As I rock my two-and-a-half-year-old in the rocking chair in his room, I start having a slow, quiet realization. I am no longer in the baby’s room that I created years ago. Suddenly, I realize I am now in a kid’s room.
All of the nursery decor I picked out while pregnant is still here, of course. I went with a loose jungle and Savannah animal theme as a gender-neutral option, incorporating all sorts of animals like elephants, hippos, and tigers.
There’s the piece of lion art I bought at Kohl’s, not the second, but the third time I stopped to look at it. It was kind of pricey for what it was, and who pays for anything full-priced at Kohl’s? But I was feeling guilty for how little “new” you were getting compared to hand-me-downs from your big brother, so I splurged to hang it on your wall.
Now I see added to the room expressions of you – not just the idea of you, but actually you. Santa Claus brought you some Minion wall stickers since you watched Despicable Me 4 every day for months until Netflix took it off (a blessing and a curse). A big Bluey and a Stitch poster to round out your other favorite characters. Your five (5!) Elmos in different sizes on your bed. Last year’s Indiana Hoosiers basketball roster poster you inherited after your brother took it down in his room to make room for the new one (your exact words, I think, while grabbing it, were “My room!”)
The little baskets I used for little items I used to need every day – diaper cream, baby nail clippers, nose suckers – have been repurposed to hold big boy socks and underwear.
Your crib turned into a toddler bed. It will be temporary until we buy you a real big bed that hopefully will last you until the day you move out of our house. Both days will come sooner than I feel like they should, I’m sure.
Your brother’s room turned into a kid’s room when we physically moved houses – we left behind the nursery color we had painstakingly chosen and rebranded his room simply by virtue of having a new space. Your room feels like it is slowly molding into a kid’s room in front of my eyes, and it’s really hard to take in.
But right now, it’s just you and me rocking in this rocking chair before bedtime. This rocking chair will probably eventually find a new home in my classroom (I’ve been through 4 rockers in my teaching career; kids are rough on furniture). That day will feel very bittersweet.
All of this growing-up stuff feels a little bittersweet.
