Bye, Crib.

I was only 27, and we didn't have much money, but on the brink of becoming a Mommy I spent a ridiculous amount of time picking out a crib. 

This was before the days of Pinterest, so I had to do the hard thing and actually search websites. On my own. Without influencers telling me all my options. 

I wanted it to be white, but not too white. I wanted it to be a warm white, but not yellowish. I wanted the rails to be simple, not ornate. I wanted it to look solid, like an heirloom piece that we could use for all of our future kids. I wanted it to be affordable, but not cheap.

I got what I wanted, at a good price.

Three babes of ours have used this piece of furniture. That's all it really is - just a piece of furniture. Some wood and glue and screws. That's all it is, tangibly.

But this piece of furniture that was once in pristine condition now has teethmarks on the top rail.

I placed all three kids in this crib on their first days home. I stared in awe that this once empty crib now held the toddler I've only just met. I marveled at how tiny our fresh babies were as they laid on the mattress that suddenly seemed so large. I rocked all three babies and laid their limp, sleepy bodies down in this piece of furniture.

When they were sick, I'd sit outside their crib and watch them to make sure they were okay. When we had a rough day, I'd do the same. Did I damage them too much today? Look how sweet she is - how could I ever be mad at her? How could I ever get frustrated with him?

Today, we're saying goodbye to this piece of furniture. Our family has outgrown it. And as much as I want to embrace growth, this one hurts a little. This is just a piece of furniture, but it feels like so much more than that. It feels like part of us.

I've been sharing with Jake this is weirdly hard for me. I feel sad about it.

Babies are easy.

Yes, they cry and fuss and haven't figured out how to sleep through the night or wipe their own body parts. Dealing with all of that can be hard.

But when I look into the eyes of my almost-four-year-old as she asks me "What does dead mean?" I'd be glad to go back to the restless nights of teething. When my big fourth grader is dealing with all kinds of emotions that he can't tell us about and I can't understand, I'd love nothing more than to wrap him in his blanket and rock him to sleep.

With babies, everything is better after a little snuggle and a little nap.

With big kids, it is not so.

                   

 

When they were babies, I felt successful because they ate their squash and made it through a morning of errands without crying.

Now that they're big kids, I feel like I've failed by 9:00am every day. They are incredible kids - all three of them, but I sometimes can't keep up with them. They have so many questions - needs - demands - and am I doing this right?!

This one wants a snack, that one needs help in the bathroom, this one has playdoh smashed in his hair, that one wants to play dolls with me and she's asking so sweetly, that one just spilled his water, this sensitive one needs some snuggles because he pinched his finger, oh - and it's almost time for dinner but I forgot to start the slow cooker 5 hours ago so I guess we'll just eat a plate of fruit and cheese and call it charcuterie.

Am I doing this right?

Sometimes it feels like a big mess and a snuggle in the crib won't fix that.

That's why I'm sad. It's not the crib, it's the season.

Bye, easy babies. Bye, snuggles that fix everything. Bye, cribs that keep us safe and comfortable and contained and small.

Yesterday when I was lamenting about how sad this is, Jake jokingly asked if I wanted him to reverse his vasectomy. My response (in gif form) was "HELL TO THE NO". This is not about wanting more babies. This is about grieving a season that's quickly ending. If I grieve this well, I believe I can dive into the big kid season with even more passion.

So, the crib is gone. But the pictures and the memories and the feels are here to stay.

Sweet Gibson babies, snuggling you was one of the greatest joys of my life. And helping you grow into excellent kids will be even better, I'm sure of it.

But snuggling your mom once in a while won't hurt. Go easy on me, kids. I've got much to learn.