It's a Bittersweet Symphony, this life. Thank you The Verve for that song. Every parent will face the day when your baby, or in my case, child - starts sleeping in his or her own bed. Our daughter is three years old. You'll meet her soon. And she's been in our bed since we've transitioned from the West coast to the East coast basically back in August. So it's been six months or pretty darned close. It started with just needing one of us to lie down with her at night to go to bed and slowly became the trap of needing us with her. Since everything in her life was in upheaval, we didn't - and wouldn't - be tough on her. You'll find that's a common theme with our household. But tonight my dear friends, my daughter is in her own bed. Her room is a shrine to Princesses. Disney and beyond. Wall murals, starry twinkle lights, a pink canopy over an antique bed. But in our move, the mattress was lost and the new one just arrived today - with her new purple 600 thread count bed linens.
And without issue, without tears, tonight she sleeps. And I will sleep alone (husband is working away) for the first time in years, without hearing snoring or farting or getting kicked in the face, stomach, chest by a toddler with long and strong legs. And you know what? I will miss her.
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