Moving day

This morning we moved Z.'s bed across the room. Z.'s bed is twin-sized, a big ol' box with two drawers in it and a futon on top. The side of the room we moved it to contained a blanket chest topped by a Moses basket overflowing with sweaters, bedding, and yarn projects, and fronted by a laundry basket in similar condition. Behind and under the blanket chest were a repository of lost socks, spilled spools of thread, useless bit of paper, spare shoes, and breastmilk storage bottles. The corner next to the chest used to be my pumping station, and even though it's been a good solid year since I was sending any mamamilk to day care with Z., we hadn't cleared them out and they had fallen and scattered.

In short, it was a pretty big cleaning day, and now the corner of my bedroom that I refused to look at looks like a toddler mini-bedroom, complete with baskets of toys and a stepstool so she can get up onto her bed by herself (she was using the dog bed for that extra couple of inches, but the new layout won't permit that). We also decided to do away with the guardrail, since its only function has been to keep her animals on the bed, and the animals now have new quarters in the baskets and cubbies (we have given over some of our shelf space to her things in the new arrangement.)

And our bed is really our bed again. There is actual floor space between us and the kid. Phew.