The Final Night Behind Bars

As soon as I stepped into Punky's room tonight, I turned into a blubbering idiot.

The tears started immediately and I did what I could to contain myself long enough to get through the bedtime routine.

As I do every night, in my head I silently cursed her slightly out-of-square crib as I struggled to drop the side.  I gave her a big hug and kiss.  I placed her head gently on the pillow and pulled her pajama legs down.  I handed her the special blankie and Elmo to snuggle.  I grabbed her favorite baby quilt, tucked her in, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.  I told her I love her.

"Goodnight Moon, Mommy, please," she said softly and held up one little finger as she added, "Just one time, please, Mommy."

I leaned over the side of the crib and somehow managed to spit it out, word for word, as I have done night after night for what seems like a lifetime.  I tried desperately to sound normal; I didn't want her to think there was something wrong.  I didn't want her to get upset.

I gently touched her cheek then pulled the drop-side back up and locked it into place. 

"Goodnight, baby girl. Sweet dreams. Mommy will see you in the morning. I love you."  I blew her a kiss and literally ran out of the room.  I knew I was about to lose it...

And I did.  The minute I reached the couch I completely melted down and sobbed like I lost my best friend.  Punky's dad fought the urge to roll his eyes and call me ridiculous and opted for the hug and supportive approach.  Wise choice on his part.

You see...

This was it.

The very last time I will ever tuck my sweet, baby girl safely into her crib.

The very last night I will sneak in to check on her and reach over the side to make sure she is okay.

Tomorrow at this time, her crib will be merely a pile of scrap wood behind the house waiting for trash day.

And now that the moment's upon us, I seem to be having some difficulty letting go... I know she's not a baby anymore, but getting rid of the crib is like the final step in that realization.  I have a little girl now.  She is growing up, and I need to learn to deal with it.  

Her new bedroom set will be delivered on Thursday, but we have to dismantle her baby furniture tomorrow because there won't be enough time to do it Thursday morning.  She'll sleep with me tomorrow night, and Thursday we'll tackle the "big girl bed" for the first time.

I'm too ashamed to admit how many times I've gone into her room while writing this post.  

In my mind, I can see her as a newborn in the center of the crib.  It seemed so huge at the time.  I can see her watching her frog mobile and smiling as it went round and round.  I remember when she learned to stretch her arms out for me to pick her up in the morning.  I remember the first time I went in to get her and she was standing up in the crib just grinning from ear to ear.  I'll never forget when I found her standing on her head in the center of it.  

And I remember praying that my monkey of a child would never attempt to climb out of it.  For whatever reason, she never did.  I can hardly believe it.

I'm heading back to her room for one last cry before calling it a night.  I need to get some rest.  I'll need the energy Thursday when I spend half the night returning her tiny hiney to her bed when she repeatedly escapes with no bars to confine her.