"We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully," Romans 12:6-8

Wednesday, February 26, 2014


One word says it all.


My baby isn’t a baby.

With each passing day, my baby is getting further and further for being “my baby”. Her vocabulary is expanding faster than I can keep track of. She seems to wake-up each morning full of new words and phrases. For example, this morning as I made her breakfast she called out “HEY, you! Juice Please.” Seriously--- where did that come from? This is not the same child I tucked into bed last night, she’s older, she’s wittier--- she’s not my baby.

This whole growing up thing really sunk in last week. It was a spur of the moment decision but we decided to switch her to a big girl bed. I was a nervous wreck. It’s no secret that my child has a long history of being a horrendous sleeper. Yet, she still liked her crib. Had not even contemplated escaping from her crib. I found comfort in the fact that she was “contained” in her crib. But with Baby B coming and lots of new transitions following we realized if we didn’t switch now, Baby B would be sleeping in a pack n play til it’s first birthday. So I bit the bullet and made the switch.

We talked it up---- big time! Went to the store, let her pick out the sheet for her bed herself. (I may have only given her two choices, but I’ll stick with the story that she picked them herself) As we made her “big girl bed” she played, climbed and got in the way helped. Then I started praying--- cause it was bedtime. The question was--- would bedtime actually involve our child and a bed? I ran through every scenario of her climbing out and coming to visit us, her laying there crying and scared, her playing in her room, just plain old nights of no sleep while we adjusted. We continued with bedtime routine as normal--- read our bible, said our prayers, I climbed in bed with her and she asked for “more Jesus” while I sang. After singing the same song for the third time, I kissed her goodnight, told her I loved her, held my breath and walked out the door. Then---- not another peep. Yep, that’s right. She laid there with her bunny and lovey, and fell blissfully right to sleep.

Meanwhile, I sat out on the couch in tears. Bittersweet tears. My baby wasn’t a baby. My baby didn’t need me. Of course I was overjoyed that we were not battling sleep. I was soooo happy that she felt comfortable in her new bed. But my heart was also heavy. It was a much bigger pill to swallow then I originally thought. It has now been a week, the crib has been taken down, and my little girl is doing amazingly well in her “big girl bed”. I feel almost like a mommy of a newborn again, when I sneak in there during a few naptimes just to watch her sleep like a big girl. Remembering the days when she was just so little. Feeling happy and sad all at the same time.

But I guess that’s life, right. We all grow-up. Things change. We reminisce on things from the past but enjoy the “now” just as much. Each day with my little seems to get better, seems to be more fun, seems to bring some new joy to my heart. Yet, when I stop and think---- my heart can get a little heavy as I realize that time is just going by so very fast.


My baby isn’t a baby.

But she is the most special, smart, funny, sweet, and LOVED little girl that I know.

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