Bed Bittersweetness

September 16, 2009

Until very recently, I swore up and down that I would never move Aura from her crib to an actual bed. Given her non-interest in climbing out, I figured we’d broach the subject of a Big Girl Bed right around the time she headed off to middle school, or perhaps when she developed the cunning and foresight to smuggle a screwdriver into the crib and disassemble the sucker herself. It all sounded like an extremely decent plan to me.

And then I did the it’s-midnight-let’s-make-sure-she’s-still breathing check (report: she was; that SIDS paranoia is a tricky┬áhabit to break) and I noticed that, when stretched out, Aura’s feet nearly touched the end of the crib. After sobbing for 502 hours, I decided the time had come, albeit earlier than planned.

The Big Girl Bed arrived last Thursday. It is a wee bit larger than is probably necessary, but damn it, it’s the sleigh bed Mommy always wanted as a child and if I have to live vicariously through my two-and-a-half-year-old to get it, then so be it. Aura loves it, despite some difficulty adjusting to the idea of rails that you can smash your shins against when climbing in. However, said smashing often results in an ice pack, and ice packs rank high on the Aura’s Favorites list, somewhere lower than jelly beans but┬ádefinitely above paper-clip chains.

And I have to say: While I miss the idea of the crib and the idea of her as a true “baby,” the bed has its perks. Now I can crawl in with her, right after she wakes up in the morning. Now we can snuggle more comfortably as I read her stories, her head resting against my chest. And now, instead of looking down at her, I can lie right next to her and breathe in her sweet, drool-scented smell, and remember that she is indeed still my baby.

Oh, crib. How I miss ye.

Oh, crib. How I miss ye.