Rock-a-bye-bye, my baby!

Sad.  So very, very sad.  I feel like a fool though because I know that people have real loss in their lives and this loss is very superficial, but a loss nonetheless.  I can't hardly bear to even write the words.  Here goes.

I, Gwen O'Brien, no longer have a recliner in my living room.

There.  I said it.  I am a disgrace to my family.  The Hales family will disown me for sure.  How have I become such a....such a.....such an O'Brien??  I mean when I first met Jeremy and his family I thought "who ARE these people?"  With their crazy couch and loveseat set-ups.  No moving furniture?  Wh-wh-whaaaat???  I mean I love them, but WTF??

It's ok.  It's gonna be ok.  I can survive this.  I know it seems silly but this is a truly painful shift in my life.  I was born and raised on a recliner.  Well, not born on one.  That would have just been awkward and quite frankly disgusting.  But I would bet a lot of money it was the first place I visited upon being brought home from the hospital.  Which is really why I think this is so painful.  Rocking recliners are meant for rockin' babies.  And I have.  For 6 straight years I have rocked my babies in my living room and now I just have to sit on a stupid couch and stare at them.  And they at me.  BORING.  And not at all relaxing.  Or comforting.

It was this last little baby that is responsible. Yes, I have William to thank for this.  And yes, I will hold him responsible for the rest of his life.  That tiny kid has spewed so much spit up on me and that chair that it couldn't be saved.  No amount of Febreze could save it.  I have tried.

Oh I miss it so much.  This is the first blog I have ever written while slouching on my couch.  Stupid couch and ottoman.  It's true that our living room looks better with the two matching pieces of furniture in it.  It was overcrowded with my recliner and it didn't match.  But I didn't care.  Beauty isn't everything.  It's what is inside that counts.  I don't know how that is even relevant here but it sounds good. 

I refused to let the new fancy furniture bully my sweet little 1990-esk recliner.  I continued to give it all of my attention even after we bought new furniture 3 years ago.  It was perfectly fit to my body.  I had it for 15 long years!  It has lived in 2 states, 3 cities, and 8 households.  And now it is sitting sadly in the garage awaiting it's death.  I wonder if it even knows.  If it's out there wondering what it could have done differently.  I wonder if it's silently cursing the overstuffed chair or if it's stepping aside gracefully for the newer and perkier models.  I wonder if it's feeling unloved and abandoned or if it's just basking in the wonderful memories we made over the years.  I wonder if I'm even still writing about the chair.  Awkward.

I miss the glue stain where Louie ate a bottle of Elmer's glue on it when he was a puppy.  I miss losing the remote in the sides.  I miss the boys climbing up on the arms to sit and read books with me.  Wayyyyyy to much room for all of us on the couch.  On my chair we were crammed together.  And it was a good thing. 

But it had to go.  I loved you dear, dear recliner, but it was time to let you go.  And with your departure enters a new era in my life.  One of boring, matching, adult furniture. BLAH!