We’ve been coasting through these past few days. Maybe even weeks.
(Update since writing this: all three girls in this house are sick. Again. So now, we are pedaling uphill. Although I swear, I just took the first Sudafed of my life and that stuff is a miracle worker. Holy cow.)
We decided to put the girls to bed earlier: win.
They sleep until 7:00 despite the earlier bedtime: win.
And Grace has finally started getting out of bed in her own. Win win win.
Before Grace got out of bed on her own volition, she cried. And whined. And moaned until we came to rescue her from her bed. And in doing this, she woke up Neva. And it meant Donovan and I (okay, just I) had to jump out of bed at the first peep….trying and always failing to grab Grace before she woke her sister.
And then, just the other day…it happened. Grace crawled out of bed on her own at 7:14 a.m., shut the bedroom door behind her, plodded sleepily to our room. And stood at the side of our bed. Requesting Demanding a glass of milk. Milk with a lid (we still really like sippy cups). And after moaning and groaning ourselves for a minute or two, we (I) obliged and got the glass of milk and started my day with a toddler in tow. And a baby still sleeping.
This felt like a big step forward. It’s hard to wake up to a whine.
And in spite of the fact that Grace realized she can get out of bed in the morning, she stayed in bed at all other times.
Until tonight. Donovan and I were sitting at the kitchen table when we heard the pitter-patter of little feet.
There stood Grace. In the kitchen. At 8:17 p.m. Lucy, blankets, a water bottle, plastic zoo animals and a lamb in hand. A smile plastered across her face.
“I woke up in my crib.”
Yes, dear. Obviously? What does that have to do with me?
“Banana? I’m done napping. I woke up in my crib (she sleeps in a bed but calls it a crib) and I got out of der.”
Shit.
“I got out of der.”
And then it seemed to hit her that life happens after she goes to bed. Even if that life is calling a credit card company. And working on a budget. I know we didn’t look like we were having fun.
So I explained to her that Neva goes to bed first. Grace goes to bed next. And mommy and daddy go to bed last. And this is the way it is. And the way it will be for many many years to come.
And she ate a banana and went back to bed.
Thank God. But please please please don’t let this be a new phase. And please please please don’t bust us eating popcorn and watching one of Daddy’s stupid animated shows that you will think is a cartoon. Because then, obviously, we might be in some real trouble.
