Graduation

I'm not a very emotional person when it comes to my children's milestone achievements.

Unlike many, I didn't get all that weepy when I finished nursing my last child (although I thoroughly enjoyed nursing all three Things).

When holding a newborn and friends or family members ask me,

"Doesn't that make you want another one?"

The answer is always a resounding, "NO".

When, as babies, the three Things spoke their first words, took their first steps, peed on the potty for the first time, and got their first haircuts, I was not a hormonal wreck. I didn't cry or get nostalgic, I simply felt proud and was confident that things happen for a reason and all these goals were being reached, not to lament the loss of something in the past but to reach for future achievements and celebrate the inevitable.

And although I'm fighting this one, I think I possibly noticed a glimmer of something wet and shiny in the corner of my eye the other day when I disassembled this:

And placed two-year-old Thing 2 in her new big girl bed for the first time.


She handled the whole situation with grace and dignity, as she always does. She's slept in her bed two nights in a row and hasn't once gotten out to explore the new accessible world around her. I suspected she was ready to move into the bed a couple months ago . . . when she began climbing in and out of her crib with no problems.

So, there we have it friends. The crib that hosted all three Things for some crucially important months of sleep is no more. There are really no more "babies" around here and I am the mother to three little people who sleep in beds.