It hit me while I was laying in bed one night, my baby girl doing what felt like cartwheels in my belly, my sleepy thoughts wandered until they landed on: uh, I’m going to be responsible for this little life in a matter of weeks. Maybe that should’ve sunk in earlier than 7 1/2 months pregnant, but y’know, everyone moves at their own pace. Initially responsibility brings to mind things like breastfeeding and colic and trying not to obsess too much over every little breath she takes. But after some time thinking (falling asleep is hard), I started to venture past the first few months of her life, on to the more substantial things that Jeremy and I will be responsible for as...
I was really in no hurry to move my son out of the crib. I liked knowing that he was safe and secure and planned to keep him there as long as I could. As he got closer to two, though, he became more and more interested in climbing and after seeing him put his foot on top of the crib rail a few times, I started to think about transitioning him. I was nervous that I'd come in after naptime to find him playing on the floor one day, or that I'd hear a thump followed by wailing instead! Every kid is different and there’s no magic age to move them out of the crib–you just have to use your judgement...