Big Girls Don't Cry. Big Momma's Do.

When we brought Remi home from the hospital we didn't have anything in the realm of furniture. At. All.

It just seemed to happen so fast with her. We were called about adopting her. And then before you know it she was here. And then even quicker we were pulling out of the hospital giggling like kids and saying, "Do they know we're driving off with this baby? And we have noooo idea what we're doing?"

So when we brought her home we had to act - fast!

First priority. Get a bed.

Second priority. Take out a loan for bed.

Third priority. Figure out what to do since loan was denied.

Adoption ain't cheap. So if you're fortunate enough to adopt, then look, you might not be able to afford a bed and well, the kids' just gotta live with that. It's all about choices.

Thankfully, our friend Candie came through for us and GAVE US - FOR FREE - CUZ I LIKE ME SOME FREE - a bed that she had out in her garage. She washed it up real nice and pretty and before you knew it - it was as good as new.

Oh, there were a few quirks.

I mean, most beds raise and lower in four or five levels. Right? Not ours. It goes from the height of "look my baby is an infant and can only lay here and coo and I don't have to worry about them jumping out" to "look my child is now 12 and is pretty much laying on the ground but thankfully these bars are all around her head so at least she can't break free."

I'm not lying. When Remi was about 12 months old I would just have to lower her as much as I could into the bed and then let her fall the rest of the way. Because the bed was that low and my arms are that short. (I get it honest, my mom's arms are ridiculously short. Seriously, she looks just like Elton John. I kid you not.)

Until now.

Two nights ago Remi got a big-girl bed. Well, as "big girl" as it can be with Pooh and Tigger and Cookie and Elmo all laid up in it.

But big to her.

And too big to me.

It hurt my heart a little bit. I have to be honest.

To watch her pull the covers up over herself (just yesterday it was my job to keep her warm).

And to prop her head up on her new pillow (just yesterday it was my job to hold her head).

To walk out the door and hear her say, "Don't close the door mama...I scared," (just yesterday she couldn't say a word. Just yesterday she didn't know fear.)

But now that's changed. This morning she woke me up not by yelling from her crib, "maaaammaaaaa...where ahhhhh youuu???" But by walking in my room and touching me on the arm and saying, "Good mohning mama."

And tonight, as I tucked her in and said her prayers she looked up at me with eyes that I swear look like her daddies and said,
"Mama, don't close door? 'Kay?
"Okay, Remi."
"But mama, you get out now."
(Gulp) "Okay, Remi."

2 seconds later.

"Mama!!!"
"What Remi?"
"I need Pooh bear!!!!"

Oh, thank God. She's not grown yet.