Big Girl Beds

...or, How To Create Chaos Using Five Feet of Steel and Plastic

So yeah, a couple weeks ago the girls finally realized that any illusion of imprisonment offered by the cribs was of their own making, and started moving between at their leisure. We have no right to complain or feel sorry for ourselves of course: 2 years and 6 months is well past the expected useful lifespan of a baby crib, but still...These are the times that try parent's souls.

The Disney Princess and Fairy beds have actually been purchased for the better part of a year, hastily acquired after Kayla somehow managed to get out of her crib one night, a skill she promptly forgot about. Even when Musical Cribs started up, we yet hesitated, trying to rely on stern words and/or bribes to delay the inevitable. But eventually you work through the seven stages and arrive at acceptance, and so on a Friday during work (via email), the plans were made.

I set to work as soon as I got the girls home, getting about halfway through one bed when Jenn arrived home to assist. It seems like Bed #1 (a.k.a. Pink Princess) was finished somewhere around 7, when reality began to set in. "Huh", I said to myself, "They're supposed to be in bed within the hour." Wasting no time, I began work on Bed #2 (a.k.a. Purple Fairy), thankful that we had the random flare of wisdom to wait until Friday to attempt this procedure.

The beds were greeted with great enthusiasm by their intended occupants upon first unveiling, and they were happy to sit and watch TV on Pink Princess in the living room as I toiled on the second bed, and Momma "wide-awake-and-trapped-toddler proofed" their bedroom. Eventually Purple Fairy sprang into life as well, and then began Phase 2: Crib Disassembly. This was relatively painless, as the cribs we got come apart rather easily, and I have some experience in the matter, having done so a while back thanks to a recall. Meanwhile, excitement grew in the living room as Little Girls slowly gained the super powers that seem to be granted to tired 2 year olds. My wife and I shared knowing glances in between hauling, storing, and/or securing various items: Trouble is brewing.

Finally all traces of the cribs were removed, Pink Princess and Purple Fairy placed in their respective places of honor, and the requisite pillows, blankets, and assorted stuffed beings collected. Estimated Time of Completion was approximately 10:00. Nature sort of took over for us at that point, and while there was a bit of consternation at the reality of the situation ("I want big bed"), sleep eventually slipped over our charges with only minimal maintenance on our part. We h ad accomplished our goal, and it seemed as if the transition would be relatively smooth.

And then came Saturday.

The girls have an internal clock that is really quite remarkable in accuracy, at least when it comes to waking up in the morning. I myself never last past 7:00am on weekend, usually more like 6, and the girls likewise seem set to 7:30 CST. It's a running joke at this point between myself and Jenn. A late night usually does little to affect this, and sure enough, there they were knocking on their door before the accustomed time, ready to get their day started.

Things were fine, if a bit tense, as Tired Little Girls did have a bit of an attitude. We figured an early afternoon nap would be possible, and tried laying them down in the big girl beds, to much protest. Several minutes later, we tried again. And then again. And yet again. Still the wailing protests continued, interspersed with bouts of either noisy play, knocking at the door, fighting, and singing. Were I a smarter man, I would have recorded the cacophony and had a hit Broadway play on my hands, but oh well, I hear the Tony Awards is all politics anyway.

Naptime jettisoned, we pushed through the afternoon/supper/evening, treading through the field of tripwires and landmines as best we could. Night-Night time produced similar drama, and in the end was only successful thanks to the various limitations of human child biology. You can't imagine the terror Kayla and Megan faced down in this suddenly evil concept called sleep. They needed a special blanket, not that special blanket of course, but the other special one, in the living room, come here Mommy I'll show you. No no no, not that blue one, the one that's red but I'm going to call it blue. But then what about the Special Baby, her pacifier is not on properly. Wait, did you put the pacifier on that baby? WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR, IT CLEARLY SHOULD BE OFF! And really, how can I be expected to go to sleep with all of these blankets in here?

And so it went throughout the weekend. The real kick in the teeth was when we took them to daycare on Monday, warning Miss Kelli about our tribulations, only to later receive the report that they napped for a good two hours and it was no big deal at all. Thanks for that, girls.

Things have evened out though, as they always do. We actually did get a naptime in this past weekend, and Night-Night Time is becoming less drama filled every successive night, as we slowly develop our routine.