Goodbye to the Nursery by Margaret Hart

This past weekend a good friend of mine came to visit with her 14-month-old baby. Chasing her son around my house as he crawled almost as fast as I can walk, I was reminded of what my life was like seven years ago, when my son first started to walk. When we weren’t watching the baby’s every move to ensure he didn’t hurt himself, or try to shove something into his mouth that didn’t belong there, we were cleaning up the buffet he tossed on the kitchen floor at mealtimes.

At the end of the evening, after a full day of feeding, entertaining, and wrestling him into a Half Nelson just to change his diaper, I was nearly exhausted. His bedtime was 10:30pm, and by that time, I was yawning.

We had a lovely visit, and when it came time for my friend to leave, my husband and I packed up her SUV with our son’s crib and chest of drawers—a lovely set of nursery furniture that he’s outgrown. We also crammed in several bags of infant and toddler toys, all his crib bedding and matching window coverings, and about two years worth of clothing.

As she drove away, I started to feel sad. I loved my son’s nursery. His crib was white with turned spindles and slats, an old-fashioned look that I adored. His dresser was also white, with a changing table top. I changed a lot of diapers on that changing pad! His bedding was a jungle animal theme in muted tones of blue and green. His nursery was everything I had ever dreamed of, and now it is gone.

While I am sad to say goodbye to the nursery, I am happy that it will be appreciated by another mom, and provide sweet dreams for another little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy.  

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