Sure, kids turn your life upside-down. You're up nights, tripping over paraphanalia, absorbed in their actions and distraught by their challenges. But for some, they undermine decorating schemes and ruin antiques.
“We spent many, many hours designing a place that would be kid-friendly as well as sensitive to our need to live in a well-designed adult environment,” said Mr. Stratton, 48. Construction took a few years, and the family settled in last March.
They built a kitchen and dining area in the center of the first floor, using durable Corian for both the cabinets and a Parsons-style dining table designed by Mr. Stratton. “I wanted the Corian top so there would be no repeat of the famous carving incident,” Mr. Stratton said, referring to the time when Fia, at 4, used a pen to carve her name into a cherry dining table just delivered from France. (“I thought I would die,” Ms. McLean said.)
They put down cork tiles throughout, as protection for glassware and other breakables, including the children themselves, and they set up a 500-square-foot play area in the basement, with a trade-off that some parents would consider draconian: “They can play with a toy in the main living area, but it has to go away when they’re done,” Ms. McLean said. “I’m very concerned with what’s in my visual space. When people come into the house, I very much do not want them being bombarded with toys.”
She also refused to babyproof furniture when the children were younger. She was “never one of those mothers” who put safety corners on coffee tables, she said. “That stuff is just gross, and I don’t feel you have to sacrifice living space to that degree.” And she decided not to install wire railings on the open side of the floating walnut staircase Mr. Stratton designed to connect the first- and second-floor living spaces.
“We couldn’t bear it,” she said. “It was too ugly. So basically what we did was we trained the kids to hold onto the handrail, and it’s worked. No one’s ever fallen off.”
Well, I guess it's reminiscnt of the horrid fire escapes that kids in the tenement houses used to have to navigate, and it made them hearty survivors (if they survived). Sacrifices must be made to accomodate living with others.
Ms. Brown and Mr. Friedman — who of course were thrilled to have a child, like all the later-in-life parents interviewed for this article — were also determined not to let Harrison “take control of the house,” Ms. Brown said. They went ahead with putting in flat-front lacquered maple cabinets in the kitchen, even though they soon had to watch a professional babyproofer drill 300 holes in them for safety latches. (Ms. Brown still cringes.) They put up silk Shantung draperies in Harrison’s bedroom, knowing that they might well end up stained, as they soon did — with yogurt. And they held onto the molded-wood chairs, which were not an easy transition from the highchair. “They have a very sleek bottom,” Ms. Brown explained. “He slides off it.”
The funny thing is that this NYT piece is meant to be serious: beware! Your decorating scheme will go to the dogs if you let kids in. You may want to rethink that baby, because he'll make a mess. Ah, the sacrifices of motherhood. Caveat emptor.
I do hope these children bring them abundant blessings. The parents who do say yes may have their priorities rearranged in the end, much like their floor plans. Perhaps the really good pieces shifted to storage during the most "destructive" years might not look as compelling upon retrieval, when the love has taken root.
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