Tuesday, June 17, 2014

The Ultimate Client

I've been working for the ultimate client the past 9 months. He has afforded me complete control; total creative freedom. It has been a strenuous DIY tornado around here, but a dream.

But this flight of fancy ends any day now.
When I give birth to him.
And he makes his demands known.

Because we (including the keen eye and expertise of Mr. Schatze) only had design control. 
Of his nursery. 
And the rest of the house. 
That's it.

In the beginning of the pregnancy, I found myself wishing that I could control more. Just choose a few of his client attributes that I would be working with for the next lifetime of years. 

You know:
- perfect health
- wisdom
- empathy
- his father's affinity towards safety

The important things. 

But the more I thought about it, I realized it would be my worst fail yet. Taking this perfect little package and unknowingly stripping away his grandest future because of my selfish personal desires. Perfect health, what if that hospital time is meant to teach him unimaginable tenacity and grit? Wisdom - my greatest lessons have come from my most foolish moments, should he miss out on those? An affinity towards safety - what if that nail gun accident through the foot leads him to design the most successful work boot on the market?

You see my struggle.

So now we wait, without some forecast of our own expectations. 

Wait for the new 'perfect for us' client. 

Waiting in his nursery that we have poured love and Arizona summer sweat into in the hopes that he feels that love around him every night he's in it. And a little bit with the hopes that if he's speaking to his therapist at age 30 about his crazy parents and upbringing that the nursery can be an example of our first sign of love and effort. 

I think too much about his therapy.

But we are ready. As we'll ever be. And open. For this demanding tiny-for-a-flash client.
I want food.
I hate color. Can we make my room all white?
I want to take Judo.
  We've got this my love, no worries.
I want the hurt to go away. 
I hate my life.
I want you to leave me alone.
We've got this my love, no worries. Just give mama 20 minutes to a day alone in the bathroom with her cell phone so she can sob it out.

I look forward to sharing our completed projects soon. As well as our unpredictable new adventures. And all the lessons. And Baby Schatze.
I want to use the miter saw without safety glasses.
Not a chance in hell, my love.


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