third incarnation of a sofa

Andy and I have never really bought much furniture. Aside from a few choice IKEA chairs, everything we have has been made by Andy, found on the streets of Brooklyn, or been handed down to us from friends who are moving or upgrading to "real" furniture. Several years ago we were in the market for a sofa to replace an old futon from a grad school roommate of mine. I told Andy that I wanted to buy a nice sofa and not take someone's junkie old one. Well, a few days later our friends Erik and Anna, who were moving to California, asked us if we wanted their old sofa. "of course!!" was my reply. What was I thinking? Now, this sofa needed some serious work. I remember being over at Erik and Anna's and sitting on a rickety old sofa- one arm so wobbly that you couldn't lean on it or it would collapse. So we moved this old thing into our apartment. I just looked at the old shabby misshapen cushions and the wobbly frame and wondered what was wrong with me....

We bought all new foam, and reupholstered the sofa in a bright pink damask. We didn't do the trim to cover the nails and staples- we left that for later and of course later never came. With three kids, the sofa endured a lot of abuse over the next five years- pen scribbles, chocolate milk spills, spit up, you get the picture. The nails and staples were coming out and poking guests in the neck, there were holes in the cushion....it was in sorry shape. I swore that we wouldn't move it with us again. And yet I found myself staring at this sofa in the living room or our new house. But I realized that I have a certain fondness for it and actually didn't want to give it up but looked forward to the challenge of remaking it again.

It's done now, and this time completely. Gimp and all. Big thanks to Andy's mom who so generously made the long cushion cover for us. We love it, and there will be no drinking chocolate milk on this sofa.

New found freedom

Living in Brooklyn and home schooling meant that the kids were with me all the time, literally almost 24/7. While exhausting, I was happy with the arrangement until recently- which is a big part of what prompted our move. The kids, Ishaan in particular, need space from me as much as I need space from them. As "free range" as I would like to believe I am, it was just not possible for me to let Ishaan go out by himself in Brooklyn. Even if I did, there would be no other kids out by themselves to play with. Since Ishaan wasn't in school, I was with him or at least hovering nearby at all times. I saw and heard everything and came to realize that I neither wanted to nor needed to see and hear everything. When I was 7, I was off outside playing with my friends all afternoon- making up games, being silly, yelling, getting into mischief, telling secrets, and being annoying- all things that seven year olds should be doing.

A couple of weeks ago, on an unseasonably warm February afternoon, the neighbor kids were outside playing tag football- a game that Ishaan has never seen or played. I suggested that he go out and introduce himself and ask if he could join in. He ran outside and I held my breath. I was so proud of his courage yet so terrified that he would get his feelings hurt. I kept looking out the window, trying to asess the situation and make sure they were being nice and not making fun of him because he can't throw or catch a football and has no idea what the rules of the game are. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and I went outside. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. I just went out to "check" on him and of course everything was fine. They were all being wonderful and encouraging him and teaching him how to play. I realized that all those fears were my own and that in my desire to protect him I was projecting my own anxiety and insecurities onto him. After a couple of hours he came rushing inside flushed and excited. "they told me I was the best player on the team!" he cried. Now Ishaan is part of the pack of neighborhood kids- racing up and down the dead end street on bikes, playing basketball in someone's driveway, jumping on the neighbor's trampoline- happy, full of energy, and confident in himself and his new found sense of freedom.