There have been a lot of changes happening around here lately. Some have been great, others have made me nauseous, and others I’m hoping will go back to their old ways soon. With the first child, everything is new and you arrive at each stage and every milestone clueless, so I had thought that with the second I would see the change coming, recognize it like a pro, and respond accordingly. How wrong was I!? There is some bad, bad thing that goes on in a mom’s brain between the time one child finishes a stage and the other one begins the exact same thing. Somewhere, someone thought it would be fun to hit the “delete” button. All of those precious tips, wisdom, and problem solving strategies are lost and unless you were one of those brilliant moms who kept a journal you are searching in vain for files long ago deleted and replaced by information regarding the season finale of your newest guilty pleasure. What a shame.
We switched Molé to a toddler bed a couple of weeks ago after finding one at our neighbor’s yard sale for super cheap. She was excited, we were excited and the first night was great. (note it did help that I waited until she was almost drooling with exhaustion to put her to bed). Napping has been great, actually overall better than night-time, and I’m fairly happy with the transition. But, I had completely forgotten that for a child who has been sleeping in a nice rectangular, enclosed space her entire life it is a bit hard to start sleeping with one’s head place gingerly on a pillow, in the same direction for the duration of the night. Poor Molé has been really struggling with getting comfortable come the middle of the night. I will usually hear some sort of bang/pow/crash phenomena going on followed by crying. I then have to go into her room and reposition the half asleep little person. She drifts back off to sleep fine, but unfortunately an hour or so later we are back at it again. The bedrails for some reason seem to do little other than act as a weapon of hard wood against an unsuspecting little moving head and fail to contain the 22 pound person left in their care. Good thing the bed isn’t even a foot off the ground, because with all of the out of bed crashing there would definitely have been some broken bones.
Ok, so hold that thought about the big girl bed and I will tell you about the other change. Goodbye pull-ups! That’s right, we are dry at night. Even though I day trained my girls at 20 months, I did not pursue night training at that time. My pediatrician had said to wait until BQ had about week’s worth of dry nights before attempting and to be honest up until lately she was wet 90% of the time. Molé was different in that she has been batting about 50% since day training. Since I struggled with bed wetting as a child I did not want to force or guilt BQ into staying dry. My parents were amazing with me and were intelligent enough to know that no second grader enjoys waking up in her own urine or is doing it on purpose. I cannot remember a single time that my mom made a negative comment as she washed my sheets yet again. They did all they could to encourage and help me (middle of the night wake-ups, a device I wore that attached to the front of my underwear with a sensor that had a beeper velcroed to my shoulder that would say “bbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” if wet, and even a nasal spray later on so that I could do things like go to camp, even though I would stop drinking fluids after lunch when at a sleepover or camp). Growing up wetting the bed was awful and embarrassing and one of my fears is that the girls will inherit my bedwetting struggle. Luckily, it seems like they are not going to deal with this obnoxious problem and I am so relieved. Enough about me, back to the girls.
We moved from wet pull-ups, to dry pull-ups, to big girl panties in a week and it has been great. Each girl has had one accident, hence the puddle on the ground. BQ had a normal accident, in her bed after her mother had left a full cup of water by her bed and she downed it in the middle of the night, in her bed. Molé on the other hand, was a bit more creative. Last night I forgot to have her go to the bathroom before bed, I know really bright, and at about 1:30 a.m. I heard her yelling “wet, wet.” I walked in and as I got closer to her bed felt a splash of liquid under foot. She was standing on the ground, leaning onto her bed with her upper body trying to sleep. I’m not exactly sure of the logistics of the accident, but honestly was quite grateful that it happened on our easy to clean up flooring rather than her bed. Her pants and underwear needed to be changed, but her bed was as fresh as it had been the day before when I put on the fresh sheets. (they always have the accident the day of or after you have changed the sheets). I was grateful for the ease of clean-up but am still puzzled by the how and why it happened that way.
Finally the bug bite. Both The Doc and I react horribly to bug bites. They always find us, bite us, and we are covered with miserable welts. Poor BQ has the same problem and yet she is far more delicious and therefore suffers even more. Last night she was dealing with a doozy. It was about the size of a silver dollar on her upper thigh. I was summoned to the room on FOUR separate occasions to apply cream, and ultimately a dose of Benadryl. Poor babe. Even though I was in a sleep stupor and annoyed that I had been up every hour between the wetting, bed moving and falling, and bug bite, I really couldn’t blame her for not being able to sleep with a pulsating red bump on her thigh.
So you’d think I would have remembered to apply bug spray to BQ the minute the weather changed since this happens every single summer since her birth, or to help transition Molé to the big girl bed by doing a little pillow and sheet practice in the crib, right? Or possibly I would have given BQ the Benadryl on the first trip to her room rather than the fourth. Um no, of course not. I’ve been journaling my pregnancy this time around because one day when the girls are pregnant and have questions I want to do something more than stare back blankly. Or when a friend with a younger child asks what I did at such and such a stage it would be nice to say something wise or even witty rather than the blank stares and shoulder shrugs again. Do you forget everything too? There are about a million examples I can give but I will spare you the boring details. Let’s just hope that when it comes time for number 3 to have a big bed, suffer a bug bite, or make a puddle on the ground I’ll be prepared or at least recall that yes, I have done this before. Until then, I apologize for responding to your questions as if I have never seen a child in my life.