Readers, it’s time to broach a delicate subject concerning that precious room where our little one dreams their biggest dreams. It’s difficult to discuss, even painful; but as parents in the 21st century it’s time that we face our demons and demand better. We are the only ones who can put a stop to the indecency millions of our babies–YES, even some you know– endure. When a child’s nursery is no longer a sacred space, we have lost what it means to be Americans. To be parents. To be human beings.
I refer, as you have already guessed, to the epidemic of horrifically ugly curtains for nurseries.
One day my mother casually noticed my child sleeps, on average, three hours more a day at her house than mine. If you eliminate the other obvious mitigating factors (such as our house is utter chaos, Mac has forgotten to inhale oxygen four days in a row, the cat has gone feral eating dried bits of oat cereal and I’m so stressed out you hear my brainwaves vibrating like a tuning fork) it must be because our nursery isn’t dark enough. Easy! We’ll get blackout curtains. Done and dusted.
At first I thought we had a defective Bed, Bath and Behind You. Everywhere I turned there were these monstrous pink and white frilly things advertised as “kids curtains.” They had names like “Marshmallowy Dream Cloud” and “Princess Entitlement Pouffles.” There was a purple, gauzy glitter sheet that reminded me of a veil for a Bollywood wedding. The only other choice was the Very Plain Blackout Curtain. The Very Plain Series came in 6 colors: Green That Doesn’t Match Any Other Green, Electrocuted Lemon, Brick Shithouse, Murdered Teddy Bear, Lifeless Shark, and Funeral Procession. Because there had to be so many more choices, I went to BBB online. Not helpful. The big trend this year is Moroccan Batiky Hash Den. If you don’t care about colors, you can also get stripes. The stripes seem to be chosen for no other purpose than to clash with each other.
Next I tried Tar-jhay. They had some curlie-cue things that wouldn’t black out, a separate black out you’d buy for $45, plus the new rod you’d need (naturally) and then one set of cream curtains with upside down pink triangles. Nothing says “deliberate and thoughtful childrearing” like window coverings for tragic gay Holocaust victims.
Even the pricier stores had dumb looking stuff. Why do I want an all-brown curtain with a single giraffe head poking down from the curtain rod? What does it mean? Is the rest of the giraffe hanging out the window? Is he cold? Should we be feeding him? Don’t get me started on the “scribbled design” curtains. They’re going for “whimsy” but blow right past whimsy, through mental instability and arrive at “if I wanted random shit in ugly colors as a design scheme, I’d turn Junior loose with a Sharpie.”
We could shorten “adult” curtains, but that looks weird, too. A formal, lined, silk drapery with three valences and a $200 curtain rod is not appropriate in a space where my son’s undiapered willy can squirt pee onto the base of his changing table all the way to the ceiling. Not to mention the times he drags one heel through his own diarrhea before he starts kicking.
Enough, America. There has to be some way to make sturdy curtains with fun nursery animals on them. They don’t need to be in the “hot” color combos (ballerina pink and chocolate, robin’s egg and cream). They don’t need 87 layers of sheer lavender organza. They also don’t need to cost $57.00 a panel. These are curtains for a human being that still likes to wash his face in his sweet potatoes. Dry cleaning, ironing and hand pleating are RIGHT OUT.
Nursery curtains of the world, please remember I want you, but I don’t need you. I will not hesitate to replace your ass with a beach towel and some safety pins.