Don’t hate me for sleeping late
Because this gravy train is about to end.
Last night was the last night that CJ will sleep in her crib. Today, sometime between 2 and 4pm, her new bedroom furniture will be delivered – including a big girl bed.
My bursts of sentimentality in the face of evidence that my girls are growing up come at unexpected times. I don’t get maudlin on birthdays or holidays, and it was only that damn book that made me cry on Tacy’s first day of kindergarten.
It’s those cognitive and developmental leaps that always throw me for a loop. When Tacy writes new words all on her own (appropriate ones preferred over inappropriate ones). When she picks up a book and actually sounds out the words. When she decided to be toilet-trained, lost her first tooth, graduated to the highest level in swimming lessons.
And now CJ’s leaps are coming faster than I expected. When she strings words and sentences together, actually communicating instead of merely shrieking. When she puts together puzzles with great patience and purpose. When she not only insists “I TRY!” but then she actually does it.
Perhaps she’ll surprise us. Perhaps she’ll sleep just as well in her new bed as she does in her crib. Perhaps she won’t fall out and bonk her head a time or two. Perhaps she won’t climb out and pay us visits at 3am. Perhaps I won’t have to give up sleeping late after all.
But I’m not holding my breath.
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If the sappy sentimentality is too much for you, I’ve got two options for you. One, you can check out my latest at The Parental is Political, inspired by Bossy’s discussion of the differences and similarities between Ron Paul and Ru Paul. Starting with Congressman Paul, I’ll spend my next several columns summarizing the views of the presidential candidates from the two major parties.
Or you can read my current post at Mile High Mamas, calling myself out as a heathen. Here’s hoping you won’t see me on the eleven o’clock news: “Big city transplant with big mouth lynched by locals. Children spared; emergency baptisms performed.”
December 4th, 2007 at 8:05 am
That book? It got me too. Though I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it because it somehow allowed my 4 year old to be able to handle the rigors of Pre-K.
And emergency baptisms? I gotta go read – THAT is funny.
Lynchings…ewwww.
December 4th, 2007 at 8:20 am
I don’t even want to think about the day we dismantle the crib. For so many reasons.
Fingers crossed for you on this transition!
December 4th, 2007 at 9:02 am
Oops, I posted at MHM, but I forgot to leave my name, so it appears from anonymous.
Here ’tis: I don’t think anyone has EVER asked me where I go to church. Maybe I give off a strong atheist vibe? Or maybe it’s that I’m from the NYC area.
I love Christmas, for all the winter solstice, celebratory things.
December 4th, 2007 at 10:57 am
My nephew was nearly 5 before he figured out that he could actually get out the big-boy bed on his own. I don’t know what kind of magical force field he thought was keeping him trapped on the mattress, but he never ventured out of bed without calling someone to get him. Maybe he was a little slow. LOL. Good luck.
December 5th, 2007 at 2:34 pm
You made me laugh out loud with your potential news headline.
December 5th, 2007 at 4:24 pm
Emergency Baptisms! Sounds like my nutbar family. They consider me a Tool of Satan.