About me: I'm 40 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 8-year-old Junior, our 5-year-old Everett, our baby and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Summer scarf sportin', complete with tears
When we first started using the Amby bed with Junior, some gawked and asked incredulously, "You let your baby sleep in that thing?" Some called it a sack and behaved as if we'd suspended our child from a rusty nail in the basement. Still others whispered that Chuck and I were hippies on acid who snubbed cribs because of a rectangular regime phobia.
Don't trust the rectangles, man.
I never cared what they said. I loved the Amby bed and credited it with getting Junior to sleep a blissful 11 hours a night (the sleep benefits of gentle rocking have even been scientifically proven).
Sure we had our hurdles to cross when trying to get Junior out of his beloved Amby bed after he reached the maximum weight capacity (my mother actually begged us to go to Home Depot so we could build a bigger version) but we were happy to use it again with Diddlydoo.
But these second kids, they have a mind of their own don't they? Fricken Diddlydoo doesn't just lie there like Junior did. At seven months he's already learned to roll and crawl. Hell, he'll probably be asking for the car keys sometime next week.
This doesn't bode well for the Amby bed. Once your tot rolls over he's outta there.
So I'm packing it up today and putting it away. Selling it, maybe, on ebay (autographed Amby bed anyone? Just $1,000!). Saying good-bye.
(Can you hear my sniffling?)
I'm also packing away the pink scarf that we, um, tied to the top of the Amby bed so we could swing the bed from the mid-slumber comfort of our bed (hey, our friends used to give theirs a gentle kick with their foot).
I'll never look at that scarf the same way again, and I love that. There were times when Diddlydoo would fight a nap and I'd want to strangle myself with the scarf. Times when my mother would catch me pulling on the scarf when trying to catch a nap and she'd snort and call me crazy. Times when Junior would race into the room and start tugging on the scarf, swinging the bed like it was a milkshake maker and then ask, "Is my brother in there?"
I love all of that. I love that motherhood has forever changed what was once a plain old pink scarf into a museum of memories.
Added bonus: the pink scarf is now sufficiently stretched to adorn the necks of two people or one giraffe, whichever the occasion calls for.
What's better than that?
You can't think of anything can you?
I didn't think so.
P.S. If you are a fellow Amby Bed lover, the company recently introduced product enhancements to its Amby Motion Bed in response to a voluntary recall.