Turtle and Gus: Rock A Bye-Bye Crib...

Today was a... I don't even know the accurate adjective... It was a day. Let's just call it a day.

Today, at my request, my husband took down the baby crib. We didn't attempt to make it a toddler bed, we didn't move it back into their room... we just took it down. On this same day, my husband moved the baby cradle from their bedroom (where it was thrown 11 months ago when Adam outgrew it) into the garage, waiting to return to my Mom's house for the next grandbaby.

Let me just be blunt. It sucked.

These pieces of furniture have been in my house in one room or the other for 3 years. They're the staple pieces that have been the sources of cuss words and the catchers of junk as we went through life. Ella slept in the cradle until she was 5 months old, where she immediately threw a middle finger at the crib and slept in our bed until she was one. Adam slept in the cradle for about 2 months before he was too big for it, and then slept in the crib for 6 blissful months before he figured out he was allowed to have an opinion. I've stubbed my toes in the middle of the night while trying to sneak from one room to the other, usually stifling a Yelp or saying "CRIB!" as the pain that only a stubbed toe causes rattled through my bones. I watched my babies look like they were laying in a giant baby trap, only to blink and watch the bed look so small as they climbed over the rails to escape.

And look, okay, I get it. "These are the days of our lives." "Time flies when you're having fun!" "The days are long, but the years are short." "You're going to miss this!"

But I just don't know that I totally agree with it. Time doesn't really fly until it's flew. Some days, I resented that crib's presence in my house. How dare it take up ALL THE WALL SPACE in its "like new" condition? The crib was moot. I had an empty crib, a crick in my neck, and a baby in my bed for three years. ...FINE! There's still a baby in my bed and I'm all about co-sleeping, even though I think it's probably done permanent damage to my neck and I think I have some condition I found on google called "Saturday Night Palsy." I sleep in the same position, and I have slept in the same position every night for 3 years. So much of the past three years have been made up of just trying to survive, bro, and just trying to make it to the "next phase."

My daughter went through a really tumultuous year, beginning in April of 2015. Chronic ear infections, sometimes two per month. Chronic tonsillitis. Picky eating. Chronic antibiotics, so bad that she even stopped responding to some. RSV. No sleep. Croup. Psychotic rage that I can only attribute to just being exhausted from feeling like crap every day of her sweet baby life. My son took it upon himself to take a few "sick shifts" whenever Ella was actually healthy. So basically, somebody in this house was sick PRETTY MUCH every week for a year. I was stuck inside. I couldn't go to church, or when the kids were healthy, I was too scared to put them in the nursery because of whatever was running rampant that season. You want to talk about being a "Stay at Home Mom." I literally stayed at home. And eventually, people stopped asking us to hang out, because we always had a sick kid. It was a dark, hard year.

P.S. I know, BELIEVE ME I KNOW, that other people have had darker and harder years. My kids are happy and breathing, and there are other people who would gladly take fevers and coughs over alternatives. I know. I hear you. I'm not discounting just how blessed we are, so let's just skip over the political correctness.

Yet in the middle of what was the hardest year of motherhood yet (yes, out of my whopping 3,) there was joy. Baby giggles erupted through pain and fevers. New tricks were learned in the doctor's office waiting rooms. My kids LOVE our pediatrician and say "Yay!" When she walks into the room. We cuddled hours upon hours. The house was a total disaster area, every minute of every day... Because somebody always needed to be held. And I held them. I scooped them up, usually cried as I rocked them, and wondered how long this was going to be our life.

Right about the time my cheese was almost completely slid off of my cracker, Ella's ears just stopped getting infected. One day out of the blue. Adam's sleepless nights suddenly turned into 7 hour stretches. We had a friend pay to have our house cleaned from top to bottom while we were out of town. I wept. WEPT when I saw what my laundry floor looked like NOT covered in snotty onesies and spit up shirts. I took a brave little leap and started a photography business, and it's flourishing. We found a little group of friends that we love to be around. We plan things, and we're watching our kids grow up together (when they don't have their eyes glued to a screen). My son is eating me out of house and home, and he's officially weaned. LITERALLY in two months, it's like I'm living an entirely different life. A life where, for the first time, I have no idea where the thermometer is. I couldn't tell you where to find a syringe for Tylenol. My kids are sleeping decently, and Ella is learning that her bed is more comfortable than the hardwood floor next to ours.

And today, for the first time, I walked into my bedroom and there was no crib there. I walked into Ella's room and the cradle left a giant space that probably matches the new hole in my Uterus. Time didn't fly until it flew.

I know what you're thinking. "Just have another baby!" Well, Cody isn't quite on board with that plan. I think technically, he's at a firm no. I don't even know that I'M on board with that plan. But now, as I type this, and my newly potty trained 3 year old is upstairs quietly watching Peppa Pig while she plays with her barn... And my one year old is munching on Apple Jacks as he watches "Toy Story," I have to stop and ponder if I'm ready for this part of it. It's been so long, I don't even know that I remember a version of myself that wasn't lactating. These tiny little ankle grabbers are moving into a new independence, and some days I can see little glimpses of a REALLY cushy future for me. Other days, I pause and wonder if this was really it. How could the baby years already be done? What's next? Eye rolls and 3 hours of homework? Boyfriends and girlfriends? Driving? MAKE IT STOP BEFORE I IMMACULATELY CONCEIVE.

Basically, I was already struggling some struggles before the crib and cradle were ripped away from my grasp. So many times over the past year, I called Cody and said "YOU COME HOME NOW OR I'M BURNING THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND!" And he usually just said "You'll be alright babe." And usually I was. Some days, I wasn't. Some days I burned the mental prison of my mind house down, and some days I had it totally under control.

BASICALLY this blog was just a place to come and say that I've been slapped across the face by the reality of these years slipping away, and I've somehow found the courage to actually request time to slow down a bit. Well, maybe we'll wean Adam and get him out of diapers... But then it can just FREEZE. And truthfully, a thank you is in order to the people who left  Starbucks on my porch... The people that randomly text me encouragements... The people that promised me it would get better as I mentally stabbed you with a fork. Thank you for picking up some of my fat rolls and trudging through it with me. I truly believe we're on the other side. It'll probably still be hard sometimes... But what it all comes down to... is that everything is gonna be fine (fine, fine.)

If you didn't catch it, you're too young for this blog, bro.