She hasn’t slept in her crib for several weeks now, so this weekend, after everyone left from the workshop and before the kids came home, we did a little room makeover (Target loves me, by the way):

I’m going to be completely honest here: the only reason I did the makeover was to help me carry through the emotional task of taking that crib down. That’s it. That’s the last reminder of our baby days. I remember shopping for that crib with my mom. I remember the excitement (and confusion and fear) Virgil and I felt the first time we put that crib together. It seemed like such a foreign object in this house built for two. I remember our puppy dog spent that first night under the crib…she would not come out. I remember my hubby getting projectile poo’ed on while changing a diaper in that crib. I remember how my little Logi Bear used to look in the summer time in just a saggy diaper and rosy red cheeks waking up from a nap in that crib. I remember how excited I was to finally get to put pink sheets on that crib and how Amry would gaze up at her bee mobile until she finally drifted off to sleep.

That crib has been in our house for 7 years. Almost a decade. My mom and sister helped me take it down. I’m glad they were there. I’m also pretty sure my sis didn’t see me well up when she asked if we could store it for her to use one day. It would be an honor.

And so while the crib is put away until I get a new niece or nephew someday, my little girl is enjoying her “new pink room” as she calls it. She was so excited to explore all the new things…she was especially intrigued by the dress up trunk at the foot of her bed (hence the leotard and tutu). It brings me such joy to see her so comfortable in the very room that she was born in. Comfortable enough not to ask where her crib was even if I was kind of hoping she would.