Yesterday we moved Benjamite’s crib the hell out of our room and back into his. Where it will stay. Permanently. We reclaimed our room, our bathroom and our television, which has not been on for two seconds since he came home.
I forgot how much I enjoyed watching TV in bed. And talking above a whisper for any length of time. But Husband and I are champion drawer openers now – not a peep. We should be recruited by the CIA.
But? I miss him a little.
No more tiny noises, whimpers, grunts. No more peeps or laughs that come only from dreamy sleep. No more wee breath sounds. Just quiet.
(Well, not THAT quiet. Now we have the damn baby monitor jacked up to THIS LOUD so we can hear those little breath sounds whenever we want. When he cries we bolt upright it’s so loud.)
Suddenly our room looks so much bigger again. The furniture is back where it was before we prepared for his arrival. There aren’t (as many) diapers and burp cloths strewn about everywhere. A room for grown ups has returned. Or at least two people pretending to be grown ups.
I was finally forced to find some stuff to put on Benjamite’s walls since he was going to be actually, you know, LOOKING at them more. I ordered his name in funky wood letters from this great site and a set of four pictures from another that I need to have framed. All that’s left is to find a low bookshelf for his books and toys he’s been given so far…and a few holdovers from The Swimmy.
The Swimmy is so happy to have Benjamite in the room next to hers. As she puts it, “Brothers and sisters are supposed to sleep next to each other in the night.” I think she’s right.
He slept for seven hours straight in his new room last night. Seven hours. And he’s sleeping in there for his nap right now. It’s like a little vacation.
But I still kinda miss him.