crib

Just before Ivy was born, I borrowed this little crib from my mom to put in our room. It was made by my great-great-grandfather, and my great-grandmother slept in it, my grandma slept in it, my mother slept in it, and all of my siblings and I slept in it. And now that I've typed that out I'm kind of amazed the thing is not in pieces, because seriously. That is a lot of babies. But it's not in pieces, I assure you: it is sturdy and beautiful, and I've enjoyed having Ivy tucked inside it in our bedroom.

Last week we moved Ivy into the big crib in her own room. It's kind of a funny thing; with all three of my kids, I positively long for them to move into their own room because everyone's sleep improves exponentially, and then when it finally happens I find myself standing in the middle of my empty bedroom feeling...bereft. It's like early-onset empty-nesters.

Of course, after the first solid night's sleep in months, that feeling passes and I feel nothing but the AWESOMENESS of PURE SLEEP, that's a high I've missed.