A little over seven years ago we installed a crib in a little bedroom in our home. In seven years that crib hasn’t moved. It’s been warmed by three tiny people and has rarely seen it’s sheets stand cold. Sloan stayed in the crib until he was a little over two years old. I was pregnant with Tia and we decided to move him out of the crib a little early, anticipating a long adjustment period to his new, big boy bed.
He never climbed out of bed once. And wouldn’t for many months to come. And I regretted transitioning him so early.
Tia wasn’t two yet when Landon was born and the plan was for her and Landon to share a room with him sleeping in a pack and play and her in the crib. Little did I know that he would be the noisiest sleeper on planet earth and Tia would start climbing out of her crib the second we brought Landon home therefore throwing all of my well laid plan out the window.
We put Tia in a big bed in the hopes of keeping her from breaking her neck as she spilled over the side of her crib each day and, for the most part, she transitioned easily. She never came out of her room, but we would often go in to find her laying between every shoe and toy she owned.
And then there’s Landon… My free spirited child tasted freedom for three weeks this summer when he slept on an air mattress in Florida. I won’t mince words – he was a nightmare. Putting him to bed made having a root canal sound fun. And when we returned home, I gladly plopped his little behind back in his crib and did the happy dance out of his room.
It’s never occurred to him to crawl out. And I’ve threatened the other two with their lives if they show him how.
“I’ll tell Santa and the Easter Bunny if you show him how to climb out and it will be a slow holiday season for you guys…”
But the thing is…*sigh* Here’s the thing. The poor child appears to be ready to transition to a big kid bed. Sleeping has been a bit of an issue in the couple of weeks since we’ve been back from vacation. He is scared in his room (we’re going to buy a night light today) and is waking up through the night and, in general, seems to be restless.
And suddenly the idea of taking the crib down has caused panic of massive proportions in my heart. So much so that I’ve wondered if we should go ahead and have another baby just so I don’t have to take down the crib.
That’s just crazy talk…
So we are slowly, but surely, plodding toward the task of disassembling the crib. I’ve already warned Lee that I’ll probably blubber inconsolably, then I’ll need a stiff drink (or five) to get through the process. We likely won’t pull the trigger on this until the end of next month because with Lee and I going out of town for ten days, I would feel terrible leaving our parents with the task of getting that child to stay in bed at night. It would be cruel and unusual punishment for them, and I won’t do it. No I won’t. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not taking that crib apart!
Plus, I’m (clearly) just not ready. I’m not ready to say good bye to babydom and I’m not ready to deal with the mischevious little fox that is my third child.
I will survive this milestone, right?