heidi and I gave ourselves one day and $100 to pull together. She’d already borrowed a crib, sewed the drapes herself, bought a changing table on Craig’s List, invested in crib bedding and some trees she wanted on the wall.
Trees, I thought? Wild things? We have ourselves a little theme.
In the house where Heidi and I grew up, there was a room called the morgue filled with taxidermied deer heads, snakeskins, even a buffalo. My father hunts. This reminds us of him, if he went to Z Gallerie and got his heads posh-i-fied. Quotes from “Where the Wild Things Are” fill frames we found in one of Heidi’s closet, and a lamp from the garage sale pile got a new shade.
Heidi’s vinyl trees (inspired by my friend Christina’s baby room) and the tiny Taybug, whom I adore.
We accented with baby clothes, which is a favorite trick of mine. They’re the cutest thing I can tell about having a baby (besides said child), so why not?
The owl is a Christmas ornament. Hoot.
(Weird camera angle or crooked frames? Not sure, but this is where the wild things live.)
Thanks, Heid, for letting me share.