Remember the nursery?  Remember how we were going to have it finished in April and send pictures so everyone could see Her Highness’s future boudoir?  Remember that?

Yeah, Maggie and I finished it this weekend.  Yay, procrastination!  On the upside, the nursery is aaa-DOR-able and fit for a princess.  As for the pictures…well, I’m tired now.

After the hanging and folding and putting away and rearranging, I looked around at all the pink and green and preciousness and thought, “Well, that’s done.  We’ll probably go ahead and move her in here after she starts high school.” 

Then Maggie and Gill came at me with the moving Eve to her crib THAT NIGHT!  Can you believe that craziness?  The Pack n Play in our room is hardly even broken in yet!  Plus, it has a changing table attachment, and we don’t have a changing table in the nursery ( I deny all allegations of doing that on purpose, by the way).  AND, what if me and my big ol’ nursing pillow won’t fit in the rocker?  AND, what about the cats and the breath stealing?  AND, I have to do some more research on crib bumpers, ’cause I don’t remember whether we have to take them out yet.  So, NO, we’re not ready for that, and I don’t think it’s time.

Evie slept in her crib for the first time Sunday night.  Maggie, Gill and Logic – 1; Katie and her old friend, Neurosis – 0.

Sigh.  I walked past the empty Pack n Play after putting Eve down Sunday night and felt a tug at my heart.  I mean, Eve is maybe 15 feet away from me now.  I can see her crib from where I sleep.  I still change her diaper and nurse her at night in our bedroom.  She still has  morning hang-out time with her daddy in our bed, “discussing” her upcoming day and gazing adoringly at each other.  This is not a huge change.  But, and let’s all put on our Melodramatic Mommy hats, I see this as the first of many times that little Evie will move just a little further away, until I wake up one morning and she’s in kindergarten.  Then I wake up the next morning and she’s in college, then out of the house and off on her own.  She certainly won’t fit into the Pack n Play then, I guess.


To tell the truth, it’s a bittersweet feeling.  I am excited to see her grow up.  I want to understand her answers when I talk to her.  I look forward to taking her to the library, the park and the movies.  I can’t wait until our first family vacation.  I wonder if she’ll be gifted in music and have a natural ear like her dad or if she’ll just own a million CD’s like her mom.  I hope she likes to read.  I imagine what she’ll look like in her prom dress.  I’m ready to hold her when she cries over a friend’s betrayal or when a boy breaks her heart.  I know she can’t stay a baby forever.

I guess I want two Evies.  I want the baby Eve, with her little fingers and toes, big, bright blue eyes and bubbly coos, to keep safe and warm against me.  But I also want the grownup Eve.  I want to fling her out into the world and see what she does.  I want her to come back and tell me how it was.  Then I want to treat us to lunch and get pedicures.

I want to be Mommy and Mom.  I want now and twenty years from now.

Lord.  Where’s the Kleenex?  I just wanted to tell y’all she moved to her crib!

Okay.  So how does she like her crib, you ask to get me back on track?  It’s looking good.  She LOVES the mobile and the ladybugs and dragonflies on the bumpers.  But the first night I laid her down in it she looked around at all the stuffed animals like, “Dude, no way I get any sleep with all these ducks and bunnies staring at me.  Yikes.  Um, hey, can y’all, like, take a break or something?  Baby tryin’ to sleep here.  Okay, then.  I’ll just close my eyes, and maybe you’ll go away.  Nope, still there.  Damnit!  Stop staring at me, ducks and bunnies!”  Then she spit her paci out at them.

Then she fell asleep.

I?  Am not sleeping all that well.  I’m yawning throughout the day, which I wasn’t doing before.  Sunday night I woke up to every sound she made.  Between you and me, I was sort of waiting for an excuse to go get her.  Then when she finally did (semi) wake to (maybe) nurse at 4am, I ran into the nursery like a crazy person, grabbed the baby — who was still half asleep and very confused — and ran back into our room, almost cackling.  “You can’t have my baby, crib!  You’ll never take us alive, nursery!”

A bit of an overreaction on my part.  And you can quit with the eyerolling, Gill, Maggie and  Logic.

So, basically, and not for the last time I’m sure, I have separation anxiety and Eve is fine.  While I wax philosophic on the circle of life and little birds leaving the nest, Evie gurgles at the ceiling fan.  Yep, everything seems about right.

Tune in next week when Eve fits into her 6-month-old onesies, and I have a total meltdown.


“Goodnight, sweet Princess,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”