Toddler Beds: the worst things on earth.
July 26, 2013
Well, Beckett finally made the big transition. He started climbing out of his crib, so we moved him into a big boy bed. (!!!!!!) Our little punkin is just growing right on up.
On Saturday, we talked about big boy beds, looked at options, and finally bought one from Target. The guardrails seem a little short, but it’ll be fine. I’m just excited to move him.
We made taking down the crib and putting up the bed a family affair.
Taylor told Beck this box (that contained his new bed) was his new bed. He was abnormally excited.
We put together the real bed and he was even more excited (go figure). It was much bigger and more comfortable than the box.
Night one went awesome. He was so excited to lay in it that he hardly even got up. When he did, we explained he needed to stay in his bed and he did. He slept all night long.
Well, his first nap in the new bed didn’t happen. He ended up playing the whole time.
But it’s no big deal. He’s adjusting. He’ll get it.
He did great at night, but I found him sleeping all the way across the room in the middle of the night. I guess he fell out?
Still no nap. In the 2 hours he was in his room playing (very contently, I might add), I was Googling “how to keep toddler in bed”. I’ll talk it over with Taylor and decide what we should do.
I’m pregnant, I have a toddler who won’t nap, and this is grating on me. I can tell he’s exhausted because he’s super whiny and constantly on the verge of freakouts the rest of the afternoon/evening.
But it’s only day 3, it’s to be expected.
Still sleeping well at night.
4 days in and STILL NO NAP.
NO NAP NO NAP NO NAP NO NAP.
I might die.
After more Google searching, I tried about 73 tactics during his 2 hour “nap”.
I tried laying with him. He poked my eyeballs every time I closed them.
I tried reasoning with him. “Sweetheart, it’s time to lay down and close your eyes. Stay in your bed, ok, sugarface?”
I tried being firm with him. “Beckett. This is serious. It’s time to nap. Now. Or else.”
I tried the silent treatment of walking him back to bed without making eye contact or speaking. He found this to be absolutely hysterical.
He probably thinks I have multiple-personality disorder. I’m beginning to wonder if I do. Or at least some sort of repressed rage.
Whatever. I’ll just leave him in his room until an appropriate amount of “nap” time has passed.
And nighttime? Give me a break. He falls out of bed every 5 seconds. Who puts a 1 foot guardrail at the top of a toddler bed?!
“This oughta protect them. We’ll give them 12 inches of safety – because if they’re going to fall off, it’ll definitely be from their head moving around too much. Definitely not their active toddler limbs.”
We now put the footstool from the rocker in front of the bed to keep him in. Problem solved.
I ignored his pleas to come out of his room. He finally passed out on the floor on accident trying to escape his room during naptime.
I call this a win.
I’m at my wits end. This kid won’t nap (or accidentally pass out again) and I could cry for days thinking about how tired I am, and what a terrible thing we’ve done thinking we could handle two of these creatures.
I will surely perish come February.
The lady with 7 (SEVEN) children at Ross has all 7 (SEVEN) children following her cart in a single-file line, not one of them making a peep. (I bet they have loads of fun at home.)
My 1 (ONE) child is laying on the floor screaming like a banshee because _____ (insert ridiculous toddler reasoning).
The result of no napping is now affecting our city.
He falls asleep during a 5 minute car ride. I swear on my life, if anyone within 100 miles of this vehicle so much as sneezes in the next hour, I will go on a murderous rampage.
I resort to drastic Facebook-polling measures.
I remove all fun things (toy and books) from his room, as suggested by my faithful friends.
He finds his winter accessories and plays for an hour.
I remove ALL things from his room. It looks like a Ukrainian orphanage up in there. I even move the footstool because he keeps playing with it.
All that remains is – literally – his bed, his rocker, a basket of socks, and the changing pad on top of the dresser.
He dumps the socks out to wear the basket as a hat and pulls the changing pad down to play with the buckles.
I post this picture to Facebook and someone informs me that 30 degrees Celsius = 86 degrees Fahrenheit.
…surely the reason he hasn’t been sleeping isn’t because I overlooked something as obvious as a sweltering sleeping environment…
I’m no fool. I remove the basket of socks this time. Silly me for forgetting how fun those can be.
There is nothing to play with, zero distractions.
And I turn down the air and turn on the fan, for good measure.
Still no nap.
The rest of the day is tantrumly atrocious. I don’t even have words to speak when Taylor gets home.
Go for a 13 mile run to clear my head.
Eat the largest bowl of ice cream imaginable.
Take Beckett to the trampoline park for 2 hours. He can’t even keep his eyes open on the way home but I’m smacking that dude’s feet and singing at the top of my lungs while I roll the windows up and down nonstop. I wouldn’t wish this car ride on my worst enemy, but ain’t no way we’re taking another car nap.
We get home and he PASSES OUT ON THE FLOOR OF HIS ROOM FOR 2.5 HOURS.
(throws homemade confetti)
I cry. Tears of joy. Tears of relief. Tears of hormones.
After playing for an hour with…his blanket? a pillow? his one stuffed animal?
HE PASSES OUT ON THE FLOOR OF HIS ROOM AGAIN.
At this point, I don’t care that he is probably developing scoliosis. Even if he can’t stand up straight from the permanent crick in his neck…I don’t even care.
The world is as it should be. Or at least it has been for the past two days.
I may jinx our streak by even posting this…but I’m oh-so-hopeful it’ll continue.
If not, I’m not above medicating.
Also, to you, toddler bed:
I hate your guts. You and your stupid 1 foot “safety rail”. You are the worst.