Way back when we learned Phoebe was on the way, it was decided that Julia and Lucy would get bunk beds. And finally, on President’s Day, after much comparison shopping, measuring, deliberating and penny-pinching, it happened. The girls were stoked. It had been about a year since we first mentioned the Make Room for Phoebe Bunk Bed Plan and I’m pretty sure they’d begun to think we were just yanking their chains when we’d talk about how we were going to get them.
Seeing those beds built before their very eyes was better than an episode of SpongeBob. It had enticed Lucy to grab her puke bucket and leave her sick spot on the couch to march her fevered feet upstairs and witness the miracle. Julia drew the delivery men a “thank you for bringing me my new bed” picture. I marveled at how accurately I’d measured as the beds – that happened to match the existing bedroom furniture and our budget – just fit and, somehow, made the room look bigger. Dave paced and fretted and made bets on who would fall off the top and break a bone first. I offered to throw him off to end the suspense. He didn’t like that idea.
Julia claimed the top bunk (a.k.a. The Bug’s Nest) and Lucy dove into “the down bunk” (i.e. The Bear Cave).
Putting on the sheets and making up the beds was a bit of a challenge for me, but I figured I could handle doing it once or every other week. Lucy threw up a few times the first night to give me some practice.
And now, Phoebe has a crib to call her own.
It was a year ago (on Sunday) that our Picasso was hit by a car. And while I was telling you, “she’s going to be okay,” the vet was telling us, “we’re not sure she’s going to make it.” Even when she came home, it wasn’t a certainty that she’d survive. She had a great deal of brain damage – the full extent of which we wouldn’t know for months – and a lot of healing to do.
But she did heal. Enough to be under my feet every morning. Enough to to crash through the house either two steps in front or behind my light saber brandishing girls. Enough to find her way to the lap of the one who needs a kitty in it the most. Enough to fill my front window and my heart every time I see her.
“We should totally go to an indoor water park.”
“I don’t know, Jule Bug.”
“You said we’d do it this year.”
“When did I say that?”
“Hello!?!? Family bucket list!?!?”
“You’re right, I did. I just don’t think I’m feeling up to it right now…”
“You know…The Incident. I’m not sure we should descend upon an indoor water park or any place, really, right now.”
“Ugh, Mom. I really love you, but GET OVER IT!!!”
It might be time to end my self-imposed exile from All Things Public. You know, for the children.
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