Ya know how sometimes doing just one, seemingly little thing can sometimes start a chain reaction of other “little” things until it spirals out of control into something huge-antic and out of control? Yeah, well that was my weekend. One big chain reaction that started with this little decision:
“Yes, husband, I think our baby is ready to move into the big boy bed.”
And so he quickly and happily (what’s with guys and their love of projects, anyway?) grabbed his tools and began the disassembly of the crib that held all three of my babies.
Now I will openly admit that the decision to move my BABY to a bed was extremely difficult for me. I can see now, how youngest children become coddled and spoiled. It is not because of ill-intentioned parents who want to set up their children to expect the world. It is because of sad mothers like me, who long to hold on to their last baby just a little bit longer than they really, actually can.
Okay, I got off track a little there. I’m sorry. It’s the picture’s fault, really. BUT ANYWAY, here’s my man taking apart the crib for the very last time.
No big deal, right?
It’s just a crib and a bed switch, right?
Wrong. I’ve married into a family of furniture-moving crazy people (whom I love very dearly). And sadly, I’m the kinda girl who could leave the furniture in the same place, well, forever. And the moral of the story is I always give in, because at the end of it all, my husband has some brilliant way of rearranging things so I am even happier and more wanting the furniture to never ever move again because it’s absolutely perfect.
And so with that crib to bed movement also came: the sofa bed moving from the living room to the guest room (which has a freakishly small door frame in my opinion), the love seat that matches with the sofa bed moving to the other side of the big living room, the rattan furniture moving to the opposite side of the big living room, the coffee table moving, the side tables moving, the table which holds our cable box and DVD player being switched out, lamps moving (and then not being plugged in so when we went out later that evening we came home to darkness and no quick lamps to turn on), Papa’s old couch that my husband refinished moving from the upstairs living room to the big living room, my grandparents’ chairs and love seat moving around in the upstairs living room, a bureau moving out of the baby’s room, a different bureau moving from the guest room to the baby’s room and then all of his clothes needing to be moved, the changing table moving, things to be donated being collected, things moving into the attic and everything else in the living room getting jumbled up. *gasp*
Now my baby’s room looks like this (in this corner anyway):
And the rest of my house (in the middle of my baby’s room and the guest room) is still kinda of topsy-turvy. And the moving may not even be done yet…there are more possible moves to make after things are put away. More decisions to be made.
Cushions to be redone.
Things to be thrown away.
More things to be donated and given away.
Treasures to be refound.
A closet to be built by my incredibly talented and slightly overzealous husband.
And so comes night number two for my baby in his big boy bed. Last night ended with him out of bed twice. Once he ended up upside down, and once he ended up in the living room. Tonight there are gates and more bed-barriers. Sweet dreams? I hope so…