Tonight is the last night. Tomorrow we move to a lovely home, where you will have the biggest yard to play in and woods to frolic and explore with the dog. Where you will have a huge room to play, and live in, conspire with your friends in. And while I cannot wait until we’re finally there, I find myself a teeny bit sad about leaving this place—your first home.
When I put you to bed tonight, we sat together in the rocker, and sang our silly songs. I remembered a baby just two years ago that I nursed every few hours in those early days, sitting in the same rocker, trying not to fall asleep and counting the minutes until I could go back to bed, all the while marveling at your perfect little face, your perfect little self.I remembered rocking you, listening to our favorite lullaby cd, and me, in those early postpartum days, crying every time because I couldn't believe you were here, with me, after waiting for you for so long.
It was in this room that you took your first naps, learned to sleep so well from month 1 in your crib, and where we read our stories. It was in this room, this tiny closet of a room, that we cuddled and were silly, or where I comforted you when you were upset and you just wanted to be held. It was in this room that I watched you sleep, serene and cherubic, in your sweet little zipper gowns, arms flat back on either side. It was in this room that I watched you pull yourself up in your crib for the first time; where you talk to your stuffies, and make all sorts of plans for the days ahead. It was in this room that I’ve changed no less than a zillion diapers.
Yet I know you’ll love our new home. You’ve been there so much already—you’ve staked out your space. But, no matter how much we can’t wait to leave this place, it will always be your first home. Where you learned to crawl and took your first steps. Where you danced to music and went running down the hall, playing peekaboo around the corner. Where you took your first bath. Where you went for your first walk with Gabby. Where you had your first play dates.
My goal tomorrow is to have yours be the room that is the last one we move and the first one we set up. I want you to go to bed tomorrow night with the same sense of security and safety that you’ve always had, knowing that I’ll be just right down the hall. You’re growing up, and I know you’ll do just fine. But you're still just little. And change is hard.
I know your long term memory has yet to even develop, so you may never even remember this place. But I’ll remember. And I’ll show you pictures. Because, we’re movin’ on.
|Exploring the new place. Good for somersaults.|