Unique Serving Platter

When my parents were very young, and knew that I was on the way, they made all sorts of preparations to welcome me to this world.

My dad had been working on constructing a sailboat, when he found out that my mom was pregnant. He quickly abandoned his original plans and began working on a new project of more pressing need - he began building a cradle.

This baby bed was one of a kind and absolutely beautiful. My father took the time to make this cradle a very high end work of art. He carefully measured the distances from their own bed to build the cradle so that it was within easy arms reach for my mother, should I awake during the night a need a little rocking to soothe me back into a restful slumber. With a gently nudge the cradle would smoothly rock back and forth, with no creaking or scraping, due to my father’s careful planning and workmanship.

This baby bed was better than anything that could be bought in stores. My father included detailing and scrollwork that can only be the fruits of a labor of love.

Before long, I was born. Somehow my father knew that I would be a difficult child and this wonderful cradle was a saving grace during the long sleepless nights to follow. Even during the day, when my mother would be me down for a much needed nap, she would place me in my little baby bed. The gentle movement and calming motion was the only thing that had a chance of getting me to drift off to sleep for any length of time.

That cradle served it’s purpose during the early years for me and my two sisters to follow. Later on my father built some other pieces to match, however, today the only piece that remains is a toy chest with my name and birth date carefully carved into the surface. I use this box to this day as a box of mementos and pictures from my childhood. It’s so beautiful that it occupies a place of prominence in my living room for all to see and admire.

I often wonder what ever happened to my wonderful baby bed. As a parent with two small children of my own, I often wished that the cradle from my own childhood was available for us to use with our babies. That baby bed held the ability to comfort and calm any crying baby that was privileged to use it. The baby beds that we end up using today, lack the charm and quality that my special cradle offered. Nowadays, baby beds are mass produced using whatever materials are easily available, economical and hopefully, flame-retardant. They feature functionality, are usually designed to fit in with adult decor and often resemble miniature jail cells for our sweet babies. I’m sure that the baby beds of today have soaring safety features - one area that perhaps my little cradle lacked in some ways - but today’s baby beds also lack the charm and magical quality, that only a labor of love could capture and share with loved ones.

In today’s fast-paced world, life seems focused on what money can buy. People don’t usually have the time to even think about creating and building solutions for their friends and loved ones. And yet what a difference it can make, and what a lasting testament can be attained, when time and effort are put forth in creating lasting solutions. Anyone can buy an item off the shelf and present it as a gift - the value of making something with your hands is very special, especially when motivated by love. This sort of gift will be appreciated and cherished, and can create memories that last a lifetime.

I love my 600 thread count sheets, I truly do. I did not always have this kind of luxury – the comfort of 600 thread count sheets, and I am aware of the difference that having a high thread count can make. Growing up with 300 thread count sheets may not seem like a big deal. It wasn’t one. But the sheets were just one thing – everything was a little chintzy. Oh, we were not poor. We always had enough to get by, even if just barely some of the time, but we were not well off by any means either. My 600 thread count sheets are not so much a luxury, as a symbol of the luxury that my comparative success has afforded me.

After all, when I was growing up, I used to never be able to sleep. It was not because of the 300 count sheets that I couldn’t sleep, nonetheless, I remember what it was like. I would toss and turn all night in my little room, looking at my faded gray walls in the light coming through the venetian blinds, and feel the 300 thread count sheets scratch my body and soak up my sweat as I tried in vain to sleep. I am not saying that I would have slept if I had had 600 thread count sheets. I was not kept up by the sheets themselves. It is just that, things are different now.

I guess it all has to be taken as a whole. I have entered a new phase of my life now that the business I started has begun to be somewhat successful. I sleep all night through on nice, 600 thread count sheets, and in general can afford some of the better things in life. My bed is comfortable and not lumpy like the one that I used to have as a kid, and I have a comfortable, fluffy duvet on top of me when I sleep. Sometimes I lie in bed and just roll back and forth, enjoying the feeling of Egyptian cotton 600 thread count sheets against my naked back.

There is just nothing like sleeping in comfort, and my 600 thread count sheets give me comfort that I never had growing up. I guess that I am grateful for that – grateful for my parents for believing in me, but also grateful to myself for working so hard to succeed when I could have given up.