Sunday, October 6, 2013

The Bed Battle

Battles. You've gotta pick 'em... or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

I may have made a grievous error.

Friday afternoon I was tired. I had been cleaning to get ready for a fun weekend full of company while rocking a fussy baby and watching Owen's dump truck smash his Lincoln Logs. I was counting down the minutes to nap so I could sit in my chair and stare at the TV for an hour, tops. Like normal, Owen started fussing when I brought it up.

"NO want to, Mama. No nap. No SAY that to me right now."

I tried to let him climb into his toddler bed on his own.

"NO, Mama. NO want to sleep there. That's sister's bed. That is for BABIES."

I got him a cup of milk and two more blankets.

"NO, Mama. My bed is YUCKY. P-U!"

I picked him up and carried him in there. I pleaded with him. I even tried my hand at a little toddler-style bribery. I let him cry and scream and thrash, hoping he'd eventually settle. Nope. The racket only grew louder with each passing second, so I marched in there with my hands on my mom hips.

My sleepy eyes traveled to the other side of the boys' bedroom at the empty bed. I regretted it before the words left my mouth, but I did it. I asked Owen if he wanted to sleep in Nathan's bed. He wasn't exactly jumping on board at first because he's no dummy. Whether I make him lie down on a pile of rocks or a luxurious mountain of pillows, a nap's a nap. However, he gave in to sleep. In his room. In his brother's bed.

You're pretty smart. You know where this is going, right? After close to two hours of slumber, I had to wake Owen to take him to car line. We got home, played, enjoyed dinner together, and got ready for bed. You can imagine the look of horror that swept my middle child's face as his older brother climbed into bed.

He didn't get as hysterical as he could have. After Nathan's reassurance that he can nap in that big rocket bed any time he pleases, Owen climbed into the tiny square he's quickly outgrowing.

Since then, he has slept in his own bed at night {with the lamp on, that's also new} and in his brother's bed for naps. It's an odd setup, but I knew the moment I spoke those words, this is where we would be days later. I'm just pleased he's not putting up much of a fight... yet.

I'm not sure where we are going with this. His head-to-toe ratio is almost equal to his crib mattress, but I don't want to think about what I envision when the words "bunk beds" are spoken. That will likely be our next step to allow for more floor space than a second twin-sized bed, but I'm not ready. I'm not ready to rush Super Owen to the hospital after his first attempt at flight. We'll get there one day, but you better believe I will keep carefully picking my battles. I will pick the ones I know I need to win and the ones I know I can win.

At this particular moment in time, this does not fit in either category.

PS: If you think any of this makes me sound like a weak-willed sham of a parent, you may be partially right, but sleep is sleep is sleep. He needs it. I need it. Also, you're more than welcome to come try your hand at it. Please. You wouldn't mind if I went out for a pedicure and a long lunch, would you? Deal.

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