Today, as I was frantically looking for Lula's shoes at the last minute before we had to leave, I flipped my couch on to its back and a cloud of fruit flies emerged to hover around my head. Gross. Toddlers are known for stealing apples out of the fruit bowl, taking one or two bites, and leaving the apple on the floor right where they found a shiny distraction in the shape of a toy. The apple gets kicked under the couch and then becomes fruit fly habitat. But this time? No apple. I couldn't see anything under the couch, so I put the couch in its rightful position and ripped all the cushions off. No apple. Oh, no. Did it fall into The Crack, the place of no return??? That moment in time was a bad one for apple hunting, I was late for goodness sake, so I grabbed a pair of sandals and ran out the door, late for MOPS again.
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| July 2009: Still practically new |
On the drive, I fumed about Someday. Someday when I can buy a new couch. I imagined shopping for a new couch and the trials I would put it through to determine whether or not it was Downen worthy. First, I would sit on it. The cushion has to be the perfect depth: deep enough so that curling up with my feet under me is cozy, but short enough that I can sit upright and read out loud to my kids. The back has to be firm enough so we don't slouch, but not so soft that it becomes compressed over the years. The arms have to have the perfect height and padding so someone can lie down and take a nap without waking up with a crick in the neck. So I guess I would be laying on the couch as part of my test as well. Second, I would pull the cushions off and search for the places that library books, Pokemon cards, knitting needles, socks, apple cores, popcorn kernels, hair bands, ball point pens, and blocks go to die. If the couch has The Crack, like my current couch, it will be dismissed as unworthy. Thirdly, I will amaze the other shoppers and walk along the cushion seams on the back. Those seams get a lot of wear and
tear. Note the emphasis on tear. Our current couch has screws holding the fabric in place from years and years of toddlers trying to climb over the back of the couch. Fourth, the fabric composition: no brainer, must be cleanable. Toddlers in various stages of potty training nap on the couch. Fifth, and probably most importantly, I would put my 12 and 13 year old boys in sparring gear and have them charge at the couch at full speed. If I hear the splintering of wood, the couch is a no go. Their wrestling was cute when they were 2 and 3 years old. Ten years and 100 pounds later? Not so much.
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| The day Heidi unstuffed the couch |
My couch is the heart of the home. It has to be the best, most special, piece of furniture. The couch is where I sleep with my newborn babies curled up my chest. It is where my children camp out on Friday nights with bowls of popcorn. Its where we squeeze as many people as possible for family movie night. The couch is the preferred location for school work of all kinds. We've laughed on and around the couch, at jokes and antics and who knows what all. We've piled the cushions up into tall stacks and jumped into them (okay, the kids have, not me) and they've built forts on and around the couch. The couch is a great place to go cry too, whether you are the naughty toddler who just got disciplined, the sibling who has been teased one too many times, or the mom who just needs a break. When someone is sick, the couch is where they want to be, either with a cool cloth draped across their foreheads or a plastic bowl grasped firmly to their side. Our couch is seriously the best place in the house to sleep. Toddler Nap Central: just put on the old Fantasia movie, and they are out by the Nutcracker Suite. With Mark's crazy work schedule and babies waking up every few hours, I often find myself sleeping on the couch halfway through the night. And when it is fire season? No better place to be than lost in a pile of blankets with various siblings/children's limbs across yours and dogs at your feet.
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| A Winter Evening |
So when we do get to the point where we have to buy a new couch, it will be with great sadness that I dispose of this one. The fruit fly cloud will just be another funny story, lost somewhere, just like Lula's shoes.
