Sleeping Beauty and The Beast

Snuggling seemed like a great idea when Teagan was making the transition from crib to bed (well, mattress). She had trouble staying in her bed at first, so Brandon and I would take turns laying with her at night until she fell asleep. It was supposed to be a temporary solution. Then we had a baby. Then we moved. More than a year later, we were still snuggling with her. And it wasn't sweet memories being made as we whispered tenderly to each other for a few minutes each night. It was "Shh! Go to sleep! I'm serious!" alternating with "But I'm not sleepy" and trying to creep out of the room when she showed all the signs of being unconscious, only to be asked where we were going by a mysteriously alert little girl. We got really good at rolling off the edge of the bed without making a sound (which was a lot more difficult than it sounds when you're 9 months pregnant) and knew where to step to avoid the creaky spots on the floor. I came away from our snuggling sessions frustrated with her more often than not, because she was taking longer and longer to get to sleep and I had things that she hadn't let me get to during the day that I needed to do in the shrinking amount of time left for me in the evenings. Something had to give.

So, we tried to set a deadline. With no more major life changes on the horizon, we decided together that she would be a big girl when she turned 4 - big enough to go to bed by herself. So we made a countdown chain to her birthday and reminded her every night how many more times we'd be snuggling until she fell asleep. I realize that this may sound a bit callous, but you need to know that she wasn't napping or having quiet time or spending any waking time without me with her. She needed some independence. As did I.

Things were going great - until her birthday. She was totally on board with the plan until the night of her birthday. Then all of a sudden she refused to turn 4. I reminded her that she accepted cake and presents in celebration of turning 4, so if she was still 3, she needed to return all her presents. She agreed. (Couldn't figure out a sanitary way to get the cake back, so I took the loss.) We finally talked her into accepting that time marches on and she was indeed 4 years old. C'est la vie.

But falling asleep solo did not go well. After the squillionth time she toddled down the stairs, I started to lose it. We'd deposit in her bed time after time, a little less patiently than the time before. Our standards fell slightly and we were satisfied with her just staying in her room. She'd play, she'd read, sometimes stomp around, but as long as she was in her room we didn't intervene. Sometimes it meant a lot of cleanup the following morning, but it seemed worth it to save the effort. 

In the last few weeks, she's just started to get better at going to sleep by herself (I'm jinxing myself by putting this out there in the universe) and has even stopped shuffling into our bedroom in the wee hours to get in with us. She still insists that we keep the light on and the door closed, but that just means I can take some darling photos when I go in to turn off the light and close the door. I never know quite what I'll find.

The floor could be littered with books, the floor could be littered with her. That was a fun surprise. I asked her to get into bed and just to defy me, she told me she'd sleep on the floor. And so she did. I'm convinced that if I asked her to breathe, she'd hold her breath until she passed out. Defiance any way possible. She's also painted her doll and cried about it when I couldn't answer her question "Why did I paint my doll?" That was a rough night.

I did, however, make note of some of the better moments we've had around bedtime. Instances like:

- Me telling her "I love you very much". and her replying, "I love you very much too, Mom."

- She's always asking for fresh water (a bit of a diva) and I always ask her to stay in bed while I'm getting it (experience tells us she won't) and so she says, "I will stay here in my bed. I will stay right here. I listened to you." I needed to check on something later (this is when snuggling lasted more than half an hour) and she sat up straight in bed and told me "I will stay right here, just like I did when you got my water." We celebrate listening a lot around here.

- "You are my favourite." "You're my favourite too, Mom."

- She smile, leaned over, kissed me and said "I want to hold your hand." It was kind of darling.

And it's even more darling looking back now, having her snug in bed. By herself.

Sincerely, Disappointed

A lecture I formulated on the plane and never got the chance to deliver but had to get it out somehow:

Dear Women Behind Us on the Plane 

I'd like to offer some friendly, albeit unsolicited advice. The next time a young mother and her small children sit in front of you on a plane, perhaps you could offer a polite smile or a kind word instead of rolling your eyes and moving to the other side of the plane like we were a bad smell. (Granted, we presented the possibility of a bad smell, but we smelled like roses at the time we boarded.) You see, this was the first time I'd flown in quite some time and the first time I'd braved flying with both of my children. And I lost sleep over several weeks, worrying over how they'd behave. Worried that I'd wind up sitting near someone like you who would have no patience for my little family and assume the worst of us. I must confess to getting more than a little pleasure out of the fact that seconds after you moved away from us, three babies (louder and grumpier than mine) surrounded you on a full flight. I'm not asking you to love my kids, I don't even expect you to think they're cute, but you should be able to sit within a few feet of them for a couple of hours. 

Wishing I could have said all this to you in person,

A Disappointed Mum

I played the interaction out in my head over and over for the two hours we were in the air, but in the end, couldn't bring myself to confront her with what I wanted to say. Instead, with all the courage I could muster, I caught her eye as she passed our row to make her exit and asked, "So, did you get to enjoy your flight?" She looked a little confused and then made the connection that she'd moved away from us earlier. "Oh, well...Nothing personal, you know. Been there done that."

I had wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, telling myself that maybe the older one hadn't been able to bear children and couldn't stand to be within a few feet of them and that the younger one with the laptop was on the verge of making an earth-shattering discovery. But as yet, I haven't heard that cancer has been cured or that we've finally found a way to teleport instead of flying.

But when the woman revealed that she was indeed a mother and she'd gone through what I was currently going through, my heart sank. She knew how hard this was and still chose not to show any compassion or even friendliness. I understand that she "put in her time" and felt like she had earned the right to relax and put her feet up on a flight, which she had! I wasn't expecting her to hold my children or entertain them or even talk to us, it was just the fact that she made a point of moving away from us that upset me. On the rare occasion that I'm out and about without my kids, I try to smile or pass a helpful comment or something to lift a mother's spirit when she's trying to parents a youngster. Waiting in line at the post office and noticing a little boy making his mother crazy, I tried to engage him in conversation to give his mom an infinitesimal break from him tugging at her arm. Something to let someone else know they aren't alone.

I'm in the thick of it and perhaps I'm looking at the future with rose coloured glasses because I can't possibly be more frazzled or sleep-deprived than I am no, but I would like to think that in twenty or so years when my children are taking care of themselves (that will happen, right?) that I will remember enough about my current stage of life to smile at the young mother wrestling two small children by herself in an airplane seat the size of a matchbox. Although by then, I'd like to think we'll be teleporting...or at least they'll be making planes with more leg and elbow room.

Toddler to Teenager Overnight

Teagan went to bed a toddler and woke up (or rather didn't wake up) as a teenager. For months now, she's been waking up between 5:30 and 6:30, ready and raring to go for the day. We've been able to coax her back to bed a handful of times, but we can only recall one instance that she's still been asleep when Brandon left for work at 7:15...and even then, she woke up 15 minutes later. So, in anticipation of her birthday, we set out one present for her to open while Daddy was still here. I'm sitting at the computer, alone, at 7:20 AM, while she sleeps peacefully away upstairs.

She toddled in at 3:30 to get a drink (I always set a sippy cup on her nightstand but my water must taste better) and went back to bed. Or so we thought. Buddy heard noises about 4:30 and went to her room to find her playing around, wearing a witch's costume. He convinced her back into pajamas and back into bed, but she found us again at 5:00. So she crawled into bed with us. Buddy got up at 6:00 to shower and read scriptures so that he didn't have to spend his only morning time with us getting ready. At 6:45 (she's usually already had breakfast by now) we tried to wake her so that she could open this present.

Light bouncing on the bed, pulling out her binkie (don't judge - her world is about to be rocked and I thought she could use the familiarity) and kissing her face didn't work. We started to sing "Happy Birthday" softly to which she popped up with the world's grumpiest face and snarled, "It's not my bird day yet" grabbed her binkie back and rolled over. She's mine.

Brandon, shocked and sad, left for work before seeing her open her dollhouse. I, irritated that I could have slept in later than I have in months, showered and got dressed and did my best to enjoy this extra time I'd been blessed with. Although I wasn't spending it sleeping like I would have wanted.

She finally stumbled down the stairs at 8:07 AM. A new record. And when I started to sing "Happy Birthday" she once again told me that "It's not my bird day yet!" and then she saw the balloons and the present and accepted reality. If this is my 3 year old, it's going to be hard to make it to 4.

Treading Water.

When it comes to packing for a trip, never underestimate just how helpful your toddler can be. At least 2 more bins were emptied in the time it took me to upload the photo and she's now trying on every hate she's ever owned. <sigh>