The Big-Girl Bed

Tonight I very nearly tried to give away my child at IKEA, although I doubt anyone would have actually taken her.

GOOD MOTHER POLICE, IF YOU ARE MONITORING THIS JOURNAL, YOU CAN COME AND TAKE ME AWAY NOW.

But seriously, it just went so badly that I was like, what am I thinking, taking this girl out in public? Who do I think I am, to believe I can handle my own daughter anywhere? And the other day I had the gall to feel all cheerful and competent, like hey, I like this mothering business, and I might even be good at it. Well, that'll teach me. And I know, logically, that a bad day shouldn't take such a toll on my self-esteem, but it does. Especially when it happens in public. I came home vowing that Suzannah would be an only child for awhile yet. POSSIBLY FOREVER.

Of course, I don't really mean that (I don't think). But it does give me pause. It doesn't help that when we finally came home I was greeted with a puddle of dog puke on my kitchen floor. And while I was cleaning that up, the dog decided to stroll into Suzannah's bedroom and puke there, too. (I swear, my dog doesn't puke all that often; it's just that apparently, I feel the need to share it with the world when she does.) You think you're having a bad day? ADD SOME DOG VOMIT. It's the icing on the cake.

Let's forget about the IKEA trip, though (I'm certainly going to try). Tonight, big things are happening. We converted Suzannah's crib into a daybed. That's right. She's sleeping into a bed she can climb into and out of all by herself, whenever she wants. Are you afraid? Because I am, a little.

(Note: I know that she's definitely old enough for one by most people's standards; I have mama friends who've had their kids sleeping in Big Kid Beds from much younger ages. We never pushed it, though, just like we've never pushed anything else -- mostly because Suzannah has always been completely content with her crib. And, I don't know, when people talk about their babies climbing out of their cribs I always think an appropriate response might be to add a LID somehow. Just kidding. Mostly. Seriously, since she spent her first year-and-a-half sleeping with us anyway, I never thought much about the "appropriate" time to transition to a real bed.)

Anyway. So our daughter has a bed now. Did I mention she can climb in and out whenever she wants?

I figured she was ready, but I had no idea how the transition would go. My daughter is not one of those children who falls asleep any old place when she's tired; she doesn't nod off on the couch, or on the floor. Ever. (Seriously, I see my friends' pictures of their little ones who fall asleep in all these weird places and I'm like, they just fall asleep right there? While they're playing? I don't understand.) I figured she'd delight in her newfound freedom and create all kinds of nighttime chaos, so I thought it'd be best to deal with that before I went back to teaching in the fall since it doesn't really matter that much if I'm sleep-deprived right now. We were pleasantly surprised, though; she loved her "new" bed and couldn't wait to go "Night night" in it. Or so we thought. Because ten minutes after we thought she'd gone right to sleep, she came trotting down the hallway with a huge smile on her face.

I confess: I can't think about that moment without laughing. We have officially become parents who say things like, "You get back in bed, young lady!"

I'm happy to report, though, that as of eleven o'clock this evening, she's been sleeping soundly for about an hour. Both Matt and I had to lie down with her at some point, but I didn't mind that, since it's something I haven't been able to do in quite some time. (She loves to get in bed with Mama when she wakes up early, but does she sleep? No. She says, "Night night!" and proceeds to kick and squirm and shove her feet in my face and stomach and she pokes and giggles her little head off.)

I actually called my parents tonight to report that their granddaughter was SLEEPING IN A BED that was NOT A CRIB. Because it really does feel that huge to me, like all of her milestones do. Thankfully, they responded perfectly.

"Oh, she's so BIG," my mom said. "Call us right back when she's asleep and tell us how it went."

So far, so good. Ask me again in the morning.