I Miss the Bobo

Yes, it’s true.  How could I, you ask?  It’s not because she is no longer a baby, but has now stepped into the big girl realm. Oh no! My reasons are more selfish. It’s because her naps are so much shorter without the Bobo, and sleep time is really difficult.

Last night was another one for the books.  Bedtime routine started out as usual.  Watching Elmo Wold.  Kissing Cacky goodnight (from afar because he has a bit of a cold).  Read the Nutshell Library (again).  Turned off light.  Snuggled.  Then time for bed. I put her in the crib.  Kiss her good night, and walk out.  Just as I sit down to eat my delicious burger, she starts crying.  Cacky goes in and tries to soothe her by “falling asleep” on the floor next to the crib.  He tries to walk out.  Screams. Goes back in.  Quiet.  Walks out again.  2 seconds later, screams.  At this point it’s been 30 minutes since she was originally put in her crib.  We discuss, and agree that she needs to fall asleep on her own.  No more holding her hand through the crib, or laying next to the crib while she falls asleep.  So we let her cry it out.  But I fear that she is going to jail break, and that she will hurt herself. I hear some thumping, so I run in thinking that she jumped out.  But no.  She’s throwing her Frankie Doll, blanket, Sophie the Bunny and the bear out of her crib.  Then she goes to climb out of the crib. I stop her.  I take her out because I’m scared she will just jump out.

DH and I discuss the situation, and say we have to convert the crib now.  The directions for the conversion, which we studied on several occasions, look really confusing, and not helpful at ALL!  But we have to do it, otherwise, she will never go to sleep.  While we are debating, she runs out of our room with her Frankie doll and Blanket in tow, and goes into our room. I lay her on the bed, while we struggle with the directions.  The conversion was actually much easier to accomplish than the confusing directions led us to believe.  The bed was converted in like 15 minutes, with O eyeing us suspiciously from the reading chair (she gave up being alone in our bedroom). We made a big deal about the big girl bed.  And how exciting it is that she is now a big girl.  She was definitely not buying it.

Then the bed dance started.  Following Super Nanny techniques, I put her in bed, kissed her good night. Then walked away. She came out.  2nd time, told her bedtime.  And walk away.  Barely got to door, and she was out of bed.  Then just led her back to bed without talking.  She would climb out, grab her blanket and Frankie doll, and come back out.  And this continued like this for 45 minutes.  And the screams were ear-piercing.  It sounded like we were torturing her.  Or at the very most, trying to kill her.  But the way, her tear-stained, blotchy, puffy face, and saying through hiccups, Mommy, Cacky, and holding on to the blanket and Frankie doll for dear life was sad and amusing at the same time.  Each time she climbed out of bed, she had both things in the hand.  Several times, instead of turning to come into the living room, she pitter-pattered to our bedroom, where she threw the Frankie doll and blanket on our bed, and then attempted to climb into our bed.  Alas, the bed is much too high and she is much too short to make it into the bed by the time I got there.

We couldn’t help but laugh at how dejected she looked holding her security items, and how persistent she was in trying to get her way.  Finally, after forcing her down on her bed, she was exhausted.  I finally got her to lay in the bed, me standing by the door, her back to her.  And she finally fell asleep.  All in all, it was exhausting, but it only lasted for maybe 1 at the most with the back and forth after the crib was made into toddler bed.  I’ve heard of hours upon hours of getting them to bed.

This morning she of course didn’t wake up on her own, and when DH went in there, he made a super big deal about the big girl bed.  She seemed really excited about it, so hopefully tonight, the Bed dance won’t last too long!


About RidgewoodMom

Thirtysomething mom of a baby girl. First and only baby, possibly. First baby amongst my close friends. These are the trials, frustrations and lessons I have learned in raising a single child in New York.
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