Momma's Chair

Ignore the mess on the floor.  This is how it's been for the past 8+ years now, more so since our youngest, Gabe, came along.

But look at the chair.  It's a glider.  It came with the crib, dresser, and changing table we bought from a family out in Franklin a few months before Hubby and I welcomed our oldest, Zeke, into the world.

The parents who sold it to us said it was bittersweet.  They had so many wonderful memories of their little girl and that chair.  She was about 3 then, and they were ready to move her up to "big girl furniture."  So we bought it for cash and set it up in the yellow nursery that we'd painted and decorated that last month or so of my pregnancy.

I sat in that chair that first week he was home, feeding him bottles every 2 hours throughtout the night.

I sat in that chair while he was a toddler, and he'd be in my lap looking at board books and learning his shapes and colors.

I sat in that chair and laughed as I watched him do the moves in his Wiggles book over and over and over...

I sat in that chair and rocked him to sleep on those nights he'd wake up from a bad dream or had a boo boo and was just being pitiful.

I sat in that chair and cried some times, when I was so frustrated with parenting that I didn't know what to say or do, or if I should scream or just be quiet for a while.

I sat in that chair and fed his baby brother, while he looked on and patted him gently on the head.

I sat in that chair and sung my boys to sleep most nights of the week.

I sat in that chair and nodded off many times, when they insisted I stay with them because they were scared of the dark and wanted me there for "just one more minute."

I sat in that chair and read countless stories, sometimes while they were in their beds, other times with both of them in my lap.  (That got increasingly harder to do as the years went by.)

I sat in that chair and folded clothes...lots of clothes, and a gazillion little pairs of socks...while Zeke would sometimes read to me, and Gabe would be napping in the crib.

I sat in that chair and had long talks with each of them on my lap if they were having a bad day or had trouble in school, sometimes to console them, sometimes to give them a good telling off.

I sat in that chair.

Memories...lots of my own memories...in that chair.  And now, this chair is on its way to someone else's home, a friend of a friend, someone who's expecting their first baby.  I don't know who she is or where she lives, but I hope she has just as many fond memories in that chair as I did.

I see now why it was so bittersweet for that Franklin family.  It's when you finally admit that your kids do grow up, and things do change.

But for 8 years, that was momma's chair.  My chair.  And I'm so glad I get to pass it along.  :)