So Long, Navy Couch

Growing up, my family had a running joke about my father's chair. We called it The Gold Chair. Although now that I think about it, the word gold  is probably too kind. More like a hideous vomit green. Yes, that's more like it. It was a Lazyboy recliner, but made long before Lazyboys produced their attractive line of chairs. This was his chair - he loved it so much, and refused to let my mother get rid of it, no matter how hard she tried (I get my decorating obsession from her, so you can only imagine how this killed  her!). It made its way from the family room down to the basement, and that was as much as Dad could budge. I never understood his love for this chair, and why he couldn't part with it, no matter how ratty it got.


Dad was always a good sport about our gold chair jokes, and would just laugh when we'd tease him about throwing it in the dumpster. They did eventually get rid of it, I'm sure the only reason was safety at that point - springs were probably cutting through the fabric from decades of love. I remember asking him one night why he had such a hard time parting with it. His eyes got soft and he looked off into the distance (as he does when he gets sentimental), and began to tell me..."This was the chair I rocked you kids to sleep in. The chair I sang you so many, many lullabies, held you for hours on end, fed you bottles (milk stains all over to prove it) and played pat-a-cake a million times. And then I'd bounce you on my knee and play horsey as you got older..." And suddenly I felt so awful for teasing him mercilessly about his ugly chair all those years. Here I thought it was just because it was just comfortable to him, and his refusal to part with it was his way of putting his foot down to all the pretty things Mom wanted to decorate the house with. I had no idea it was an emotional attachment all along. Funny how a chair can be so much more than a place to sit.

Last night, a friend came by to pick up our navy couch. Of course this means we're getting new couches, and I am waiting for their arrival as I type this very post. I'm beyond excited and cannot WAIT to transform our family room. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little bittersweet too. This couch has been like a sixth family member. It's usually the first place we hang out in the morning, and the last before we head upstairs to bed. It's been there from the very beginning, and has been there through many a baby bottle...

...and many, many bedtime stories...

It's been the perfect dancing stage...

...and the ultimate Rainy Day companion.

I can see the babies plain as day, laying on the chaise getting clobbered with kisses...

...and curled up watching Saturday morning cartoons.

It has been the best place for Spiderman to practice his webbing moves...

...and for wiped out kiddos to take an afternoon siesta...

...or to pile up on a tired Daddy who's trying to do the same.

But don't let all that relaxing fool you - it was also a great place for ninjas to attack as well.

So many happy times spent on this couch, from taking afternoon naps with our newborns, to the five of us curling up for Movie Nights sharing big bowls of popcorn together. This couch has grown with us as we went from two to five (and has the marks to prove it;).

As I look at the empty space in the family room right now, there's excitement and decorating visions swirling a mile a minute. But there's one thing that comes to mind amidst it all...

Dad, I so get it now.