Last Sunday morning at approximately 5:34 we heard a faint
thump, followed by a not at all faint
scream.
Dustin rushed into Piper's room (the obvious source of the noise) to find her on the ground. Meaning- outside of her crib. Meaning- she had climbed out. Only half successfully.
She's actually only climbed out of her crib one other time, and that time she hadn't even gone to sleep yet (she was throwing a tantrum about going to bed, and got herself mad enough to scale the bars in an effort to go after Dustin.) Our theory this time, is that she might not have even fully realized she was doing it..maybe moving in a delirious state...but she sure was fully aware when she hit the ground.
So for the next two hours, we had a half awake, fully cranky toddler sharing our bed. God bless you co-sleepers out there...but unfortunately in my house co-sleeping means no-sleeping. At least for the adults. I wish we were one big happy snuggly family, but the reality is Dustin gets pinned down beneath Piper's sweaty limbs, and I lie there counting down the minutes until I'm inevitably woken up by our other baby, and have to split our bed 4 ways instead of 3.
After a couple hours of restless non-sleep, we effectively called the ball, and got up for the day. The fall had scared all of us, so as a part of "Clean up Sunday" (our attempt to make a full day of house projects and to-do list catchup seem fun!) we decided to take the side off of Piper's crib and transition her into a Big Girl Bed (capitalized for increased Awesomeness!)
We had planned to keep Piper in a crib as long as possible. We have another crib for Fin (which she isn't even using yet, but that's another story for another day) so we don't need to change anything for Piper, and we've always heard waiting is best if you want to avoid having a toddler, well,
toddling, around all night without your supervision. A crib is essentially baby-jail, and we were happy to use it as such. Until our little jail bird started to make a break for it. Then we started to have visions of broken arms (or worse) and thought we'd be better off dealing with the transition to a bed, than trying to contain her.
Let me spoiler-alert you right here...
Oh. You already read the post title? Well then you can see where this is headed.
We talked briefly about the best plan of action, and before either one of us really thought it all the way through, the bars were coming off.
Now let me stop you right there if you're going to tell me that it's best to attempt this transition in a thoughtful manner, after everyone is well rested, and clear headed, and probably not on the heels of a week long toddler stomach flu. These are helpful tips...but only if you had given them to me Sunday morning.
And to be honest, we knew all the drawbacks of this plan, but the alternative- a climbing Piper, a falling Piper, a dented Piper, a wailing Piper, seemed like much more serious drawbacks. So we pressed on, whether we had the backup guardrails or not. (We did not.)
And right about now is when we were feeling like big time cocky rockstars for our genius plan. Piper was loving the Big Girl Bed.
Loving it!
She played in there for a while, having fun putting her animals to sleep, and learning to "make her bed" - aka- spending 20 minutes trying to flatten out her blankets with her tiny chubby hands.
We were encouraged by her enthusiasm, and when bedtime arrived, it went as smooth as ever (which is only kind of smooth...but that's not the bed's fault.)
But a few hours later, we heard another thump. Followed by another scream.
This time she hadn't climbed out, she had fallen out.
We rushed to her side, and though she was physically fine (it's only about a foot to the floor after all), she was understandably upset about it. Dustin held her and patted her back, while we mouthed silent plans to each other, shuffling pillows around, and switching her mattress to the floor, and back into her bed again. We tried putting her down another two or three times before she finally settled- the end arrangement being her mattress back in her crib frame, this time with two towels rolled up under the sheet as a barrier, and a pile of pillows on the floor just in case. We left her and cross our fingers that she'd stay put until it was light out, at least.
What came next?
Another
thump.
This time no scream though. By the time I came to rescue her, she was asleep again. Asleep. On her belly. On top of a pile of pillows on the floor. I scooped her up, and she ended up more angry about me transitioning her back in, than she was about the fall.
The rest of the night was a comedy of errors. Without the comedy. We had
perhaps acted a little hastily, and weren't really ready to follow through with the loosely formed plan we were running with. At one point, Dustin may have resorted to sliding a blanket-covered two by four through the slats of her crib to form a makeshift side. I wish I was making that up. (Though I do give him points for resourcefulness. And double points for not waking me up for that round of mayhem.)
The next morning, we bought a crib-side rail (with expedited shipping), spent the afternoon researching "big kid bed" books featuring Elmo, and ultimately put the side back on in the evening. We debated the likelihood of crushing her new big girl spirit by demeaning her with the return of the baby prison bars, while hesitating about making the whole thing too big a deal, wondering if we should even acknowledge our poorly thought out tragedy.
In the end, we read her some bedtime stories as usual, and moments before putting her to bed (ahem,
crib) we mumbled some sort of, "
Remember how you fell out of bed last night, and that hurt, and what a bummer, well you have a crib now, so stay safe, no climbing, love you so much!" speech. She seemed to take it to heart though, as she repeated "No. Climb. The crib." a few times before nodding off. (staccato narration is how she processes rules...) And thankfully, a week later, The Night That Shall Not Be Mentioned, actually hasn't been mentioned. And more importantly, there have been no more thumps in the night.
Oh Piper. If you haven't figured it out bu now, you certainly will soon: Your father and I have no idea what we're doing. We managed to make it through the baby stage semi-unscathed, but everyday in parenting is still an adventure. It's the blind leading the blind, except the blind leaders are expected to at least pretend to see. We're supposed to have it all together, and shepherd you through life's challenges wisely and safely. But clearly...we miss the mark sometimes. Thankfully it's been without disastrous consequences thus far, but as our first born, you're unfortunately our guinea pig. Hopefully our hard-headed guinea pig. I'm praying God blessed you with a big old noggin to give your brain a bit more wiggle room to slosh around in there when we inevitably mess you up. Right now it's a toddler bed, but soon you'll be off to school, and then a teenager, and then in college, and I can pretty much assure you we'll have no more of a clue then than we do now. And your father just might pull out that blanket wrapped two-by-four again...at least when you start to date. Forgive us as we fumble through this. We'll try not to be the cause of your falls, but in any case, we'll rush to your side every time we hear the faintest thump. Because our knowledge is decidedly limited. But our love for you is infinite.
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