It was the best of times…
It was the worst of times…
Actually, it was bedtime and like every night I found myself laying in a tiny toddler bed while my toddler lay on the floor on a pile of pillows she has decided is a far superior place to sleep than the bed I had to put together twice because I did it backward the first time.
Like I said, best and worst of times.
We’re sleep training. What that means to you uninitiated is that we’re sick and tired of being kicked out of our own bed every night and are transitioning our two-year-old to sleep in her own space.
It’s a bitch.
Think about herding a house full of cats into one space and convincing them they want to stay there, except the cat talks and you can’t lock it in once you finally get them there because then people do things like call Child Protective Services on you and that never leads to anything good.
Sleep training in our house involves a pile of books as she debates and deliberates which one is the best to hug for the night. Because my child doesn’t hug stuffed animals, no, she snuggles hard cardboard books.
Sleep training is finding the pink cup from wherever she dropped it that morning because we have to use the pink cup at night.
It’s laying in this tiny toddler bed silently begging her to fall asleep so I can go to bed myself because it has been a long day and I just need some goddamn sleep already, kid!
Sleep training is also hearing her read books to herself as she unwinds, it’s asking for just one more hug before she falls asleep, it’s being woken up to the sound of little feet rushing at you too early in the morning.
Like all parts of this parenting gig sleep training is exhausting, it’s frustrating, it’s ridiculous but there are always some small rewards if you can just take the moment to look for them.
Now, I’m going to attempt to get up without waking the monster because my feet are falling asleep in this ridiculously tiny bed.